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'TRI-WEEKLY EDITION THE SONG e are the masts of ships, - Nurtured for centuries ; -Storm-wind and mountain-breeze 'Taught us our harmonies, Kissed us with mother lips. Sec "ow the tender and stern He as have bidden us rise, Cr_ ag, "Behold the eyes Of .ars in the faithful saies: Lift up your heads and learn !" Hear how the Sun doth laugh, "Climb ye thus, sons of mine? Seek ye for things divine? Yours is the sunlight wine; Take of my warmth and quaff." Cometh our bard, the Wind, Bringinag us songs, and saith: "Nay. this is naught but breath; Striving and love and death, These I left, far behind! -Josephin THE TRAI A wet, boisterous night. Along a rain-sodden country road a man, with his hat brim pulled forward over his eyes, slowly plodded his way. He had left the city more than two hours before, and its lights had disappeared the oncoming of the storm. The weary pedestrian suddenly 'paused and leaned on the knobbly stiek in his hand. No! he was not mistaken; the light he had seen ema nated from a cottage window-a cot tage that stood just off the turnpike. Surely every heart did not beat unre= sponsive to the cry of hunger and e-:arity! Surely he was not doomed to die of starvation and fatigue in this, a Christian land! The grimy fingers closed tightly about the stick, an.t the starving man approached the doo; of the little cot tage. The sound of voices reached his ears as he stoo-1 for a moment ir resolute. One was th3 deep, gruff voice of a man,and the other was that of a woman. He knocked gently upon the dbor. It was opened, and a stal wart yeo-an appeared. The wayfarer's ees wandered fro n the cozy fire to the repast on the table before. it and rom thence to the ruddy face above "Well, What il'e want?" snappec the cottager ''A mouthful of food--I'mstarving," tpied-the wayfarer. FoAd, eh! thet's allays the cry," Mirled.he othe-. "Why don't yer ork far itama as Oi do? Ger away, <fsetite g - on yer!"ind the r shut violently in the suppli lc-:against the trelliswork ,ef sror. - When at' length he -t ned from the cottageandsought the penaroad'astrange~Iight had entered his sunkn eyes-the light Of despera tin madness! Wild, - iitoherent. wo ds fell from his, lips;. an exultant augh gurgled in his throat. Hark! What was that?~ Something was ap proaehing from behind. Ahi! that something was a cyclist. H e could see the small, trembling light Ijo the lamp and could hear the suck g sound of the tires on the wet road- The starving wretch stepped back .beneath the shadlow of a tree,and as .the solitary cyclist drew near he *placed himself directly in his path. "Great Scott, my man! where the diekens have you sprung from?" ejac ulated the rider, a young fellow,as he dropped lightly from his machine. I's a go-> job.I was going easy; if I hadn't either -you or me, or both of us, would have been fitting snb'e for surgical research by th" and the speaker gave his broa shoulders a shake to dislodge th3 ,rain from his " wanted you to stop," said the other, his words coming through his set teeth. "Indeed, and for what reason?" in terrogated the eyclist, trying to see the features of the last speaker.. "f-I want help," and the knobbly st.ick wvas lifted, undiscerned by the cyclist, a few inches from the ground. "Help, did you say? Then you're 'on the road?' eh?" -"Call it that if you like, but-I'm sta,rvingr!" "Good heavens! Yes, now I see your face I don't doubt it! Here, old chap, for goodness sake go and get something to eat," ani the young fat low p1 ing d his hand in his pocket. Suddenly a thought seemed to strike onywould be no use to you," he said; "iou want food, and you can't bay that any nearer than the t->wn. Stay, Iknow. I am on my way to a house half a mile further up the road-the house is called 'The Hollies'-you can't mistake it; there a:e two turrets; besides, anyone will te'l you which is Mr. Templeton's * house. I will ride on-ah! I see you know Mr. Templeton; but you have no oceasion to be afraid of him. He's ijustice of the peace,I know, but he's * ot a soft heart-and if he hadn.{, his laughter has. * ** Well, I'll just spin along and see there's something ready for you to eat when you arrive." The young fellow had placed his foot on the step of his bicycle to -aiount when he felt the tramp's touch on his shoulder. 'Well?--you understand me, didn't P"Yes, I understood you, but--" * But what?" "Who is this Mr. Templeton whom von just spoke about-is it Robert Eempleton, the celebrated architect?" "Yes." "And is he related to you?" A shade of annoyance crossed the * young fellow's face, but only for an instant. 'No, not exactly-as yet," he replied with a laugh. "But I may be related ho him be'ore long - at least I hope so, * a sn-in-lw.yvou know.' "Gardens that feared my blasti Everywhere men, below; Danger and toif and woe. Wonders ye may not know, All these I saw and passed. "Nay, but new melody Bring I to greet your ears. Ye, without doubts or fears, Not all in vain are the years ' Lo. I behold the Sea!" Long hath it called to us Here on our mountain-side. Patient we wait, we bide. Dreaming of waves and tide Do they not murmur thus? Masts of the ship to be: This.is the tryst we keep. Hearing the unseen deep: And we answer in our sleep. We shall behold the Sea! e Preston Peabody, in Youth's Companion. FtP'S KISS. "Ah! I had forgotten; he has a daughter." The knobbly stick lay on the ground now, and its owner was trembling like a leaf. With an agile spring the cy clist seated himself in his saddle, and as his feet found the pedals he looked round over his shoulder. "Don't forget,"said he; "the house with the turrets. I will vouch there is a good, square meal awaiting you." And.witir that lie rode away through the drenching rain. -Robert;Templeton, the world-famed architect,' sat - in his study deep in thought. From some distant portion of the old house the sound of a girl's fresh, young voice, singing "Love's Old Sweet Song," reached his ears. Sud ^denly the song ceased, and Robert Templeton knew the dreaded moment had. arrived -knew that Harold Frank li; had called for his (Templeton's) answer. He had promised to give it that very night-that very hour-and Franklin, anxious lover that he was, had braved the inclemency of that night to hear that which meant either life-long hap piness for him or a dreary drag of "stale, flat and unprofitab.le" existence. De le' 'rse 'from hit chair and a l sla out thb 4em.=" lfe riadi o: tell Harold in inevitable. How wonlcL, he receive that story? Would he, in his great love for Clarice, laugh the deception.to scorn;, or would he heap. contuane?y upon .the. narrator's head and leave thegirl who loved him. for ever? No, banish the lsattr 7oughtf Harold Franklin wgs- true . Engliah gentleman-not r6ne ef the so.nlless resat o s-ametimes pose as snch -creatures of~veneer and vapidity but a man with a heart as sound as one of the oaks of his native land; a man who valued his felloiv-creatures fptiheir true mind-vorthiand not sole 1 account of_ their . wealth. of the eodd's 'goods. Half an hour-passed, and Tengpieton was still pacing about his study,when a firm step approached, and a knock sounded upon the deor. Templeton went across and threw it wide open. His visitor was Harold Franklin. "And so you have come for my answer, Har9ld?"; said the architect, after their formal 'gree ting. ."Yes,sir,",replied the fouug fellow, withia quick 1Mbk i the other's face. Templetoni.1esa ; a chqir for his visitor and sat.dedi1Tacingi him. "But where is Ciarice? It is neces sary she,to:,ssho.uld .hear what I have to say," he said.. "Clarice is actiigthe good Samar wi.hinnge;,dso'I presumued to jite him to bite and~ sup beneath your roof'f Mr. Templeton. I trust my presumnp-, tion did not overstep 'the bounds ol Imy acquaintanceship with yourself "Yo'u did gefectly iighf, Harald," iiterposed the - lder -stn. . "And C1price, yog say, is:attending to 1tlie poor fellow with her own hands?" "Yes,sir; .sh preferred to dG so." A few minnttes later Clarice Temple ton entered f,h-e room, arid' both its male occupatfts ere suryjrihed to see her eyes. werf teari.at CYou have been weeping:.:phi,ld?" said- her father, as she sa'ak dow~n gu the has sock at his side. - "Yes," shi said' softly; "it was something that poor man did and said when he was bidding me good night and thanking me f<r' the food I had place&lefore ian Robert. T.empleton was too much engrossed'with ihis own thoughts to reply to what Clarice was saying. "My. chi-ld,'-he::said, after a short pause, "it is:- only 'right that you should hear what I am now about to say. It is only . right that the man who desires to make you.his wife, and. whods here -tonight for my answer, should know youiihistory-and mine." The young lovers gazed wondering ly upon the speaker, and their hands. sought .each other's -instinctiVelf ".Hitpry, ,sir!- . I ascarcely under stand. you,'-said''Franklin. -"I know alreatdy- that you;-tlie most' illhstrious architect of the time, were, in your younger day., -far pooret' than you noy Mre.. Hav'e you ibt told me often thatlyour early ttruggles were fraught with: privation? Your history, sir, is one -that redouhds to y'our. credit." "I do n6t rete to the -struggles of my youth, H,ar'd; ..t is something. else-2-somnething which concerns Clar ice. It is' this:QClarice is not my daughter!" The wor.dls wogeaoken at, last... "Not your .daughter?" whispered the girl, her face blanehing' deatlily pale. "Sit down agai'n,my child, and-listen to my story. It is an old story-.a common theme for novelists, but true in my case: I"Two brother,s fell in. love -with one sti non requit cominonp who had un heart; but in the sot his thoughts would ever w his books to the dream that had. bet shattered. "He left his native town and settlt for a short time in Manchester. O: day he received word that the brothi who occupied the place he himself ha often dreamed to fill had been a rested on a charge of foigery. Ti charge was well-founded, and eventua ly he was sentenced to 15 years' pen servitude. "This was two vears after his ma riage and one year after his child wi born. His wife never recovered fro the shock, and when the husband ha served but one year of his impriso ment she was laid to rest. I reacht her side a few hours before she die< She begged that I would take care i the golden-haired prattler she w: leaving behind-take care of her unt he had served his period of imprisoi ment. I promised, and when ti earth closed over the body of her had loved I took the child away-tl child that resembled the mother much. You were that child, Clarice. A silence fell on the itttle group f Templeton finished speaking, and t1 golden head of Clarice had droope forward untiti,und rest on the a chitect's knee. "And what do you expect mie I say, Mr. Templeton?" asked Frankli at length. "I expect to hear you say what you heart prompts you to say." "My heart prompts me to say th: nothing you have told me tonight ha altered my love for Clarice, and I r< peat again-I love her dearly, and sh loves me; we ask your - consent to ou inarriage."' "And I give lit, Harold," said Ten pleton, ' taking Franklin's hand an wringing it. The' young fellow stoope and raised Clarice from her dejecte attitude, kissed he' streaming face, an they passed slowly, side by.side,froi the room. An hour later the' lovers stood a the end of the wooded drive biddin each other good night. The rain ha ,ceased falling. "And to think, Harold, that I, wh have always felt proud of my pareni ige, should be so disillusioned; t think- that I am the' daughter of felon!" and as the word i,froz Clarice. Temipleton'-lis.g .ougl to check the sobs that filleci.er bosom Franklin drew her throbbing for closer. to his side. "Nay, sweetheart,, let not the new trouble you so. You are not to blam for what your father did, and he,pet haps, by this is sorrowing for his pas cruelty and wickedness. Howevei let us try to forget him and the pas and be happy in our mutual love an, the golden days to come." Engrossed as the lovers were, neithe of them were cognizant of the proxin ity of a third person-a man, wh crouched in the shadow'of the tree: "Yes, forget him and the past, murmured the latter; "it is only righ that you should. As for him! and the crouching figure stole softi away. "But tell me, Clanice," said Frank lin, "tell me the cause of the tears saw in your eyes when you joine your father (I shall always call hit such) and me in his study." "It was the poor man-the tram: "He did not frgten vn .rok in Franklin. eme, Harold! No, somt thing quite different. He' said I rt minded him of one he loved-a daugl ter who is lost to him forever-and and- lie asked nie to-to kiss him,Hil old." "And you,.did?" queried i Franklit smilingly. *"Yes, I couldn't refuse. Besides he was an old man,Kyou know." The following'day there was foun in a pool some ndfeTs away the dea body of -an-An)cnown m&n: It wa Bangkol4 an Eastern 'Venice. Bangkok, Siam, is -variously calle by those people who revel in~compai isons, the "Venice.of thre East" an the "Constantinople of- Asia;" in th first instance, because of the man canals that run through the~city, an in the second, because of the hui dreds of wretched iiid owvner less p: riah dogs that roan~ .itsi stree ts wit impunity. There-s is..much -tr uthi both comparisons. Certainly, Bang kok is the home of the~gatint ani ugly pariah'dog, w'hich spends its lii foraging and getting just eno.ugh t keep life in its mangy carcass, mult: plying meantime with the fecundit of cats aind a tropical clime, becaus Buddhist's doctrine forbids its kil .ing. Outcast dogs* are not the onI pests whose .imitiplication in Bant kok may be pharged to Buddhisni more noisy ~cro* perch of an ear] morning on your window-casing a'] the tree immediately beyond it tha in the space of a day hover near tl: [Towers of -Silence at Bombay awai ing the pleasure of the vultures the feed on the last earthly remains< those who have died in the faith< the Parsee.-Harper's Weekly. Domestic Thrills. "Have you ever experienced the e: citemilt of being aroused from slee in a house at night when it was c fire?" "No, but I have several times got through the excitement upon n wife's announcement of her belief th; the baby had swallowed her thimble, - -Chicago News. AAx And tried to whistle some. d He thought perhaps he'd go to war. And fire an awful gun. 3r He wouldn't ride his hobby-horse, "d Ile called .lack Spratt "a fib!" He sat at meals in father's chair, And scorned his gingham bib. tE His mother mustn't spread his bread, Nor cut things on his plate; She mustn't say, "No more, my dear!" No matter what he ate. . She mustn't kiss him when-he fell And bumped him on the stones, o And she must say. "Dear sir," just as ,d She did to Mr. Jones! 1- So hard to please this gentleman d His loving mother tried, 1 It quite enlarged his dignity, And swelled his lofty pride. 0 And all was brave, and all .Was well, it Until that mother said, At eight o'clock, "Of course, dear sir, You'll go alone to bed!" I Ah, would you have me say what then e Befell the great big man? For if you undertake to gdss I hardly think you can. Ls He turned the corners of his moutn ie Most fearfully awry. d He rubbed his grown-up fisawhile Across his grown-up eye,.: Then bnrying in his mother's lap Both pride and manly joy, 0 He said in just the littlest voice, * 1 "I guess I'm just abov!" -Cstharine Young Glen, t sYouth's Com r "'anion. ,. 'OnelBoy 's L Wise men tell us that one of the s secrets of success is deterniination of character that will not- ie datinted by e repeated rebuffs and opposition.' At r least one young. man in Chicago has learned by experience that persistence d pays. Only a few years ago hQ was a messenger boy - in one of the largest t- wholesale dry goodi establisliments in I the world, .and certainly the largest in d Chicago. The-boy -determined that his n 33 it week salary was not enough, so he complained to the head messenger. "'Why, I can't raise your wages; I don't have anything to- do with that,".. explained the heed messenger. ''Well, who shall I go to?". asked w the boy. "Try the head floorman," was-1'he reply. The b oy went.to the-head.Aoori 'n. and made.his wants knuivn." The ' Wlorman ,,dicn' carctZbe bot :e~d with the boy's affairs,so 'heremaLAed, a off-hand, "Oh, I guess you w uld better see Mr. So-and-So," naming e proprietor of the vast . establishment But the.boy was not dauMed by the knowledge that he was the least of thousands of employes whose names even were probably not known to the t proprietor. The first time he saw that gentleman -walking down the great centre aisle'of the main floor of r the.building he stopped him and asked for a ratise in salary. 0 "How much are you making, my , boy?" asked the great man,-'kindly. "Three dollars a week, sir," replied ,the boy. "How old are you?" was the next Squestion from the proprietor. "Fourteen years," responded the "vson"sadrvr adidn't t5ke that much." - Ve.'ll, sir, perhaps you weren't ~ orth it then," replied the boy with great earnestness. e The proprietor laughed in spite of himself and the boy was given a better position and more pay. Today he is at the head of one of the departments in the great store, and.the story was told by one who* 'irnows him well. ~Chicago Record. Oddlities of Shoemakers' War. SOne of the most apt illustrations ever made by Lord Kelvin was his likening the luminiferous ether to a mass of shoem.akers' wax. What Lord d Kelvin said of shoemakers' wax may a be tested by ing boy ih a me~nner thai s will astonish his playniates.' First,Iet it be said that the ether pe,atrates all space. It is as rigid as steel, a,nd yet so flexible that'it does not ret'ard the passage of planets through space in the least. It is an invisible substance ~which travels in waves through all e things. Now, to illustrate the nature y of such a paradoxical material Lord d Kelvin searched everywhere, and at last concluded that shoemakers' wax represented it best. He made tests, n and this is what he found: n He melted sonie wax in,a common P .glass tumbler. After iAhad hardened d .he tried to thrust a lead pencilthrough e it. it wo.uld not go:.' Then he placed o a coin on the surface of The wax and left it for several days. When he Y' \again visited it the cdin had :sunk to e thie bottom of the glass. . The wax had. 'deosed over it, 'and by lifting the glass Y 4ud looking through the bottom he could see the' coin lying ther'e. -Had :the wax been its deep.as, a well the Y cini would hav~e gone on sinking uin d til it reached the bottom. This proved n that toe wax would conform only to e slow mov-ements. If he had tried to t- pus it too fast it would have resisted i. him. . E. An idea struck the scientist. If the Swax acted like this toward the coin, how would it treat an object which floated? He accordingly placed a cork in a tumibler and poured hot shoe - makers' wax upon it. The wax hard P ened, with the cork. at the bottom. n Yet when Lord Kelvin looked at the bo'ttomn of the glass lin a day or two e8 he found the cork had disappeared. SIt wvas romiewhiere in the mass of wax, 9 and probably rising very slowly, but ' surely, toward the top.'t Sure enough, after a given perior1 o time theo cork sudden or quica, highly suceptible to v. prolonged pressure. If you pi flatiron hard down on a lump o' on a table it is probable you would make no impression on it, but if you left that iron resting on the wax for a day or two you would find the lumi: flattened out under the iron. So curious is this property of the wax that tuning forks have been cast from -pieces of it. These forks were capable of vibration,giving a musical note an being set going by vibration from another tuning fork, yet when one of them was laid across the open mouti of a jar it slowly collapsed and fell in to the jar in a shapeless, sticky mass. Any boy may perform these experi ments, and the lesson in physics to bE got therefrom is no less valuable than the amusement which the performance affords.-Chicago Inter Ocean. Mozart's Fight for Lift. After his travels and artisti< triumphs as a child,the great composei Mozart returned to Germany, and at the age of twenty-three began his real work. His struggles witiuo;crt have never beenhu--lfoc Always pursued by the spectre of wa$;not always able to get medicine. .- his sick wife, generous with whal .he had to all in need, allowing himseli no indulgence or extravagance, hE worked day and night,- pouring oui symphonies, operas and sonatas ai an almost incredible.rate. Presentf of watches, sniff lo es, , and ring, were showered +uypn'him; which hE often had to pawn-fort dinner. ' Hii audience often casiied him hone or their shoulders,?. when a igdod pei would have beeh rmore welc9m' ' The score 6f the "Magic FLut&-P thc first German dpera of great prerit; wa, composed at the request of a ViennesE manager who paid a trifle for it, th'ougl it enabled him to build a fine opert house and lay the foundation of g great fortune. At the time of Mozart'f death, when-his half-crazed wife could not pay for a coffin, ' this managei rushed about,ienna with sentimental tears for the loss to music, but would 'ot"gee ber4oae;)treutzer for funeral expenses. Mozart's. eerfulness only deserted him in his.last few months. His wifE had. been er.~.ed by friends to go t< Baden for the, waters. He was alone, when one night a mysterious stranger, all in gray, came with an order foi a "equiem to be composed within t mo h. Mozart felt that this was s visitor -rom the other world, and thai the requiem would be his own. Hi: wife returned to find him workinf with intense absorption over thi: funeral mass, sitting over it till h< swooned in his chair. The mysterion: visitor afterward proved to bea noble man who had lost his wife. Now the musical world rang witi the fame of Mozart's last opera. Thb dying man wasi offered the rich ap poitment of organist in St. Stephen't cathedral. Flattering proposals fron many managers flowed in-too late. At his funeral, in St. Stephen's only five musicians were present, be ~ides the priest and the pallbearers herain and sleet, the little grouj of mo a~ shivered under umbrellai as the hear ~8Lthe church door. Evening was fast ~ ~ ~~,'en i reached the graveyard of St. Mari where, among the "third class' Mozart was laid to rest. The weathe: was too much for the mourners, wh< dropped off one by one, till only th driver accompanied the body. The grave digger and one old wonma'.-th< official mendicant of the place-re ceived him. Being told there were n< mourners, and this was only a "band master," she'said, "Then I've n< more money to look for today. Mu sicians are a poor lot. Better luck to morrow." Then the coffin was dis mounted, and shoved into the top of grave already occupied by two paup ers-for this wasa the third paupe> funeral of that day. So lived ani fought and died a child of genius! 'he New Voice. A Clever Thief. Budapest, or one of its suburbs, hal one thief of whom the baffled polic< force but for professional scruple; would be really proud. A real estatt agent, unable to rent for the winte ths suburban cottage which he ha< occupied during the suimmer, locket the gates and doors and moved bacd to Budapest. One day not long ag< the city architect approached hit with reference to the sale of his prop erty, which was desired as al site for public building. The agent name< his price. "'But," said the architect. "is no that a little high for i acant property? "Vacant property! Bless you man it isn't vacant. There's a brick col tage on it, and a good one." "Really," returned the other, "yol are mistaken. I was there but yester day, and there is no sign of a lions on your land." The owner investi gated, and found that he was, in faci no longer a householder. During th fall a gang of bricklayers had am peared, demolished the house-a tas that consumed about a week-loade it into carts and- departed.-Corre spondence of Chicago Record. The Exception. "Any man can become rich by pe: severing, persistent effort." "1 don't know; I've never yet ru across a millionaire book agent," Chiago Record. Some reauc cient space for a grass run, u . - to keep their birds in small, confined pens, will benefit them if they adopt the following plan: Obtain from a grocer one or two empty egg boxes, which are usually nine inches deep. Place these in the pen and fill up with the soil, well pressed down to within four inches of the top. Then sow wheat, oats, grass or mustard seed, and cover with another inch of soil, and complete by stretching over top of the box as tight as possible, half inch wire netting; fastening with staples to the edges to prevent thi fowls from scratching the seed up. As it grows the green stuff will appear through the netting, aid the birds will eagerly pick it off. I have tried this plan in gravel pens and find it answers well. -Poultry (England). Preparing Land for the Orchard, The North Carolina station claims that the preparation of the land before planting'an apple orchard is of the greatest importance, for any lack of preparation before planting can hardly be remedied after the trees are set. If one does not intend to prepare the land well, manure well and cultivate well, he had better let the planting of an orchard alone. The chief point in the preparation of the land is deep plowing of the soil. This is especially needed on our red clay uplands, where trees set in shal low plowing are apt to be stunted by droughts. The land for the or chard should be prepared early in tte fall, by plowing as deeply as a pair of horses can pull a plow, and >e hind this team another team in same furrow, with a subsoil plow to break the clay still deeper, till the' whole land is broken to a depth of fifteer inches. This deep prepai-ation will be the best investment the -planter can make in setting the or017R. Care f Milk and- cs. My.milking s .done, rrning a7d evening. I have neve tied a -mlk ing machine. As sooni- as iossibe after the milk is drawn it is strained into cans of a creamer and cooled to 45 degrees with ice.. The creamer is kept in a room under the elevated water tank, connected by pipes and faucets so that~ water may be kept running through the creamer or shut off at pleasure. Butter is my only product, and it is only for private trade. Milk is hanIled in winter by being set in cans 18 inches high by 8 inches in diameter, holding abofi three gk.llons, and are k,ept in a room which in winter never freezes. I much prefer .deep setting of milk. These cans are allowed to stand. 36 hours,when the cream is removed and placed in tin cans holding five gal. lons, which after being warmed to a proper temperature with an occasional stirring will soon be found properly ripened for churning. I use a barrel churn, holding tem galions. After churning five to fifteem minutes, if the temperature .is jusi right the butter globules will appeat like so many small grains. Do nol ar-ee, but draw off the butter milk. Add i~little salt and plenty o1 clean, fresh water, give the churn a few turns; this removes all the re maining milk and leaves the butter in grains. Never use the hands to work the butter, only the ladle to padl with. I use ash kits of the cleanesi and nicest make. Concerning the cost of milk. My cows have tested two pounds of buttei per day, but I have placed it at one pound. I have charged market rate for ration and milking, which gives us cost of producing one pound of buttei at 9 1-2 cents. I consider thge - mili and manure ample remunerati,on foi all other labor. Here are the figures Three pounds oats .019 cents, th.rei pounds corn .013 cents, two pounds oil cake .023 cents, three pounds bran .013 cents, twenty-live pounds ha) .012 cents, milking .01 cent,'- tota .09 1-2 cents. The milk from the above ration has made by actual ex periments seven pounds of butter tc each 100 poundls of milk. I have usec a separator, but never found its use o: any advantage, as I have never beer able to produce any more butter thai ,by the ordinary method.-E. A. M11 ler in Orange Judd Farmer. H ogs and Corn. From present indications the prici of corn is going to be higher. Afte: tseveral years of excessively depressei markets the great Ameriaan croi promises to ieach a point where it: culture will prove very profitable t< the farmer. It will be more profitabl4 Stheu to sell corn than to feed it t< hogs. Under such circumstances thi ebreeder of swine must prepare-for the future. Ujltimately the price of hog: would go up if corn became scarce an< Stoo high price. L)provided some sub stitute for corn could not be fovnd. kIt is in ant:icipition that the farmel Sor breeder reap~s success. The mal who is loaded down with a drove- o swine might suddenly find corn ad vanced so high that it would 1 ay him to dispose of his hogs at once, and t4 .sell his corn in the open market. Bn there would be thousands of othe abreeders looking at the question i;. the same way, and the sudden man ketinaofgno many bees wnnida us anut . price? If no you must sell youi . maintain them a little wh outlay of money. The varied diet is always best for hogs and all other animals. The varied ration is also the safest to de pend upon in every way. Clover, al falfa and other grass crops for sum mer feeding are indispensable for the swine. Cow peas, Canadian field peas, dwarf Essex,rape and so;a beans 1all-h ve their particular virtues, and they shoul ted moie on e farm iere hogs are on a large scale. The root crops cannot be neg iected. Store enough of them ahead - for an emergency. Then with an abuzidant ciop of such varied articles of food it will not matter materially if prices do $u8taate for corn or any other food rop. You can then reap th 'lefit of another man's short coming6. Hints on Booting Slips. In the saucer system of rooting cut" tings, the vessels are filled with, sand simily. The cuttings should be small and several can be put in one saucer. The sand must be kept so that it is like mud, and the saucer must be placed- where it will get plenty of ann. Ner shade.from the sun, but pro tect from the wind. This is all that is necessary to insure successful root ing with good slips. When- pouring water oa, care must be taken to do it very gently, so as not to throw down or evell-un~settle the shp~s. The professional makes great use o tiny pots, tigo inches in diameter at the top and two inches deep. Roote slips do far better in dmalt- than in -large'pots, where they are apt to -be- - code 1aterlogged. They should. b,e potted-in $ne - sandy soil andkd pt shaded for two or thres diaysn the roota' have time . into the eoh " In froi four to eight asi rc ing to the nature-of the heat it ba. had, the iftle '. beiled th-a nestof.rots repottiag, bit do-not use too pot. - .i Swa p moss is so useful tlt comm greenbouse would ti o getting along witholiit. -- smal pots haif an inch at the t - is filled iit6 this moss for .drain4&~< In six-inch pots and larger a lhyer. of an inch or more of charcoal is used'a the bottom and this covered with moss. I have used dried grass in place of moss witit good results. It surely pays to use moss or grass. An- -' * 6 ther item of drainage much mote - important than the above, and no.t' universally known, is to keep the pots - _ on rough material, such as cinders, so that air can get 'under them and water pass off more freely. Pots placed on little blocks of wood do nicely. he ' drainage question is especially fim portant with roses, as they especially dislike excess of water at the roots. There is one simple rule for getting cuttings at the proper stage. If on' beniding the slip it breaks off short it -is good. If it bends without break ing it is too dld. One -of the most certain methods, and one which d.oes least injury to the parent plant where -many slips are wanted, and especially '"" good for foliage plants that are liable to rust under common treatment, is called "layering in the air." The shoot is cut, but left hanging, to the plant by a bit of bark, and is allowed to hang there for 10 or 12 days. The wound heals over, and if the plant has - been kept in a moist atmosphere, the slip will already have begun to root -in the air, buit even if no roots have been sent out, the healed suriaee is the first step toward rooting, so all that is nec essary is to detach it and plant it in a tiny pot. I have also rooted begonias, geraniums, wax plant and oleanders in a bottle of water. Fill the bottle up to the neck with warm water and in sert the cutting a half inch in the water, letting the top ext.end out from the bottle neck. Place in the sun and keep the bottle filled with water. After the first roots start, leave it alone several days before potting. Begonias an:1 geraniums will root in-' a week in either sand or water if kept. warm enough. Some plants require longer. Verbenas and petunias also root quickly. Watecr with warm water, use small pots, protect .from winds, supply good drainage, furnisk rich, porous soil, then with good. cat- ,."' tings, onlookers will say you have magic in your fingers as iegards your success in rooting gr'owing slips.-E. Clearwaters in New yngland- Home stead. . . A Description of' a Meter. The Breckinridge (wy.) News .thus. describes the meteor that :recently fell in that locality: "It. is composed..of nickel, iron and cov'At, and wagat. white heat when it struck thes,ear'th. It was very much like a,e babble;-and the air inside made it thollowr. 'It is about eighteen inches' -long -an'd teti inches wide and weighed -twelve pounds. It was found iii the gravel pit at Skillmnan, fifty feet below the surface of the earth, -showing the fearful velocity it had 'attained 'in its travels:. In cooling off ithe3 meteorite cracked, and the crevices in it are -clearly defined. The outside is oxi - dzn by exposur to the' elemnents."