l l I l l 7. « .~‘\ \- . Apply‘Lime The best period ’of the year for the appli. cation of lime to the soil is in the fall. Lima in a plant food, and is essential, and while it exists to a more or less extent in all soils,yst it proves beneï¬cial on both heavy and light lands, assisting to render heavy soils lighter and light soils heavier. It does not take the place of phosphates,nor can it bosubstituted for wood ashes,which contain Potash, but it is capable of enabling plants to derive both potash and phosphoric acid from the soil by inducing chemical processea by which the insoluble matter of the soil is changed in composition, thereby becoming of a condition which permits of the use of such foods by plants. The small cost of lime,aud its lasting effects in the soil,snould stimulate farmers to use it more liberally than is done, and as it beneï¬ts nearly all kinds of crops and injures no soils, its use is one that results in benefit,and especially when applied on soils intended for crops that have an abundance of lime in their composition. The tendency of lime is to work down into the soil, every rain carrying it deeper. Lime that is recently soaked is a hydrate, and is easily diï¬used by the rains, but after exposure in the soil it reverts to its original condition of carbonate, being then again insoluble. During these changes, when losing its characteristic as a hydrate to become a carbonate, it compels other substances in the soil to change their forms also. When stone lime is burnt, in order to produce lime, the carbonic acid is driven 03, and lime is the result. When the lime absorbs moisture from the air (air-slacking) it combines chemically with the water, forming a hydrate. In this condition it is applied to the soil. But the lime will not remain a hydrate, preferring to again beâ€" come a carbonate, and it is this desire (or afï¬nity) to combine with carbonic acid that prompts it to force the chemical changes in the soil which release plant food existing in the soil, but which plants can not re- duce. It requires quite a time for lime to com- plete its work in the soil. Applied in the fall it will, with the aid of the frost, have the land in excellent condition by spring, especially if the lime is broadcasted over the surface of the soil after a green crop has been turned under. It is more serviceable when used in conngctiou With green mauurial crops than under any other conditions. 0n light, sandy soils it always gives excellent results, permitting of the growing of clover on soils that usually give but small crops, and on heavy soils the land is made more friable and less tenacious. Some farmers apply lime once in three or four years. It is better to apply forty bushels per acre in the fall and ten bushels every year thereafter than to omit it at any time, as the most beneï¬t from lime is when it is in the condition of a hydrate. Fall Chickens. We want to say a few words about the management of fall chickens, as that season is now at hand. A chick can be potted and spoiled, until it becomes like unto a hot house plant, but that is not the way to manage the fall chicken if you would raise it. It needs air, sunshine and moderate range, to be fed well and hands off. Now, let’s go to work and set a hen, then while she is setting, ï¬x up a place for her and her chicks, by the time they are hatched; no matter if we live in town, or in the country, our plan works well in either place, and right here let us say that many a little chick owes its timely end to too much wot weeds, or too much of a thunder-shower. and not enough shed and prolectiou. So, we make ï¬rst a shed six feet wide and four feet deep, we enclose it at one end and the back.and lattice the front and one end,with a door in the lattice work. Five feet high, in front and four feet in' the back will do. Now, we will go and take our hen off with her'chicks and deposit them in our new shell coops, a large roomy coop that costs us about one dollar, and three hours' work; but mind you, it is good for a dozen more broods, or even more, so the cost is not too much. i We feed and water and keep our has and her brood in her new coop for ten days or more. In the meantime, we shall have built a small pen, about ten feet by twelve feet, so located as to have our large coop at one front corner of it. The pen is built of lathe, with light stringers and posts, at the cost of another dollar, and as soon as built it is seeded to cats, that have come up and are two or three inches high by the time our chickens are two weeks old, so that as soon as we let them run out in their pen they have plenty of green food. and the insects that always attend such little spots. If the little yard can be built about a shrub, a small tree. or some bushes, grow- ing corn or sunflowers, why so much the better. Butthe latter things are notso very necessary as the shed-like coon makes shade and a cool retreat. - Chickens that have such pleasant little homes do not stray away, but thrive and mature early. â€"_ Look Here. Many farmers are of the opinion they should be able to hiresinan to operate their sreamery for about the same wages they pay their hired man,so they hire some one who has passed by a cresmery and stepped in and witnessed the recess of making butter. This party wi learns to these farmers and say to them, “ I have had, experience.†They will hire him, paying him abouts third what a ood man would ask. He goes to work. he ï¬rst shipment of butter which goes on the market produces this reply: “Your butter is poorly madeâ€"no grain, not salt enough. streaked at“; you w . we ahalldo withit... p 0 vise what --â€" A Pointer. Mr. Goodrich, a noted dairy writer, tel-ls of his conversion to the debatable practice of feeding anal tocowl while on paid, but he saw so many ofthe best dairy- men doing it that one season he concluded to try it against his own convictions and in the face of the ridicule of his neighbors. The result was. to his amazement, that at the end of the year, he was 50 pounds of butter per cow ahead of the previous year's record. though the meal did not much in- crease the flow of milk or its richness at the time it was fed, but it seemed to give the cows good staying qualities up to the last of the season, and it is amazing how much there is to be gotten out of the tail end of the milking season with good pre- Vious cars. Mr. Goodrich says that he ï¬gured it out that he has got a return of $2.00 for every dollar he paid for the meal be fed while the cows were at pasture. Fix the Cows’ Bedroom. Have you looked over the stables, and do they need some repairing to make them warm, light, and cheerful for the cows dur- lng the long winter months 2 Perhaps the floors need repairing, the mangers ï¬xing up; or perhaps a little paper put on the walls to keep the cold out would be bene- ï¬cial. If the stable is dark, put in a win- dow or two. Attend to all of this now while you have time and while it is on your mind. Don’t put it off thinking that you have plenty of time for such work : if you do, it will not be done, or but partly done. You will not be satisï¬ed with it because you have been obliged to do it in a. hurry. the cows may sull'er by such neglect, and you will lose money every time they do sufl'er. Tit=Bits. \W\. A Question of Brains. Modesty about one's mental acqmrements isagood thing,but it must have been carried too far in the case of a witty Irishman whom a correspondent once met. The' Irishman was at work at a stone quarry, pulling up loads of broken rock out of a shaft, with a Windlass. ’l‘he Windlass was exposed to the sun, and the labor was very hard, but the mar. had on his head a straw but from which the crown had been torn. Look here said- the visitor to the Irish: man, arenft you afraid the sun will injure your brain? Pat paused in his work, and looked steadily and wonderineg at his questioner. Brains! said he. Me brains, is it ‘2 ,An’ do ye think that af I had any brainsl’d be turnin’ this windliss? ‘ Couldn’tâ€"Walt. - Uncle Allen Sparks is learning to ride a bicycle. The other day he was in the midst of his third lesson, wabblir'ig from side to side, when he was heard to mut- tor: It’s no use. I can't be like Davy Crock- ett. I’ve got to go ahead before I am sure I’mright. She was Mistaken. Sheâ€"No.it can never be. I like you as a friendâ€"I respect youâ€"lâ€"I admire you ; but that is not love, you know, and I can- not be your wife. But do not do anything rash ; try to bear up under it, for I am sure there are others more worthy of you than I am. ' Heâ€"Very pleasant weather we are hav- ing. Y-e-s. very. tinne. You see, my friend Jack's little sister is cbming to the city to-morrow to stay some time, and he wants me to show her the sights. She is a dear little child with golden hair, and heavenly blue eyes, and the sweetest little face imaginable. I never saw such a perfect little angel as she was the last time I saw her. Howâ€"how long is it sinceâ€"since you saw her l About ten years: I think. She was just eight years old then. Eight and ten areâ€"â€"- Horrors l If you dare to go near that girl, I‘llâ€"I’ll kill my- self, so there ! ' j . She Laughed. Georgeâ€"You are not calling on Miss Rosebud any more, eh? Jackâ€"No, I got disgusted. She has such a coarse laugh. Georgeâ€"I never noticed that. Jackâ€"You would if you’d been within hearing when I proposed to her. ' â€"_'_ At a Safe Distance. Claraâ€"All the girls are taking boxing lessons. Aren't you scared 2 Young Bachelorâ€"No; I always keep away from bargain counters . Willing to Oblige. Mr. Dudlingâ€"Waitalnyou hov fohgotten theâ€"awâ€"ï¬ngar-bowl. Waiterâ€"We don’t serve ï¬n ger~bowls any more, sir ; but when you get through rooting around among the vittles, I’ll bring you a wash.basiu if you want it. A _-_-_ Knowledge and Money. Raggaâ€"Some people have more money than they know what to do with. Taggsâ€"They seem to know what to do with the dimes I ask them for. Too Sweet for Anything. Claspiug her hand in my hand As we walk ; Seeing my eyes in her eyes As we talk ; This is the ecstacy : This is the boon Of a late autumn memory Of a sweet day in June. Linguistic Ability. Jinksâ€"My wife speaks four languages. Kinksâ€"Mine only ï¬nds time to speak one. Easily Fixed. Mrs. Bripkrww~How do you manage to persuade your husband to buy you such ex- pensive bonnet-2 Airs. Topï¬atteâ€"I take him shopping with me. walk him around until he can‘t stand, and than wind up in a bonnet store. He'll buy anything to get home. _~. mâ€"trot-raz'kmr'sisesrsaman “mug-amp -Hgg=‘mgï¬w foonts'wiibohlige-i him to live on with the I am glad of it, too,and hope it will conv , wife. To-morrown" As the Bowser family got up from the supper table the other evening a boy called at the door to leave a bundle, and as Mrs. Bowser caught sight of it she turned to her liege lord and asked: “ Well, is it another ï¬re-escape or what 2†“ Mrs. Bowser,†he began, as he carried the bundle into the sitting-room, “do you remember of saying the other day that the back bed room tip-stairs needed re-paper. ing 2†“ Yes, I said so.†“ And you asked me to speak to a paper- hanger about it.†“ Mr. Bowser !†she exclaimed, “ have you gone and bought paper for that room Without my seeing it ‘1'" “I have bought the paper for the room. made in! I didn’t propose to have you trotting down to the store every day for six weeks to select and purchase ï¬ve rollfl of wall-paper l" “ But Iâ€"I wanted to select it l†"Yes, Ipresume so, but the paper is here before you. Instead of being six weeks about it I selected it in about three minutes. There it is, and how do you like it. a!†“ Why, Mr. Bowser, it's almost black l†she grasps-i. “Certainly. I preferreda dark paper." “ And it's hall paper 1†“ Yes, you could put it on shall if you want. to, but we shall put it on a bed room. Isn’t it artistic ?" “ It is simply frightful 1" “That’s as one has been brought np,.\lrs. Bowser. As you were born and reared in a log house, with a frog-pond in front, of course you know nothing about art. If the pattern portrayed a yaller dog chasing a wall-eyed out through a cabbage garden you'd probably go into ecstaciei over it." “Who is going to put it on the wall?†asked Mrs. Bowser, deeming it politic to ignore his sarcasm. “A chap about my size.†"But youâ€"youâ€"â€"l†“Stop right there, Mrs. Bowser l I am not. going to pay a paper hanger $30 or $40 and have him around the house a fortnight to do what I can do in two hours. I’ll put this icper on the wall as if it grew there, and I'll do it this vary evening. You just tell..the girl to make me a pan of paste and then sit down and fold your hands or stick your nose in a novel. You won‘t be troub- - led in the slightest. I’ll get the step- ladder and change my clothes,and if I don’t make as neat ajob of it as you ever saw I’llecat my hat I†‘ “Mr. Bowser,†said Mrs. Bowser, as she accompanied‘him to the foot of the stairs, “can’t I prevail upon you to let me see to that room 1'" “Why should I leave that room alone 2 It needs re-paperiiig. I can do it. I need the exercise. I can save money enough to get me a new fall overcoat. What is the matter with you Mrs. Bowser '1†“Something will happenâ€"vand you will get mad and blame meâ€"audâ€"â€"-†“That will do, Mrs. Bowser I Just get out your novel and sit down to read l Nothing will happen, and no one will get mad, and the work will be ï¬nished by 10 o’clock.†He ran up-stairs and she turned aw ay t give instructions to the cook to make the paste and carry it up. A quarter of an hour later Mr. Bowser was at work. He cleared the room of all furniture but the bed, got an old table outpf the store-room to paste on, and when Mrs. Bowser looked in on him he was just pasting his ï¬rst strip on the wall.- “You must have guessed at the length of the strip, for it’s six inches short,†she observed. “Do you know anything about the busi- ness of paper-hanging I“ he demanded as he looked down upon her. “No, but anyone with'half an eye can see that you haven’t gotthat strip plumb up and down.†, “Never you mind about the ‘ plumb up‘ and down business! I was hanging’paper before you could step over a cat. hen I want you I'll call.†Mrs. Bowser had scarcely gotten down- stairs when there came a. crash which made things shake. She knew what it Was but didn’t go up. Mr. Bowser had taken a header from the step-ladder as he started the second strip. He didn’t call her. how- ever, and so she waited. Ten minutes later there was a different kind of sound. The ï¬rst thing was a yell. Then came a jar, and this was followed by a crash and a whoop. Mrs. Bowser ï¬gured it out as she hastened up-stairs. Mr. Bowner had fallen on the bed and bounded Off on the floor and was probably tangled up with some, thing. She had it pretty straight, In. bounding 06 the bed his feet had struck the table and overturned it, and the pan of paste had upset and bedaubed his whole body. He was in a dazed condition as she pulled the table out of the way and began to sop up the paste with a towel, and nothing was said for a couple of minutes. Then, as he opened his eyes and looked around she asked. †M r. Bowser, are you hurt f†“ Your little plot didn't quite carry out, did it i†he exclaimed as he slowly assum- ed a sitting position. “ What do you mean 2†" Don’t try the innocent lamb business with me, Mrs. Bowser l†he shouted as he got up and kicked the paste-pan across the room, " you were mad because I selected the paper. l on Were opposed to my hang- ing it. You wanted your own way about things, and because you oouldn’thave’em you thirsted for my life i" “ Why, Mr. Bowser l" " Don't why Mr. Bowser me i I'm anice looking object, ain’t I I That fall would have killed nine men out of ten 1 Get out of here and let me get into the bath-tub l" “ But you don’t blame " “ I see the plot, Mrs. Bowser, and I have my eye on the plotter I Don't make your crime the more heinous by falsehood! Some one crept up and yanked on that siepladder. 'l he idea was that I would tumble and break my neck, and only the band of Providence saved me I" '-‘ And will you â€"yon-â€"â€"†“ Yea. madam, I will seek a divorce! This is the last hair l When a husband’s life has been attempted a score of times no ’But she didh’t wart.‘ She knew what he†he was going to any, and she Went-do‘flh' stairs and left him to make his way to the bath room. At 10 o’clock as he had not come down‘staini, she crept up and found him in bed and asleep, and as she noticed the martyred look on his face the softly kissed him and whispered = ‘ “ Poorâ€"poor Mr. Bowser l†â€"â€"â€"â€"__..____. THE VALUE OF SANITATION. Financial Loss to Communities From - Sickness and Death. This is a hard, practical age that demands money value for every progressive step,and eï¬'orts to improve sanitary conditions are too often retarded by this mercenary claim. As arguirents sauitarisns present some remarkable statistics, showing ï¬nancial lots, individually and as a whole, to com- munities when an epidemic prevails. A number of very interesting tables and diagrams have been compiled by Mr. G. E. Willets, of Michigan, showing mortality from general and speciï¬c causes covering a period of 250 years. His search of the records of England has been very thorough resulting principally in estimates of Lon- don and English counties. From his tables, simply arranged with heavy black columns, varying in length according to the percentage of mortality, it is shown that in London from 1660 to 1679 the rate of mortality from fevers alone was 875 per lOJ,000 persons. In 1888 it was but 17, more than ï¬fty times less. The reduction show.r greatest between 1801 and 1810, then a considerable decrease follows from 1831 to 1840, after which il. remains about stationary through 1841 to 1871, showing slight change to 1888. Similar progress is indicated for consumption, but greater for smallpox. The- latter disease killed 50?. persons in every 100,000, just previous to Jenner's discovery, in 1780. In 1885 there were only nine deaths from smallpox to 100,000. A REMARKABLE DECREASE is indicated also for allgeneral causes. In 1679 the rate stands at 50 deaths for every 1,000 inhabitants, and diminishes to 18.4 in 1888 in London. The greatest progress has been made, of course, since sanitation becamea science, and increasing advancement is shown when people have learned that the adoption of its measures saves money. In most States the maximum value of a man’s life is put at $5.000, and the minimum, $1,000 for damages. William Farr, in his cold calcu- lations of mortality and loss, estimated the life of an English farm labourer at $1,200, and a woman’s about $500 less. . These ï¬gures are too low for American labour, and deCidedly low for a large por- tion of the middle class. For illustration, however, the conservative ï¬gure $1,000 is generally used. This amount multiplied by the death rate of a given place gives the approximate loss to that community. This does notinclude loss from sickness, which some statisticians estimate on a basis often or twelve cases to every death. In small towns, where sanitary measures - have not been generally adopted, and a proper sewerage system is unknown, barr- ing epidemics, the number of deaths yearly has generally averaged four to seven per 10,000 population. Taking the money value of each life at $1,000, the amount of loss to the town is obwous. Pettenkofl‘er calculated after years of accounting that every German soldier lost ï¬ve per cent. of his time by sickness. If this is true of wellâ€"fed, equipped, and watered soldiers, we must estimate a LARGER Ram in cities on this continent, where conditions are in many places detrimental to health, and the stress of life weakens physical stamina. It is proved beyond question by carefully kept records that proper sanita- tion relieves the discomfort of the poorer classes, reduces ‘ paupsrism, prevents famine, and increases capacity for labour production. It is estimated that in Lon- don alone 240,0001iVes are saved annually by modern sanitation. Proceeding with the calculation that there are ten cases of sickness to every death. and that the individual cost is not less than $1 a day for subsistence and medicine, for a maximum period of ten days, and the amount saved ï¬gures $2,400,000. Going further, and estimating the annual earnings of the lives saved at $300 each, and $72,000,000 accrues, which, after cost of keeping the individual is subtracted, leaves a large saving. Hard and practical as these statistics appear, they prove beyond question that sanitary science, yet in its infancy, is a pecuniary beneï¬t to acommnnity, and undoubtedly' will achieve even more remarkable results in th e future. The Holy Man of Benares. One of the curiosities of mankind, he i visited by almost every traveleriu India who goesjtoBenares. Hisnamelis Swami Bhaskar- anauda Saraswati, and he is about 65 years old. He lives near the Monkey Temple, in a garden belonging to a Raja, Wears no clothing, sleeps on the ground, and accepts no gratuities, because he wants nothing. “By much study and long contemplation of religion,†it. has been said, "he claims to be free from all passionsâ€"free even from the very wants of life." He has a face full of sympathy and kindness. He discusses and explains his ideas of religion whenever a visitor desires to hear him, and he treats every one of the multitudes who call upon him with constant and most cordial kind- ness. Part of his writings has been pub- lished in a bulky volume. - 'Smoklng Prevents Diphtheria. Prof. Hajak of Vienna has declared than smokers are less liable to diphtheria and other throat discuss than non-smokers ft the ratio of l to 28. The learned Dr. Sohiï¬' also ivesus to understand that smoking is a ways positively forbidden in bacteriological laboratories, because it is known to hinder the development of the bacteria â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€".â€"â€"_ New Ships on the Tyne. Not less than ten new vessels were launched by ï¬rms on the banks of the Tyne during the month of August, and this is the largest number of ships launched there in one month during the present year. l lelllBEll or Bikinis. AN OLD Tins FLOATING raises T0 as sxsisrrsn IN LONDON. An Old null: Fitted Up to Represent (‘en vies me in the Pastâ€"Gruesome l'le turn of Former Pnalahments. Londoners, it appears, are now expected to flock to a new attraction, a floating chamber of horrors. which promises to outrival the chamber of horrors at Mme. Tuuaud's famous wax works exhibition- This floating exhibition of terrible hap penings of the past is an old convict talk! the Success, which recently arrived at London from Australia, after a voyage 0! ï¬ve months’ duration, and which is moored at Blackwell while being prepared to receive the public. The Success has been used for exhibition purposes in Australian waters for years past, but just as she was upon the point of being demolished she was purchased from the Government by specuo lators and taken to London. The bulk in more than a hundred years old, and is the only one remaining of ï¬ve terrible floating prisons established by the Government of the colony of Victoria from 1850 to 1855, as a result of the discovery of the gold ï¬elds of Bendigo and Ballarat, and the subsequent rush of the colony of, among others, many thousands of desperate, law- less men of nearly all nationalities. Natur- ally crimes for a long time were most frequent, and bushrangers and other! thrived upon the robberies committed along the roads followed by the lucky dig: gers who tried to make their way home with their newly-acquired wealth. In fact these lawbreakers eventually became so hold that they attacked the Government escorts guarding the consignments of gold sent from Ballarat or Bendigo to Melbourne and other towns. \Vheu bushruugers were captured tney were treated with THE UTM OST SBVERITY, and upon conviction were sentenced to long terms of imprisonment in the prison hulks, which were stationed in Hobsou’s bay, Melbourne. On board these vessels a mos terrible system of discipline prevailed, in fact, its administrator, the then inspector general of naval establishments, a son of a Cornish baronet, Sir John Price, was beaten to death by a gang of desperate convicts, who rushed upon him, determined to kill the inventor of the much-hated system of control, some idea of which may be gathered from the following facts:â€"anh convict had his history recorded on the door of his cell in the hulks,aud many of the most notorious - records will be on exhibition. Attempts to jump overboard were frequent, although, the convicts being heavily ironed, those who had the temerity to jump sank like lumps of lead, to rise no more. Many of the prisoners, whom no amount of punish- ment could subduc,were continually cursing and yelling in the most horrible manner. Whichever way the visitor turned there was something repulsive to the eye or ear. There was want of space for bodily exercise, a total absence of any kind of useful oc- cupation, and almost total isolation from all the usual habits of mankind. The‘ I narrow walls of the cells were the limits for exercising the body, except that the prisoners were allowed on the decks, from which only a distant view of the shore could be obtained, for one hour daily. At night the dashing of the waves against the sides of the bulbs added to the din caused by the SHOOTING AND SWEARING of the most unruly convicts, who never seemed to desire to sleep or be willing to permit others to rest. On board the Success, when ready for inspection, waxen ï¬gures of the convicts of the past will be shown, in their usual atti- tudes and coarse garb, in the cells they at one time occupied. Notable among them will be the ï¬gure of the notorious “Captain†Melville, who for several years hauntud the country between Ballarat and Melbourne, to the terror of gold-laden diggers attempt. ing to make their way from the gold ï¬elds to the latter city. He was credited with many murders and countless robberies. and when ï¬nally arrested he admitted that the proceeds of his crimes must have footed u to quite £250,000,which he claimed he had hidden in a place known to himself alone. As a result, for forty years since people have been trying in vain to ï¬nd out where Melville hid his ill-gotten gold. As he was in the habit of riding to the top of Mounts Boran and Anakie, from which point of vantage, and by the aid of a powerful field-glass. he was able to espy the return- ing diggers, it is believed that the treasure must be hidden in the neighbourhood of one of those places, but all attempts to , ï¬nd it have proved fruitless. When after trial and conviction, Melville was conï¬ned on board the Success,he watched his oppor- tunity, and, at the head of a number of other desperadocs, suddenly rushed upon a boat, KILLiiD 'riiz Result in charge of it, and succeeded in pulling away from the bulk in safety, although ï¬red upon by all the hulks and warships in the bay. He was soon recaptured, however, and at his trial defended himself brilliantly, delivering a speech of great powur and impressivcness, during which he dilated in burning words upon the horrors of the penal system on board and Success, and causing such a sensation by its publi- cation in the newspapers of Melbourne that a monster meeting of citizens was called and resolutions were passed in favour of abolishing the convict hulks. Indeed, the popular feeling aroused against them was so strong and general that the Government was compelled to commute the death sentence im iossd upon Molvnlle to imprison- ment for lie. He was transferred to the gaol at Melbourne, where, acoordiug to the ofï¬cial report, he committed suicide. The unofï¬cial version of the affair is that he was strangled to death by a keeper duringa struggle which the desperate man made for liberty. Every side of convict life in the old days on board the hulks will be depicted on board the Success, especially the different modes of punishment, and the speculators who have purchased her expect to reap a small fortune as the result of their stroke of enterprise. I mnm Wm... ....â€"..-â€". m- m».. ..