a means of cere- need a. jig, and of his knee had eumatism seems is child, for it is ftenat cured at. aces where mir- orked, and also tic healers. operated upon on Notre Dame suffering severely of the child con- Ierchants in The natives, sigh}. WM!!- :d her curative powers at s. A young wcman who :1in complained of severe ï¬nger. The child im- pout any prompting of« Upon the young woma! rather girl,†as she was r simple cures in the l years ago her father rhere crowds f people, each person needed a 2 custom of the child ye after using it once, inning short of this it several fowis were {he deï¬ciency. flats of the father it Quebec medical faculty very juvenile poacher preserves and also at 2 child l'H A FEATHER b diseases which had Ie efï¬cacy of their yders. They accord- ieputation to Cardin- him to use his influ- pular belief in the child who was runâ€" iness. Subsequently is daughter back to , on some days from Ions visited his house e father afï¬rms that ;hat year he spent hire for himself and rneys to the houses edridden or wished m homes. Of course arable. ought by this little nary, and her father vf persons bedridden ; cases years, being le to walk by a few pr. In one instance in dancing at one rwn out of employ- pmatic swelling on possible for him to Educated.†guela, now in labar,a young lyo II. The een years old, 9 race, being eigbing about , the boy was Calabanand f Liverpool, erpool to be urn to Africa rymen. His e boy’s father 1’, but as the JG Hm snug;- irift. About Ence’s father, ‘5 :ame down to In, and with 9 till a debt. of a well known ding in the ‘ ‘ to be made to it rather extra- }d man hag ap: he feather along ' about two min. she feather in the i asked the young ’ lady remarked the feather over 53 and when the a had disappear. English hall: on Tuesday go Institute, 7 Vâ€" as.“ V g WP .11 feather from the pi]. 33 it over the affected :e operation the pain y and at its ï¬nish, fled equal elastic. , wish to be cut- :ary amount of One man who to be cared was bones of the 312633 from their emails with an accommodatéd :3 of natural ‘th daughter she ve power to do 80, the ’adiOining bed chamber 1' 3A,..L ., †CHILD cguntry the ' “-Twelve bean to strik clocklhad a. ï¬ring: hollow 2::ult??t' That “ ‘ ’m rea. an‘ trnI la - ghost; Norahyl’lad said fip'rgth;i :23; Its. no just, before it began to strike. ‘Ic wolf? have happened at the stroke of twe‘vhf‘ whatever it was 5 It always does.’ me “ A: ’ gix’ the shiveted a, little. at. . Ph’LO' murmured Diorama), .Iy " " swat : u r ‘. - ' . We began to 3501155 thingaï¬we . thmg m fact, as young girls will, ‘01:} eggs' were heav with slee ,bu ‘ our feet gliw cold anpd W2“;a:1nl;%efti}them, the ï¬re. There was a clock 30510“.th at away that struck the quarters and en: far foyegi hearing the time go, and’made We en. mmds to sit up till tWere, like "to“? our peop1e. “ WHIP “ Twelve began to strike at last, That chm]: RAJ a ntrannm hn11-... -A, , __--v .u‘uC. \’ z(T'h‘én we supped and held eaoh hand under the table, just like Dic Eveline : and at nine o’clock, when ‘ ‘got rid of them,’ as we put it, 'e w to the large bedroom that had been a with chintz of a. faded pattern, and have held four such shpe of girls 21.3. 1nd me. There was an Immense em like another room, and a horrid cu; at one endâ€"‘Just Meg for a g? murmured Norahm}. uh, n --..\.v:. vu- a “Norah and 1 ‘opened at least a dozen doors each before we thought of faking of? to the supper prepaned for us. We stepped lu'st gleaming green and blue under the‘ last. faint streaks of twiiight. It was melan- choly; the stricken tree was me'anchaly, the wash of the water was mehmchc-lv. ‘ I'm rather glad there is no ghost?†sai‘yx’orah I slipping her hand into mine. \ ‘gmu v ._V-_- vuyvv§c any OI 11$ thought it odd that the drive was grass- grown, the gate unbolted, the tree not cut downâ€"we were not particular in Ireland in those days ! The windows of the hc use shone like burning-glasses in the sunset. so that at ï¬rst I thought the house was on ï¬re. The hall door stood open, it was all friend- ly and hospitableâ€"and casual! Our scr- vants were all hidden about the house like rabbits in their burrowa, and the hall was (1 a grod‘ thing too, for there was the most, dreadful -11 _-, _ , _,_V.- “VVV «a unnuncu. “Early on the morning of the wedding- day three or four servants were sent off, with our luggage, to make the house ready for us, and after the wedding was over,an:l the toasts drunk, Eveline, and Dick, Norah and I . got into a chaise, and away we went with four horses over roads that a coach- man nowadays would think too bad for anything but a country waggon. “ It. was a long. long drive. and though we had started in tearing spirits, we got dreadfully tired, not to say cross, in the course of four mortal hours’ jolting. It was quite dark when we turned into a gloomy avenue of beech trees, but on approaching the house we could just make out, against the red sky, the great gaunt boughs of a tree that looked rs if it had been struck by ‘ghtning. I don’t suppose any of us t‘lnnn-lxt :9» m1) ¢L_L U ‘ ' _.. van-u; l v, for we were devoted to each other, and the ephemeral attachment of Dick and Eve- line was nothing to our strong and lasting passion. \Ve meant to be friends all our lives, and we Were not at all anxious for the advent of the detachment of our house- hold party who volunteered to come down m a. day or two, and keep us amused. “Early on the morning of the wedding- J, , 1 ‘ - "Dick, of course, scouted this theoryâ€" any' place would please him as long as he had Eveline; but he gratefully accepted the loan of Dâ€"â€", 88 it; happened to be con veniemly near the Burkes’, and would al- low him and his bride to take part. in the festivities given in their honor, and vet reach their temporary home before night- fall. “Norah and I who were to go with them, rather enjoyed the idea. of having a ramb- ‘ ling old country house all to ourselvesâ€"for l We hardly counted Dick and Evelineâ€"an old romantic mansion, replete with-every ancient discomfort, to reverse the saying ! I Ve were a. little disappointed when ‘e heard there was no ghost, and, though it; was in Ireland, not, the very rcmotest chance of moonlighters. However, we I flattered ourselves we should enjoy our ‘honeymoon,’ as we persisted in calling: it, for we were devoted to nnnlx an.“ “-1 .L- hand. “ When my cousin, 'Eveline Burke, was married to Dick Marchmont, it was arrang- ed that her two bridesmaids, my cousm Norah and myself, giddy young womeuof seventeen and eighteen, should go With them to Dâ€"-â€", a country house belonging to the Marchmonts, as I was told. When there are several estates in the family, all. . except the favored one, are apt to get somewhat neglected and become mere store- houses of old pictures and tapestries and lumber of all kinds that would clash sadly with the more modern furniture and apj pliances of the actual family seat. Theses extraneous homes are generally presided over by an old housekeeper who gradually grows as yellow and musty as the parch- ment in the muniment room, and as faded and decayed as the tapestries on the walls. But there was not even a. housekeeper at â€"â€". The gardener, Wh) lived in the grounds, and neither dug nor delved, and a laundry woman who had no washing to do, gave it an eye now and then. However, Dick’s uncle, the present head of the family, was anxious to lend him the house for his honeymoon, assuring him that it only want- ed ‘airing’a bit, and that Dick, however desperately in love he might be with Eve- line, would be glad of the excellent ï¬shing afforded by the lake in the parkâ€"after the ï¬rst few days. , “We",dears,when I was a girl, it wasn’t tne fashion for bride and bridegroom. ‘0 “Sh 0-Way, the minute they were mag-med, fr om Ml their kind friends and wellw15hes, and. g0 wandering together all we} the “'0“ 1d. .‘elying on the tender met-mes 9f ho‘el‘keeper‘ss and chambenmaids for the" cmeortz, seeing nothing but. strange faces, Wltll no one to speak to but themselves, “hug. as it seems to me,the surest possible way to grow tired of each other. No, if they went away at all, they took some of the wedding guests away thh them, and went t°_a. friend’s houseâ€"somewhere within“ . nve very hkerâ€"thab had been made 3:81.131 and' comfortable ~for them before- “ I have heard many ghost storiés,†§aid my grand-ant: Mary, “ and I don’t. behave in any Of them. They are mostly srlly and purposeless, and evidently made up; b‘}? one story that you may call a ghost stof'y 1‘ You like. I will tell vou, for 1â€"1 11ved throug'; it mvself.†Then she told us this story :â€" ' A NEW TALE OF A TUB. Jggage, to make the house ready l after the wedding was ovenani irunk, Eveline, and Dick, Norah into a chaise, and away we went ’3 3t ‘eigh L' and would ewent up ‘1‘ 8.331011. v It “:19 bed hung as Norah Chimnny cupbonrd ghost 1‘ 0t her’s wedding- "in“ and Eveline, who intended to Share our vign had a brilliant idea: it was tqbave sum; spread _and a good one too ~11) (3:31‘ 1mm, so that we should ha_ve Sometmng ‘0 do besides sitting OPPOSlte each other-And solemnly staring into each other’s faces, A little Dutch courafa'e “33‘ 318") .Sugges’dfd as an addition. Ursu‘a‘ Pformsed not to faint on condition she was glVen poneofib Diék and Eveline, who came freshmth'e scéne'of our terrors, and ' ‘Ilv \LUUL, auu. ulv-t L ~~~~~~~~~ 'J {in his POCker. They sounded the walls, they s(â€Hided the floor of the passage. and had a. lamp put on a. shelfjusc overthe door of the emptyrocm A number of candles were taken to our room and lit, until Eh" Chlmmney-piece looked like the altar oza. Roman Cathouc' church. Walter had se- cured 8" old stable .Iantern which he thought; Would stand the freeze beater than our host “Candles. 7 A I 1L“: 1 ‘? We made no more investigations after that. Walter bore Ursula. tenderly away ‘ t0 her mom, and we giris tried to sleep. How could We ‘2 Next day it was determined that eVel'ythino should be done to clear up the mystery 0x901"- nightiy disturbance and before dark all our arrangements were ; made. Dick and Walter again examined the emptyrmm at the end of the passage, and 1001‘“ the’door, and Dick put the key in his. '00ch rm--- “Mam: Hm wnHo , ' rang out again and again ! “b; orah covered her fpce, “Falter sprang up, seized a. candle and opened the door. \Ve all followed. The noise approachedâ€" there came the rolling sound on the cal: floor and the metallic jingleâ€"and then a. rush of cold wind swept :hrough the open docr and left us in darkness ! “Norah tremblinglv lit, a. match. and her eyes fell on Ursula, ill a. dead faint. She called Walter, and Ursula, came to a. lit-ole, and clung to her husband, and begged him to stay with her, and would not, let him go. l The noises had ceased. Walter was dread- ‘ fully vexed at, having been prevented from following them up. Then with a candle each we walked along the passage. All the doors were fast ; not a. windon was open anywhere to account for that icy blast, that was more like a. breath}, from a. cold church vanilb, than the mild airs of a September nig t-. ‘ “We made no more investigations after _V~OV__-, _-..... vyvll vunlus them all in, grew convinced of our serious- ness when all his efforts to tease Norahâ€" she was as teasable as schoolgirls generally are â€"failed to elicit a single giggle. I felt as if every nerve in my body was uncovered, ready to quiver at the ï¬rst. shock of the repeated horror. I: was like having a. tooth out twice over. [ Walteruand Ursula. had been married a couple of years and were not so wrapped up in themselves as Dick and Eveline. They I helped us to make a. thorough search. One I of the rooms in our corridor had been made nready for the new comers and looked as l littleghostly as possible. The other at the I far call was a perfectly ordinary % t cheer- less room, built at such an an e that it nevergot any sun, but not otherwise dis- agreeable. For this reason, and also on account of its close, mildewy smell, no one had chosen it. ‘The ghostly procession would ; appear to start from there,’ laughed Wal- l l ter,and he and Ursula volunteered to sit]! up with Norah and me till twelve o’clock. l we accepted eagerly, and at night we had a good ï¬re lit, plenty of candles, and Sat downto have a jolly evening. Ursula was very gay, up to a certain point, but at ten o’clockIncticed her eyes begin to shift un- easily and she left off talking whenever the clock struck the quarters. \V alter, who I knowfancied that Norah and .l, with the impishuess of schoolgirls, had been taking _ “Dick and Eveline, who had evfdenbly heard nothing, would not take our story seriously at all, but alluded to fried beans and hacon the night; before. Then they shut themselves up in a kind of morning room that had been rigged up for Eveline, and we wandered miserably about till the evening. when my oldest cousin, Walter, and his wife Ursula. came down to Dâ€"â€". We told our sad story afresh, of course. After our short, uneasy sleep of the night before we looked ghastly enough to make them believe we really had gone through‘ scruff-hing! _ , knur.u_,, wuu, ycLLcuuy conscious Of our woe-begone looks, and feeling as important as peI'SUnS who have had a. long and painful illness, we wen} dpwn to breakfast. 7V-' ‘w‘ .. v]. a. “ I have heard of people’s hair turning grey in one night from fear ; I suppose we were too young for that, but when the dawn came and found us lying on the he'd, just as we had at last fallen asleep in our clothes, we must have looked very unlike the two healthy girls who had come there only twelve hours before. Our old servant, came in and scolded us for not, going to bed properly, and, perfectly conscious of our‘ “ I, fog; one, was no bolder. were shivering as we had never 8 the coldest Winter night, and chattered like castanebs. In the gleam _of our two candles as they before going out, I saw her pale knew mine was {33 pale as hers. nggl;ie,énnerrplttent jingling noise. Wel wei htethoor get under our feet with the‘ O gd at. moved over the boards outside. at oor was close to the head of a little staircaseâ€"we kne w w . we heard tho 1‘“... {lat mllsu,.happen , f4 is coming S‘ ‘ \T- some heavy thxng were being dragged slowly along. On it er and nearer, and there seemed in a sound of footsteps and a. inwm:‘d.__ A " ’ ump, bump of the thing, I, being rolled carefully we counted thirty bumps, )eat on our very hearts. silence; we remembered at the bot-tom of the n? bolder. We both I began: but the non never shivered on 3 ï¬nd our teeth . 3, m we was: or 1ce-cold ‘air that; sweet; rmg on th? bed, mto the room and extinguished every candle n asleep m our, _ but one. It, did not go out, however, and :ed very unhke he flashed it down the passage, and we all had come there looked over his shoulder and saw at the Our 0m servant extreme end of the corridor, what seemed not, gomg to bed 1 to be a. deepening of the shadow about the mscxous of our â€am..- A: n†“H†~ "" ‘ten’ she half 1 ‘Something increased flared up face and ' . . raw-NM, us5°u v; w.)- uuUIKEG .‘““‘"‘5 W“ â€MW.†3 Person accused of .curxosnty. cmme would clear himself by n eans of con. .. . ï¬ner-y famlly has a skeleton in the purgators-â€"Lhab is to say, he induce 3 cupboard,’ added Eveline, ‘any famfly of twelve persons to come in any age and importance, at least.’ good roput-apxon and that “ ‘A skeleton in a cupboard is a very K. ‘ heve hlm guilty. â€â€˜Of 1‘ disc'r‘e'clviwtaâ€"lï¬â€˜Ã©ï¬ï¬at'dié‘v;~ - rcr‘7\'_ and rude] ,. saxd I. puriosity, y urged by m; baulked 1 “ Dick’s nncle proved to be very uncom- l‘ municative in the matter, and it was allow- ed to drop. But Eveline, some time after, in a. moment of conï¬dence, informed Norah ' and me that the Watch bore the Marchmont crest and certain initals which made it easily traceable to a member of the family, while among the keys were two which , opened chests in the house Where old Marchmont lived. One of these chests had been broken open, and a new key made- the other, then considered of no interest, had been allowed to remain in a deserted lumber room. “ ‘And did they open it ‘2’ I asked. “ ‘ Yes.’ “ ‘And did they ï¬nd out anything 2’ ‘ “ ‘They found papers relating to the owner of the watch,’ ‘ “ ‘ They knew his name, then ‘2’ “ ‘ Yes,’ said Eveline portentously. ‘ It appears that he had been foully murdered . . . and . . .’ She suddenly grew reti-f cent. ‘1 am not going to tell you anything more. You are two dreadfully curious little girls, and Dick has particularly for- { hidden me to reveal family secrets.’ â€â€˜nF a. J:n_,, 1.. 11 "A; n. l v “ Nothing else ! It: was explained to us that the white substance was quicklime, which will (lestrOy any human remains in the shnrtest possible time. The Watch was an old-fashioned turnip watch, such as ‘ gentlemen used to wear. The jingling noise we had heard was obviously made by the bunch of keys which were attached to a 'bulky cluster of valuable seals. They were ‘ at once sent to Dick’s uncle. _ V. 'J â€"â€"D---- “Iv J DJUUU of the flooring Was removed, and under one of them a. heavy pine barrel of ancxent “make, was discovered and opened by a. few strokes of a. hatchet. I “ Next day Dick, having sent for Den- nis, the gardener, deSpatCth him for men and implements, and by twelve o’clock a. little group of workmen, under the super- intendence of Dick and Walter, visited the cellar. We women were not strictly invit- ed, but it was found impossible to keep us out, emboldened as we were by numbers and the wholesome daylight. Every stone 0f the floor-ha wag vomnvnfl om! “n.1,... l u ,‘ _ _- ...- u-..“ “Vuluvo, LuaUVCl‘ 101‘ to-night. Go back to your rooms, all of you.’ He looked the cellar, and we all ï¬led upstairs again.†wan-7, uuu wuuouu glass, man was all. “ ‘ Whatever is is, it; is here,’ Dick said solemnly ; ‘ but; it; must wait till morning.’ He put his arm round Eveline, who stood shivering beside him, ‘ Come, darling, you ought not; to be here. Besides, it’s over for . 1' ‘__,..D V. uuv uucuuuï¬â€™ uooub the 11‘ door of the empty room. Then to our won- "? der this shadow seemed to gather into ll shade and passed slowly towards us along the passage. Rolling round and round a. Y dark shade two or three feet highâ€"as a y mist cloud is rolled, when the west wind 15 . arises and drives it down a river valley. Y The cries and voices had ceased, and as 2 this unaccountable shadow passed along, b the flooring creaked and we heard a hollow e sound so exactly like that caused by a. . great cask or barrel being rolled along that it was impossible not to believe that we) 'were actually watching some such thing x pushed along, and turning round and round las it passed. Not one of us stirred hand , or foot as it came on. We even stood back to let it go by. Slowly creaking over the boards, it passed us and came to the head i of the staircase. There it stopped for a. ' moment and then began to roll down. We followed. Step by step, as we had heard it I the past two nights, we now saw it go, and i stole after it. ’ “‘There isa door at the foot of the F‘UC‘P stairs,’ gasped Walter. I “ ‘ I have all the keys,’ said Dick. “The semblance of this ghostly barrel gstopped fora. moment at the foot of the ‘ I stairs. The door had a slightly raised sill, ] l too narrow tor its passage. Exactly as ifit ‘ I had been raised by human hands, the j [shadowy barrel was lifted, and after being ( l poised for a. moment on the sill, rolled in l l and seemed to fall on to a hollow-sounding stone floor. “Dick handed him the bunch, and after trying one or two the door yielded and we went. in. It was a. small square cellar, per- fectly empty, perfectly clean, with four bare walk; and a. w1ndow high up, closed by bars, but without glass, that was all. “ Walter put his hand out the- keys,’ he said. Walter opened the door and and the flame of his lantern fli .ly in the blast 9f ice-cold ‘air “He evidently thought it a case of thieves or moonlighters, and I noticed a revolver [sticking up out of his pocket, and I fancy ‘ Walter had one, too. “As midnight drew near we were all ab- solutely silent. There was the faint sound of the water washing against the little landing stage by the lake-side, and the fall of the embers in the ï¬reâ€"nothing else. The night was extremely still, and very dark. The birch boughs that grew close up to, and touched our windows, did not make the slightest stir against the glass panes, so ‘ there would be positively nothing to account ‘ for the rushing wind in the passage, if it should come again. “At last it began to strike twelve, VVal- ter took up his lantern in one hand, and ~revol'ver in the other, and stood, his hand on the latch, ready to throw open the door at the slightest sound. He waved his hand to keep us all back, but it was curiosity, I am afraid,not courage, that made us gather all round the door, behind him and Dick. “ N ineâ€"tenuâ€"elevenâ€"twelve and then that dreadful cry ! ..... ‘1‘, wu‘t ~revolver in the other, and stood, his hand on the latch, ready to throw open the door at the slightest sound. He waved his hand to keep us all back, but it was curiosity, I am afraid,not courage, that made us gather all round the door, behind hi1_n and Dick. H RN..- 4.-_ "on: gay euougu an urst whil ’ 7 H†“7.110 had contrived to hem suéxargglilattï¬o’ night before as to hear Dobbin 1' wasn we herselfegain. But at half-pasb,eleve quite bed ï¬nished eatingâ€"“'alter had endgé WI? his storiesâ€"Norah couldn’t sit stillâ€"th a were dreadful pauses, broken only by labofrg lremariss from one or the other of us ab et‘ . anyghmg but; the subject in hand-41w 0211}1 one In which anybody was really interestedy B1243 I remember Dick saying to Walter ‘i pblnk you are quite over-doing this H in mg up business, it will frighten £03.; raqng'la nut: Hum _.:n 1:- , ‘l'I'VV‘ uuU, lantern fliékered wild- 7â€"-.yu \ such nights as E“,: . , Shflttered by ‘ Give ‘night, and her ‘2 Mr. Citima-nn: “ Any news up your way?†Mr. Countryman: “ News ! Don’t you city folks read the papers? W’y, they’re just full 0’ long articles about neighbour, _the Widder Grasslaï¬ds. Got her picture In, tooâ€"nat’ral as life.†“ My goodness ! What has 1.3mm h "passed." them into the Fre T‘ M“- ets because of his hat. H: 21;??a€:egogfe ‘hats of that peculiar pattern, which are made qnly by qne ï¬rm, are the badae of a. large International .gang of piCkPZCketS. and so he had taken th confederate. e F“HIChmeuf'Tor a. The hatter bore out the statement,saying that he had recently sent a. l ' ‘ mept, of hate of that kind abroaï¬gfoczngllgge ‘ thh the PICkPocket named. But, he was able to prove'tbat he - - . . the hase uses for manhi'g-po comphczty m “vvuu an! ucdl'CSI xeighbour, p116 Widder Grasslands. Got net picture In, tooâ€"nat’ral as life.†u My goodness ! What has happened to 161‘ '3†, -v---r.w.uuu U]. a. countryman who had just lost his purse. The purse was the one the Frenchman was returning, but when it had been lost it had contained only ten shillings; now it held pearly as many pounds. The mystery was soon explained. A policeman came to the station-master to report the arrest of a. pickpocket. He was immediately brought in and confessed the theft of the purse,into which he had put the proceeds of previous robberies, and of the watch. He had â€passed†them into the Frenchman’s pack-i ets becanse of his hat. He exnlninmi Hm Among ï¬le Saxons the Profe'sslo n. On his way to one of the stations at Buda- pesta. French gentleman recently went into ‘a. batters shop and bought and put on a. but which had attracted him by its some- what unusual color and shape. When he had been walking up and down the station some few minuteslhe was astonished to ï¬nd in one of his overcoat pockets a. purse full of money and in the other a. gold watch. He went at once to the station master and found him listening to the complaints of a. countryman who had just lost, his! nurcn [:1 Hungary It Appears r the ours, Hogs are more often sufferers from lack vof good water than any other stock. The milk they eat; curdlcs in their stomach, and then its caseine does not look so much like drink as it does like food. The dishwater mixed with bran or middlings is more or less salty, and this makes more intense thirst than before it was drunk. It can do no harm at least to offer the hogs, especial- ly those in pens, all the water once a. day they can drink. More will drink than the owner is apt to think. It is not hard work that wears our horses ‘ out before they have passed what should be halt their period of usefulness, but poor care. You may have observed that race horses, barring accidents, are considered good when much past the time of life at which our farm horses are practically worn out. The race horse is worked hard, but he has the best care intelligence and self- interest- can give. The farmer seems to‘ lose sight of self-interest too often in his treatment of his horses. Winter protection is an abSolute necessity for growing smali fruit successfully in a. northern climate. It should be practiced in every locality Where the temperature reaches zero, or below. With the high cul- tivation now practiced, a. large and tender growth is stimulated ; hence the greater necessity for maintaining as uniform a tem- perature as posmble throughout the winter. One running a. dairy farm can have other sources of proï¬t besides butter and pigs, for his manure will enable him to enrich his best land so as to grow heavy crops of such things as his market calls for and as will give the bust: proï¬t}. If your hens are not proï¬table, it is be- cause of neglect. It is hard to manu- facture something out; ofnothing, and when a. hen receives no more than enough to sup- port her physically she will not; trouble herself about; producing eggs that would rob her of needed nourishment. The farmer necessarily lives so much in the future that plans for work must be laid out months in advance and during the year note is to be taken for necessary work as soon as the crops are gathered in. The soil cannot do its share In producing crops if it wet. Toil, either mental or bodily, requires daily rest and how can- the toiler be better refreshed than by the rest to be acquired amid tasteful surroundings, m a. home made attractive with trees, shrubs, vines, and the landscape views and effects which are form- ed thereby. Exhibitions are well enough in their way, as a. means to an end. ‘ But whether there are exhibitions or none at all, horticulture, which dates from the birth of mankind, will continue, and perish only with the last of the race. No lawn is complete without well kept or- namental trees, and variety and novelty in this respect will also lead to interest. As to the wood pile, there should be none. Any farmer can construct a. woodshed. For ordinary wounds on horses 3. clean bandage of sofa cloth, to keep out dirt and flies, and free applications of extract of witch hazel, made through the bandage, is the best treatment. w d __._. Most farmers are very particular to catch on to the saving question. Save clothes, save tools, save wagons, harness, time, money, this is all right. But how is it about; saving wife? The only eï¬'ective way to ï¬ght weeds is to keep everlastingly at it. The husband- man must keep his eye 0n the gun, to use a homely expression, at all times of the year. It A. It requires no effort; to emphatically show that, already many, many millions ‘of dollars have been gained to agriculture through the disinterested efforts of scientists. Hogs fed on clean food should least one pound for every four an pounds of grain used. THE PICKPOCKBT’S HAT. spectable thing .-0 have,’ I retorted, ‘ ‘ ' But yours is c’only a. ghost in a-tu‘o! [ Mrs. Harry Coghill. Surprising News. u gcuueman recently went: into him' the mp and bought and put: on a. had attracted him byjits some- .‘X ..l7 " Practical Pointers- to Be a Badge of r,’ I retprted, ‘ Very! 11d gain a: and a.“ half Cardinals were formerly entitled most reverend and most illustrious. In 1630 Urban VIII. directed that the tit]: unï¬aemr should be given them. ‘ The city council of Pierre has passed a. resolution exempting from taxation for ï¬ve years any lots 'on which an artesian well is sunk. w- v-v nanuuv LU f extinguish the conflagration, and after a b time the men were lulled into a false sense of security. On August 1, however, when off the Chilian coast, there was a renewal of the ï¬re, and the captain had no alterna- tive but to abandon the vessel. This was not done, however, without an attempt be- ing made to save her by running her ashore. Boats were provisioned in case of absolute necessity, and two days later the crew dis- covered that they could hold out no longer against the raging ï¬re. The ship was alight almost from stem to stern, and the captain and nine men entered one of the boats, the mate and eight of the crew taking to an- other. The mate and his companions fought manfuily for eleven days against a terriï¬c gale, and in a state of great exhaustion, having endured terrible sufferings and great i privations, they landed at Ancud on August 14. The captain’s boat was 1031 sight of the day following that of the ship being abandoned, and up to the time that advices were despatched there was no news of her unfortunate company. A boat’s gear had been picked up, but there was nothing about it to assist identiï¬cation. It is sup posed that the boat got out of her course, and was lost in the storm. p 97' ,.V_ _.~wrryu.uu. .1 He (ix-captain l jumped over the ship’s side, but he was a. ‘ badewimmer, and instead of rescuing Ave~ Ian, he owed his life to the latter. In due course the commander’s report reached the Czar, and the ex-captain was restored to his rank. The captain is now an admiral. The other day he celebrated his ï¬ftieth anni- versary of his entrance into the service by giving a. dinner, to which Admiral Avelan was invited and in the course of an afte r-dinner speech he publicly thanked his junior colleague for having opened to him Hm “all. .: 1_-_,,, __ r..-uvu could be granted only for an act of bravery. “Next: time a storm comes on," Avelan said to the ex-captain, “I will drop into the sea as if by accident. You will jump in after me, and thus win your epaulettes,†This was agreed upon. Some days later, in a squall, the cry was heard, “ A man over- board.†Avelan had disappeared. The emcamain An anecdote is related by a Paris cox-1y spondent of Admiral Avelan, who is in com- mand of the Russian squadron now at Tou- 1 Ion. When, many years ago, he was cruis- ‘ ing in the Baltic, as a, midshipman, among the men on board his ship was a. former captain of a man-of-war, “broken†for in- sulting an admiral, and reduced to a com- mon sea-men. The young oï¬icer considered it a sahred duty to treat this unfortunate man with all the kindness consistent with the regulatmns, and to try everything to start himafresh on his career. A pardon could be granted only for an act of ln-avnm Jumped mm the Sea to Give a Chance for Promotion. As to social life on the prairie, Mr. Browning averred that the great draw- btck was the scarcity of feminine associa~ tions. “Get the girls of the East to come out to Fort MacLeod,†said Mr. Browning, “and they will be married quicker than you can say knife. Servant girls are in great demand. We have had them come out from England, but we could not keep them a month till some good-looking, steady cowboy came and carried them otl‘, not by a. lasso, of course, nor a halter, but by the altar. All we want now is nore men and women, particularly women, to found a great empire in the N orth-lVest.†um...“ scuuus LOSS. it was true thers was some loss of calves, but nature usually enacted the proper mating season, and the calves dropped late in April or May were perfectlv safe. Not so, however, with horses, for the colts, no matter when drop- ped, were liable. to destruction by the prairie wolves. He understood that the Waldron Ranch Company sufl‘ered large losses by the depredations of the wolves. But though he saw no immediate prospect of proï¬t in horse raising on the Canadian prairies, he reafï¬rmed that our North- pWest was an almost inï¬nite pasture-land with which there was no other territory to compare in the world. ULVLLOP THE PRAIRIE GRAZING LAN CANADA. The best of stocks is being introduced Shorthorns, then Herefords and . Angus. These eastern breeds ‘soon b acclimatized and come through the w without serious loss. It was true DEVELOP mm .ms lear‘s Cattle Trade With England Larger than Ever. Where the buflalo roamed in millions in the far Canadian west there is room for a. mighty empire. That is the unfaltrzring opinion of Mr. D. R. Browning, of Fort MacLeod, N. W.T. Mr. Browuing believes «titer years of experiences that where the bixfl‘alo thrived countless herds of domestic cuttle, Herefords, Shorthorns and Polled Angus, crossed, ifneed be, with the native Texan breeds, con also thrive and make millionaires of their owners, or in the future make every cowboy rich. Mr. j Browning has Just arrived at Montreal with two hundred and forty head of cattle, bought by Gordon Ironside, of Manitou, Man. This ï¬rm, Mr. Browning says, has shipped to England this autumn upwards of seven thousand beeves, the largest trade ever done in a. single season by any Canadian ï¬rm. As to the allegations of the large ranch owners that the Governmert’s notice of cancellation of all leases in 1896. would ruin Canadian ranching, Mr. Browning asserts the very contrary. Small ranching will, he contends, be the industry of ' the North West and will do much to AN OBLIGIN G MIDSHIBMAN. This Year's Caule path ofvhonor. RANCHING Is NOT ‘A PAILEBR A Ship on Fue- -__- â€"w“‘ v in also thrive and make their owners, or in the every cowboy rich. Mr. ng introduced; ï¬rst, efords and Polled breeds: soon become Sh inmate LANDS 0F wintere