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"How should I not dwell upon it? Is ® such an everyâ€"day occurrence? I tell you my fiesh cropt when they first told me; as it is I am quite unnerved. And common peopleâ€"servants, how they gloat over the minor, the nasty details. It apâ€" pears that poor Cecil‘s white gown was quite stained with his blood." "Not another word. Do you bear? I can‘t bear it," exclaimed he, in a choked voice. He began to pace up and down the room, as though quiet was no longer nossible to him. Lady Bessy lay back in her chair and gazed at him compassionâ€" ately. ‘‘Poor dear fellow! How he~feels it for her. Ah! a lover in a thoueand! Well, thiegs could hardly have fallen out betâ€" ter. Now I shall keep him at home; and the property is everything that is desirâ€" ablve." All this ran through her mind: "I suppose I had better go up there," said St. John, at last, stopping opposite to her. His voice sounded hoaree, and unnatural. "Oh!‘ I think not. Not _ so soon. Toâ€" morrow morning, now. Forgive me, dearâ€" est, dearest Hilary, if I say I think you ought to ‘be specially caraful jurt now. You see your attentions there have always been so marked, andâ€"and one should. alâ€" ways think of the future, and above all things be eareful to give no bandle for idle talk toâ€"â€"* °. She‘ had been talking inceseantly, and had therefore hardly noticed St. John‘s extraordinary eilence.. He kad not, inâ€" deed, once opened his lips since the ghastâ€" lv story was told to him. He had grown extremely pale, and there was a Rapâ€" pressed look about him, as though he were keeping guard over himself. j "What a seandal!" went on Lady Bessy. "‘Aundâ€"it eeems brutal to say so, so early in the dayâ€"but what a deliverance for her. Poor little thing! It is a fine propâ€" €rty, too, and by the settlements she inâ€" herits everything. It is rot eatailed in any part, I think. What a hideous catzeâ€" trophe! And she was the one to find him. The unfortunate! Certainly misfortune seems to follow some people. Now why could it not have been anybody else but her? It seems such a piling un of the agony, and zo unnecessary. How curious she should have been there just thenâ€" that she should have gone there, I mean. Bo late in the evening, too! And a very urxit;{z'equented part of the grounds, I am told. * St. John‘s face had turned even greyer. ‘She was in the habit of walking there," be said. He said it deliberately; and saying it, he knew that he lied. "Well, it was most unhappy. I wonder if they have found ‘out anything yet. The murderer, whoever it was, can hardâ€" Iy hope to escape." ‘"‘Good heavens! what ay ending!" said ashe. "Who could have done it? Of course he wae on the worst possible terms with his tenantsâ€"but then he was on the woret ‘gossible terms with everybody, so that oesn‘t count. I could name a good round dozen people this moment," making a pretence at counting on her pretty taper fingere, "who would, at any moment, have been delighted to murder him if they could have done it with safety. Oh! poor wretch! what a miserable stop to all (ways.". h s ‘How you dwell upon it," cried he, so suddenly, with such sharp\ anger, that she %ooked at him a moment in astonishâ€" ment. "Ah! that is just what. I shall find out," said the sergeant. He rose as he spoke. "I have already etnt two of my men to his house; if not there they will know what to do. It is hard to speak sometimes; but you know, sir, there were reagore whyâ€"â€"" "Yes, yes, I know," said Farquhar. Of course the news had spread like wildâ€" fire. Barely halfâ€"anâ€"hour after the disâ€" covery of Vereker‘s dead hody, the intelliâ€" gence of his death was conveyed to Lady Bessy Gifford, and by her to 8t. John. . "If I haven‘t thought, you have," said Farquhar. ‘"What is your suspicion? You think, perhapsâ€"â€"" a sudden glance. of comprehension brightened his face. "Is it Black Sandy?" he said. ‘That was my thought, sir, surely. And this knifeâ€"â€"But of course it is mere eurâ€" mise, neverthelessâ€"â€"" 4 ‘‘Where is har eagerly. "And you have no idea, sir, as to whoâ€" there is no clue, you say? Have you never thoughtâ€"hasn‘t it occurred_ to youâ€"â€"‘ he paused as if slightly.embarâ€" rassed. £ The police had arrived by this time, and Farquhar was only too glad to surâ€" render the knife to them.. He told them what the stableâ€"boy had said about its facâ€"simile in Babbs‘ possession, and menâ€" tioned also that heâ€"the boyâ€"believed it had been bought at Cummins‘. The serâ€" geant, whoâ€" seemed an intelligent man, took the knife and gazed at it somewhat abstractedly. * "Cummine," repeated Farquhar.. He had folded the knifeé in his handkerchief, and now went silently back to the house, his companions following. _ _ _ gelsles \‘"Like this?" said Farquhar, regarding the lad with keen eyes. "And where did Babbs get his, eh?" _ _ es "I dun‘no, sir. Most like at Mr. Cumâ€" ming‘, opposite his stall.. Mr. Cummins he do deal in knives and pots ind pans, and such like." The blood. was now almost dry upon it, but yet it was not without a shudder that Fargquhar touched it.. As he and one of the footmen were examining it, a young lad, a stableâ€"boy, lately hired from the village, spoke suddenly:= _ . x ‘Babbs, the butcher, sir. Him as sup plies the house here." C Farquhar. taking two of the men with him as witnesses, went down to the field that he and Dorothy had so lately croceed, undreaming of evil, ard there searched for and secured the knife. "I seen just such amother," said he, "yesterdayâ€"I were down yonder," pointâ€" ing in the direction of the village. _ "‘Yes?" said Farquhar, looking at him "And with whom?" By this time the alarm had spread, and men from the stableyard and some. of the indoor men came hurrying to him. Messengers were sent postâ€"haste for docâ€" tors and for the police, whilst others lifted the dead body of their master and carried him indoors. There had been no love lost between master and men, yet & terrible melancholy fell on all, and those who spoke addressed each other in bated whispers, with paleâ€"faces, and lips that trembled. ‘"‘What did. she mean about an acciâ€" dent?" said he. "I don‘t know. I don‘t think she knew what she was saying." Then suddenly ghe broke out. "That kuife! Arthur! That knife!" He gavre her a startled glance, but at this instant some of the women who had seen them from the upper windows came runing out, anxious to know what was the matter with their mistress. $ _Mo them he resigned his unconscious buzden, and they and Dorotny passed into the house. . 0 (s Py 8t Gayidasiaddadaaaiadeidaaadsesaieeeriesaarece?sde 4O g OR, THE CAUSE OF VEREKER‘S FEAR g CRAAA PPAAA e LEET 2 CHAPTER XXXIII.â€"(Cont‘d) BLACK SANDY ; Bandy now?" asked Farquâ€" abruptly. He had ceased vating Shoes For Everyhody Before Death entirely conquered him, he gave them a full account of what had happened. _ He expressed no contrition, seemed rather to glory in what he had done, and to the last wase distressed only by the thought that he had failed to make good his escape. W is o o s oo t e en ue Here they found him. He made no effort to deny his crime, but, like the half savage that he was, fought with a brutal strength for his liberty. When overpowered he seized one of the gansp, turned it on himself, and, before he could be prevented, gave himself a fatal wound. The farmer and his wife, and a croJWd of laborers, were witnesses of his conâ€" fession. He acknowledged that he had bought the knife, and kept it "clean‘" for a whole month, waiting the opportunity to requiteâ€"the seducer of his daughter. And after all the w&iting, the watching, the prowling, the fulfllment of his deâ€" sigr, he wag hounded to death a few hours after he had laid his enemy low. No time to enjoy it! "‘Twarn‘t fair!" They brought his dead body back with them. The slayer and the mlain lay cold in death. Stern justice had meted out her punishments with blind impartiality to bath alike. Both to her calm mind were equ=lly guilty. Both had destr=yed a life! Mcanwhile, another tragedy was being enacted. The miserable ;:carderer had been tracked and brought to bay in an outhouse belonging to a farmer about seven miles from the scene of his crimeo. He had run swiftly through byways and unfrequented paris of the wooded counâ€" try. hoping to gain a seaport town that lay about twenty miles lower down upon the coast. Ill luck, however, ran with him. About a mile from the outhouse in which he was subsequently captured, he fell over the root of a tree hidden in dank grase, came heavily to the ground, and, trying to rise, found himself with a sprained ankle. He had managed to crawl along another mile, had crept into the first shed that he reached, and there, cover: ing himself with straw and other litter, ho'ged t,oLlie undiscovered until morning. m sn s tss © ‘Ewarn‘t fair," he kept on repeating over and over again.. ‘"‘Three to one "Ewarn‘t fair! No time given me to en joy what I done. ‘Iwarn‘t fair, I say |‘ hn L Oe omenes en oome w - "She must be told. The soonerâ€" now the better,"_said Farquhar. Dorothy had come down to him from Cecil‘s room, where she had left the latter sitting in an apparently frozen etate etaring into the fire. She had not spoken for quite an hour, and Dorothy was growing serâ€" lously alarmed about her. "If I didn‘t know. it was impossible, I should say she has even something more cruel upon her mind," she said. "I should feel easier if she would let me talk to her about all this awful affair, but she shrinks from it with such an agony of horrg; that I am afraid to persist. The very/mention of a hope that the murderer may be discovered, and the mystery cleared up, sends her almost out of her But St. John no longer heard, him. He had pushed Farquhar rrom him, and had rushed out again through the open hallâ€" door into the darknessâ€"the silence of the pight. But St. John had sprung to his feet "His track! Whose?" he asked. He laid his hards heavily on Fargquhar‘s shouldâ€" ere, and stared at him as tnough his very sou}"(_iepeqded upon the answer given. "‘Why that. ecoundrel‘s, the fellow we have been talking aboutâ€"Black Sandy," returned Farqubar, rather impatientiy. What the deuce had St. John been think ing sabout all this time? ‘"Whe very knire has Leen secured, and proved, peyond doubt, to be his, andâ€"â€"" ‘"Well, as/ I say, there is no need to hurry. Better be absolutely sure. The police are now on his track, and we exâ€" pectâ€"â€"" "Eh!" eaid Fargquhar, as if not underâ€" standingâ€"as if puzzled. Then he went on.. "Oh, yes! She endured more than most,"_ he: said. "It is wonderful, howâ€" ever, how., she)feels it.. The death, I mean. That is strange. I can‘t make it out. I should have thought, now, thas she would have beén a little callous about it, considering everything. But Dorothy tells me she is suffering keenly." A groan bursi from St. John. He cov ered his face with his hands. "When must it be said to her?" he asked, in a etifled tone. "Just as I say. , How she had the strength at all. Many women would have given in altogetherâ€"" s "Few women were wronged as she was," interrupted St. John fiercely. "What she endured beforehand no one knows. L tell you she was driven to itâ€"â€""‘ ; "It will be a bad business having to break it to her. DorotHy says she is a little more composed now. Just at the time I firmly believed she was out of her senses." "The man who believes otherwise," cried St. John wildly, "must be out of his. A delicate, fragile ocreature like that toâ€"" "We have a clue. It is almost sure," he said, in a whisper. To 8t. John it scemed ominous that he should whisper, and once again that sensation of faint ness almost overcame him. He held himâ€" self together as well as he could, but he was obliged to sit downf on the chair nearest to him. [ "A clue?" he repeated. "Yesâ€"yes! As yet we say nothine. Betâ€" ter give her time, you know. Bhe isâ€"so very excitable. Timeâ€"until we are quite positve. You think so, eh?" _ ‘"Yee~time," said St. John. There was a terrible} gxpress"lon_ on his face. _ The hallâ€"door stood open, and4 inside Farqubhar was standing conversing in low tones with the sergeant and one of the policemen. The latter looked heated and excited. Farquhar, seeing St. John, went up to him at once and drew him aside. He fought pf a touch of faintness, and knowing that he should see Dorothy there, went straight down to The Court, ‘in spite of Lady Bessy‘s advice. It was now night, and he had to make his way through the trees of the wood as best he might. It was a singularly dark night, and he lost the pathway once or twice, but at last found himeelf walking down the avenue. He got up and began to pace hurriedly up and down. It was impossible, . of course.. He was mad:even for a moment to imagine otherwise. Those litile frail white hands _ could notâ€"Yet how was it that she had been upon the spot, â€"and without having made an effort to eumâ€" mon help apparently? Dorothy had found her there. He felt as though he must see Dorothy at once. She would. know gomeâ€" thingâ€"give him some help to destroy this awlul fear that was driving him distractâ€" ed. To talk to Bessy was impossible. How eagerly, with what & sense ‘of enâ€" joyment, even a good .woman can. gloat over the hideous detaile of a tragedy. That picture ofâ€"of her, kneeling there with her white gown dyed withâ€"â€" 2 His brain seemed on fire! He wont out of the house, and towards an old summerâ€" house, and there, flinging himself down upon the mouldering seat, tried to think. Eut only one thing came to him. _It shut out all other thoughts, and compelled him to dwell on it alone. ; It was a vision, a miserable picture. A | tall, slender, whiterobed figure,, transfigâ€"| ured by rage and hatred. The clenched hands, the flashing eyes, the blood-stain1 on the low, broad brow,â€"he could see it all. It was indelibly fixed upon his memâ€" ory. She had wished him dead!. She had spoken of his degth as & thing sure to happen soon. Soon! Merciful Hoaven! How terribly soon! Ese 9 his rapid walk up and down the room, and bad turned hie eyes on her with such a depth of anguish in them, that frightâ€" ened, puzzled, anxious, sho had found it Impossible to go on. When she recovered herself he had left the room. CBAPTER XXXV CHAPTER XXXIV Ship‘s Officers Are Often Forced to Tackle Surgical Problems. Host of the, hig ocean liners carry doctors, but on the smaller steamens and the sailing craft the captain or one of the officers has to diagnose and treat in cases of sickness or accident. When driven to it by neâ€" cessity it is marvellous what these amateurs accomplish with the little knowledge they possess. Men who have been dangerously ill with pneumonia or hernia have been pulled round, and there are records of major operations at sea which have saved the lives of the patients. Broken bones are well set and huge lacerated wounds skiiâ€" fully approximated. There 2ze inâ€" stances of negleet, too, wnich, in the eyes of surgeons, are wicked. A vessel recently arrived at Sydney, Australia, on which a sailor had fallen from alâ€"it and sustained a compound fracture of his shinbone. The break was a dreadful one, for a piece of the bone had snapped off ap? stuck in the deck, where it had been allowed to! remain as a curio. But the attention to the man had been so unskilful that when the ship put into port his foot and the lower part of his leg were in a suppuratâ€" ing condition, making amputation necessary. No commonsense action had been taken to place the foot into position, and the man â€" was lucky to get off alive. For every case of neglect, howâ€" ever, there are, as a writer in a Sydney â€"paper points out, ten where excellent treatment has been given. Nothing could be more merâ€" itorious, for instance, than the exâ€" traordinary feat of the chief officer "It is what you must heat." said he, pitifully. "I entreat you to listen to me. Once you know all there, will be no neâ€" cessity to speak of it again." ‘"All!" repeated she in a low tone. "All," she shuddered. Yes. Everytbing is now known, and it is only right that you should be made acauainted with the bare facts. He, the doer of that awful deed," he could not bring himseif to say the word murderer in her hearing, "has been found. I think it probable you may have already susâ€" pected him. It wasâ€"‘‘ A cry, sharp and bitter, burst from ber. "Oh, no, no, no!" she threw out her hands as if to ward off come frightful thing. ‘"Do not say it. Do not let it. pase your lips. Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?" She began to walk up and down like some frenzied creature. "Dorâ€" othy," she cried euddenly, "how can you stand there. so. calmly with euch news within your heart? You. who know all! Who know how it was with us.â€" Have you no heartâ€"no feeling!" "It is only ‘Arthur," said Dorothy, netrâ€" vously. ‘"Cecil, he hase come to tell you something that gou must hear. !g‘ry to nerve; yourself, dearest." ~ »p Mrs. Vereker sprang to he> feet, and raised hoth her hands to her head. "I won‘t hear it," she cried hoarsely. "Go away. I want to heas nothing. Do vou understand? Oh! oh! have I not suffered enough?" Sho staggered as if she would have fallen, but when Dorâ€" othy tried to place an arm round her, she, repulsed her almost. rudely, ‘"Why won‘t you leave me in peace?"‘ she cried fiercely,. lifting her miserable eyes to Farquhar. . & R Her expression was strained, her lips tightly closed; when Dorothy went up to her and laid her hand upon her shouldâ€" er, she started violently, and . lboked round, in a curious, shrinking way,‘ as might come guilty thing. . § They went up hand in hand. Mrs. Vereâ€" ker was still sitting bofore the fire in the very attitude in which Dorothy had left her.. She neither moved nor spoke on their entrance, and was not indeed perâ€" haps aware that Farquhar was in the room. "I feel as if I should never sleep again," cried she wearily. "Oh! what a day it hase been! Bhall I ever be able to blot it out of my mind?". e } "If you will really come go up at once," said she begin to think a shock of do her good." _ s uts "You will. I‘ll be with you," said he, folding her in his arms. Perhaps she found some comfort in his tender embrace, because she began to ery quictly. _ "Don‘t go like that, Dorothy," entreatâ€" ed he. ‘Look here, after all I will do it. It is too much to expect of you, and perâ€" haps a good rousing will be the best thing for her.. When it is over, and she knows everything, I wish both you and she would go to bed." 5 a> "I couldn‘t," said he, simply if conâ€" tritely. ‘"I wouldn‘t know how to do it. I shouldn‘t mind if she was like anyone elseâ€"but she has taken it all so badly; andâ€"erâ€"a woman always knows so much better what to say." 4 2 _‘‘Well, I‘ll do it," said ehe in a resigned tone.. Bhe turned away. S , « ‘"‘That is what you mustn‘t do now, d‘ye see? If you insist on staying with her, you must let her know that it was ?llal,ck ”Sandy whoâ€"whoâ€"killed the poor ellow. ‘Mrs. Mackenzicâ€"Lady Bessy! ‘Oh, Arâ€" thur! how heartless of you. Do you want to fAnish the poor thing? Mrs. Mackenzie, with «her insatiablecuriosity, her ceaseâ€" less/pumpings, her.neverâ€"ending surmises. Why that woman wouldl be canable of probing a man on the rack to find out where the pain was worst! And then Lady Besey, with her frivolitics, her little fashionable inanities. No, indeed! T‘ll stay with her. I may be curious, and I may be frivilous, but at all events, thank goodmess, I can hold my tongue." "Couldn‘t you tell her?" suggested Miss Aylmer, with flagrant cowardice. _ "My darling, it is a miserable thing that. you should 56 thus mixed up in it. See here, Dorothy. .Will you come home with me, and I‘ll get someons elseâ€"Mr8. Mackenzic, Lady Bessy (she is very good natured), or someoneâ€"to sit with her? You look awfully ‘dome. 1 cannot bear to see you so paleand upset." . mind. She frightens me," wound up poor Dorothy. tearfully. y&, ho yed af) BA t E& B\ Res insy ma |s 3"?: t & 9 B» C e & $ > s & 5o B *3 35 95 a 2R B ;;,‘,zr 2 a Ew ) SR S a 5 5 q s pesesssSsesey a m ssm e se s e 22 i ES Eus en mas BLACK, MIXED & GREEN. CARINXG FOR WOUXNDS. Soid in sealed lead packets onlyâ€"never in buihk. In‘ this way you are always guaâ€" ramteed a delightâ€" ful Tea with all Its freshness, strongth and flavour perâ€" fecetly presorved. (To be continued.) to her, let us presently. "I any sort will 073 Lusitania Will Bristle With Cannor When She Sails Again. The reason which the crack liner Luisitania has been so long delayed at Liverpool, has been announced to be because her turbine engines are being completsily replaced, but the Cunard officials at Liverpool acknowledged recently that the gre; nound is being equipped with nigh power naval rifles in conformâ€" ity with England‘s new policy of arming passenger boats. So when the great ship, the third selected by the Government for armament, next appears in New York about the end of August, she will be the first British merchantman for more than a century sailing up the lower bay with black guns bristling over her sides. The Lusitania, which will be an almost invaluable addition to Engâ€" land‘s merchant fleet, because not ounly is she so fast, but of such great capacity for carrying troops, was originally built with herâ€" deeks adapted for rifles, and the task of installing battle guns will be comâ€" paratively easy. _ _ _ . â€"It is very pi(_)bable that immediâ€" ately the tourist season is endsd the Mauretania will be called to Liverpool, overhauled and equipâ€" ped with guns. The British Govâ€" ernment is hastening the task of creating an armed fleet under the red ensign. tomer had to explain exactly who he was. As he went away, the venâ€" dor of chimney pots was heard to ‘"‘Lord, I took him for a hotelâ€" keeper,, and ‘The Duke of Argyll‘ as the name of his ‘pub.‘" GREAT SHIPS TO CARRY GUNS. ‘"‘The Duke| of Argyll, Roseâ€" neath,""‘ said the Duke. ‘‘Yes, sir; what name?‘ asked the man again, whereupon his cusâ€" The Duke of Argyll, at the operâ€" ing of a recent exhibition in Lonâ€" don, became much interested in a particular make of chimney pot, deâ€" signed to stop smokiness, and, turning to the attendant of the stall, asked him to send one or two of them to his house in Scotland. CCertbainly, sir/~ said the man, not recognizing his dowdyâ€"looking customer. ‘‘What name and adâ€" dress ?" On another occasion a sailor susâ€" tained a compound fracture of the arm at the elbow joint. It was a very nasty break, because the bones were protruding, and there was a good deal of hemorrhage. The capâ€" tain applied a torniquet around the arm to stop the blood flow, and he was afraid to remove it. Later the arm became black from gangrene below the seat of the fracture. So he decided to amputate the blackâ€" ened portion. He was in fear and trembling lest the man should bleed to death in the operation. But there was no bleeding as the result of the eperation, and when the torniquet was.removed it was found that the torn end of the blood vessel had healed.. The portion of the arm beâ€" low where the torniquet and been removed â€" withered away, and . all that had to be done by the surgeon when the ship came to Sydney was to remove about two inches of bone in order to allow the skin to heal neatly over the stump. of a sailing ship bringing timber inâ€" to Sydney from Puget Sound. One of the crew was seized with appenâ€" dicitis, and his condition became so critical that the chief officerâ€"who was a capital firstâ€"aid man, and had taken particular interest in the work on ships which carried docâ€" tors, learning among other things the meaning of temperature readâ€" ingsâ€"decided that the only way to save his life was to operate. To a surgeon the operation for appendiâ€" citis does not present any insuperâ€" able difficulties, but a novice who would undertake it would need to be possessed of remarkable nerve. The chief officer had the nerve, and he got through wonderfully, evacâ€" uating a huge pus abscess in the man‘s side, and stitchng him up afterwards with rare skill.. When the ship reached Sydney, the paâ€" tient was sitting on a deckâ€"chair, convalescent. oNE oN THE DUKE. The Duke of Argyll. RUSSELL MOTOR CAR COMPANY, LiMITED On account of the rush of work during the spring and uncertain weather conditions, we usually mix the two kinds of seeds and comâ€" promise by drilling as deep as posâ€" sible, putting in both kinds of seeds at one operation. The ground should be rolled and planked so that the crop can be cut with a mowing machine or scythe. I prefer to use about two bushels of peas to one of oats,â€"although I frequently vary the amounts acâ€" cording to the price of the pea seed. For cutting green it is best to make a number of sowings about a week or ten days apart. Two or three acres of good land â€" should furnish enough forage for 25 or 30 A succession of sowings will afâ€" ford green feed or a number of weeks. These crops should be sown as early as possible, and the ideal way is to sow the ‘peas broadcast and plow them in about four inâ€" ches deep with a oneâ€"horse plow. After four or five days put in the oats about two inches deep. They will come up about the same time and the peas will fill better and staf green longer for being planted deep. Our stock must be reduced by that time for the annual stockâ€"talMazg. Sonora Brass Horn (Motor Driven) .... Reg. $20.00. Sale price $13.25 Bonora Nickel Horn 3 ... Reg. $24.00. Sale price $14.25 Senora, Comb. Hand & Electric, Brass . Reg. $20.00. Sale price $17.90 Sonora, 3 * Nickel . Reg. $36.00. Sale price $22.00 Every year I am coming to apâ€" preciate the value of oats and peas as a summer forage for the dairy cattle and as a source of protein for winter feeding, writes a promâ€" inent farmer. These crops are be coming more popular every year in this section: They are very palatâ€" able and nourishing, â€"easy to cut and handle, and come at a time when the pastures are short and dry. In European countries where sheep raising is carried on extenâ€" sively and usually profitably, little concentrated feed is used, except through the flushing and lambing season. During other periods hay, grass and roots form their mainâ€" stay. Any farmer who is willing to give sheep the same amount of intelligent care that he gives to other live stock will find them not only ‘profitable, but good soil imâ€" provers, bringing into cultivation large areas of otherwise waste land: Much of the gullied land and waste hillsides of this country could be utilized profitably in the producâ€" tion of sheep. Many â€" prominent farmers have proved this to their highest satisfaction. Much of the land which now grows weeds and other coarse vegetation can be reâ€" stored to profitable tillage by the use of sheep. Fortunastely, the sheep is a ruminating animal and with the compound â€" stomach can make use of much ~of the coarse grass and weeds which thrive on these depleted soils. es At once to do picture coloring for us ! WANTED More werk_ers their home with our wonderful Chem £ ical Procees. Simple, mechanical work, rapidly dore. All pat terus furnished. Positively no experience required. We furnish the Process and chemicals and supply you with filctures to color, which you return to us. Good prices paid promptly by the week or month, No canvassing or sellingâ€"our trayâ€" ellers sell the goods and the field !i unlimited for our work. If you want clean, mBsrsant work the year round for whole or spare time, write us and we will send you contract and the smpes we pay. COMMERCIAL ART WORKS, 315 COLLEGE STREET, TORONTO, ONT. as England, Seotland. Frarce and Germany, the value of sheep in imâ€" proving impoverished~ or naturally thin _ soils. has been. recognized for centuries. . It is stated on good auâ€" thority that many of the soils would be almost worthless but for the fact that they are densely covered with sheep. In these countries flocks of sheep aggregating 2,000 or 3,000 in number are not uncommonly seen. The various breeds which naturally inhabit the rough mountain lands and the precipitous cliffis of theso countries, where only scanty and coarse herbage exists, manifest their great value in making otherâ€" wise worthless land bring in profitâ€" able returns. § §$ee.%e%8%8808e000 2020 e8e8%8e20002e0%80 O 4460 Sheep as Soil Improvers. o It is universally accepted that sheep droppings under like condiâ€" tions contain a larger, amount of fertility than that from either the horse, cow or hog. One of the deâ€" sirable features of this produce is the uniform distrl:ibilâ€"{i:)nrwl;mde by the sheep over*the land. in the leading Eurdpean countriecs, such Accessories Department. On the Farm Oats and Peas SPECIAL PRICE TTHLL AUGUST 18T. â€"Nickel . Reg Phone or Write and imâ€" ally for ~â€"_ PROVED by several years of experience a most satisfacâ€" tory ‘horn. The Sonora is motor driven, using but little current. By a new device the Sonotra does away with the rasping and metallid sereeches so much noticed. It proâ€" duces a smooth, earâ€"pleasing tonek Delighted at this news, the misâ€" sionary accompanied the man and his followers to his own dwelling, where he opened the door of a room, and showed her the painâ€" killer bottles arranged neatly upon a sort of altar. The whole comâ€" pany immediately prostrated themâ€" selves before them in solemn worâ€" ship. R Returning to the viliage some months later, the lady, was met h the head man of the communit‘ who cheered her pious soul by sayâ€"= ing, ‘‘Mem sahib, woe have come over to your side. The magic did us so much good that we now acâ€" cept and worship your gods." : On one of this lady‘s tours, she‘ passed through a small settlement where cholera was raging.â€" She had with her several bottles of a famâ€" ous ‘"‘ready relief"" for pain ; so she went from house to house dosing numerous sufferers, and left the bottles for the natives to use after| she had gone. For winter feed they will produce more tons of good feed than clover hay and will greatly reduce the bills for grain feed. They should be sown the same as for forage and cut when the oats are heading and the peas are well in bloom, 'thetfx. the stock will eat them more readâ€" ily with no waste. A missionary recently returned from Burma with an amusing story, of the exaltation of a dozen patent= medicine bottles to the rank of idols fervently worshipped by ai whole village. & %, cows for a number of weeks during the summer. . Do not wait until the oats are formed or there will be difficulty ex. perienced in feeding the fodder. This mixture is worthy a place on every dairy farm. f Painâ€"Killer Boitles Were Used as Idols in Burma. offer the important advantâ€" age that they do not disturb the rest of the system or affect the child. 25¢. a box at your Druggist‘s. Naâ€"Druâ€"Co Laxatives GUARANTEED for one year against all mochanical defects National Drug and Chemical Co, of Canada, Limited.© 175 "GOOD MEDICINE.*" For nursing mothers wWEST TORONTO MOTO noORN