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HQUAKE, > Catastrophe spaper. i ped ore Particulars a t > * & D V a 4 ak it writes: "Those i Dbarmsala with ux accounts of the was r only thought nany miles be alz. By noop been dug out mmated near the 1abited , beams, funcral pyres. eft alive asked wages even for ices. At mgbt the _ extreme. ken _ survivors ie favored s !ackenin‘ o mestion wif head, he went 1 to minimize ie disaster. Acâ€" mate the total e escaped the i per cent., be @ alone having ation of about es whole famâ€" #re 18 scare n the IU”G?’ men fled from eaving behind : movable proâ€" lations buried 1 forward with lown as if thc’ he foree of the left uninjured he debris those _ their number of their savi rescued, ";fln. Crivers . of s discussed where he is reâ€" nzements, the ng already arâ€" that was reâ€" _ of Palampur in en to the exâ€" t it is feared 0 late tu. atâ€" 1 of the dead owever, if it Civil Station es .xdjmml. n the open alow, made the debris _away the from them native towB the growÂ¥, it upon anâ€" # residents atlastrophe # roofs and ronce Amend ed or inâ€" e. _ Great r Pal, of oft alive, sufferers Although com pel within tions : e that 4 108 erghnt Var ‘0tol iF l1Ke El onâ€" reat the 111 0@ 1€ ble out TY ®@ 1re nat it@ men mee @8# the the 1 ® res. ery the M it ht he re ne con WE DON‘T ASK YOU_TO BELIEVE IT BECAUSE WE SAY so "Yes, sir; I‘ve got my guernsey on. (Cold can‘t get through that. It‘s betâ€" ter than a greatâ€"coat, though aunt says L look like the London costermongers, or one of the fishermen here at the Cliff." Vernon Vane rests his hand on the boy‘s shoulder with a smile, and Hal rattles on from one subject to another; Jeanne walks in silence by their side, ocâ€" casionally glancing from the handsome face of the man to the frank face of the boy. t F As they near the village one or two persons pass them, greet Jeanne, and touch their hats to the artist. Mr. Verâ€" non Vane has been a fortnight in Newâ€" ton Regis, and is still an unsolyed enâ€" igma. He has made one friend only, and that is the boy by his side; all atâ€" tempts at making his acquaintance have been met by a grave courtesy much more effectual than the most bizarre rudeâ€" ness. He is to be seen, almost at all hours of the day, either upon the cliff or in the woods, sometimes sitting on a fellâ€" ed tree or bowlder, sketching, or stridâ€" ing along with his pipe in his mouth, and apparently lost in thought. © Hal is the only one who has been able to approach him, and within the boy‘s heart has sprumng up that worshiping kind of love which ouly a boy‘s heart is capable of. . f Newton Regis has, of course, occupied itself with conmjectures and _ surmises, but. they bave all resolved themselves into this: That the stranger who has come among them is an artist, and means to live to himself. That he is poor is also evident. He lives, as Mrs. Brown says, with uplifted hands, "like a monk!" and many a ploughman has seen him breaging a etust of bread for his luncheon, cating it as he walked up and down before the small sketchingâ€"casel to Kkeep himself warm. The children knew most of him, for he rarely passed a group of them in his walks but he would stop and exchange a word with them, always striding on, however, if any grownâ€"up person came in sight. C C o ayie 6 A Jeanne as she walks by his side, pondâ€" ers over all this, as she has pondered for many an hour during the last fortâ€" night, until, though as he said, they have met so few times, she seems alâ€" ready to have known him for some time past. * _ Presently they turn into the village street, and Hal, catching Verron Vane‘s arm, exclaims: C * "You wil come in toâ€"night, sir, won‘t you* Jeanne," he says, cagerly, looking across at herâ€""Jeanne! try and perâ€" suade Mr. Vane to come in to tea with us. He always refuses meâ€"now you trv." Jeanne looks up. "Will you come in earnestly. He hesitates. "Do!" pleads Hal. Jeanne‘s face flushes slightly. "You should not worry Mr. Vane too much, Hal; perhaps he dislikes being asked." "I dislikes refusing," he says. "I wili come, and thank you." _ _ Jeanne looks around in time to see the Honorabie Fitzjames driving, and he, secing her, whips off his bat; and evidently tries to pull up the s;irited bays; but before he can do so Jeanne has followed and closed the gate. Vernon Vane‘s quict eyes note the frown of surprise and annoyance which darkens .\lr.rgtzjumes’ face, and the arâ€" tist looks at Jeanne; but her face beâ€" trays nothing as she opens the glass door in the hall and holds it for him to enter. Hal casts a glance of delight at Jeanne, but Jeanne does not respond. Just as Hal opens the gate. a mail _ phaeton comes rattling down the street. "Welcome to. the CGate House, Mr. Vane!" said Hal, delightedly. _ Jeanne utters no welcome, but ushers bim into the drawingâ€"room, ail radiant with the Hal sniffs the air critically. "You must be prepared for some strange smells, sir, he says. â€" "You know Uncle John goes in for chemistry; it‘s nothing when you‘re used to it, but & stranger might think he had strayed into a chemist‘s shop." "I don‘t notice it," said Vernon Vane, "Then uncle‘s got his double door shut. He has been better lately. Oh, Mr. Vane, mind you don‘t let him talk to you on electricity and anything of that kindâ€" Cacle Jflin will taik all night else." fire he said, shaking the strong hand WNICN clasped his thin, white one. "You‘ve made the boy happy at last." "Quite bappy." said Aunt Jane. "I am glad to have an opportunity of thanking you for your kindness to him, Mr. Vane. My brother has called at the cottage twice, but you were out â€"â€""~ _ Vernon Vane smiled, and the next mo ment Uncle John entered. "(Glad to see you, sir; glad to see ygy,: "And ve}y rudely noeglocted to repay the visit until now," said the artist, with his grave smile. WECp ks d co 3c 20. Cl Th‘ cnoenl CA DCE APAmeRTS "And now you have broken the ice you must come oftenâ€"come just when you lke. We are very homely people, but there shall bo an extra knife and fork and cup of tea. The latter you‘ll be mfiM of now, I dare say. You must fi it very cold sketching in the open air. Hal, C Tsm ut un ie ce CCCAE bvime cmvut biains Aly mrpate t 29 770 ATC 1 &and take off that horrible thing, and Jeanne tea is ready," she adds, as the maid broufi in the old fashioned tas #4vawâ€" with oldâ€"{fashioned service. teatray, Wiuhâ€"100 0"*U"""" Libls wraq non Then a gleaming copper teaâ€"kettle was ponse that it made UMCMT "/% ]::C: :pn the hob, where it commencâ€" Po'l'hen Hal, having demolis noâ€" Aunt Jane insisted upon he! bread and butter and jam as P“-r'-â€"""" edtodn‘;m.kaeimistod L Te ~ CS wess youd@iry. BLUBE RIBBONâ€"~TEA.slio by sice vll%:u mney.?fln you ...?kftz E, 7 : 2 i» * Z ; 3 M with us ?" IS BEST. TRY IT. 0 see you," rand which she says, guest taking an easy chair by the fire, and commenced to pour out the tea. Then the door opened, and Jeanne enâ€" tered. She still wore the plain blue serge, but looked thinner and slimmer without her jacket. P t With light, graceful steps she came | across the room, knelt before the fire, | and began to toast some slices of bread, | which Aunt Jane had already cut. ) Veronn Vane had not seen her without her hat, and as she came into the fireâ€" light, and the soft, silken hair, bound in its light curls, turned golden, the arâ€" tist‘s eyes lit up with that sympathy with the beautiful which is the artist‘s chief possession. bending down. * Jeanne smiled and shook her head. "I am afraid you are not skilled in the art of making toast, Mr. Vane; Jeanne ought to be by this time; she has made it for her uncle since she was old enough to hold the toastingâ€"fork. Of course, it could be made in the kitchen, but my brother would think the toast uneatable unless Jeanne made it." unless Jeanne made it." "I like to see her do one useful thing a day," eh:tkled Uncle John, whereat they all ‘aughed heartily. _ "‘That‘s one for you, Jeanne," said Hal, already through a slice of bread and butâ€" ter. Jeanne looked up with a smile. "There goesâ€"my character for industry Shall I make you some toast * £ "If you will let me make you some in return," Jeanne shook her head and sprang upâ€" right. ‘"Don‘t they say that bakers never a bun? I can‘t eat toast." There was a low chair beside the old gentleman‘s, which was evidently Jeanâ€" ne‘s accustomed scat. She took it, and, in the artist‘s eyc, completed the picture. It was such a picture as he, who had been through so many phases of life, had never seen. l M In silence he looked at the fire, with his teacup in hand and the dreamy look upon his face. Jeanne, opposite, watched him, while she listened to Hal chatting to his auntâ€"watched him, and saw the set gravity of his face slowly soiten and relax, and suddenly, as he looked up, her eyes, full of her earnest, almost wistful regard, met his, and though they were towered immediately, a strange, undefinâ€" ed feelizg of shyness stole over her, It was only for a moment, and he broke the spellâ€"if spell there wasâ€"by rising and walking across for her cup. As she gave it to him his hand touched hers. and once again the sudden thrill, as of some nowâ€"born feeling,.runs through her, and this time she looked up at him with a selfâ€"puzzled and almost appealing gaze _ as if she would ask him what it meant. meject yrants aAda o t 1 AEECOEITEA «Jeanne!" cries Hal, with his head on one side, "that‘s the wind through _ the chestnut, just in the right quarter for a sail. Hurrah for the Nancy Bell toâ€"morâ€" row!" "«Poor old boat," says Jeanne. "I went down to look at her yesterday, and she looked so dejected and forlorn; she‘ll bear the breeze toâ€"night, and rattle her ropes for joy." V 1 @OCOUEII® wwalsime‘ Anunt Vane." Vane looked acros "I might be in the «There‘s plenty of care to come, "I should not be SUI is too sensiblé to care the bay in winter." "«Wintor!. Toâ€"day is Jeanne, quictly. Jeanne, qQCU)+ "«¥ou think we are mad to silow these young people to risk a watery grave, ed?" said Uncle John. "Why, Uncle John!" exclaimed Hal, "when you know Captain Sparks, at the fort, said he‘d soomner trust Jeanne with the yawl than the best man in the Cliffs." 00. vo pucutk Tawa "that Hoent QATREE® "You see," said Aunt Ji in couples, and overcome, "We are quite safe," quietly. «Come!" said Hal: Vane glanced at Jeanne again. "Thank you," he said, "I shall be very glad." "We‘ll teach you hOw to bring her over the bar." said Hal, buoyantly. " Why, shouldn‘t you have & boat of your own*" he woent on; "it‘s the best fun in the world, and it wouldn‘t cost much, fifâ€" teen pounds wouldn‘t be much." Vane looked gray*. "But there!" said Hal, "you can have the Nancy Bell wheanever you like." "What does your yartner say to that ?" said Vane, with 4 smile. â€"_â€" "Ayâ€"ay. sir" said Jeanne, with so -‘dellnimituio-ofauibr’:n.- ponse that it made them al! laugh. Then Hal,. having demolished as. much Fhen B4‘ "*_ _23 iam as would keep I sechite me help you," said Vernon Vane, 1 across at Jeanne. in the way," he said mty of room, if you ‘ says Jeanne. ot be surprised if Mr. is _ spring * _ said â€" Jeanne, nunt, for many & deep satisfaction. yet, Mr. Vane: inee you came to i *Â¥A 10Or $ Jane, "they fight d if Mr. Vane sailing out in you would savs eat ; "Jeanme, fancy his being â€" able to ; play!" he whispered, as Jeaune knelt beâ€" | fore the fire, with her head turned curiâ€" [ously toward the piano. _ After all, it | was nothing «o very wonderful that an ‘artist should be able to play the piano, ; or to walk on stiits, for instance. vetâ€" Jeanne was no musicianâ€"she â€" hated practicing, and would _ rather have found cause for pride in being able to sail the Nancy Bell than in playing Menâ€" delssohn‘s Song without Words like a master, but she played with expression and with the grace that belonge«r to her as her birthright, but she had never heard real music as yet. Vane‘s feet; the servant brought in an-' dles, and thereby«cliafiÂ¥fed Jeanne‘s hair | to a brighter gold. Quietly she arose and went to the piano, as was‘evidently | hervcustom ~to (do; Uncle Johnâ€" settled ‘ back in his chair, and looked dreamily at, the fire; and Auntâ€"Jane opened her : workâ€"table. 1 Jeanne played some soft little sonnets,| and all listened â€" silently. Vane, the | worldâ€"wornâ€" man, covered his face with his hands, and drank in the pedce and | Vane listened with his hand before his eyes, but with his gaze upon . the beautiful face, so calm and serene at this moment, and yet so capable of beâ€" traying passion and emotion. a an ordinary Lordon boy for a week, "Thanks, Jeanne, my angel," said the old man, as she finished. "She plays to me every evening, Vane," he explained; and until chemistry took hold of meâ€"*"‘ Hal looks up with alarm. "Mr. Vane, do you play?" Vane startedâ€"he had been far away. "Yes," he answered, absently, before he knew what he was saying. h4 "Jeanne, Mr. Vane plays!" says Hal, with hushed awe. Jeanne came to the fire. "Will you play for us?" she said. He hesitated a moment, then he arose and went to the piano, Hal following him with worshipping eyes. "Jeanne, fancy his being able to What it was he played she knew not â€"there were chords of sound, soft and delicious, . weird and mournful; deefi., heartâ€"stirring chords, that made _ the blood leap to their martial tones; then a low, murmurous melody, that seemed like oil on troubled waters, full of a touching sadness too deep for tears. Suddenly, â€"and yet softly, his hands struck a chord, and the first notes of music with life in it fell across Jeanne‘s soul. It ceased, and he arose and came near the fire, and stood holding his hands above Jeanne‘s head to the glow, before they could recover their astonishment. - "that‘s music!" 0s } "It is Beethoven," said Vane, "Do you know it, Miss Bertram*" Jeanen looked up and shook her head and he saw that her face was quite pale For a moment her lips quivered, as if with sudden remorse, then he went back to the piano and played a Neapolitan fisherâ€"song. "It‘s a songâ€"a song!" said Heal, excitâ€" edly; "sing it." Vane nodded, and complied. It was one of those songs one hears at Naples in the early morn, when the lake is gleaming like an opal in the sun, and the girls are clustering around the fountains to watch the men come in with their spoil. The happy ring of the music, and the lilt of the words, set Hal beating time on the fender. Vane stopped and looked. The blood had come back to Jeanne‘s face, and the light to her eyosâ€"they were sparkling, and her lips were apart with delight. He turned to the piaro with a sigh, and as he let his hands wander over the keys. muttered: *A child with tears and smiles so near. Responsive to the touch as Miriam‘s harp. A childâ€"yes! but she will be a woman. and like the restâ€"like the rest!" "With a heaveâ€"hbo, and a heaveâ€"ho! and away she goes!" sings a gruif, husky voice. "Heaveâ€"ko!" caimes in a round, full, boyish one, and with a steady shove from old Griffin, the fisherman, and a tremendous push from Ial, the Nancy Bell glides into the sea. 1t is the morting after Vernon Vane‘s visit to the Gate House, and it is apâ€" parently again a day in spring. All the cliffs are ulight in vhe early sun; the Nancy Bell dances on a sea of opal and gold. the sands glisten like sugar in a grocer‘s window at Christmas time, the very dogs pretend that the winter bhas passed, and as they sit on their haunches amidet the sroup of fisherfolk who stand witchinz the Nancy Bell, ard old Griffin wipes real or inmiginary â€" perspiration from his bronzed andâ€" weatherâ€"beaten brow. At the helmof the her anchor, sits Jeant a rough bine jacket t like a jorsoy ,and fits as if she had been me her wellâ€"worn ard bu face shines out with a beauty which eMcits : admiration from the her anchor, sits Jeanneâ€"Jeanne, C!24 in a rough bine jacket that is suspiciously : like a jorsoy jand fits her graceful bust as if she had been melted into it. Under . her wellâ€"worn ard businessâ€"like hat, her face shines out with a fresh and dazzling | beauty which eMcits many a murmur of . admiration from the fisherâ€"wives, who | stand hand on hips watching ber. All unâ€" conscious of ber beauty and their adâ€" | miration, she leans forward, with one knee on the seat, and both hands graspâ€"| ing the helm, her clear, brow»* eyes fixed â€" on the place where Hai, all impatience to ; embark and got away, is jumping fmm' rock to rock and whistling vigorously. Old Griffin stands in the water, suckâ€"| ing at his short pipe, and eyeing the flapâ€" | ping sails with a profound gravity. t It is an unusual thing for the Nancy | Bell to remain chaived to the land:; once | her keel is wet, it is generaly a rush and | away, with the salt water clipping from her bows. * "Jeanne!" shouted Hal, who had leapâ€" ed up to one of the iarger boulders to sean the cliff road; "he won‘t come! of all the beastly nuisancesâ€"â€"â€"*" â€"__ "Come aboard, then," says Jeanne, calmly, but with a shade of disappointâ€" ment in her eyes. â€" "Come, Hal!" Hal trots across the sands, reluctantâ€" 1;, and old Griffin prepares to take him on his back, waer a stalwart fignre is scen leaping from boulder to boulder, and Vernon Vare arrives. 3 j "Oh, here he is!" crics Hal,. waving his hat over Griffin‘s head. "I thought you weren‘t coming, sir. Didn‘t we, Jeanne* You‘ll have to get on Griffin‘s back, Mr. Vane,"*** * ' o 7 "I think not,/ ‘is the quict response, and without a moment‘s hesitation he plashes through the shallow water and springs on board. Then, as Jeanne is about to â€"remonâ€" otuto,deaeentha.thewunc:ixof fishermen‘s long boots, and that has donned a jersey and a woolen cap; in w@t Nirt" exclaimed the old ~gentleman, CHAPTER VIH of the boat, now riding at ; Jeanneâ€"Jeanne, clad in icket that is suspiciously ind filts her graceful bust een melted into it. Under ird businessâ€"like hat, her with a fresh and dazzling | "I am sure to," he says, and then he goes to the ropes and handles them with ; the air of one acustomed to the work, the sail spreads out like a heron‘s wing, | the hawser comes rattling through the cleats, and the Nancy Bell is off like | a bird on the wing. _ _ _ "It doesn‘t matter in the least,‘ Jeanne. "I hope you will enjoy sail.‘ ‘ fact, that as far as costume goes, he is Hal‘s delight at this businesgsâ€"like getâ€" up is so extremi¢{that h8 gives vent to it. bovlike. & With a cry of delight, Hal squats in the bottom of the boat. "I will, if you will trust me," replies Vernon Vane, looking around at Jeanne. Ali her eyes are for the clear sky and the line of cliffs; but she glances at him doubtfully. But there is somethi:fi in the quiet, selfâ€"possessed way in whi he handles the sailâ€"sheets which apparâ€" ently assures her, for she nods. He touches his cap, with a smile, "I‘m under your orders, then, Captain Jeanne," he says, with a grave smile. "Shall I manage the sail, or will you, Mr. Vane*" he asks. "You couldn‘t be under a better," says | Hal. "Jeanne knows the coast, and the | Naney Bell knows her! Isn‘t this awfully | jollv, Mr. Vane*" Vernon Vane nods. h | (To be continued.) TBE SECRET OF HEALTH Good bloodâ€"rich, red bloodâ€"is the only cure for such complaints as anaeâ€" mia, decline, heart palpitation, skin erupâ€" tions, rheumatism, kidney troubles and | a host of other every day ailments. Good l blood makes you less liable to disease of every kind, because it strengthens and; stimulates every organ in the body to throw off any ailment thaf, may attack‘ it. Good blood is the secret of life, and the secret of good, rich, red blood is Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills for Pale People. These liitle bloodâ€"building pills have saved lives that doctors and aursas bave | despaired of,. They have cured thousands | of othersâ€"they will cure you too. Mrs.’ Wim. Boothe, Montrose, Ont., says: "For i a couple of years my daughter Meta was ‘ in failing health. She complained of headâ€" aches and distressing weakness, nndl seemed to be rapidly going into decline. We consulted several doctors, but they. did not help her. She was apparently } bloodless, and we were afraid she would | not recover. She had no appetite and | was greatly reduced in flesh. At this stage a friend advised me to give Exer! Is Rich, Red Biosdâ€"Dr.Williams‘ Pigk Pilis Make New Blood 1 unitil 130 InseCts i _ Leatâ€"blight. (1.) ‘ unfolded. Bordeau ‘fruit has set, sord | repeat 2 at inter weeks, use a cloea «is threeâ€"quarters , < During first warn © Bordeaux mixture Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills, and in a few weeks we noticed some injprovement in her condition, and that her appetite was improving. We continued the treatment for a couple of months longer, and by that time she was again in the best of health,. â€" She had gained _ thirtyâ€"two pounds in wreight, had a good color, and was in the best of spirits. I do not think I am putting it too strongly when I say I think Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills saved her life." Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills do only one thing, but they do that well. They do not act upon the bowels, they do not bother with mere symptoms. They acâ€" tually make the new, rich, red blood that goes right to the root of the disease and drives it from the system. But you must get the genuine with the full name "Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills for Pale People," printed on the wrappor around every box. All medicine dealers keep these pills or you can get them by mail at 50 cents a box or six boxes for $2.50 by writing The Dr. Williams Medicine Co., Brockâ€" ville, Ont. Leafâ€"blight or Fruitâ€"spot. Leafâ€"spot. 1. Before blossoms open, Bordeaux mixture; 2, after blossoms have fallen, repeat 1; 3, 4, repeat 1 at intervals of two to three weeks as appears necessary. Leafâ€"blister. 1. Before buds swell in spring, kerosene emulsion, diluted five to sever times.â€" Psylla 1. When first leaves have unâ€" folded iz spring. kerosene emulsion dilutâ€" ed fiftsen times, or whale oil soap, one pound to ten gallons of water; 2, 3, etc., at intervals of two to six days, repeat Spraying Plum Trees. fruit has set, Hordeaux mixture; 3, 4. ete. repeat 2 at intervals of two to three weeks, use a cloar fungicide after bruit is threeâ€"quarters grown.â€"Blackâ€"knot. 1. During first warm days of early spring, Bordeaux mixture; 2, repeat 1 when buds are swelling; 3, during latter part of May, repeat 1; 4, roipeat 1 during middle of June (5, repceat. 1 in July.) Cirenalio, spraying is not always satisfactory ; jar the trees after fruit has set, at intervals of one to three days, during two to five weks.â€"Plum scale. 1. Ir. autumn when leaves have fallen, kerosene emulsion, diâ€" lued four times; 2 and 3, in spring, beâ€" fore buds open, repeat 1. "Baby‘s Battles" is the title of a valuâ€" able little book on the care of infants and young children, published by the Dr. Williams Medicine Co., Brockville, Ont., which will be sent post free to any mother who asks for it. It tells you also something about Baby‘s Own Tabâ€" lets, a medicine that cures all the minor ailments of infants and young childrenâ€" baby in our house until we got Baby‘s Own Tablets. They were the first thing that did her any good, and I think were the means of saving our little one‘s life. I praise them to all mothers." Afl mediâ€" cine dealers sell these Tablets, or you ean & medicine praised by every mother who has used it Mrs. Richard Smiley, Leonâ€" ard, Ont., says: "We had a very sick get them at 25 cents a box by writing the Dr. Williams Medicine Co., Brockâ€" ville, Ont. ervals of two to s 1 the insects are de {â€"blight. (1. When fi ed. Bordeaux mixt as set, Bordeaux mi ; 2 at intervals of BABV‘S BATTLES. «â€"_«â€"_â€"â€"~â€"â€"@4@â€" s are delroyed. When first leaves have ix wixture); 2. When least," st," says vour ONTARIO ARCHIVEs TORONTO & .t3 C & ** 3 tk 1 nlattee 1.‘ & * C «Press ‘Bulletin from" the Ontari6 ‘Agâ€" y good q@ality. In #ome instances we ‘have ricuiture College. lfoun(l tl{e nutritive materials, especialâ€" K ® (By W. P. Gamble.) y protein, present in smaller quantiâ€" & s 5 ties than we might have expected, but The animal body is made up mainly of in most cases this defieiencymm due, four classes of substancesâ€"water, ash| not to adulteration, but to the poor qualâ€" or mineral matter, nitrogenous matter,| ity of the grain from which the byâ€"proâ€" and fat, the proportions in which these| duct was obtained. "w" (By W. P. Gamble.) The animal body is made up mainly of four classes of substancesâ€"water, ash or mineral matter, nitrogenous matter, and fat, the proportions in which these four classes of substances occur dependâ€" ing. mainly upon the age of the aniâ€" mal, its treatment, and the purpose for which it is kept. Food of a certain kind is necessary to keep up the supply of these substances and to furnish the aniâ€" mal body with heat and energy. It will, therefore, be seen that to supply food in the right proportions to meet the reâ€" quirements of the animal, without _ a waste of food nutrients, _ constitutes scientific <feeding; hence the advantage of a knowledge of the composition of the common feeding stuffs. The percentage of protein, or nitrogenâ€" ous mater, in a food is invariably considâ€" ered of prime importance because our home grown crops are more likely to be deficient in that than in any other comâ€" ponent. In selecting a food, therefore, we should aim at obtaining the greatâ€" est amount of protein for our money. Pea meal, linseed meal, maize glu.wn, gluten feed, middlings, and wheat bran, are by products which contain a large ration intended for dairy cows. _ For fattening pigs, good results have been obtained from a mixture of skim milk and low grade flour. Shorts is an excelâ€" lent food for young pigs. Oat dust and other feeds of like composition, if pure, furnish nutritive material at economical prices. The, purchaser must, however, be sented for sale on our markets which on his guard as feeds are frequently preâ€" are heavily adulterated with _ foreign matter of little value. Only toâ€"day â€" a sample of what was supposed to be wheat bran was sent to our laboratory, which, upon examination, was found to be adulterated with dJarge quantities â€"of finely ground barley bran. From the reâ€" sults of our investigations, however, we are convinced that goods obtained from the local manufacturers are usually of 5 c onritlo terome stums, F==STODY OR THE COMPOSTFON OF ‘ ONTARIO FEEDING STUFFS. If one is contemplating a visit to Mexico, here are some points which it might be well to remember: When beckoning to a person the Mexican extends his band, palm down, and gives it a downword and inward sweep, instead of hoiding the palm upward and giving it an upward and inward sweep, as Americans do. Mexicacs employ the American motion in beckoning to dogs. _ 4 % To indicate the beight of an animal Mexiâ€" cans extend the hand with the palm downâ€" ward (as Americans Indicate the beight of any persons or thing); the beight of a thing by hbolding out the palm vertically, and the beight of a person by extending the . fist with the index finger pointing upward. To beckon to a person as one would to a dog or to indicate a person‘s height as one would that of an animal or thing might give ofâ€" fence. When Mexicans, and particularly the woâ€" men, wish to greet one another from such a distance that speech is impracticable, as across the street, they hold the right hand even with the eyes and wiggle the fingers. ‘The handshake in Mexico is a great instiâ€" tution. When one steops to chat or talk a little business with a person on the street, po matter how many times one may have met bim the same day, they shake bands at the mesting and likewise at the parting, in the meantime inquiring about and telling healths, To say ‘"howdy‘‘ here is a matter of two Of three minutes at the very best. When one drops into a man‘s office on busiâ€" ness likewlse, these pleasant little formalities must be scrupulously observed, else one would be set down as an illâ€"mannered boor, When presented to a woman ,do not hesitate to extend the hand for the regulation shake, It is the only thing to do. When one meets a friend whom hbe bas not seen for some time it is the proper thing to embrace him. This consists in fallâ€" ing upomn his neck, throwing the right arm about him and patting him lovingly just above the small of the back. Women indulge in this custom with their own sex. 6 Mexican pedestrians turn out for each other on either side, but seem to bave a preferâ€" ence for the left. In meeting women, howâ€" ever one must always give them the inl‘ido It is customary for men to raise their hats upon passing each other in the street, The carrying of canes is very general here. \Whon acquaintances of opposite sex meet, as upon the street, the man is expected to bow first. This, as may readily be seen, is important if one bas _ any _ acquaintances among Mexican women. Pass one without bowing and she may not know one next time. One‘s only hope lies in the possibility that she knows enough about American cusâ€" toms to condome the offence on the #core of your ignorance of the customs of the country. of the walk,. This rule also holds good when one meets superiors, always granting that an American wifl acknowledge any man to be his superior. One may frequently sce these courtsous Mexican men almost quarâ€" relling to make the other fellow take the inside track. *‘*Please, semor," they implore each other. To call a.servant, hold up a street car or that sort of thing, clap the hands. "Adios‘" is employed asâ€"a passing grecting, as well as mR adieu, In passing a friend with no intention of balting, one may say, ‘"‘Adios," which sovers <the greeting as well as the partine. This form of greeting is much more commonly used ~than . "good morning," "good eÂ¥ening,"‘. etc. The Mexicans are inveterate smokers, out they never cbew tobacco. That practice is monopolized by the .superior Americanos." Morcover, the ‘Mexican is seldom offensive with his emoking. The practice is permissible nearly everywhereâ€"in hote! or other dinâ€" ing roeoms, after or even at meals, in railâ€" road coaches, in street cars, in places of amusement, etc. Clerks in dry goods stores may frequently be seen taking a few whifts at a cigarette, and policemen on their beats smoke whenever they can get a cigaretto, But no matter how sensitive one may be to the fumes of tobacco, one is not likely to suffer from the Mexican‘s style of smoking. He will light his cigaretteâ€"in rare instances a cigrarâ€"take a few deliberate puffs, and quit. He never smokes in that feverish fashâ€" lon or raises the dense smudge that is the delight of the averaze American smoker, who seems bent upon getting the full worth of his big cigar. Most Mexican women of commoner classes love their cigarettes, and may be seen puffing complacently in Iheir homes, on the streets, In the street cars or as they tend their little street corper stands. Even those people do not create much of a smudge. ‘The universal smoking habit reâ€" veals itself to the ‘"uninitiated _ "Gringo isw vdiouinied 19 es the renaibluties o. the woman of the fair, fat and forty type, in Bublic piace timiapitt 6N mCaritts svon 2 public place, MCSHtth.coou emoke contentedily for a few minutes. No one to sort of thing or eroment A, L There are serious objections, â€" howâ€" ever, to some of our food stuffs which contain a very large quantity of proâ€" tein. Cotton seed meal, for out best feedâ€" ers do not consider it a safe food to place in the hands of hired men. Many eases of milk fever and other discases in dairy herds have been attributed to indiscriminate use of the cotton seed meal. The food may, of course, be fed to advantage if care is observed as to the amount fed per day, the age of the aniâ€" mal, etec. The addition of cotton seed meal to a ration for calves or pigs, reâ€" sults in serious derangement of the diâ€" gestive organs of these animals. Regarding mill feed, oat hulls, and such low grade materials little need be said. The tables of composition show them to be entirely unfit to feed as subâ€" stitutes for pea meal, linseed cake, and such nitrogenous materials. There are cases in which these stuffs might be used to ndvnnu‘s. but the feeder is likely to be misled in their purchase, because the price asked, judged from the cost of standard foods, would indicate value which they do not possess. In some casâ€" es finely ground materials are sold unâ€" der fancy names and feeders of live stock should not be deceived by false claims or a fancy name, suggesting good quality or good origin. At present time the prices asked for cattle foods bear very little relation to their feeding value. That is, feed is retailed at so much per ton whether it is rich in protein _ and well suited to supplement our Mdi.o.:l' for foods or whether it is a starchy food, and therefore, of much less value in makâ€" ing up a ration. Ruch being the case care in the purchase of feeds and some knowâ€" ledge of their composition will be found of paramount importance in the economâ€" ical feeding of farm animals. even notice .it, and ome soon comes to take, it as a matterâ€"of course. It is no uncommo th(n{ to see a boy of three or four yo? smoking cigarettes. Large quantities of gars mare consumed here, but the cigaretté» is the national smoke. Mexicans mre not given much to pipe smoking. The priests are reputed to be habitual snuff takers, and are not infrequently seen in the streets -oklng clgarettes, In short, the smoking habit not here considered disreputable in any deâ€" gree. It is customary for men to lift their hats as a funeral procession passes through the street, and the custom is generally observed among all classes, Many men, chiefly of the peon class, raise their hats when they pass a church or meet a priest i Mexican women never go to church or to the grave when their relatives are buried. They remain at home and mourn. In case the dead man was a person of substance, large numbers of carriages accompany the body to the grave, but they are never @cou~ pied. The friends of the dead man @ither walk to the cemetery or go in street cars. The bodies of the poor are conveyed to the cemetery on the shoulders of four peons, the friends following on foot. The coffins, whick are usually cheap affairs, painted in gaudy colors, are as a general thing only rented for the occasion. After the bodies are taken from them and deposited in the grave the coffins are returned to the dealer.â€"Guadlaâ€" jara, Mex., cor. N. Y. Tribune. Thrilling Adventure of South Africas Farmer, News is to hand from two independent sources, says South Africa, of an exâ€" traordinary _ adventure that recently befell Mr. Dickert, a farmer living some fifteen miles from Malindi siding, on the Wankles line, Mr. Dickert went to bed at 10 o‘clock, and was just going to sleep when he heard what he thought was a pig grunting and «riff out = side the door. He got up and outside to call his dogs, when he was seized by a lion. He shouted, and Mrs. Dickert ran out with a rifle, with which she hit the anima]l on the head, causing it to loose its hold. Mr. Dickert immediately snatched at the rifle and fired, point blank, fortunâ€" ately killing the lion at the first shot. The whole affair was over in a few seconds and occurred close to the bedâ€" room door, where the hungrir;nilml had evidently been waiting. . Dickâ€" ert was badly scratched and had his arm lnmntm{ where the lion seized him. Though sufficiently serious at the time, he now looks upon the adventure as one of the most novel in his experiâ€" ences, The people of Malindi siding have been annoyed by a lion that developed the bhabit of coming right up to the station and was heard in the neighborâ€" hood of the railway men‘s houses. _ A short time ago the conductor of the Falls train and several of the passenâ€" s saw two young lions playing beâ€" geu the rails near the Gwaal. Further up the line, in the direction of the Zambesi, the Jlions appear to be much more numerous. Not long since the native commissioner at Matetsl is reported to have had fifteon head of . ce stock killed in broad daylight by nine lions which were hbunting toggtbet.‘ Quite lately two or three lions have been seen close to the Victoria Falls, or the south side of the river, but, for the reassurance of visitors, it may be mentioned that they only aip-.red at night and were exceedingly shy of any, human iehg“ At Dett, which is on the same line of nil'll. a few weeks ago the remains were found of a white man who could not be identified, and who appeared to hu::bm killed and partly eaten by, 4400.D+ Another European when accosted for travelling without a ticket hastily left the train in the same district, mdei in the darkness and has not been since. Afll o:'kvhicb.ishows hzlut there is plenty .of w awaiting the sportsman, even in southern Rhodesia. LIONS ARE PLENTIFUL, Lk â€" paulioes i U tz ied