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Even as be did it two men sprang out from among the rocks Sseized the horses‘ heads, and a dozen others swarmed round, all masked and armed, and called upon the king‘s party to surâ€" render, and to deliver up their vainâ€" ables. One ruffian made to seize the ars plunged into the stream there came the whinny of a horse from among the boulders. _ Alarmed, the coachman whipped ur his team, and Lord Ripâ€" pinqd‘aln clapped his hand upon his aword. has on one s‘ide many rocks and bouldâ€" ers, and on the other a sort of hedge of trees and shrubs. It was bhere that the enemies of the king, that is, some stillâ€"walkers, with two dishonorable entlemen who had suffered from the ting's oppressions, placed themselves to waylay his majesty. Lord Rippingâ€" dale had puhlishe(l it abroad that the king‘s route was towards Horncastle, but at Stickney by the fens the royal party separated, most of the company pase‘ng on to _ Horncastle, â€" while Charles, Lord Rippinzdale and two other cavaliers proceeded on a secret visit to a gentleman at Louth. It was dark when the king and his company came to the combe. _ Lord Rippingdale suggested to his majesty that one of the gentlemen should ride abead to guard against surprise or amâ€" bush, but the kinz laughed, and said that his shire of Lincoln bred no brigands, and he rods on. He was in the coach with a gentleman beside bim, and Lord Rippingdale rode ugon the right. Almost as the hoofs of the leadâ€" Suddenly the man‘s words began to repeal themselves in Enderby‘s head: *"Toâ€"n‘ght the king sleeps at Sutterby on The Wolds. ‘Tis well for thee tha doost not bide wi‘ his majesty." Presâ€" ently a dozen vague ideas began to take form. ‘The man had come io warn him not to join the king at Sutâ€" terby. There was some plot ngainst Charles! _ These stiltâ€"walkers _ were tools in the hands of the king‘s foes, who were growing more powerful every day. He would sleep toâ€"night, not at Bpilsby, but at Sutterby! He was a loyal subject ; no harm that he could prevent should come to the king. | "Even in Sleaford town aw kem to know it. Aw stood no further from his majesty and Lord Rippingdale than aw stand from you, when the pair talked by the Great Boar inn. Where does tha sleep toâ€"night ?" " At Spilsby." > "Toâ€"n‘ight the king sleeps at Sutâ€" terby on The Wolds. ‘Tis well for thee tha doost not bide wi‘ his majesty. Theer, aw‘ve done thee a service !" " What service have you done me?" " Aw‘ve told thee that tha moost sleep by Spilsby when the king sleeps al Suiterby. Fareâ€"theeâ€"well, maister." Doffing iis cap once more, the stiltâ€" walker suddenly stopped, and, turning nside, made his way with an almost incredible swiftness across the fen, takâ€" ing the ditches with huge grotesque strides. Enderby looked back and watched him â€" for a moment curiâ€" qusky. :.= . . e Before you come to Sulterby on The Wolds, as you travel north to the fen land,. there is a combe through which the highway passes, and a stream which _" And how know you that I am Sir John Enderby ?" _ _ . ; f " Are you â€" little Tom â€" Dowsby ?" said he, "are you that scamp?" He laughed all at once as though he hbad not a trouble in the world. " And do you keep up your evil practices? Do you still waylay bi{ahups'!" _ "If aw confessed to Heaven or man, aw would confess to thee, Sir John Enderby ; but aw‘ll confess nowt." nor of my Lord Rippingdale, for the draining of these fens took from them their means of living. They were mesâ€" sengers .postmen and carriers across the wide stretch of country from Spilsâ€" by, even down to the river Witham, and from Boston Deep down to Marâ€" ket Deeping and over to the sea. Since these fens were drained one might travel from Market Deeping to The Wolds without wetting a foot. " Aw‘ll trooble thee a moment, maisâ€" ter," said the peasant. "A stiltâ€"walker beant nowt i‘ the woorld. Howsome‘er, aw‘ve a woord to speak i‘ thy ear." " Why shouldna aw call thee knight if the king calls thee knight? It is the dooty of a common man to call thee Sir John, and tak off his hat at saying o0‘ it." His hat came off, and he nodded in such an odd way that Enderâ€" by burst out into a good honest laugh. "Dooth tha _ rememba little Tom Dowsby that went hoonting with thee when tha wert not yet come to age ?" sontinued the stilt walker. * Doost tha rememba when, for a jest, thee and me stopped the lord bishop, tha own uncle, in the highway at midnight, and took his poorse from him, and the rich gold chain from his neck? And doost tha rememba that tha would have his apron too, for tha said that if it kept a bishop clean, wouldna it keep highwayâ€" men clean, whose work was not so slean as a bishop‘s? _ Sir John ;Enâ€" derby, aw loove thee better than the king, an‘ aw loove thee better than my Lord Rippin‘daleâ€"ah, there‘s a sour heart in a goodly body I" _ _ "Thoo‘rt the great Enderby of Enâ€" derby, maister," said the peasant, duckâ€" ing his head and then putting on his cap ; "aw‘ve known thee sin tha wast mo bigger nor a bit grass‘opper 1‘ the field. Wilt tha ride long, Sir John Enderby, and aw‘ll walk aside thee, ma gray nag with thy sorrel." He glanced down bumorously at his own long wooden legs. _ John Enderby reined up his horse and looked the stiltâ€"walker in the face. Enderby reined in his borse, and with a nod of complaissnce (for he was a man ever kind to the poor, and patient with those who fared ill in the world) he waited for the other to Enderby turned his horse round and proceeded on his way slowly, the old man striding along beside him like a stork. x ;"Vhy do you dub me knight ?" he asked, his eyes searching the face of the old man. It was an odd creature perched upon stilts; one of those persons called the stiltâ€"walkers. They were no friends of the king, nor of the Earl of Lindsey, His bead was bowed over his horse‘s neck, his face turned to the cross, his eyes were shut, and be did not notice the strange and grotesque figure that suddenly appeared from among the low bushes by the fen near by. NOR KING NOR COUNTRY. ""What didst thou say was the gentleâ€" man‘s name?" "What fear you?" inquired the young genileman. "I fear ma wife, sit," reâ€" plied the old man. At that the other cavalier sat back in his saddle and gufâ€" fawedi meprily. "Well, Dick," said he to his friend, "that is the worst fear in this world. Ah, Dick, thotu bast nevâ€" er been married." _ "Why do you fear your wife?" asked Dick. "Aw‘ve been robbed of ma horse and saddle â€" and twelve skeins o‘ wool. Aw‘m lost aw‘m ruined and shall raise ma head nevermore. _ To ma wife aw shall ne‘er reiurn." _ ‘"‘Tut tut, man," said Dick, "get back to your wife. You are masâ€" ter of your own house, you rule â€"the roost. _ What is a wife? A wife‘s a woman. _ You are a man. You are bigger and stronger, your bones are barder. Get home and weara furious face and batter in the door and say : ‘‘"What, ho, thou huzzy!" Why, man, fear {ou the wife of your bosom ?" The old man raised his head and said : "Tha doost not know ma wife or tha wouldst not speak like that." At that Dick laughed and said: "Fellow, L do pity thee;" and taking the old man by the shoulders, he lifted him on his ow n horse and took him to the village fair. and there bouflll him twelve skeins of wool and sent him on his way rejoicing. wnth.'n. horse worth twenty times his With ber chin in her hands the girl had listened intently to the story. When it was finished she said : M y s eE namiet ‘"‘There was an old man '{lpon the roadâ€" side with his head hbowed in his hands. Some lads were making sport of him, for he seemed so woe-gegone and old. Two cavaliers of the king came by. One of them stopped and drove the lads away, then going to the old man, he said: "Friend, what is thy trouble?" The old man raised his melancholy face and answered: "Aw‘m â€" afeared, sir. She took his hand and drew him inâ€" side the house, where, laying aside his bat and glovesâ€"and sworé, they passed int'u the great library. . «> . % "It was in Stickford by the Fen," he answered, after a perplexed pause. "Come, now, tell me all the places thou hast been to," she said, perching herself on his armchair. He told her and she counted them of‘fmqna by one upon her fingers. â€" ‘"That is ninety miles of travel thou hast had. What is the most pleasing thing thou hast seen?" When Enderby came out into the broad sweep of grass and lawn, flanked on either side by commendable trees, the sun shining brightly the rooks {flyâ€" ing overhead, and the smell of ripe summer in the air, he drew up his horse and sat looking before him. "To lose it ! To lose it!" he said, and a frown gathered upon his forehead. Even as he looked, the figure of a girl appeared in the great doorway. Catching sight of the horseman, she clappei her hands and waved them deâ€" deligh:edly. Enderby‘s face cleared, as the sun breaks through a mass of clouds and ligh:ens all the landscape. The slumâ€" brous eyes glowed, the square ‘head came up. In five minutes he had disâ€" mounied at the great stone steps and was clasping his daughier in his arms. * Felicity, my dear daughter!" he said, tenderl{ and gravely. She threw back her head with a gayâ€" ety which bespoke the bubbling laughâ€" ter in her heart, and said : "Booh! to (thy solemnm voice. Oh, thou great bear, dost thou love me with tears in thine eyes ?" ie un Next day when Enderby entered the great iron gates of the grounds of Enâ€" derby House the bell was ringing for noon. ‘The house was long and low, with a fine tower in the center, and two wings ran back, forming the courtyard, which would have been enâ€" tirely inclosed had the stables moved up to complete the square. _ " Was he of them?" interrupted the king kindly ; then, all at once, out of his burt vanity and narrow selfâ€"will, he added petulantly: " When he hath paid for the patent of his knighthood, then will we welcome him to us, and make him baron of Enderby." * For answer, shots rang out ; and as the king‘s gentlemen gathered close to the coach to defend him, the king himâ€" self opened the door and stepped out. As he did so a stilt struck him on the bead. Its owner had aimed it at Lord Rippingdale; but as my lord‘s borse fi!unged. it missed him, and struck the ing fair upon the crown of the head. He swayed, groaned and fell back into the open door of the coach. Lord Rippingdale was at once beside him, sword drawan, and fighting gallantly. ‘"* We will have the money which the king carries," cried one of his assailâ€" ants. "‘The price of three knightâ€" bhoods and the taxes of two shires we will have !" One of the king‘s gentlemen had fallâ€" en ,and another was wounded, Lord Rippingdale was hard pressed, but in what seemed the last extremity of the king and his party there came a shout from the other side of the stream: _ "God save the king! For the king! For the king !" s A dozen horsemen splashed their way across the stream, and with swords and pistols drove through the king‘s assailants and surrounded his coach. The rufifians made an attempt to rally and res‘st the onset, but presently broke and ran, pursued by a bhalfâ€"dozen of his mnliesty's defenders. Five of the asâ€" sailants were killed and several were wounded. As Lord Rippingdale turned to Charles to raise him, the coachâ€"door ‘was opened upon the other side, a light was thrust in, and over the unconscious body of the king my lord recognized John Enderby. 5 " His majesty," began John Enderâ€" y. "His majesty is better," replied Lord Rippingdale, as the king‘s eyes balf opened. ‘" You lead these genâ€" tlemen? . ‘This should bring you a barony, Sir John," my lord added, half graciously, half satiricallyâ€"for the honâ€" est truth of this man‘s nature vexed him. "The king will thank you." . Of the part which Endeby had playâ€" ed Lord Rippingdale said no more to the king than this : * Scoundrels!" he cried, " will you kill your king ?" ns 4" ( _ "John Enderby wants no reward for being a loyal subject, my lord," anâ€" swered Enderby, _ "Sir John Enderby was of these gentlemen who saved your majesty‘s life. Might it not seem to your majâ€" esty thatâ€"â€"* Then with another glance at the king, in which he knew that his majesty was recovered, he took off his hat, bowed, and, mounting his horse, rode away without a word. At Sutterby the gentlemen received gracious thanks of the king who bad been here delivered from the first act of violence made against him in his reign. . but my lord‘s sword came down and severed the fellow‘s hand at the wrist. "Villain!" he shouted, ‘‘do you know whom you attack ?" & bridle of Lord Rippingdale‘s horse but my lord‘s sword came down anc ONTARIO ARCHIVES TORONTO Enderby had gathered his men toâ€" gether, and they were posted for deâ€" and along the battlements. The winâ€" fense at the doorwa{u and entrances, dows were all heavily shuttered and barred. That night as candles were being lighted, three score of the king‘s men, headed by Lord Rippingdale, placed themselves before the house, and an officer was sent forward to summon forth John Enderby. _ â€" _ "t~am an Enderby," answered the youth, moodily, "and I stand with the head of our house." "That 1 shall never do! _ Answer me, my son, do yau stand with the king or with your father in this?‘" *"Whevher the king be just or not, eh? WY here would l*)ngl:md have been, my som, if the barons had submitted to King John? Where would the Enâ€" derbys have been thad they not withâ€" stood the purposes of Queen Mary? Come, come, the king hasa chance to prove himself as John Enderby bas proven himself. Midst other news heard you mnot that last pight I led a dozen gentiemen to the rescue of the king?" Cns .. ce aue . . it . ecrare 2e es CCA7 "‘Iwas said in the village that his majesty would remove his interdict and make you a baron, sir, if you met his levy for the knighthood." His sister came near her father, where she could look her _ brother straight in the {ace, and her deep blue eyes fixed upon him intently. The smile almost faded from her lips, and her square chin seemed suddenly to take on an air of seriousness _ and strength. "Weil, sir?" asked his father. ‘"That you ,sit, have _ refused a knighthood of the king, that he insists upon your keeping it, that he is about to levy upon your estates, and that you are outlawed from FEngland." "I think it is a géngleman'a duty to take the king‘s gifts without question,‘ answered the young man. . "I am Â¥lad that you are home again, sir," said young Enderby, more dutiâ€" fully than cordially. There was silence for a moment. "You do not ask my news," said his father, eyeing him debatingly. "And what think you about the matâ€" ter?t" asked his father. *"Well, my son," said Enderby, givâ€" ing him his hand, "your face has none so cheerful a look. Hast thou no welâ€" come for thy father?" _ 7 "I have ‘yo‘fi'r news, sir," was the young man‘s half sullen reply. _ _ "Booh!â€"my lord duke!" almost under her breath. _*"Well, my son," said E At that moment there wasa sound of hoofs in the courtyard. Running to a rear window of the library Mistress Felicity clapped her hands and said : "It is heâ€"Garrett." Ten minutes afterwards the young man entered. He was about two years older than his sister; that is, seventeen. He was very tall for his age, with dark hair anda pale dry face, and of disâ€" tinguished bearing. Unlike his father he was slim and gracefully built, with no breadth or power to his shoulders, but an athletic suppleness, and a reâ€" finement almost womanlike. He was tenacious, _ overbearing, _ selfâ€"willed, somewhat silent and also somewhat bad tempered. There was excitement in his eye as he entered. He came straight to his father, giving only a nod to Mistress Felicity, who twisted her bhead in a demure little way as if in mockery of his important manner. _ _ "A knight! A knight! He made thee a kimight?" she asked gayly. She slif:ped from his knee and courtesied before him, then seeing the heaviness of his look, she added ; _ "Booh! Sir John Enderby, why dost thou look so grave? â€" Is knighthood so big a burden ihou dost groan under it?" _ % "But we will not part; we will stand here till the king and Lord Rippingdale do their worst, is it not so, father?" He patted her head caressingly. ‘"‘Thou sayest right, my lass; we will remain at Enderby. Where is thy brother Garrett?" ‘"He has gone over to Mablethorpe, but will reiurn within the hour," she replied. td p "He said to me that 1 should be Sir John Enderby, of Enderby." _ s "Come here, my lass." he said gently. ‘‘"‘Thou art young, but day by day thy wisdom grows, and lLcan trust thee. 1t is better thou shoulast know from my own lips the peril this knightâ€" hood brings, than that trouble should suddenly tall and thou be unprepared." ‘"His friend called him Dick, He is a poor knight, one Sir Richard Mowâ€" bray, of Leicester, called at court and elsewhere Hagpy Dick Mowbray, for they do say a apEiem' and braver heart never wore the king‘s uniform." So ludicrously did he imitate her own manner of a few moments before that humor drove away the flush of anger from her face and she sat upon his chairâ€"arm amd said : *‘Indeed I should like to know that Sir Richard Mowbray. _ And, tell me nmow, who is the greatest person thou bast seem in thy absence}*‘ "I saw the kingâ€"at Boston town." _"The king! The kingl" Her eyes lightened, ber hands clapped merrily. "What did be say to thee? _ Now, now, there is that dark lig.ht in thine eyes again. I will not have it so!" With her thumbs she daintily drew down the eyelids and opened them again. _ ‘"There, that‘s better. _ Now what did the king say to thee?" _ __ Drawing her closely to him he told her the story of his meeting with the king ; of Lord Rippingdale; of _ the and to issuea writ of outlawry against t}{'ing's threat to levy upon his estates im. "Father," sne said, pantingly, "the king would make thee an outlaw, would seize upon thy estates, because thou woulds© not pay the price of a paltry knighthood !" _ Suddenly â€" her _ faca flusned, the blood came back with a rush, apd she scood upan her feet. "L would follow thee to the world‘s end rather than that thou shouldst pay one peuny for that honor. ‘The king ofâ€" iered thee knighthood? Why, two bunâ€" dred years beiore the king was born, an Enderby was promised un earldom. Why shouidst thou take a knighthood now? _ Thou didst right, thou didst right." _ Her fingers clasped in eager emphasis, . efi ant. 9. "Father," the girl said, "thou shalt not put me away from thee. Let the king‘s men surround Enderby House, and the soldiers and my Lord Rippingâ€" dale levy upon the estates of Enderby. Neither his majesty mor my Lord Ripâ€" pingdale dare [l;ui a finger upon meâ€" 1 would tear their eyes out !" Enderby smiled half sadly at her, and answered ; Fora moment the girl trembled, and Enderby felt her hands grow cold in his own, for she had a quick and sensiâ€" tive nature and passionate intelligence and imaginaiion. ‘"‘The fear of a woman is one of the worst fears in this world. Booh!" "Dost thout not see, my child," said be, "that any bowr the king‘s troops may surround our house and take me frusoner and separate thee from me? see but one thing to do; even to take thee at once from here and place thee with thy aumt, Mistress Falkingham, in Shrewsbury." (To be Continued.) vop 35 9k she said Ho id o on n emeted it is an easy matter to propagate grapevines, and should one desire to increase his stock it is only necessary to save the trimmings of his old canes, cut them into lengths of 10 or 12 inches, being sure there are two or four eyves om each piece, cut the lower ends of each just below an eye, tie It is not well to allow the old canes to grow to any great length; from six to eight feet is about the average lehgth ; of course if the trellis is tgn side of a building, a tree or fence, the iemitiv of the canes must be governed by the size of the trellis ; canes of great lenigth do not bear well at their tops. The pruning may be done any time while the vines are dormant. â€" From December to March is a safe pericd, I see that some old canmnes are cut back each year so that there are some new as well as old canes on the trelâ€" lis, If the canes which bore last year are well supplied with laterals, they are allowed to remain, but the laterals are cut back to two or three eyes. Each gour will be quite sure to grow at least one shoot and on these shoots will be found fruit the coming season. The new wood should be thinned out and cut back each season so as to disâ€" tribute tihe bearing canes as evenly as possible over the trellis. There are two ways by which this may be accomâ€" plished, to cut back so as to have on‘ly new canes from which to grow fruit, or to produce it on‘y from spurs from the old wood. It makes but litâ€" tle difference which method is vsed only so that the fruit is evenly arâ€" ranged over the canes. I find | that a ‘"happy medium‘" between the two methods is most apt to give the best results. From the appearance of the average farmer‘s grapevines, one would naturâ€" ally suppose that the owner was either afraid to use a knife on them for fear of doing them an injury, or else it was pure negligence which makes thom so "wild and woolly." _ The fact is, the grape is seldom pruned enâ€" ough to produce a choice crop to the best advantage. The past year‘s crop is particularly noticeable in this reâ€" spect. Had the pruning been a little more severe in many cases, there would have been less inferior fruit, and conâ€" sequently less cost to handle the crop, and a great deal less drain upon the plant, as it is the production of seed which exbausts the plant and soil. Your breeders for ‘97 sbhould have been selected and mated some little time ago, If you did not have pureâ€" bred fowls, you should send to some reâ€" liable _breeder and purchase, a good male bird, at least, to head the pen. Keep them separate from other fowis and give them the best of care and then await results. Most farmers think they cannot afford to invest the price which thoroughbred _ poultry costs. But to such let me suggest that you sell off your old hens, small and illâ€"shaped pullets, keeping only â€" the largest and best formed ones, and for every 20 or 25 pullets kept buy a pureâ€" bred male of one of the standard breeds. If you do this, one year‘s exâ€" {wrienoe wiil prove to you that pureâ€" bred poultry has many â€" advantages over the mongrel fowls you have kept in the year past. Breed oniy from pureâ€"bred males each year. Cull your pullets every fall, keeping only the best of that year‘s raising. Every breed bas its admirers, but many of our most popular breeds are not exactly suitable to the farmer, owing to the tenderness, small size, etc. The farmer desiring an allâ€"round fowl would do well to conâ€" fine himself to the Plymouth Rock, Java or Wyandotte; but for eggs the Leghorns, ~â€" Minoreas, Houdans _ and Spanish are the best. The farmer can have plenty of fresh eggs for sale at all times if he will observe a few simple but necessary shings in his management of his flocks, writes V. M. Couch,. One of the most important parts is to have warm quarters for the fowls. Keep pullets for winter laying; feed liberally of eggâ€"producing foods, and attend to their wants regularly and as faithfully as you do those of your borses and cattle, and you will enjoy a daily egg harvest. 8 F ol e e ioi e e ie e o 4 before their breakfast hour if fed upâ€" on quickly digested food, and as it reâ€" ?uxres a long time to digest corn, the owls will not become so hungry before getting their next meal. Laying hens should not be subjected to sudden change of temperature, if you expect them to continue laying, and should therefore be given waier with the chill off. Comfort, not show or style, is what counts in poultry culâ€" ture, and you can build a house very cheap that will answer your purpose equally as well as one costing hunâ€" dreds of dollars. All fowls require is a house in which they can keep warm and dry. Do not expect to gain _ a fortune from a few hens, for you won‘t; but if you give them proper care and attention they will add many dollars to your yearly income. There are two very good reasons for feeding corn at night. First, corn is a heating food, and as the nights are several degrees colder than the days and the fowls are inactive upon the roost, hence more affected by the low temperature, the bheat imparted to them by a liberal cormn supper will enâ€" able them to pass their nights more comfortably than they otherwise would do. Second, the winier nights ars {ortu,.'.' and fowls become very hungry PRACTICAL FARMING. FARM POULTRY NOTES. GRAPE CULTURE s3% l icou Eifimkfim ;,.E's:.’*,a 09 Butter making: has an advantage of milk selling in that the skim milk is valuable on the farm. as a food. for the cattle, pigs and pouslicrs Holding too long, however, does not seem to be a vice that is much pracâ€" ticed this seasom, notwitbhstanding the temptation which the abundance of cheap feed might be supposed to hold out. From whe compaints that come from t!.> stock yards it would rather appear ‘hat feeders are erring in the other direciion and were loading down the markets with balf fat animals. This is particularly complained of as to cattle, nor does there seem to be any reason for it unless it be that the feeder either must bhave money out of the stock, or else that he disâ€" trusts future prices, and believing that those that are now prevailing will let him out, prefers to accept them rather than fiaish more fully and take the risk of what the future has in store. It does seem as though something were out of joint, bewever, when the foedâ€" ing sections are said to be sufferi severely for stock to which to fe:fi a great corn crop, and at the same time the markets are complaining that the cattle thit are shipped are only halft fed out. While the time to sell is when the stock is ready®to go, there ought to be some very special and urâ€" gent season for shipping if it is forâ€" warded before it is ready, particularly when feed is so abundant and so cheap that it is likely to go to waste. i WHEN TO SELL. The time to sell is, generally speakâ€" ing, when the product is ready. With liveâ€"stock the exceptions to this rule is very rare, and after stock for the market is matured it is a mistake â€"to keep it for any length of time. Indeed one of the important leaks on many farms is due to the vice of holding after the stock should go in the hope of better prices. There is no lottery more unvertain than guessing what fuâ€" ture prices are going to be, not even long range weather prediciions. So many considerations besides demand and supply enter into the problem that it is almost impossible to exercise anything worithy of the name of judgâ€" ment. in bunches and bury them in sand in the cellar. In the spring set them deep enough in the ground so that the tormost eye will just protrude ghove th» surface. Should the season be suitâ€" able hardly a cutting will fail to grow, ami if necessary they can be planted the following spring, though it is better to leave them two vyvears. Lumber, Shingles and Lath always Imn Stocli. â€"â€"aill> Q omm having Completed our New Factory we are now prepared to FILL ALL ORDERS PROMPTLY, We keep in Stock a large quantity of Sash, NDoors, Mouldings, Flooring and the differâ€" Sash and Door Factory. ent Kinds of Dressed Lumber for outside sheeting. Our SBtock of DRY LUMRE is very Large so that all orders can be filled. n In ' Aro you n victim? Have you lost hope? Ars you contemplating marriage? ; _, Has your blood booen diseased? Have you any weakness? Our New Moethod Treatment will cure you, What it has done for others it will do for you. Consultation Free. No matter who has treated you, write for an honest opinion Free of Charge. Charges reasonable. Books Free â€""The Golden Monitor" (illustrated), on Discases of Men. Inclose pns.u{ge, 2 conts. Sealed. Book on "Diseases of Women‘" Free. ommc RIM AIA MAE O M10 Pm adnrnaa masee aua id t RLO asccsi dA ment, FRKEE, DRS. KENNEDY & KERGAN, YOU HAVE SEMINAL OUR NEW METHAOD THEATMENT alono can cure you, and make a man of you. Underits influâ€" ence the brain becomes active, the blood purided so that all pilmples, blotches and uleors disappear; the nerves become strong as steel, so that uervousâ€" ness, bashfulness and despondency disappear; the eyes become bright, the face full and clear, energy returns to the body, and the moral, physical and sexual systems mro invigorated; all drains ceaseâ€"no more vital wasto from the system. The various organs become natural and manly, You feol yourself a man and know marriage cannot be a failure. We invite all the afflicted to consult us confidentially and free of charge. Don‘tlet quacks and fakirs rob you of your hard earned dollars. We will curs you or mo pay, HAS YOUR BLOOD BEEXN DISEASED? AB~NO NAMES USED WITHOUT WRITTEN CONSENT. PRIVATE No names on boxes or envelopes. Everything confidential. Quest! Thousands of young and middle aged mon are annually swopt to £ promature grave through EARLY INDISCRETIONS, EXCFESSES, AND BLOOD DISEASES,. If you haveo any of the following symptoms consult us beforo itis toolate. Ar6 you nerâ€" vyous and weak, despondent and gloomy, spocks bofore the eyes with dark circlos under them, weak back, kidneys irritable, palpitation of the heart, bashful, droams and losses, sediment in urine, pimples on the face, eyos sunken, hollow cheoks, ocremn+ ©xpression, poor memory, lifoless, distrusiful, lack energy and strength, tired morpâ€" ings, restless nights, changsoable moods, weak manhood, stunted organs and premsâ€" ture decay, bone pains, hair loose, sore throat etc. YOU HAVE SEMINAL WEAKNESSI B@®CURES GUARANTEED OR NO PAY! WERK, NERVOUS, DISEASED MEN FARM NOTERES A NERYVOUS WREOCK, C okl ‘ogiier~ uB X. G. &J. McKECHNIE Greatest Discovery of the Age FOR CURING THESE DISEASES SELFâ€"ABUSE, EMISSIONS, VARICOâ€" CELE, CONCEALED DRAINS, STRICT+â€" URE GLEET, SYPHILIS, STUNTED PARTS, LOST MANHOOD, IMPOTENâ€" CY, NERVOUS DEBiITY, UNNATâ€" URAL DISCHARGES, ETC. J The New Method Treatment is the $1000 IN GOLD cor a cAase wE | _ For several seasons it is more desirâ€" !able to have colts come in the fall | than in the spring. Jt is no little iterm | that they are not so worried by flies |and heat. They seem to stand _ the ;c.bapgq better when weaned at â€" the springing of the grass than if taken from ‘their mothers in the autumn. i In a comparison of corn meal and. | corn meal mixed with coitton seed as food for steers, recently made at the Oklahoma experimental station, it was found that some of the steers seemed to dislike the cottom seed while others ate it readuy. The lot fed corn meal ate Inoa ard gained more than _ did | those fed the mixture, ’ There are on aimost all farms some bits of land naturally as good as tha |re.t that remain unproductive for lack of capital, It _ may not be _more profitable to bring these ~into ~ proâ€" ductiveness than it is to put the bull¢ oi the manire and labor on the best lam1, hbut it makes the farm look betâ€" ter. Quite often whea these places are too stony for cropping trees wlantâ€" ed4d there will prove ,t)t;e hest us such paces can hbe made to serve when poultry are being fitted for marâ€" kei, stuffing should be commenced at the start, but this is not the conclusion of experience. The feeding for fatten~ ing should be graduaily increased. Care amdl good semnse are requisite for the best resulis. A consensus of opinion among poulâ€" try keepers is that buckwheat is an excellent food for fowlis. Some asâ€" cribe their .profit to its use, briefly, Of courss, this means that all the other conditions of care and food are properly supplied. © before they are 4 years old.. Better blood, breeding and management now make them most profitable at half that A great advance in theory and fact has been made over the old notion that good beeves could not be made N PRIVATE. No medicine sent €.0.90. â€" Question list and cost of Treat. & No. 148 SHELBY ST. DETRONY, MICH. are heing fitted for marâ€" should be commenced at this is not the conclusion PVEAATESNL : 407 06 CANNOT CURE OF na 2o % .6 hn We cal) the s mBessters and subs mopsic ef the rer 1, If any perso Cinued, be must poblisher may c0 wentic aade, an: whether it be ta i There can be no | gqaymentiemade. 8. Aay person Bhe post ofice, mame or another poribed or not is : . _ 0. If a subsoril W at a oert; bontinues to son %o pay for it if h £. This pro hat a mans must BUSINES Neoviarky Pus MONBY I% OJ the Bes Loan and 1 veyancer, Loamse arranged promptly m w e E0 ® BullSTfl. 80 Firstâ€"=â€"C Aressed to Lax altended to. Township of B n@NEK® Do 1. t 4PR one door n Horse & In the old s Lauder, P Deputy â€"Regist & m,. to 4 p. "*"Oounty of G and at reasonable DAN. UNDERTAX What do th weather, papa It iskes the ap tbeir profil OFFICOE, oven G + tioneer for C4 Residenooâ€"K JAME BSUZR of JCENSED ICENSED Jobbing Fu HUC MISC still to be oppesite t of Grey 6. REGT N ews made MER for