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ceane dow Five. minutes, .might have passed when Gerald Brooke and the Baron Von Rosenberg came sauntering along the terrace and entered the room through one of the long windows. Mrs. Brooke was al ittle surprisâ€" ed, but said nothing. The two ladies left the room together. *"The man was French, and he seems to have taken the proverbial leave of his countrymen," said Lady Fan with a laugh. . _ "Good gracious, C.ara," said Lady : Fan, ‘"I bhad forgoiten all about my| promise to accompany your aunt in her call on Mrs. Riversdale. I wish to . goodness you could go with us. I dread | the ordeal." "And leave the Baron Von Rosenberg without a word of apology! What would hecome of my reputation as a hostess} Gerald and he will be here in a few ininutes, I don‘t doubt; and if you like to wait til he is gone"â€" [ ‘"‘That wou‘ld never do," interru ted | her friend. *"You know what a ficrget | your aunt is when she is kept waitâ€"= | ing. You had better come and keep her in goodâ€"humour while L am getling my | things on.â€"Byâ€"theâ€"bye, where can our singu.ar friends havs vanished to?" ; C.ara looked round. Picot and the | boy had disappeared. Neither of the ladies had seen the start the mounteâ€" | bank gave at the mention of Von Rosâ€" enberg‘s name, nor how strangely the expression of his face changed. Crutchâ€" | ing the boy by one wrist, he whispered: "It is time to go. Venez, mon p‘titâ€"; vite, vite! The ladies want us no | Before either Picot or the boy had time to give utterance to a word of thanks, a servant entered the room, and addressing Lady Fan, said: "If you please, my lady, the cartiage is waitâ€" ing:; and Miss Primby desires me to tell you that she is ready." "Still, I cannot help feeling greatly innoyed.â€"Is this pretty boy your son?" "Oui, madame." "His mother‘"â€" ‘"Alas, madame, she is dead. She die six long years ago. She was English, like madame. MHenri has the eyes of ma pauvre Marie; and nis hair, too, is the same co.our as hers." The mountebank‘s white teeth showâ€" ad themselves in a smile. "Ah, no, maâ€" dame; pardon, but it is not a hard life by no means. Henri likes it, and I like it. In the winter we join some cirâ€" que, and then Henri has lessons every day. He is clevare, very clevareâ€"oyvâ€" erybody say so. One day Henri will be a great artiste. Whe worldâ€"tout le mondeâ€"wi.l hear of him. It is I who say itâ€"moi." He touched his chest‘ proud‘y with the tips of his fingers as he ceased speaking. "Would mesdames ‘"Tell me your name, my pretty one," said Mrs. Brooks, as she stooped and helped him to secure his treasures. "Henri Picot, madams." "And have you any pockets, Henrit" "Oui, madame." A pocket was duly indicated, and inâ€" to its recesses m certain coin of the rea‘im proesently found its way. might have envied. "He looks more like a girl than & boy," whispered Lady Fan.* "He looks more like a cherub than sither," responded C.ara, who _ was somewbat impu.sive both in ber likes and dislikes. "It is a face that Milâ€" lais would love to paint." A‘though the man spoke with a proâ€" nounced foreign accent, his English was fluent, and he rareiy~seemed at a losa for a word to express his meaning, ‘"Thank you, monsieur; not toâ€"day," answered Clara gravely as she stepped back into the room and rang the beil. Monsieur iooked disappointed. Henri, however, looked anything ‘but disapâ€" pointed, when, two minutes later, the beautiful lady, from whose face he could scarcely take his eyes, heaped his little bhands with cakes and fruit till they could hold no more. "I am extremely sorry," said Mrs. Brooke, "that my servant should have spoken to you just now in the way he did. He had no right to do so, and I shall certainly ask my husband to reâ€" primand him." "It was nothings, madame nothings at all," responded the mountebank with a little bow and a smile and a deprecatâ€" ory motion of his hands. ‘"We are oftâ€" en spoken to like thatâ€"Henri and Iâ€" Â¥e think nothings of it." The appearance of the man was a greai contrast to that of the child, and a casual observer would have said that there was no single point of resemblance between the two. Apparently _ the former was about forty to fortyâ€"live years of age. He had a sallow _ comâ€" plexion and a thin aquiline nose; his black locks were long and tangled; "Poor child!" said Mrs. Brooke. ‘"This is a hard life to bring him up to. Sureâ€" [y some other way might be found"â€" Then she paused. while into his quickâ€"glancing black eyes, which appeared to see hal{â€"aâ€"dozâ€" en things at once, there would leap at times a strango fierce gleam, . which seemed to indicate that although the ‘ike to behold ?"â€"he said a moment ater as be brought his drwm into posâ€" ition and raised tike pipes to his lips. _ CUlkrs to ber friend. Lady Fanny rose |anquidly and crossâ€" sd to the window. + anicsivens c tura‘ly fair and transparent, was now somewhat embrowned by exposutre to the sun and wind. He had large eyeSs of the deepest an dtenderest blue, shadâ€" sd by long golden lashes; while his lips formed a delicate curve such as many â€"a soâ€"ca.led professional beauty volcano below might give forth few or no signs, its hidden fires ware smouldâ€" ering still. Only when his eyes rested un the boy they would soften and fill with a sort of wistful tenderness; and at such moments the whole expression of his face would change. What struck both the ladies first of all, as the vagrants drew near, was the remarkable beauty of the child. His face ut the first glance seemed an alâ€" oui in iss igetiiit unee n PMGnti W NTE U se Nes n + CHAPTER I (Continued). A DEAD RECKONING CRAPTER IL his complexion, n&~ here," said |__" Are all diplomatists like the Baron Von Rosenberg, I wonder?" mused Mrs. Brooke, "If so, I am glad Gerâ€" ald is not one, His politeness is so exâ€" , cessive that it makes one doubt whether there is anything genuine at the bac, of it. And the coldâ€"blooded way in which he looks you through out of his frosty eyes! Could any woman ever learn to love a man like the Baron? |1 am quite sure that I could not." , _ Fbhe seated herself at.the piano, and ; had been playing for a few minutes when she was startled by the sound | of footsteps on the gravel outside. She turned her head and next moment started to her feet. "George! You!" she exclaimed, and as she gid so, the | colour fled from her cheeks and ber | hand went up quickly to her heart. , _ At Mrs. Brooke‘s exciamation, a tall, ‘th_m, oliveâ€"complexioned young man, with black eyes, and bair and a small silky moustache, advanced into the room. Iie was handsome as far as feaâ€" tures went ; just now, however, his exâ€" pression was anything but a pleasant | one. A Eomething that was at once | furtive and cruel lurked in the corners 'oi his eyes, and although his thin lips were curved into a smile, it was a smile "Then, with your permission, I will walk with you as far as the corner of the wood." ed"?I:Ieed I say that I shall be charmâ€" Mrs. Brooke gave the Baron her hand. He bent low over it. For once the ramrod in his back found that it bad a hinge in it. %/ " You will not be gona long ?" said Clara to ber husband. * Not more than half an hour.â€"-Wg will go this way, Baron, if you please. " A mere tyro, dear madame. Sincerâ€" ity is the badge of all our tribe as every one knows." At this they all laughed a little. " But now I must positively say adieu." "By which road to you return to Beaulieu, Baron?" inquired Gerald. ‘"The afternoon is so fine, and the distance so short, that I purpose walkâ€" ingq‘i:‘ack tl;.rgugh the park." es "Greatly. I assure you that Mr. Brooke is an adept with the weaponâ€" very much so indeed. I must really beig of him to give me a few lessons." Gerald laughed. " As a diplmatist by profession, Barâ€" on, you are doubtless a proficient in the art of flattery," said gt[rs. Brooke. In appearance the owner of Beechly Towers was a thoroughgoing Englishâ€" man, and no one would have suspected him of having a drop of torexgn blood in his veins. He was sixâ€"andâ€"twenty years old, tall, fair and stalwart. His bair, beard, and moustache, were of & light reddish brown; he had laughmg eyes of the darkest blue, and a mout! that was rarely without a smile. His bearing was that of a weilâ€"born, chivalâ€" rous, young Englishman. As he came into the room, laughing and talking to the Baron, he Iooged like a man who had not a care in the world. The Baron Von Rosenberg was 80 carefully preserved, and so elaborateâ€" ly got up, that one might guess his age at anything between forty and fiftyâ€" five. He was tall and thin, with a milâ€" itary t}l})rightnew and precision of bearâ€" ing. e had closeâ€"cropped, ironâ€"gray bair, and a heavy moustache of _the same colour. He spoke excellent Engâ€" lish with only the faintest possible aoâ€" cent, but with a certain slowness and an elaboraion of each word, which of themselves would have been enough to indicate that he was not " to the manâ€" ner born." Â¥ "*I had no idea, my dear Brooke, that you were such a crack shot," remarkâ€" ed the Baron. "I had made up my mind that I should have an easy vicâ€" ‘The Baron‘s heels came together as he bent his head. "I was ;ust about to take my leave, madame," he said. "I am overjoyed to have the felicity of seeing you again before doin%1 so." ‘There was something too highâ€"flown about this for Clara‘s simple tastes, and bher cheek flushed a litt?e as she anâ€" swered: "I hope you have enjoyed your pistolâ€"practice, Baron." _ T "*I learned to shoot in Poland when I was quite a youngster. It is an amusement that hbas served to while away many idle hours." s "I have a tolerable range at Beauâ€" lieu ; you must come over and try your skill there.‘" "I can readily believe that," answerâ€" ed the Baron, as he examined the weapâ€" on minutel[v through his goldâ€"rimmed glasses. "1 have never seen anything giute like it although I have seen many curious pistols in my time. I myself have two or three in my collection on which 1 set some little store. 1 call to mind, bhowever, that a certain friend of mine in London, who is even more entete in such matters than I am, owns a weapon somewhat similar to this, inâ€" laid with arabesque work in brass and silver, which he has always looked upâ€" on as being of Spanish, or at least of Moorish workmanship.â€"Now, my dear Mr. Brooke, 1 am going to ask you the favour of leading me this treasure for a few days. I go to London toâ€"morrow, and while there, I should like to show it to my friend, so as to enable him to compare it with the one in his possesâ€" sion. He would be delighted, I know, andâ€"â€"*" * My dear Baron, not another word," cried Gerald. ‘"Take the thin?, and keep it as long as you like. value it only as a memento of some pleasâ€" ant days spent many thousands of miles from here. My servant shall carâ€" ry it across to Beaulieu in the course of the evening." c â€"> s i 01 "*I shall be most pleased to do so."‘ "I have also a small collection of curâ€" ios, chiefly in the way of arms and armour, picked up in the course of my travels, which it may amuse you to look over." " A thousand thanks ; but I value the weapon too highly to trust it into the hands of a servant. I will return it personally in the course of a few days." So saying, the Baron, with a nod and a smile, dropped the pistol into the pocket of his loose morning coat. _ _ " But madame your wife," he said presently ; " may I not hope to have the pleasure of seeing her again, before I take my leave ?" Gerald crossed the room, and was on the point of ringing the bell, when Mrs. Brooke entered. " Your telling me that," answered Gerald, ‘" reminds me that I have in my possession one article which, as I beâ€" lieve you are a connoisseur in such matâ€" ters you may be interested in examinâ€" ing." As he spoke he crossed to a cabâ€" inet, and opening the glass doors he brought out a pistol, t%a barrel and lock of which ware chased and damasâ€" cend in gold, and the stock ornamentâ€" ed with trophies and scrolls in silver inlay and rapousse work. " It was givâ€" en me when I was in India by a cerâ€" tain Nawab to whom I had rendered some slight service," said Gerald as he handed the pistol to the Baron. " It doesn‘t seem much of a curiosity to look at ; but I am told that in its way it is almost unique." hquenc n nds on ) Ob vite c opten mm o on coenverne o , the Proper Way Is to Make It Without Boiling. So many people have an idea that coffee bhas to be boiled (to get the strength out of the crushed berry. On the contrary, boiling gives the liquid a peculiar bitter taste that is foreign to really good coffee. Besides that, it ruins the flavor. " Drip" coffee is supâ€" posed to be the very best coffee that Iis made, but even that is spoiled | sometimes oy leiting the liquid boil up over the strainer, thus loosening the | oil that makes the doffee bitter. If you | have not a regular coffee strainer make ‘ | three or four cheesecloth bags, of a size large enough to accommodate the‘ amount of coffee that you use, allowâ€" ing for swelling of t,hevg'ruin and for . a drawstring to tie. Wash and boil | the bags after making, so that not a | taste of the cloth remains in them. Fill the bag with the coffee, and bhave in a | { teakettle, boiling hot, exactly the amâ€"| | ount of water you want to use for your . coffee. Rinse the coffee pot out with hot water, and put the bag in the pot | and pour over it the boiling water.| Place the pot on the back of tie stove, | where it will remain just below the | bubbling period, for at least ten minâ€"| utes. The result will give you clear, | strong coffee; you lneed not use a grain more than for the old wayâ€"and . it will not hurt the weakest digestion. . Neither is egg necessary. Empty the | |bag as soon as the meal is over, as ; | there will be no more good in the cofâ€" | {fee, and wash the bag in hot water; shake free of all theflgroundq and hang ‘in the air to dry. Have at least four | such bags, and keep them and the cofâ€" | ]fee pot scruplously clean. | is thicker than in any other portion. The maker, in order to get the desired tone, makes a drawing of the bell, and in a cross section of this thicker ring describes a circle, the diameter of which determines the tone. In the casting of belis of large size for chimes or given tones, the skill and secret of success lie in getting the thickâ€" ness of the ring which is at the mouth of the bell just right. It will be noâ€" ticed that just a little back of the edge of t_h:e_hefl,,_on the flange, the metal REGULATING THE PITCH U BELLS "I am very glad to see you."â€"Mr. George Crofton shrugged his shoulders. ‘"* Why have you not cailed before now? Gerald has often wondered why we have seen nothing of you since our return from abroad." that had neither mirth nor goodâ€"nature in it. A small gash in bis unier lip, the resuit of an accident in youth, through which one of his teeth gleamed sharp and white, did not add to the attractiveâ€" ness of his appearance. In one hand be carried a ridingâ€"whip, and in the other a pair of buckskin gloves. & . ‘* You expected any one rather than meâ€"of course. As I was riding along the old familiar road, I saw your husâ€" band, in company with some other man, walkiag down the avenue. In the hope that I might perhaps find you alone, I rode on to the Beechl{ Arms, left my horse there, entered the park by the sideâ€"entrance.that you and I know so well, and here I am." & ‘"*How kind, how thoughtful, of my dear cousin, Gerald!" This was said with an unmistakable sneer. " George I" "* Clara." " You are not like yourself toâ€"day." * Look you, Claraâ€"if you expect me to come here like an everyâ€"day visitor, to congratulate you on your marriage, you are mistaken. How is it possible for me to congratulate you?â€"and if I were to say that I wished you .much‘ happiness it would beâ€"wellâ€"a lie!" | " This from you!" He drew a step nearer, flinging out his clenched bhand with a quick, gasâ€" sionate gesture. " Listen, Clara. ou and I have known each other from childhood. As boy and girl we playâ€" ed together; when we grew older we walked and rode out together ; and afâ€" ter you left school we met at balls, at parties, at picnics, and if a week passâ€" ed without our seeing each other, we thought that something must have hapâ€" pened. During all those years 1 lovâ€" ed youâ€"ay, as no other man will ever love youâ€"and you, being of the sex you are, could. not fail to see it. But your father was poor, while I was entirely dependent on my uncle ; so time went on, and I hesitated to speak. But a day came when I could keep silence no longer ; I told you everything, andâ€"you rejected me. If I had been wild and reckless before, I became ten times more wild and reckless then. If beâ€" fore that day I had offended my unâ€" cle, I offended him beyond all hope of forgiveness afterwards. But before I spoke to you, my irresistible cousin had appeared on the scene and bhad made your acquaintance. Your woman‘s wit told you that his star was in the ascendâ€" ant, while mine was sinking. Pshaw ! what need for another word. It is bareâ€" ly eighteen months since you and he first imet, and now you are the misâ€" tress of Beechly Towers, while 1 amâ€" what I am 1" "Good afternoon, Clara," he said, with a careless nod as he d posited his hat,yglovee and whi.f) on the sideâ€"table. " You quite startled me," said Mrs. " Your master is fmi‘z{tvâ€"pvr'ééent; but I will see Monsieur Karovsky myself." .\ " You quite startled me," said Mrs. Brooke, as she went forward and gave ‘"‘Never, George Crofton, as far as I am concerned ! You deceive yourself{ utâ€" terly. You‘"â€"â€" She came to a sudden pause. A servant bhad entered, carryâ€" ing a card, on a salver. Mrs. Brooke took the card and read, " M. Paul Karâ€" ovsky.â€"I never remember hearing the name before," she remarked to herself. Then aloud to the servant: " Where is the gentleman ?" . f " In the small drawingâ€"room, ma‘am. He said that he wanted to see Mr. Brooke on particular business." "I will not believe it. Had not a rivâ€" al crossed my pathâ€"a rival who wormâ€" ed his way into my uncle‘s affections, who ousted me from the position that ought to have been mine, who is masâ€" ter here toâ€"day where I ought to be masterâ€"had he never appeared, a love so strong and deep as mine must have prevailed in the end !" It was with very varied emotions that Mrs. Brooke listened to this passionâ€" ate outburst. When it came to an end she said in ber iciest tones: "Was it to tell me this that you came here toâ€" day ?" v4 lt wu‘l'. ‘"Then you hbhad much better bhave stayed away. You do not know how deeply you have grieved me." " I have told you nothing but the bitâ€" ter truth." i " The truth, perhaps, as seen through your own distorted vision. From childâ€" hood you were to me as a dear playâ€" mate and friend, and as a friend I have regarded you till toâ€"day." s " A friend! Something more than friendship was needed by me." _ "‘That something would never have been. youts."‘ ;, i ~‘!"‘" ns (To be Continued). GOOD COFFEE. TORONTO | TO HELP SUMMER PASTURE. ’ Right now is the time to think of | supplementing the pastures for a month ‘ or two during the heat of summer with , some kind of &reen crop. _ Hoard‘s Dairyman, in discussing this queston, | says that when the whole reliance for . food is on pasture there never has been | a summer in which cows did not fail, at | some part of the time, to get sufficient | good food from the pasture to keep up ‘ the flow of milk to the full amount of | what it ought to have been and might ; bhave been, if means had been taken to | supply this deficiency in food. _ This ; condition is sure to happen, every year, \ in any part of the country, no matâ€" ‘ter how farge, or on what kind of land the pasture is, or how few cows are | in it. The grass may grow luxuriantly in May and June and perhaps a part | of July, and furnish smuch more feed than the stock can eat. _ But by the latter part of July or first of August, ?this early growth becomes old and | woody, the drowth has come, and grass _ stops growing, and, the consequence is, the cows shrink badly in milk. The cows can live, it is true, on this old grass, but when the fall rains come and there is a fresh growth of grass the flow of milk only partially comes back, and the year‘s product is rery much less than it wou‘d have been, had ment, and as a consequence do not plan to use as many as they should. In after years, if the work! is completeâ€" ed, much of it must be done over on acâ€" count of bad calculations in the beginâ€" ning. â€" It is assumed in the beginning that parts of the field or plats do not need tile drainage, and the possibility thiat they may if left out of count. The rains last year, and so far this year, have plainly brought to view any spots in fields supposed to be well drained that would be much improved by having more tile under them. Someâ€" times a drain every four rods will ansâ€" wer the purpose, and then again only perfect work can be accomplished by putting them two rods apart. The farmer inexperienced in tile drainage can not tell how much his land will need, nor can he call in a stranger and get correct estimates. _ The reason for this latter is that no two farms are alike in this respect. _ Am experienced farm drainage engineer will come nearâ€" er than any one else. He will name a numbeir of rods necessary, and will err on the safe side by naming more than is actually needed, rather than otherwise,. _ When a farm needs drainâ€" age the owner can spend much time profitably by a careful study of the 1 nature of the soil under all conditions, and with this study of the soil he should unite that of the condition of the crops growing on the land. If the farmer who owns land that he can crop safely every year under most unfavorable weather conditions, complains of hard times, how much more must the times pinch the farmer who crops land that is unreliable, because too wet ?f One way out for the latter is to commence tiling if his land is worth the improvement. The only way to get satisfaction from this work is to do it right from the start. And the more attention the land owner gives to the matter the more thoroughly he will be convinced that this is true. It may take years, after the work has once commenced, to get it properly completed. _ For it is well undersiood these bard times I(.hal, few farmers »ase the money to complete the work. 14 E. . This is a question that every Man draining his farm must answer for himself, says a writer in Prairie Farmâ€" er. . As a rule they make their ansâ€" wer too soon and from immature judgâ€" The mains must be laid first, and as results accrue the work is completed. The first work done helps to pay for the continuation of the work. _ The satisfaction had in working over the land recenily tiled is so much above what it was before being tiled that the pushing farmer is anxious to comâ€" plete the work. _ Just now, after the wet weather we have had, few fields of upland show an even growth _ of wheat. _ The bottom lands underlaid with gravel make a better showing. On “he clay lands too many places look _yellow and scalded on account of the ‘ wet, cold soil. These places show plainâ€" ly the need of tile. _ When the farmâ€" _er neglects to tile theso places, he gets poor consolation at harvest time out of the _ statement that _ this _ and that spot was too wet, or that a dry season gave a good crop. _ We have fields which we have been working for thirteen years that we thought during the dry years needed little, if any, more, but this spriag spots show up plainly where the soi‘f has been a litâ€" tle too wet for the wheat to _ do its best. _ Short branches _ will complete the work the next time the land is plowed. !t is our custom to put down the tile while the land is in clover sod, just previous to plowâ€" ing for a crop. _ Whoen the farmer has his soil so well tiled that when plowâ€" ing, the condition will be the same all over the field, be may feel that he has the work well done. This spring, on account of the heavy rains, the land is plowing heavy and looks tough when turned ovet. If the land is well tiled this close, compact condition can be preâ€" venated to a great extent. _ The water passes off so quickly (hat the land does not become sad and heavy. This preâ€" vented, the farmer and his teams are saved much laboricus work. This is one of the notable advaniages of having land perfectly tiled. This hard work by the farmer and his team will not put the iand in <the pliable condition attained by the action of the tile. Tile should go down as long as a hill of corn suffers excessive moisture. Unless the farmer is free handed we do not advise that he undertake to accomplish this at once. _ But we advise that when he commences the work he makes roper‘ calculations for its full com Yetion,\ thereby avoiding taking up tile Eecause f too small or because the work has been ‘ improperly done. The amount needed is | best. determined after the work is thorâ€" oughly done. . Sometimes if this was | known at the beginning the work would | never be commenced. [ PRACTICAL FARMING. n amaaraaanamnamaamrmara aa n MUCH TILE?!"* AND OTHER we know they will act, because they | will know that to keep cows profitably {| the flow of milk must not be allowed ‘to drop off for want of a suficient ‘! quantity of the right kind of food. | There may be other crops that would, | in many }mrts of the commtry, be more : suitable for this purpose than the ones we have mentioned. â€" Of this each must judge for himself, and put in the crops guest adapted to his locality and his conditions. In many places in the northern states it would be a great imâ€" provement to sow ’Feas with the first sowing of oats. he object of this article is not so much to tell what crops to sow or plant to help out sumâ€" mer pastures as it is to do our best to imt):ress on the minds of dairymen _the absolute necessity of putting in _something for that purpose, and ggdo- ing it now, THE STRAWBERRY FIELD. Recent experiments have demonâ€" strated the fact that certain varieâ€" ties of the strawberry give a much betâ€" there been some good, succulent, green food provided during the season of 1drouth. Oats is one of the best crops to sow to provide this summer food. Sow theim now, or as soon as the ground is in fii comdition to work, on a piece of ground mear the cow stable, so that you will have them ham‘l{y to cut and haul into the stable to feed. _ Begin to feed them as soom as the pasture begins to fail, or for that matter, a little before, so as to be sure and keep up the millk flow, and don‘t for an inâ€" stant harbor the thought of letting stand and ripen, thinkinfirl that you can get more for the threshed oats than the cow will give for them green: We know the temptation is to do that, and say, "I guess the cows can get along, and it looks wasteful to cut them so green ; besides it‘s a good deal of work and bother." There should be anothâ€" er sowing of oats for this same purâ€" pose later in the seasonâ€"in the fore part of Mayâ€"to feed after the first sowing is gone, or is too ripe. Some early fodder corn should be planted also. In this way one can be sure to have good food for produ/:ini milk all through the summer. If these crops are not all needed for summer feeding, they can be cut and cured for winter food. Thete is another advantage in this providing some summer soiling food. _A larfier number of cows can be carried on the same pasture. Enough can be kept in the pasture to keep: the grass down to a reasonable extent, while it is making its most raâ€" pid growth in Juine, and thus none of it! is left to grow up, Qet old, ripe and dry and be wasted. Ne mention this { subject at this time hoping to arouse some of our readers to thinking, and if we can get them to seriously think Lumber, Shingles and Lath always In Stock., Having Completed our New Factory we are now prepared Sash and Door Factory. _ to FILL ALL ORDERS PROMPTLY We keep in Stock a large quantity of Sash Docrs, Mouldings, Flooring and the differâ€" ent Kinds of Dressed Lumber for outside sheeting. Our Stock of DRY LUMRE is very Large so that all order can be filled. kDRS. KENNEDY & KERGAN K kess f\ e r F ';13‘}:‘.‘»:, & \ \Wh ta UE "ae + fl /# C $ 99 Zd . # w 4 bed % a s ‘ 5 ib * 3 wl * 7 B 8 4 &.\s % h in & / J > ° CC in â€" V h Â¥ p, n +A A @ | sn h. oh. d k ic s zh.4 4 464 h ut d A s 0P coind ced i. B Thadt Q Weakness, Gleet, Stricture, Syphilis, Unnatural Discharges, Self o Kidney and Bladdes Diseasés. K 17 YEARS IN DETROIT, 200,000 CURED. NO RISK : 9 1 (eApe a c dn d wicle popiee men 1 re you, W I i EBCONSULTATION FREE. No matter who has treated py[ho n qrntrs it will do f« of Beminal Weakness and Epermatorthoot, Emissions| | °O 2 .3 2. 8 {were dmm;“ and weakening my vitality. I marricd VAmwc M under advice of my family doctor, but it was ’ & sad erperience InWm«xn&- we were divorced. # EM'88'1 ithen consulted Dre. K. & K., who restared me to mash ig ‘by their New Method T‘reaimenit, Ifeltn uew rifethrilltbrough| â€"~: CU 'my nerves. We were united again and »re hnwm his was 4 t.ix years ago. Drs. K. & K. are scientific spec and I heartily recommend _ ND We treat and cure Varirocele, Emissions, Nervous Debility SYPHiLIS EMISSIONS STRICT URE CURED °iL ik X= N_ G. & J. McKECHNIE Thiers‘s hundredth birthday passed unnoticed in France, while Gemnd' was c'elebratiw the anniversary of William keep my coat the hall ban When we were first married you gave me half the closet. tained by fall. Give . tection, and the fol will be supprised at t} ue y BP as soon as it is gone over with theharâ€" row and you are then read{ to hoe and treiat the same as a new bed. _ After the bed hbas been gome over with the spader and cultivator the first time it will dook pretty thin Oof .plants, the burning and flding having destroyed the tops of the plants, but soon you will see new leaves and runners appear and a fine stand of vines will be obâ€" rake, or if the %.lnut;iun is small use a hand rake. e object in removing all refuse 1s to Krevem the clogging ‘o( the machine which will do the wor; _of narrowing down the rows. In burnâ€" ing over the plantation we destroy all insects and their further progress. The quickest way to cut out and narrow our rows is by the use of a spading harrow. Do not use the disc harrow, as it wili mt do the work. Remove the two outâ€" side sets of teeth from the spading harrow, as well as the two inside setâ€". The space made vacant by the removal of the center teeth, chould straddle the row to be cut and narrowed down. 13y following this method of st raddling each row in succession the s e hbeâ€" tween the rows will be lpa.(iod over twice, one set of the teeth running in the same space twice. _ This narrows the row down to about six inches, loosâ€" ens the dirt up well between the rows and places it in a fit condition for the cultivator. _ Run a cultivator through as soon as it is gone Over with thehar. nse and a better crop secured. The f:uit as a rule is or much better quality from second and third cropping beds than from the first. _ It is an easy matâ€" ter to clean out a bed that has once fruited and place it in condition for another year. Immediately after all the fruit has been picked mow closely and allow this to &come well dried. Burn. this over, beinq sure that all reâ€" fuse is destroyed. n case all should not be burned rake over with a horse ter yield of fruit fromi beds fruited the second and third years than the first year‘s cropping. How to clean out the fruiting bed and place it in condi« tion for amother year‘s crop with the least amount of labor is what conâ€" fronts the grower. _ There are many ways advorated. Some claim that a new bed can be set oult with less exâ€" THE CHANGHS OF TiIME you act as if I ought to :‘nd trousers hanging over B food winter proâ€" ollowing year you the results. # attended to. 4 of Grey, . @ressed to Laxta mitended to. Re Township of Ben IBBU RR toneer Horse 8 In the old made 8 G. REGTS * Lauder, Re Deputy â€"Registra & m. to 4 p. u. ALLA! DAN. promptly ma. MmeNCEYV to 10 "**‘County of Gre and at reasonable Upnited 6 lp“k the Noramey eaer MONEY TC w e °m Bflllml, 80 EOP one door n Ting Fan mt &“mm titw BUSINES Has opene »â€" troneer for C Residenceâ€"K Firstâ€"& JAME Of the Be UNDERTAKI OFFICE, over a 8. Aay per Bhe post oftic Bame or anot sgoribed or now 8. If a subs stopped at a o eontinues to ; to pay for it |; office. This bat a man m L. Efany p Moved, he m publisher ma j mentic made whethor it be There can be paymentismg Jobbing of ICENXSED We onl th weste‘s and . mopsis af the ICENSED &n and In veyancer, | Fu HUC WOO JAK Fang still to i oppesite in c A firs for & of M m