* #} Â¥ & to the old soldier, and was foreing his way through the snow, when be found himself followed by the contraâ€" bandist. This hardy fellow, a Jnati‘v‘ol Do UAere yAAAE MAAA CC C of the Tarentaise, bhad waited until hbe saw the Count‘s resolution wrought to its height; the solid purse which had been shown during the treaty with the peasants appeared to him a matter which should not be carelessly considâ€" ered; and, with the intention of sharâ€" ing in it, amicably in the way of serâ€" vice, or if not in any other way that might be effectual, he now proposed to join the Count as a guide, Carara was glad to find a companion, rough as he might be, and the travellers pusbed forward vigorously. Two days‘ toil at last brought thera within sight of the famous pass of the Brenner, and as his guide pointed it out to him in the distance, rising sharp and boldly among a wilderness of preâ€" cipes that seemed less & part . of this world than the works of a former one, he felt a new pulse of hope beat high in his bosom. C 1 1018 Â¥* PTTD Maanina an Night fell again:; and, slee the snow with no other canop3 shelf of rock, and no other shel the stunted foliage of a wild felt a delight in rest, a kee enjoyment even in his couch and his pillow of stone, that never experienced in the Car 2e 220 c t s Ph tnvcsmtnser s Night fell again: and, sleeping on the snow with no other canopy than a. shelf of rock, and no other shelter than the stunted foliage of a wild pine, he felt a delight in rest, a keenness of enjoyment even in his couch of snow and his pillow of stone, that he hbad never experienced in the Carara Palâ€" ace. Real hunger made the simplest food a banquet, real fatigue made the rudest restingâ€"place a couch of down. He had discovered what the Roman tyrant sought for in vain in all his silken luxury,â€"a new pleasure. He was on his feet by dawn, and prepared to scale the mountains with a foot as elastic as their ow n chamois. But the contrabandist hung back. "We bad better not be too much in & burry this morning," said he, point~ ing to the pass, "for the old brute there is angry. Look how he raises up his bristles!l ike a wild boar, and if we were but a league or two nigher, we should â€" bear him howling and gnashing his teeth We must stay where we are till the old savage is quiet." The Count‘s comprehension of . 20 sc w B0 W emnsem en t "Nank Es SE Oe a foot as elastic as their But the contrabandist hi bad better not be to hurry this morning," 8 ing to the pass, "for t there is angry. Look 'hq £Renteet@ CC C where we are till the old savage :s quiet." The Count‘s comprehension of this metaphorical displeasure was not aided by any further discussion. The cont rabandist â€" either would _ not, or could not, explain farther than by pointing to the pass, which now _ cerâ€" tainly appeared to put on some resemâ€" blance to the ridgy back of a wild boar, a phenomenon not uncommon in the mourtain atmosphere, and which is understood universally . to. predict a storm. ‘"The weather promises ill but my business admits of no delay. What is to be done in case of a tempest?" asked the Count. "Return to the casâ€" erneâ€"what else could be done?" ansâ€" wered his companion, sullenly. "Anâ€" other _ league," said Carara, "and our pay shall be doubled." His gu‘de Lsitutod. but surveying the Count‘s face of determination, and seeing hbim already striding onward through the snowâ€"rifts, he at length made up his oL a T 0 Ghice Cammoetnmnil He orner _ ‘CaZuy, uid d onP eP > / ® T our pay shall be doubled." His guide | {)esituted. but surveying the Count‘s | , face of determination, and seeing bim already striding onward through the | , snowâ€"rifts, he at length made up his | , mind and followed. As they reached | , the next ascent, the prospect was still | , more gloomy; the wind had lulled and s except now and then a short sbarp | , gust, there was & deathâ€"like stillness. “ Man, beast, and bird, had equally deâ€" l serted the region. Above, the sky stoopâ€" | ed almost to the ridge of the hills, | , as if unable to bear its burthen of ( know and tempest. A single vulture, | / that started from a pile of grey crags ;. far above their heads, and continued ( sailing and wailing over therma like an | evil omen, made the scene of desolaâ€" i tion still more desolate. Sleet began | , now to cover the few points of the rocks which the gusts had stripped. ' The air became intensely cold, and | the wind rose, and blew in bursts, hOl-l‘ low and melancholy. The guide again | remonstrated. But Carara was not to | be deterred by the elements, much less | by the selfishness of a hired guide. He | still strode onward, leaving the contra« ’ bandist to complain to the winds, | The tempest . now palpably moved | down the huge ravine, and its roar | was heard long before its violence was | near enough to be felt. The heavens | and earth werae rapidly darkened byi a livid and sepulchral shade as it came. | Everything seemed to quiver through | the dense air; and the pinnacles, trees, | and mountain paths,shifted their placâ€"| es to the eye as if they wavered int he | storm. The sleet now thickened into | snow, and the air became a fleecy | cloud, through which it was impossible to see farther than a few yards. Carâ€"| ara felt a strange mixture of desponâ€" | dency and determination filling his | mind. How or where to advance he | knew not; he was possessed of someâ€" . thing approaching to a melancholy | conviction that the night and â€" the hour were to be his last; yet the original vigour of his soul was roused, . and he resolved never to return but : successful, or a corpse. The contraâ€" bandist, however â€" thought otherwise. He had formed his determination, too, but it was to return to the caserne, and yet not to return without being a richer man than when he left it. The Count was still within his reach, though wrapped in a snow sheet, that swept round him like a shroud. _ The cont rabandist was not a man to suffer any embarrassment where his object lay straight before him. He had no appetite for the hazard, and was not inclined to use any unnecessary cereâ€" mony on the occasion. He struggled forward to where Carara stood gazâ€" ing through the storm, and demanded the double pay that had been promisâ€" "Complete the league," was the ansâ€" wer, "or guide me to the summit of the pass, and you sball have every duâ€" cat in my possession. "And that is to be your last speech to me?" interrogated the fellow, with a ferocious look. "My last and only one," said the Count, "and now onward." "Your last, then, be it !" exclaimed the ruffian, and, plucking a pistol from his bosom, fired it at Carara‘s head. The shock stunned him, and he fell. The contrabandist, conceiving that be had effected one part of his purpose, proceeded to accomplish the sbther without loss of time, and springâ€" :=.‘forwu‘u. 'I;m toiriflo 'tmh; :ul;;- coj k t his viectim allâ€" an an nmmont of one of the rock: en on & fragment OT UNC 2C diseagaged by the whirlwind, had already given his {arewell the foot ing was slippery, and while the assasâ€" sin was engaged in the double operaâ€" tion of steadying his steps and seatâ€" ching the Count‘s pockets, Carara reâ€" turned to his senses; bis quick appreâ€" hension comprehended the who!e at once; he started on his feet and flung his entire strength into the blow. which he struck his intended murderer. It was given with good intent, and was tremendous. ‘The assassin sprang UPâ€" ward with the pain, reeled a few feet backward to the edge of the precipice, found the ground giving way with him, uttered a roar of despair, and threw bhimself at his full length, grasping the ground. The effort was convulsive but it only prolonged his agony. The snow yielded with every grasp more and more; at every new struggle he approached closer to the dreadful deâ€" clivity, until a last despairing bound loosened the whole mass, and he went headlong. His yell rang in the air as be shot downwards. All was silence. He was shattered into atoms. i The blood trickling from Carara‘s forehead recalled him from gazing with horror on the depth where this :miscreant had plunged, and told how \nearly he had run the chance of lying | beside him. But, as if all the evila of ‘the day bhad passed with the last breath of the treacherous guide, the ‘nir bezan to clear, the storm visibly ! slackened, and by one of those changes | so frequent in the Alpine tracts, the | slouds rolled off, and a broad burst of | sunshine gladdened earth and heavâ€" ‘en. Even the violence of the win4@ bad I nvanareit Wis route. the road bhad been sunshine gladdened earth and heavâ€" en. Even the violence of the win4@ bad prepared his route, the road had been partially cleared to the summit of the pass, the wild bare back of the Brenâ€" ner bad lost its ominous elevation; and a long line of silver sparkling amoUk | joy, the dew drop sweclnesm, M"" ""° its piles of eternal granite, showed‘,,,‘"‘.,y,l laugh and sing. yet acknowâ€"| where the celebrated cascade of ‘.he,lealged the power of nature over the pass poured down those waters, which | human heart, and wondered anew at so singularly divide themselves to the | the singular disregard of delight which extremities of â€" Europe, nne-half‘of |\ had made him know the difference of the stream splitting off to the Adige | summer and winter only by his loungâ€" and the Adriatic, and the other to ing on the Corso during the one, and | the Danube and the Euxine. Im; lounging at the Opera during the| The pass was reached. CararA stood | other. | on the summit of the Brenner, and | As they reached Monza, the road beâ€" when his eye glanced back over the | came more crowded still. Couriers in frozen region, the kingdom of winter | the imperial livery flying in all diâ€" through which he had toiled, the imâ€" rections, gave evidence of the active pression on his heart was gratitude | byusiness to which the stagnation of and wonder. But here this toil was at l the good Court of Austria had been an end. The Austrian government bad | at length compelled. _ The march of provided for the remainder of the road.| troops from different points of the Soldiery were stationed from point to plain, _ all converging towards the point to clear the way for the Imperâ€"| city, showed the imperial sense of inâ€" ial couriers, on the occasion of the | gecurity; the rattle of baggageâ€"wagâ€" Monareh‘s projected visit to his It@lâ€" | pons and fieldâ€"guns, the galloping of ian states; and in three days be enterâ€" | qigesâ€"decamp, and the long lines of ed the timeâ€"worn, and heavilyâ€"flourâ€"| dust that marked the advance of more ished portals of the "ancient and NOâ€" | papgageâ€"waggons, more guUns, and ble inn of the Swartz Adler," at InDâ€" | more troops, too distant to be more pruck, which he found crowded with | plearly discerned, told Carara that he widesâ€"deâ€"camp, dragoons, chamberl@iDs| was at last come into the centre of ind valets enough to have driven 8ilâ€" | the whirlpool of power ; the heart of ‘nce and sleep from the cavern of Morâ€" / an«inus empire, the depth of the mine, vheus himself. !where all was explosive, and which, Carara threw himself on a couch, | at a touch might fling its whole fearâ€" which would have defied his most dexâ€"| ful charge in fire and bloodshed upon terous slumber in other days, but | the land. k h arue too ns semmeters Fmbt‘!â€" L. nas masâ€"cares stift, but his spirit The â€" enthusiastic and _ astonished Count instantly rose and threw himâ€" self into his arms. But the astonishâ€" | ment was equally great, if more graveâ€". ly demonstrated, on the side of the: Imperial officer. He gazed on Carara‘s countenance with a look of fixed inâ€" credulity. However, the recognition was at last complete. The friends sat down to table togetber, and their singular escapes formed, a topic which kept them in conversation for half the night. The sudden departure of the Emperor was now explained. " The Reâ€" publican French had exbibited sympâ€" toms of renewing their attacks on Lomâ€" bardy, of which the Monarchical French ’had in every age been so fond. The time pressed ; an insurrectionary moveâ€" ment had been organised in the north f Italy, for the open purpose of asâ€" sisting a new invasion; and the Emâ€" neror had gone at full speed to Milâ€" an,. to smite the conspiracy by the ~romptest measures in the power of the sword. " But this dress," he added, ‘ may tell you my connection with the Jourt ; you must come with me to Milâ€" t TORONTO an; your memorial will be forwarded with increased influence, by being put into the Imperial hands through me i and I shall have the satisfaction of reâ€" oo o P n C n Le mA mAnRt. »SORTE 10L [B€ IIIPORIOL AMORCE CC esw and I shall have the satisfaction of reâ€" paying, in the amplest mannel, some portion of that debt of hbospitality which I owe to the Count Carara." The Hungarian‘s narrative of bimself W3# succinct. He bhad been carried down by the avalanche, but had, like his friend, been cast into a cleft of the rock, which preserved him, though a¢â€" tually buried under some fathoms of snow, untiil the peasantry, in digging away the wreck, had found him still breathing. Care, an Alpine cottag®, and the absence of all doctors, had restorâ€" ed him; and hbhaving accomplished all the purposes of his Italian tOUT, he had returned to his former station of one of the staff and Colonel of the Royâ€" al Hungarian Guard. At daybreak the friends were on the road to the famâ€" ous capital of the Lombards. If Paxava‘« "«mrii. hbad not been so CFOstâ€" e ELve . M i e ces If Carara‘s spirit had not been 80 | deeply absorbed by the momentous na~ ‘1 ture of his mission, his eye might have [1 revelled long and richly amonk the‘] landscapes that lay before him as he| hurried along the Milanese. The flatâ€"|; ness of the territory enfeebled it to the spectator who has but just degcended from the grandeur of the Alpine amâ€" phitheatre. But the joyous profusion, the exuberance of colour, and produce of harvest and fruitage, and the alâ€" most extravagance of fertility that covers the Lombard plains, the wholei outpouring of the cornucopia of corn.| flowers, wine and oil, make the ap~| proach to this noble city one of the ; most delicious banquets ever offered . to the gaze of man. It was now n the full glow of harvest, robed in its y BE _ ns tasst From east outpouring of the cOM9U""C"" Cns aned flowers, wine and oil, make the 2P~ j proach to this noble city one of the ; most delicious banquets ever offered | to the gaze of man. It was now in the full glow of harvest, robed in its autumnal glory. The land, from east to west, from north to south, was & vineyard. Thousands and tens of thouâ€" ; sands crowded every road to the capâ€"| ital, with the produce of one of the | most luxuriant harvests ever know n | even in those fields of plenty. Carara, little accustomed as he was to thellan-. L as p m e t w Aha cension to the surrounding board, BO dexterous appeal to their opinions Of experience, could now draw them inâ€" to the sphere of this perpetual vividâ€" ness. All were converted into listenâ€" ers, but delighted listeners, The hours flew ; all were equally excited, amusâ€" ed, and admiring. The banquet closed at last, with an universal expression that the companionship which had thus gracefully commenced should not terminate with the night. Carara was sounded as to his inclination to take service in the Imperial troops. He bhad ‘nothing to disincline him, and much," as he frankly owned, " to make the measure at once useful and gratifyâ€" ing." "8o be it," said the Colonel, grasping his hand. The officers rose and embraced bim. His name was enâ€" tered at the instant on the books of their regiment, his memorial to the Emperor was dictated by the general voice of the corps, and, on rising to 2take his departure, a general toast to ‘the health of the "Count Carara, Corâ€" | net of the Imperial Hungarian Guards," ;made the ancient hall ring, and proudâ€" \ly finished one of the most delightful | and cheering evenings of his existence l (To Be Continued.) The newest fad among summer boarders, and one which promises to enjoy the most popularity this year, is the butterfly party. The butterf{ly enâ€" joyed a run of popular favor during the last winter. It was the swellest thing among the many coiffure fads, and no head was so well dressed as the one on which trembled and flutterâ€" ed like a live thing a delicato tinsel or naturally copied butterfly. Then the fad extended to brooches, and the "papilion," pin is the favorite fashion toâ€"day. These pretty pins come in brilliants and emeralds, so closely resembling nature as to be almost a facâ€"simile of the pretty creature which is said to live only a day. Seekers after novelties with which to while away many a rainy summer evenâ€" ’ ing have hit upon the happy thought | of having "butterfly parties," just as | last year we had "donkey parties." | A large butterfly is pinued on the wall ‘ which has but one wing. â€" Each guest is ; given an odd wing, and then blindâ€" folded, tries in turn to pin it on the | butterfly, The player who comes nearâ€" ' est receives a butter{ly pen wiper, or , a pretty butterfly to hang on her lamp | or gas shade, and the one who is furâ€" thest from the right place will receive a toy compassâ€"the booby prize. | Principal prizes in progressive euchre parties this summer will be butterfly noveltiesâ€"pen wipers, shaving paper holders, lamp and gas shades, candle shades and the like. It is easy to make these butterflies at home, if, for instance, a party of young people wish to get up an imâ€" promptu and inexpensive butterfly party. Take a common every day clothespin and paint it black ; then take some crepe paperâ€"the small ten cent rolls are the best for this purpose â€"and cut off a rather larger and longâ€" er piece than you really need. Pleat it up through the middle and draw it through your painted clotnespin. Now take a paper pattern of your butterâ€" fly lay it on top of your rough model and cut the crepe paper after your pattern, and this will ieave you a perâ€" fectly shaped butterfly, the painted clothespin forming t,he‘bo'dy. l Adcaied ce inss insd C If you have plenty of time to spare you can form a more perfect body by taking a roll of cotton, covering it with the crepe paper and tying it near the top for the head, shaping the taper of body itself afterward. I F2 1 Gunussre sutusmen Lt c Bc npripasit) Auat Nelin e t A butterfily tea was recently given by a young girl to some of her school friends. The decorations of the room were in yellow and white, yellow roses and smilax being used. . Festoons of green were looped along the walls, and over the windows were large imitaâ€" tion â€" butterflies. The tea table was covered with a linen cloth and was arâ€" tistically decorated, and the centre piece was a wicker basket filled with yellow roses, the handle being tied with green satin ribbon. Several roses were laid carelessly by the side of the basket, looking as if they bad fallen from it. At each corner of the table were smaller baskets, also containing yeliow roses. Emall butterflies of yelâ€" low and white tissue paper, attached to wires, hovered over the flowers and seemed quite lifelike. * The candles bad yellow butterfly shades and the bonbon dishes were filled with yellow and white candies. The sandwiches were daintily tied with narrow yellow ribbons, and Lthe ice 9 "9 Ves on g%el e w RRRERATCC Nee Isd cream, which was moulded in the form and colors of a butter{ly, was served or small yellow plates. Two little girls acted as waitresses, being dressed to represent butterflies. They wore white dresses dotted with spangles, and sported paper wings. The place cards had hand decorated roses and the name of the owner in gilt on one side, and on the other side, also in gilt, the word "Butterfly." The guests were asked to write opposite each letâ€" ter the name of some book whose title began with that letter. Two prizes were offered, one a butâ€" terfly lamp shade, made of crepe paper, and the other a bunch of yellow roses tied with yellow ribbon. Just before the guests left the table four little children, representing butterflies, gave several pretty motion songs. The parâ€" ty wound up by playing the "butterâ€" fly‘" game. _ Every one knows ylmt pretty : conâ€" u,Evg;y_:)ile knows what pretty conâ€" ceits may be fashioned from crepe papâ€" er. All the decorations of the tea may be made with it. A most thoughtless girl, said her moâ€" ther in accents of despair. _ _ What has she done? asked her faâ€" ther. She sat on the bench this morning so close to the water that the spray from a breaker unexpectedly reached her, exclaimed her mother. And took the curl all out of her hair, I suppose, suggested her father. _ Worse than that, answered the moâ€" ther. It ruined her bathing suit. THE AIRY BUTTERFLY. THOUGHTLESS GIRL. Ségï¬féï¬&’ Door Factory. . â€"<mNMiD ) TE Baving Completed our New Factory we are now prepared to FILL ALL ORDERS PROMPTLY. We keep in Stock a large quantity of Sash, Doors, Mouldings, Flooring and the differâ€" â€" ® a2ca42 ahanating. Lumber, Shingles L'Oors, .“.I.Ull.lu.l.usu, Loolficatbefitedicntenent. * 1 ent Kinds of Dressed Lumber for outside sheeting. Our Stock of DRY LUMRE is very Large so that all orders can be filled. FEEDING PIGS IN SUMMER. ‘ Summer is the time to make pork. Making it in winter requires too much food to keep up the animal heat. If hogs have plenty of grass in summer and about half the corn they will eat, they will fatten rapidly and my beâ€" lief is that three pounds can be made on less grain than one pound in cold weather with a hog in a close pen, writes J. L. Hersey. The grass is coolâ€" ing and loosening and counteracts the feverish properties of the corn. Hogs will never melt in summer, bhowever fat, if they can have access to water _and mud to lie in. Mud is very bad for hogs in cool weather. It absorbs too much animal heat. Milk is cooling as a drink and almost indispensable in raising pigs. But very little corn and no corn meal should be fed to young pigs beâ€" fore they are four months old. Corn and raw corn meal cause young pigs 1 to become costive. Then they will soon | 8 scour. They will begin to rub against i everything they can get at. Thelr. skin will have a red and dry appearâ€" |, ance. A dry, black scurf wilil begin ; , to form, and the more corn and meal , they eat the poorer they will become. il | The best thing to do for a pig in this |, | condition is to give him a thorough ; washing in warm water or sour milk, | the latter being the best. _ Coarse !, flour or middlings from rye or wheat j when made into a thin drinking slop i with milk, is the best feed tor young : ‘pigs, except bread and milk, Food has [ to be fermented hbefore it will digest , and if fed to young pigs before it is , fermented in will overtask their stomâ€" â€" ach and spoil them. Lettuce is good for young pigs. It willl stop the scours. , | The middlings should be put with milk at night after feeding has been â€" done, and allowed to remain in the \ milk until morning. Never allow the swill tub to get quite empty. Always leave a little at the bottom to act as yeast. ‘The swill should never be alâ€", lowed to get stale. Blop feed should | be given often and never more at a | time than will be eaten up. Slops will make larger bogs than dry feed. Afâ€"| | ter the hogs get to be three or four months old, their food can be made stronger, but a pig will not bear much strong food untjl it begins to change \from a pig to a bhog. Many of our farâ€" \ mers do not khow the value of grass __as a feed for hogs. At least one would _{not think so, when their hogs of all _ ages may be seen during the whole _ summer in small yards or at best on |very scanty pasture. _ Farmers who ; know the real value of such feed would ‘ ;as soon think of raising cattle and { making milk and butter by feeding {their stock grain alone during the ; whole summer as to raise bogs and °: make the business profitable without a : good supply of grass. Some men make ; pork with little or no grass, but it costs ‘much more and the hogs are not so ‘ . healthy, j l LIVE STOCK NOTES. 3 _ The idea that sheep in pasture need !no water except what they get from ; feeding on grass wet with dew, is quite commonly prevalent among farmers. In June, when the grass is itself suceuâ€" lent, sheep at pasture may need nothâ€" | ing. But during the midsummer beats there are many nights when no dew %fullu. and when the grass is itself |parched so that there is little succuâ€" ilence in it. At such times the exâ€" crement of sheep will be in round, { hard lumps, just as it is in winter. | When this condition shows itself, it |means that the sheep need more waâ€" Horses hard at work in bot weather should be groomed fully as carefully as they are in winter. It is not quite so pleasant a task for the horseman as it is when the warmth from the animal and the labor in using the brush are pleasurable. But it is of even greatâ€" er advantage to the horse to be reâ€" lieved of the grime and dust which will accumulate in his hair after a hard day‘s work. Grooming is not only a relief by the agreeable glow it gives to the skin, but it is also an aid to ldigestion. making the groomed horse stronger and better fitted every way for bhard labor. The apple orchard after it gets old enough to bear is the best sheep pasâ€" In Sstock. X_ G. &J. McKECHNIE ture. One of the great advantages of pasturing sheep in the orchard is to destroy the fallen fruit. This they will do even better than hogs, which are usually recommended for this purâ€" pose. Pigs will only eat apples after they are nearly or quite ripe, unless they are starved to it. The small green apples are sometimes almost â€" bitter, Sheep like this bitter taste, and will run to eat the fallen apples, most of which contain codling moths, which would escape into the ground, if left ‘ m C *4 woals WUuml ERUREU TTCOC w D in the apple long after it falls. The buly advantage . we could see from the practice of dumping manure in heaps, was the ease with which it could be done and the wagon unloadâ€" ed for another load. The manure thus dumped is never so evenly spread as it can be from the wagon. To unload quickly always bhave two men on the load, spwading from each end of the wagon. Then there will be no heaps to lie on the ground, perhaps for weeks, and giving the field a " patchy " apâ€" pearance in the larger growth of straw where the manure heaps have lain. Ofâ€" ten this extra large growth rusts and yields less gr was smaller and Lath always Ventilation has become quite a fad among poultry raisers, just why it would be difficult to determine. The average hennery admits in cold weaâ€" ther sufficient outside air without speâ€" cial ventilation. Hens cannot with imâ€" punity encounter drafts or currents of air, and do not enjoy them any better than do people. Warmth is necessary to comfort, on which eggâ€"producing largeâ€" ly depends. The best remeay for lice which inâ€" fest poultry is pyrethrum powder blown into the feathers. Lard rubbed on the head and under the wings once a week is a preventive. Seale on the legs can be cured by dipping the feet and legs into coal oil. A tin quart fruit can serves to contain the oil. Hens take on fat more readily than pullets. If eggs are desired, they should be separated from the pullets which are being fattened. The less exâ€" ercise the latter have the better, but laying hens should be compelled to scratch for a living. % Food imparts flavor to eggs as well as to butter. Hens fed on wheat, bran, shorts, oil meal and skimâ€"milk will lay more eggs, but they will be smaler and of inferior quality, than when they are fed on whole corn or corn meal mush. Fowls fed exclusively on corn are likely to be sluggish and yield a small number of eggs, but the eggs will be large and of sunerior qualâ€" nl'{. Eggs laid by very fat hens are likely to product inferior chicks or not to hatch. Lack of green food, unfavorably afâ€" fects the color of yolks, as lack of grass affects color of butter. To secure deep golden yelks in winter give plenty of green food, and a little corn only once a day, Clover hay cut fine and steamâ€" ed is good food. Cabbage leaves, fresh and crisp, make a variety, and even results. Cut the roots lengthwise and the Rens will pick at them greedily. Red pepper or mustard seed, mixed oc casionally with soft food is stimulatâ€" ing. A simple cure, and one the writer has found to be infallible for gapes in chickens, is to drop into the throat and windpipe a few drops of lamp oil. A sore and cankered throat in hens is cured by a more liberal application of the oil. Fannie Field says, after trying the thousand and one modern methoads of keeping eggs, that she finds the oldâ€" fashioned way of packing in salt the best. Cover the bottom of the packâ€" age three inches deep with salt ; on this place the eggs, end down, in such a way that they will not touch each other or the sides of the package ; covâ€" er with salt; then put in another layer, cover witth salt, and so on unâ€" til the package is full to within two inches of the top; â€"fill with salt, and keep in a cool cellar, on a platform raised above the ground. ain than where the straw 1 smPl + Af A We onl! the specin‘ at masters and eubscribers to popsit of tho newcpaperii 1. If any pergop orders ued, be must pey all lisher ml‘v ooulu‘e to mentic ’M , and collect t whether It be taken from There oan be no lega) sm peymestismade. 8. Aay person who ta Bhe post oflice, whether mame or another, or whe soribed or not is responsil 8. If asubsoriber ordé *ppod at a certaintime, bontisues to send, the 10 %, pay for it if he takes i effhice. This procsseds bat a meo must pay tor Ifl still to be found i epposite the Park Of ths Best Firstâ€"Class BUSINESS D WoriaRy PuUOBLAC.A MOoNEY To 1O J. P. TE pyarstme soucirer UNDERTAKING Pro Loap and Insuran #Â¥eyanoer, Comi Loaps arrangod . withou promptly made, 1t ) Jobbing of attonded to. "‘"‘“"†madae, 4 meNEÂ¥ No 10 AN » Â¥MA® one door north of FOR The EDGE Is the Town of 1 Grey, including v«@ Brick Dwelling, puilding lots, will be Llots. Also lot No. C Fownsahip of Bentin Iing Town plot Durk Mortgage taken OFFIOE, oven Gnawnt # ALLAN Furni Residenceâ€"King JAMES ES3UX®R of Marr . tropeer for Coun Horse S In the old s made 6 WOOl Newspaper Handâ€" H as opened HUCH MISCE est Qu THAN I DUR in co A first LEG LN#