Bellefonte, Pa., April 6, 1906. —————————————— ONE WIFE'S CHARM. You ask me why I'm happy when so many wives complain, And say their husbands only live to give them endless pain ; My secret you demand to know, you've seen my happy look, And you quiz me not a little, but—remember 1 can cook. When other wives are envious, and tell my hus- band dear My gowns are very out of date, and at my wardrobe sceer, I have no fear, I only smile, I care not how I look ! I know I've but to whisper—*'Dear, remember 1 ean cook !"' My love has often said to me, “My dear, 1 know you're plain, But married life with you, brought me naught but gain ; Let other women sing and dance, or even write a book, Yet you're above them all in eharm—remember, you can cook I" And always when I'm begged by girls 10 tell them by what art I captured such a handsome man, and won quite all his heart, 1 merely say, “My dears, I'm sure that all the pains I took Was asking him to dinner—for remember I can cook I" And all you modern women who are anxious to be wed, Be wise, throw up your arts and crafts, aud learn to bake your bread ; For be certain that no husband will forget the vows he took If his wife will only please him by remember. ing how to cook. my sweet, has — American Queen, REST, Oh! Those mysterious shades beyond the tomb, Sweet shades compared with which earth's light is gloom : What wonders may in those great depths abound Wrapped in that silence awful and profound ? The king and beggar resting side by side, The tyrant and his slave e'en so abide, Tho eringing coward and the noble brave— All held in that strange spell beyond the grave. The shout of anger and the plaint of care : The woes of all the ages silenced there ; The tramp of conquering armies hushed and still ; They whoswayed the nations bide His will, No more the excitement of life’s mighty race, No more the rush for wealth and honored place, No more the heart's with wild pulsations thrill— The Eternal has commanded “Peace be still.” M. V. Tnonas. THE BORGIA RING. Be the land at war or at peace, there is always strife in an army post and a college town. When the events of this story took place, we bad not even dreamed of Spanish wars, Philippine battles or Boxer insurrec- tions, for, at the time Mallard acquainted me with the facts, it was only under prom- ise of a secrecy to be maintained until ten years after their occurrence. Even now I am compelled to disguise the names as best I may, though I fear that a little study will lay bare the actual scene of the trag- ely. Quiet then as was the country as large, Mertin College, one of the best known of our smaller Western institutions of learning, was rent asunder by the heroes of the civil strife. The old president had long been dead and one evening a month alter commencement the trustees were in session iu Hanson Hall for the pur, of choosing his successor. For that delectable post shere were but two candidates and, excepting the absent students, the whole college community had for weeks heen bitterly arrayed under the banner of one or other of these. The one member of the faculty who did not appear deeply concerned —at least about the election—was Bernard Shaw. who beld the new chair of psychology and who was the other candidate. At shat very moment he was standing in the sha- dow of the driveway hedge holding fast to the hand of his academic rival's daughter. As well as he could he was trying to catch every chavging expression on the piquant but strong featntes of the lithe, suony- baired, brown-eyed girl before him. His own pale face and blue eyes, could she have seen them, were not a little troubled. There was indecision even in his tumbled shook of black bair and the position of his broad, athletio figure. *‘I don’t see how Dr. Whitley can blame me,”’ he was saying. ‘You know, Mar- garet, that my love for you would not have permitted me to stand between your father and his dearest wish which his years now make this his last chance of obtaining.’ ‘Yes, but he’s not himself any more, aod he would never consent. Youdon's know him.” “Rubbish. I'm not to blame. I only met him once. The one day I spent with him at Bar Harbor last sammer after I had learned to love you was the only one I ever saw anything of him. And this whole deal was arr withoat my knowledge. Mallard fixed is all up becanse we were friends at Harvard. His father being a trustee and the great benefactor of this place alone made it possible.’ ‘‘He thinks you schemed for it. He is ball mad with the idea and none of us bave been able to ges it ont of his bead. Be- iden, Jou know how conservative he is. He didn’t approve of establishing the new chair at all,and your book on ‘The Psychol- Joy or Faith’ was a terrible shock to Shaw smiled. That volume had made its author talked about and praised wherever learning reigned. He was about to pro- test, however, when there was a hasty step on the gravel close at hand and, with a Jrelussiory congh of warning, Mallard imsell appeared upon the scene, radiant as ever, “Good evening, Miss Whitley. Hello, Shaw!" he cried. ‘I kaow what you're telking about yon two. But don’t worry. ! got you into this and I'll pull you trough. In fact. I've done so already. Just came from the doctor.” Margaret grasped. “You raped. she . “Well, no,” smiled the newcomer, ob quite sins But Te ives him some- thing will make him regardless eT ame n w was that si chapter in the volume on ry . The critics nailed him there about the ring. trick—Said his theory wouldn't apply. Remembers" knowledge of a poison which post mortem Shaw reflected. *‘I recollect,” he said, ‘“‘that the doctor undertook to show thas tradition was cor- rect, that Alexander VI and his son and ter, Caesar and Lucretia bad investigation ocouldn’t detect, yet which Ty oNeally Vatuagautun. Wut ‘Why, youn know, hesaid they used it in a ring. The wearer shook hands with his enemy, a needle-poins thereupon enter- ed the viotim's flesh and pop!—off he went.’ “Yes,” said ute} TL Yoo eines challenged father to ormu- la. Ever since mother’s Jeath Bes bien experimenting night and day only month he said be’d almost given up. Then this other excitement came—'" “Right!” interrupted Mallard. *‘Well, I’ve fixed him. I eaved the gift until the psychological moment. While I was abroad, I came across an old, obscure second-hand shop in Rome. Buried ina dust pile I got hold of a ring of that de- scription and on the inside of the gold band were traced some odd characters. I've just shown it to the doctor and he swears it’s the lost formula. Oh, he won't mind the small matter of a presidency now!” “You don’t know him, Mr. Mallard,” ‘‘Well, I may not be elected, anyhow,” said Shaw. “Don’t let's cross the bridge before we come to it.” Almost as he spoke the door of Hanson Hall opened and the next moment a messenger - boy moved to the Whitley house. Then one of Shaw's partisans, hur- rying across the campus, met the trio on the walk and held out his hand. ‘‘Mr. Shaw,” he said, ‘‘I congratulate you on your election as President of Mar- tin College.” After stammered thanks and the man’s de re, there was an awkward pause. en Shaw turned to Margaret. “Well, dear,” he said, ‘‘you wereon your way to the Harmers. lard will walk with yon and return here to meet me. I'm going in to see your father.” He turned hurriedly aod, running up The eainby steps, rang the bell. The slight stooping figure of the speaker was dimly silhouetted against a low light Bebiod Bim, hu Shaw haa difiounlty in recognizing in the gentle, blue-eyed face with its riarchal white beard, the famous toxicologist who was the father of the girl he loved. Dr. Whitley was indeed the Spal ool- lege professor who was grown old among his books and whose life outside of them has for years and years—except for the briefest of vacations—been bounded by academic precincts. Once a man of medinm height, the weight of eighty yeurs of study bad rounded his shoulders and bowed his form until he seemed almost a dwarf. This conception, moreover, was strengthened in the mind of the casual observer by the old man's silvery voice, uncolloguial conversation, and the almost childish benignity of expression which frequently made him the butt of a good- natured, though thoughtless, classroom. At present, Shaw observed at a glance that the news of the defeat had aged the doctor even more than the last ten years of his labors and the young visitor accordingly hastened to the attempt to put him at his ease. *'Good evening, Dr. Whitley,” he hur- ried tosay. “I am Bernard Shaw. We met at Bar Harbor when you were there for a week last summer, you remember. I bave come to make an explavation to yon aod to ask a serious favor.” There was just a moment's unpleasant hesitation during which Shaw tried in vain to see the play of emotion on the toxicol- ogist’s face. Then the latter held outa thin and trembling band stained black to She Wiiey by daily contact with countless acids. ‘Mr. Shaw,” said the gentle, childlike- voice. “‘I am glad to see youn. I congrasul- ate you on your election and shongh I am at a loss to know whas—what farther you can want of me, I bid yon weicome. Come in." “That is one of the things—that election -=which I want to explain,” said Shaw as he passed the door-way. Ire. Whitley did not seem to hear him. He stood on the threshold for a moment, looking up and down the drive, and then closing the door with that quietness which characterized all his movements, he said: *“Du you object to coming into my labor- ator)? I have heen working there all even- ing—all my life, in fact—so that it has be- come about the only place in which, out- side of the college workshop, I am at home.” Shaw readily acquiesced and [followed the hesitating steps of the professor to the large, airy room at the back of the house which bad been perfectly fisted out, with its shelv.s of numberless bottles, test tubes and retorts, to meet its owner's every need. Down the centre of the room, undera bright gas-jet, ran a long table filled with crucibles, scales, opened bottles and other parapberualia of the shop which bad evi- dently hut just been in use. A Bunsen burner flared blue at one end; a miniature chemist’s furnace was built in the wall by the empty Breplate. The windows were open, but were built ten fees from the floor to shut away the disturbances of the out- side world. Dr. Whitley lit a green-shaded stu: dent's lamp at one corner of the table, moved toward it two arm chairs, banded Shaw a box of cigars and, when he had lit one of these, motioned to him to begin. The youug fellow stated his case simply. He dwelt with some earnestness upon the fact that the office to which he had jost been elected bad and, varrating the story Margaret, asked her hand while impress- ing it upon her father that a would,in the circumstances, be by no means depriving Dr. Whitley of that assistance from Margaret as the manager of his house | Please, which bad become indispensable to the old professor. The toxicologist heard him through Yitbous interruption. Then he said gniet- ly: “My dear sir, I have no reason to doubt you. As yeu know, your election has been a great disappointment to me, since it meant what was the defeat of my second dearest wish. Nor do I wholly approve of the methods which you represent in the intellectual world. But we will let that pass. I have said thas the residency was my second dearest wish. My fitst, as per- haps you know, wus the perfecting of my theories by proof that tradition was cor- rect in regard to poison medixval poison in particular. My young friend, Mr. Mallard, has just put into my hands what I believe will prove my point. If, so, I shall nothing else that I have missed. I 1 know the truth with- in two weeks. If my experiments are sue- cessful; if I can find by post-mortem ex- | King amination no traces of poison in the hodies of animrls killed through the formula Mr. Mallard has hrought me, I shall have suc- ceeded. You will understand me then, will you not, when I say shat at that time 1 will give you my answer?"’ The reply was odd, peshaps, bus it was quite as hopeful as Shaw expected, aod baving said as much, he asked politely about the new d . At ounce Dr. Whitlev passed from per- sonal interest to scientific enthusiasm. His figure lost immediately all feebleness. The years fell from bim asa cloak and, with flashing eye, Lie ran to the table. “I bave always contended,” he said, as be hurried about among bis instruments, “that legend was right in ascribing to certain chemists of the Renaissance knowl- edge of a poison whish slew either slowly or immediately and left no trace. The answer was that medical science being then an infant could not discover it. That is true, but I hold that we could not dis- cover is today. I have tried in vain, how- ever, for many vears to find the formula. Now luck and Mr. Mallard bave putit into my hands.” As he spoke he held up adall, heavy ring. Shaw took it in his band and beld it close under the lamp. A great garnet glowered maiignantly in is, but a glance sufficed to show that this stone only served to conceal a small reservoir connected by a bollow needle of small length and capacity which would, upon pressure, spring out- ward from the band opposite the stone. “You see,” cried the toxicologists, stoop- ing eagerly over his shoulder. ‘‘they wore them on the indexfinger or even the thumb in those days and so the needle would plese the skin easily enough and the pain attributed to a mere scratch.” ‘“'Tis enough; ’twill serve,” quoted Shaw smilingly. “Is will, indeed,” replied Whitley. “And now see here on the inside of the band.” He pointed to the worn sarface where certain characters once scratched were still visible. “I bave deciphered them with the mioros- cope. The basal poison and its effects on the body are of course hidden by the other ingredients. TI shall not tell you how until next week. But the fundamental thing is hydric oyavide. ie him- self says thas, injecting it into the jugular vein of a dog, the animal died instantly ns it struck by a cannon-ball. There are ex- ceptions, of course, but generally there is almost instant giddiness, a stifled ory for help, a fall, convulsions, death—belore any help comes. The post-mortem reveals the truth to me alone, because no other living man save myself has possession of the Bor- gia’s secret. Of course, they bad the slow ison, too, which is also here indicated, ut I have reason to believe that it was with thie very ring that Alexander himself Pope, this very ring which served so well his children Caesar and Lucretia. It is absurd tosay the ancients know nothing of the subtler poisons. What but a cyanide or prussic acid conld bave killed Britan- nicus ? Baptista Porta treats blindly of the latter in his ‘‘Natural Magic’ and of nox vomiea, aconite, veratrnm and mezereon, But here, here in my hand [ hold, after all, the proof! In one short week, perba sooner—who can tell ?—and I shall have demonstrated, beyond dou"t, the truth of my theory.” As the old man talked, his whole frame trembled with excitement; his face flamed with the passion of the devotee and when he came to the prophecy of his success, the keen eye of the psychologist read in his glance the height of emotional frenzy. *‘It is so simple,” he prattied, ‘‘so hean- tifally simple ! See,I fill the reservoir with this barmless lignid.”” He hurriedly in- serted a dropper and squeezed into the gold receptacle a spray of some clear solution. “Then I put it on my thumb, thus,’ he continued, suiting the action to the word. “Now, imagine I was Borgia and you an undesirable cardinal I’ And he held ous his stained, emaciated hand. There was a moment's panse in which Shaw’s brain was working like lightning. The face of the old man on which the fall glare of the gas now fell was again that of the genial, placid, harmless professor, but in the watery blue eyes the psychologist thought he could detect a trace—justa trace—of the cunning of the madman. Was it absurd fancy or horrible faci? He re- membered Margaret's strange warning; the mounomaniacal ambition of the man and he reflected that, so far as Whitley knew, vo one—as proved hy that hasty glance from the door—had seen him enter this empty house and pass into the midst of these strange forces of dissolution whereon the outside world could look not even from a window. For one instant he hesitated. Then his long training in dealing with somewhat similar cases asserted ‘tsell with all the force of an instinet. *'No,’” he corrected, laughing, ‘suppose I were the Borgia—I'm the younger man’ ——And quick as a flash he had put ont both bands hut only to seize the dootor’s wrist in the firm grip of the one, while with the other he dexteronsly plucked the ring from the toxicologist’s thumb and placing it on his own. For a moment the latter blinked blankly at him. Than a spasm of white rage shook him and instantly with a strange smile: **Very good! he cried. And before Shaw could prevent him had clasped the half-extended hand. The grip relaxed quickly—tightenea, loosened —and with a contorted face and a low ery Dr. Whitley fell crashing to the laboratory floor. Shaw leaped to hinside. There was one quick convulsion and then silence, Immediately, it seemed, Mallard burst into the room. “The door was opened.’’ he explained, ‘and I heard a ery. Had we hetter have a dootor?"’ Bat, except for form's sake, it was al- ready far too late for that and Shaw hor- riedlv told the story. ‘Bont do you suppose——'"hegan Mal- ‘We shall suppose nothing, if yon '" said Shaw grimly, “This man has died from natural causes. Remember that his davghter is to'be my wife.” —By Regi- nald Wright Kauffman in The Pilgrim. The “Important Comma, A man thinks he bas an exceedingly bright office boy. A short time ago be posted in his shop window a notice : *‘Boy Wanted Sout Joarseen years”! A lad of that age, wit e that was prepossessin in his a rance, came into the office stated he had read the notice. ‘Well, do you think you wonld like to have the place, my hoy ?" asked the merchant, gaz. ing patroniziugly over the rims of his spectacles at the youth. “Yes,” came the prompt answer. “I want the job, but I don’t know that I can promise to keep it for the fall fourteen years. Then the merchant remembered that he bad left out a comma on his , but he told the boy he might have the place— The *s Chon. —Ba, seed corn on the ear, when it can be obtained in that way. How Did Bryan Know 1 | . | William Jennings Bryan is a great friend | of Dr. Jobn H. Girdner, of New York, aud | veually stays at Dootor Gitduer's house | ©1d-—J. M. Barrie. when he goes to New York. Girduer gave a breakfast in honor of Mr, | Bryan some time ago. He invited all the —— FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. A DAILY THOUGHT. Behind every gray beard there is the face of a Io millivery a new shade of red, or pink (nobody seems to kuow which ), bas devel- leading New York Democrats of the Bryan oped from the exquisite old rose which bas way of thinking and bad a pleasant party. | heen so popular this winter. Raspberry, Grapefruits were served, each with a spoon. | ful of brandy spilled in the cavity in the | centre, { Mr. Bryan is a teetotaler. He did not | touch his grapefrait. After the breakfass | Mrs. Girdner went to the ancient cook of | the household and said : ‘‘Bridget, you made a terrible mistake | this morning.” “Indeed, mam ?"’ said Bridger. what was it?” “Why, you put brandy on Mr. Bryan's grapeftnit and he never drinks. He | doesn't know the taste of lig or. He! didn’t eat his frait.”’ i An’ he never drinks, mam, an’ doen't kuow th’ taste of it 2"? { “Certainly not.” i “Then, mam,’ «aid Bridget, “plaz- teli | me how he knew it was brandy, mn 2" An | i Simplon Tunnel Open to Traflic. i The first passenger train, carrying nota- bilities and officials, pas<ed through the Simplon tunnel on January 25th, 1906, amid artillery salutes, Undertaken jointly hv the Italian and Swiss governments in 1898, the Simplon tnnnel was completed at a cost of more than $15,000,000 It is twelve miles long, ex- Yeoling from Brigue, Switzerland, to Isella, taly. Difficulties that at tines seemed insaper- able were met by the engineers. In Sep- tember, 1904, came the most serions trou. ble; springs of hot water were enconntersd and the tunnel was flooded. The tempera- tore rose to 131 deg. F. Earlier still the laborers from the Italian end struck soft material, through which it took six months to drive 150 feet of tunnel; and the cost of this stretch was $100,000, The tnnnel was opened last April. Two trains met in the middie, one being in charge of M. Brandan, the engineer who had conducted the work from the Italian side, and the other in charge of M. Rose- mund, who bad conducted the work in the oppozite direction. ~——A washerwoman applied for help to a gentleman, who gave her a note to the manager of a certain club. It read as fol. lows : “Dear Mr. X.—This woman wants wash- ing"! Very shortly the answer came back : “Dear Sir—I dare sav she does, hor | don’t fancy the job." — London Tit Bits. ——Little Bess—* ‘What is a family tree?" Little Harold—"It’s a tree people climb when they want to get into society.” ——Elmer—"Papa gave me a bushel basket fall of candy la<t night.” Tommy —** Whats did yon do with it?" Elmer—*"Nothing. [| fell ont of hed and woke up.” CARDINALS’ HATS. They Are Never Worn and Are Not Intended to Be Worn. The most famous hat in the world is never worn and is not intended to be worn. Yet it is not a freak hat or merely a hat turned out to show what a certain factory can do. It is the car- dinal's hat, the symbol of a cardinal's dignity in the Catholic church, and so completely is it the mark of that dig- nity that “to receive the hat” is every- where used as meaning that a person has been advanced to the cardinalate of the Roman church. The cardinal’s hat is of scarlet cloth lined with scarlet silk. It is round and very flat, with practically no depth and no place to fit on the crown of the head. On each side of what serves as a crown are red silk cords, holding fif- teen red bell shaped tassels. These hang down on either side of where the cardinal’s cheeks would be if he could wear his hat and are arranged in five rows, the first row having one ball, the second row two balls, the others three, four and five réspectively. To confer this hat calls for a stately ceremony. If the newly chosen cardi- nal lives out of Italy a papal ablegate is sent to him to confer the red berretta and the pall, but he does not receive the hat except from the pope himself. When the new cardinal reaches Rome, which he must do within a year after be receives the berretta, the pope ap- funeral and entombment are red hat is hung up over the place of interment in the cathedral church.— Hat Review, No man can enjoy life or feel that he is really living who has no work to do. Ew they eall it, and is 19 a shade which lends itself pdmirably to the wonderful two and three toned effects so charming in the new straws, And next to raspberry red for early | “pring, probably only to supersede it for late «priog and summer, pale blue (which showed adaptability and great possibilities for “extra’ hats last summer) bids fair to rule, Sanflower rosettes trim some of the pretuies: of fhe plainer bats, with perhaps a shaded quill—the two shades of the rosettes represented in it—stnek through. The 10settes are made of ribbon pulled ont in long. petal-like affairs—not loops, bus the ribbon deftly shaped and set around a great centre, Instead of the matehing of other Reasons, | we are threatened with a season of bate which contrast, yet which are as evidently a part of the general color scheme as were ever those hats that matched. What seems strange in the use of shaded quills is the absence of shaded plumes. Lots of black and white {and white and | black) hats are to he worn—more than ever, milliners say. The woman who grows old gracefully and lets her bair grow white looks many years younger than she who resorts to vio- lent and crude measures to impart to it artificial and nonpatoral tones. The former can adops in hair dressing a style of her own, and if the white bair be well arranged, aod the face delicately tinted, she can nearly always look well, no matter what the occasion. Rowe pink goes beautifully with white hair, though it is a color which can rarely he sucessfully vsed by ordinary people. Louis blue is another lovely accompani- ment to white bair; and when we think of the shades worn at the French Court b the beauties of those days, with their white wigs and patches, we realize that there is much heauty left for white hair. And how hecoming here is black velvet or bril- linnt bilge ! There are rumors that jet fringes will he worn on rome of the new veils, but their weight renders them somewhat unsuitable as a trimming in this connection. Pearl and silver embroideries are now introduced on gloves, Chenille and old-fashioned ball fringes alternating with silk gimps,in every color and iv large and small designs, are used for trimming serge boleros and cloth jackets. Bot fringes are bound to come with the revival of early Victorian modes. Plaid dimities are to the fore for shirt waiste and dresses and every sort of thing. There is a remarkable variety in them, when you realize that the largest plaid is something less than two inches equare. Between that size and the tiniest of all (which is made of cords as closely set as possible) are plaids of every width, some made by single cords crossing others of a dozen cords that form a band. And the plain spaces veem sheerer than ever by con- trast. Even madras bas taken aipou itsell the style of plaids, although in it stripes are as popular. For shirt waists that keep fresh, madras is one of the best materials, for 1t takes starch perfectly and, somehow, doesn’t crumple nearly as badly as the others. Those new embroideries show the prettiest developments of last year's hints. That trick of embroidering dots and wee flowers upon the lace insertion which was intro- duced last year, for instance, has hecome a veritable hit of art, introduced in a thous- und ways, Dame Fashion says that there are to be lots of those colored blouses worn with the white in profusion. That touch of color showing through suits, which are already being made up in such as the open trim- mings of the coat is very pretty. Until yon have eaten a coddled egg yon dou’t know just how delicious a soft boiled egg can be. Have your water hoiling, and bave ready an earthen bow! or jar of some thickoes:, which youn have previously made hot. Place your eggs in the howl and pour on the boiling water. Then cover the bowl with a tight cover and put over it alto a cozy or a folded napkin. Io five orsix minutes the ezgs will be done, soft boiled to a cousistency that it is impossible to gain in the ordinary way. One beauty of this plan is thas the eggs are placed on the table together with the fruit, cereal and coffee, and by the time one course is finished, the eggs are ready, with- out the necessity of watching over a stove or of getting up from the sable to go after them iu the absence of a maid. The Game of Queries.—This little game may be made instructive, or 18 may be played merely as a funmaker. Each player is furnished with a pencil and a sheet of paper, and is asked to write as the top of the sheet a question of some kind—it may he on a historical or some other serious sahject,or sinsiply nonsensical. At the bottom of the sheet he is to write the auswer, and shen tuin ap a fold of the paver 20 that the answer may not be seen. The different papersare then passed, each to the player at the left of the writer, who writes his or her answer to the question, folding up the paper so as to hide the an- swer, jost as was done by the first writer. The papers are thos passed to the left until each player has written an answer on all of them, and they are shen ocollested and read alond, the question first and then all the answers in order. If the game hegins with the understand: ing that all the questions must he historical, all the players must conform to the rule in answering ; but if it is “just for fun” any nonsensical answer may be written, only the query must he kept in view, aod the answer mast relate to it, Among slippers some of the plainest, primmest of styles prevail. A quaint pair of pale blue kid ones have eyelets, through which a broad how of inch-wide ribbon is tied. Lots of gaiters are being made to match spring suits, worn, in nine cases out of ten, over shoes. —8ee that the seed corn is all germ- inable. —While the mows are fall of hay itisa good time to fix the pulleys in the roof of the barn for using the horse fork next year. Noe so much danger of falling and getting njured. —When it gets so that we can dig a bis of horseradish with the pick or crowbar, it in a sure sign that spring is coming. Keep op your spirits ; horseradish is the sore forerunner of spring. — Farm Journal, —According to the London Daily Mail, there are several dairies for the production of asses” milk in thas city, the milk heing sent all over the country in sealed hotiles, the price being sixfshillings (about $1.44) a gnart. Is ix considered valuable for in- valids or sickly children. —Ou the island of Jersey, the home of Jersey cattle, nu attention whatever is paid to color, the great aim of the best breeders being a graceful! form and grand milking qualities. There are many colors there, from the silver gray down to the common red and white, avd a few, very few, black. —It i*a fact that small fruits can be purchased in the larger cities during the shipping season cheaper than in towns lo- cated in the sections from whence the fruit is sent away. Last season one town was the point from which hundreds of crates of strawberries were shipped, yet the people of that town paid more for strawberries than the prices obtained in the cities. —When av apple orchard is cut up with the saw and batchet, as is Jone every fall by those who have too mauy limbs on the trees, it indicates that no attention was given to trimming the trees when they were young. The proper time to shape a tree is during the first year of its growth. It is not profitable to compel trees to grow large branches, only to remove them later. The pruning knife can be of more service at the start. —The management of a garden does not necessarily cause neglect of field crops on the farm. No work paysso well as that given the garden, as a larger amount of prodnce, and of various kinds, can be se- cared from the garden than from the culti- vation of a large area. Every farmer who gives a garden his attention usually is Y | more careful of his other crops. Every portion of the farm is kept clean and in good condition, —The time to form an opinion of a far- mer and his methods is in the winter. If he gives the manure heap much attention it is a sure indication that he is progress ive and keeps his land well supplied with plant food. He may be careful of his stock and have his farm attrective in many re- spects, hut if he neglects the care and pres- ervation of the wenuore be will be lacking in proper knowledge of deriving the most profit from farming. —The use of commeicial fertilizers is in- creasing, and as farmers become better ac- guainted with the demands of their soile and crops they will be able more wisely to select the fertilizer best suited to their needs. Neither the farmer nor the chem- ist alove can always tell what brand of fertilizer wiil best meet the case. This wust be discovered by the farmer's mak- ing carefal tects under the light given by the teachings of the chemists. —Polecats—a dozen of them—sare the tenants of a curious farm maintained by Walter Daniels and Joe Brown near Wash- ington, O., two youths who say tbat in the evil scented animals lies the nuclens of a fortune. They bave a market for the pelts of the cats at $3.50 apiece, and in addition to this extract an amount of oil from each which will raises the individual value of the animals to over $4. Their farm is five flores in extent, inciosed by a tight wire ence. : —By means of the drainage of land the various chemical actions which take place through the action of the atmosphere on the surface soil are carried down to a great. er or less extent into the subsoil, for as the water level is lowered the air enters from above to fill the cavities in the soil. By drainage also, the depth to which roots will penetrate is increased, for roots will not grow in the absence of oxygen, and they rot as scon as they reach a permanent water level, —There is uo more loss in storing pota- toes than in storing any other crop. Bar- ring all wastes from rot, there is a heavy shrinkage, both in quantity and weight. A bin holding 100 husbels will shrink in size nearly one-tenth, besides a greater loss in weight. A bushel basket full that will weigh fully 60 povsde in October, when taken from the soil, will not weigh so much after being stored in the cellar through the winter. The shrinkage in weight is much less when potatoes are kept in pits closely covered with earth, for there is then less chance for evaporation. —Ground millet seed is excellent feed for hoge. Is bas a notritive ratio of 1—5.4; that is, 1 of albuwminoids and 5.4 of car- bobydrates. This isa good fattenivg ra- tio, and is will depend upon the relative price of corn whether the two should be ground together. Hall millet and half corn, ground fine, will make a more suita- bie proportion than corn alone. The pork will have a better p jon of lean, and the pigs will be healthier while fattening. Ground millet will be found a very appro- Prine food for young pigs, giving them a aud more muscular frame. —Que of the most surprising facts con- nected with farm ex iu the United States today is the little attention farmers are paying to oat smut, which is rapidly increasing in many localities and is greatly reducing the oat crop. The wonder is greater oat smut can be quite laigely prevented by treating the seed oats to a bath of formaldabyde. This material costs but 50 cents a pound, says the Fra. mers’ Review, and t is enough for 50 lous of water. This makes a solution which the oats may bedipped and which will destroy most of the smnt spores, All farmers that grow oats should take steps at Suge to prevent the forther spread of this ungus. —Organic matter in manure seems to be chiefly to make the land work better, and in absorbing and retaining moisture. So many are disposed to attach a mysterious Yalue iv sae exciements of animals, “od to n some special properties are im- patted to these in the traseformation of ood through the body of the ansmal, that they will nos readily accept the idea that the manuring properties of dung are con- fined to the chemical salts which it con- tairs. It must be borne in mind that ex- perimental fields receive wo manure, nor does any animal enter them, except the horses which ouitivate them and carry off the crop. Unless, therefore, the plants can thrive on chemical salts, they could not be there. A
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