—— THE MAN WHO WINS. The man who wins is the average man; Not built on any particular plan, Not blessed with any particular luck; Just steady and earnest and full of pluck. When asked a question he does not “guess'— He knows, and answers, “No” or “Yes” ‘When set a task that the rest can’tdo, He buckles down till he's put it through. Three times he learned: that the man who tries Finds favor in his employer's eyes, That it pays to know more than one thing well; And it doesn't pay all he knows to tell. So he works and works till one fine day ‘There's a better job with better pay, And the men who shirked whenever they could Are bossed by the man whose work made good. For the man who wins is the man who works, ‘Who neither trouble nor labor shirks. Who uses his hands, his head, his eyes; The man who wins is the man who tries. ~Charles R. Bartlett. FAIR'S FAIR. sen sn Turpin was not due in the lightroom tili nine. He was sleeping in his clothes, when his mate, Reece, roused him two hours before time. He had to shout in the sleeper’s ear,for the wind howled and rattled the double windows, and icy spray clattered upon them from the waves that hoa of the foot of the lighthomse,|® feet beneath, and the aged timbers and groaned. “The tower won't stand it,” Reece shouted. “It'srocking. The foundations are going. I said they would.” Turpin stretched his huge limbs and rubbed his eyes. “They ought to have filled them up with concrete,” he muttered. “It 'ud be a bad lookout for ships tonight if it wasn't for this light. 1 ain't seen such a gale since I was a lad.” “The light's no use,’’ Reece stated. "The revolving-gear's gone wrong again.” Turpin sat up, shaking his head. The light on Devil's Rick revolved in thirty seconds, to distiryuish it from the sta- tionary light on Caw Ridge. With that distinction removed it would be a danger rather than a help to homeward ships. They would think they had missed it in the dark November gale and had come to the Ridge. So they would turn west; and Riddle Shoals would end them. “We'll have to work it by hand,” he pronounced, “like we did last year.” “It took two shifts of three men apiece to do it,” Reece reminded him. “You and me can’t. And there won't be no light to work, I tell you. Feel that?” The lofty tower seemed to totter on its base for a moment. Turpin nodded slowly. “She moves more’n ed. “'Tain't the rocking I mind. It's the sort of side slip. I told the surveyor the foundations were shifting; but he thought he knew best. I doubt if she'll last through it. Well, when there's no light there won't be no duty. Meantime —we'd best go up-stairs.” “I ain't going up,” Reece said. “I'm |", going down. I've got a wife and family. he old tower won't last half an hour. The boat might make the shore with the | little jib to keep her head to wind. It's blowing dead on land. It's a dog'schance; but staying here's none. It's going. . Lord! that was a shaking!” The lighthouse seemed to stagger. “We might make the harbor,” Reece reasserted. i Turpin rose, towering a head above his | mate—who was not a small man. “We might make harbor,” he stated, “and we might not; but one thing's cer- tain—there's plenty as won't if we don’t work the light tonight.” “I tell you she won't stand it,” Reece rotested; ‘not for half an hour, most ike. It's death to stay, mate; and that's a fact." “The Indian mails due,” Turpin re- minded him. “She's five hundred people, and we're two. Stay till she's by, any- how, mate.” “If there was a dog's chance, I'd stay,” Reece said, “half a dog's chance. There ain't. Nor a quarter. I'm not the sort to run from my job; but I've got my family to think of. . . . There she goes again. Best come, mate. You can't work the light alone. It took three men; and two spells of them." “If you won't help,” Turpin answered in his dull, monotonous way, “I'll have to try. There'll be five hundred lives on the mail—the Seamew it is. What's yours and mine to that?” ‘ “Mine's—mine,” Reece rejoined. “And there's my wife and children, what would they do? beg their bread; or take in wash- ing. My gal, Alice, with her little hands. You can't reckon up lives by numbers, like a sum. They're what count to me. . . And it's no use gaying Shelllgo. . .. Feel her rock then? She'll be down in five minutes. Come on, mate.” Turpin his great shoulders and walked to the steps that led to the light-room. “S'help me, Turpin, it's no good. The tower won't see this gale out, and you know. I've got my family. . ." “I ain't,” Turpin told him. * | and if the tower went down, he knew like,” he confess- | | ! I'd rather trust Him to do | the fair thing by me than the folk ashore anyway; and if He won't, I'd sooner drown | than hang!” There was blood upon Turpin’s hands 4 no refuge from those who were on his track. He used to wonder that they had never searched the lighthouse for him: but now that he had lived there for two years, he had come to regardit as a saactuary, where he would end his days. If the lighthouse went, it seemed to him that he might as well go. He could not face another period of hiding in thickets and marshes; and though the country- men ashore, or even the police, might the coast-guards who would. They came from the headquarters at Seaby, where he had shot one of them in a smuggling affray. He was walking round with his breast against the bar, when Reece came up, hurrying excitedly. “Mate!” he shouted above the clamor of the gale, "I'm risking my life to come back and give you another chance. The foundations are sliding. You can see it down below. You can't keep the light moving for a quarter of an hour, not by at ; and she'll go before then. I've rigged up the jib for a storm-sail, and the boat will fetch the harbor all right. Come on.” Turpin merely shook his head and went on pushing, He had no breath to spare for words. Reece looked from him to the door and wavered. Then the storm shook the tower as a man might shake a stick in his hand, and he started hastily t> the stairs, He turned there. "For God's sake, mate, come,!” he en- reated. "No!" said Turpin. He went on pushing; und Reece ran down the stairs. Turpin toiled round and round, like a ratin a wheel for a time. At first he took twenty-four steps to the circuit. He counted them mechan- ically. . . . Presently he counted again. Twenty-six. . . . He began to hear him- self panting above the dinof the storm. The sweat dropped from his forehead, and he kept stumbling. He was not sure whether it was the tower that reeled or himself. . . . He rolled upon the floor at last, and the floor was swaying like the deck of a ship. He lay motionless for a couple of min- utes, covering his eyes with his hand to fend off the glare of the light above. He was in a circular gallery just below the lantern. Then he rose, wiped the mist off a window, and peered for the lights of the mail. He did not find them. He oiled the bearings on which the light re- volved; looked at the broken crank, and shook his head again at a heavy shud- der of the tower. “They ought to have put concrete down,” he muttered. "The foundations were good enough with a little binding. The surveyor was a fool! ... Iwishl had him here!” He went back to the capstan bar and set the light Xevolving again. Twenty-five steps and once round. . . . Twenty-five. He'd count every six rounds. . . . Twenty-six. . . . Twenty-six. . . . Twen- ty-eight. That wouldn't do. "Pull your- self together, mate,” he muttered. "Pull —yourself-—together.” He toiled on with the veins standing out on his face and hands, leaning well forward. . . . Twen- ty-seven. . . . Twenty-nine. . . . Thirty. He sank suddenly upon the floor. Three times more he set the light ' going and pushed it round until he sank from exhaustion. As he lay panting after the third fall he seemed to feel foots! on the floor. . .. Unless his eyes de- . ceived him, the light was beginning | slowly—very slowly—to move round. "Roll out of the way, so as I can pass,” a sharp voice called. Turpin rolled aside. “They put me off in the life-boat,” the metallic voice snapped. “But I couldn't get a volunteer to board the tower.” Two legs in navy-blue serge struggled ox Turpin did not raise his eyes to look above them. They came round again, heralded by the sharp voice. “Suppose you'll be able to take another turn,” it said. “I can’t go on long alone. I'm four or five stone lighter than you.” “Aye,” said Turpin. ‘The legs passed several times without the voice. “I can do about three more rounds,” it gad presently. Jt wea panting, Wig the egs—they were the legs of a small man, Tu noticed—had become unsteady. ” t!" said he. “11 take on.” “Look out for the mail first,” the small man gasped, the next time he came. Turpin got up, wiped a window, and looked out. There were no lights. “No sign,” he called, and turned to the capstan. . . . The man who was pushing it let go and staggered back. Turpin : joo, eilion a They and staring at r, their lips drawn back a little and show- ing their teeth—a giant in a blue sweater with a sailor's cap lettered D. R. L. (for Devil's Rock Lighthouse), and a dapper, ferrety, little man in the uniformot a customs officer. Turpin had seen him last behind the flash of a revolver, and bore the mark of his bullet on his arm. “It's no use pretending you don't know me,” said Turpin at last. “I know you right enough,” said the custom-house officer. He glanced at the door as if he would run. He was the more active man, and he could have got down-stairs to the —they had t it back—and away. But he re- go, mate. I don’t blame you. So long!” “It’s suicide to stay,” Re tn “Don’t do it, mate. It's no—no blooming use.” He clutched at his comrade’s arm; but the giant shook him off. that Turpin could not work the light alone. So he shrugged his shoul- sang ders. “We'll see the mail by first,” and settle “It's no use talking,” he stated. “I things afterward—if they aren't settled never was one for to work the | : I'm going to work it—till the ‘s past an 2» | He went up the stairs; a ment. I'm here sheltered cleft on the lee side of the when the gale was starting. It was only a fourteen-foot dinghy, but it was cased like a life-boat, and though it might upset, it could not sink. The gale would carry ! it shoreward, and it was possible that i could be steered into the harbor mouth. When Turpin reached the upper room, he examined the machinery which worked the antiquated light, and found : that the crank had snapped. He discon- | nected it, and fitted one of the capstan bars with which they had man-worked strong could push the light round for a time; perhaps as long as there was a light to push round, he told himself. For he agreed with Reece's opinion that the lizhthnuse was doomed. “17 the wo! gets by,” he reflected, "I'l aye saved Qve hundred lives; and, i Reece went Pace down to the little boat that layin a! round?” for us. She rocks much.” “Pretty much,” Upin agreed, “I sup- you've got a pistol in your pocket, think you'll shoot £4 as I go “No,” the little man denied. “You can They had moved it round there | feel my pockets, if you like. I was never a liar.” “You was never a liar,” Turpin agreed. the “I'l take a turn.” He seized the bar and pushed. The little man sat down on a stool and his torehead and watched him. He a few words each time Turpin _ “Fair's fair,” he said. “Swear to leave it till the mail’s by, and [I swear I won't boit then. Fair's fair. . ."” “Fair's fair!” Turpin agreed the next time round. "I'll leave it till she's past.” He went on. ! “I oa then,” he jerked out as he n. “So long as the mails saved,” the custom-house officer said, when Turpin returned the next time, “you can kill me and weleome. My daughter's aboard.” He rose ad Joke out oo he window, “Might er lights,” Then he waited for Turpin’s turn to finish, and took his place. Turpin sat on the stool and watched him struggle. the Lord's fair, He'll set that off against | one} . . . not know him, there would be plenty of | fair. “Fair's fair,” Turpin said, as the sec. ond round finished. “It’s got to be death for you or death for me, now we've met. Fair's fair.” The gasping officer motioned with his head to the S. E. whence the mai! would come. Turpin went and looked out. “Her lights,” he pronounced. “Ili take on.” He seized the bar, and the little man sank into the chair, so exhausted that he almost fell off it. Turpin made several rounds before rither spoke in. “Fair's fair,” the customs officer said at last. "I swore to take you, when you shot Askhurst; and you swore to kill me | first. Five minutes’ rest after the | mail's past. That's all I ask. Fair's) “I'll push last,” said Turpin, when he | returned. “I can afford that. Then we'll | rest for five minutss, and settle it. . . .| Good Lord!” The tower shook to and fro. “Like enough,” the customs officer | said, “it 'll be settled for us on even terms!” “Like enough,” Turpin panted. His strength seemed falling quickly this time. He had taken too much out of himself py his early efforts. “I can't—go on— ether,” his com- “We'd last longer “Best try pushing t panion suggested. that way." He joined Turpin at the bar, and they pushed side by side for a few turns. “Put in another bar,” Turpin said, presently. “We'll both get full leverage then.” The customs officer fetched the sec- ond bar. He was behind Turpin and might have struck him over the head. It did not occur to him to do so, however. The second bar was fixed at last, and Shey went round and round more smooth- y. “See her lights!” the customs officer called presently, nodding at the misty! window. The great liner was not half a | mile away now. i “Aye!” said Turpin. “I'm near spent.” | “For God's sake keep on!" his com- | panion entreated. “I can't do it alone.” | They took turns once more. “I'm—done!” Turpin muttered, and | stumbled. | “A little longer!” the customs officer | gasped. "My daughter. . .."” He, too, | stumbled. i They went round again. “She's—near—past!” Turpin groaned, {TY road one may meet a couple of | almost falling as he pushed. "Seen—the | light—anyhow—and-—" i He fell suddenly. The customs officer | went on for two rounds more, stumbling | over Turpin. The third time he fell | across him. The tower seemed to reel. “It's going,” he thought. “We're both done together. . . . Fair's fair!” The tower had not gone when he came | to from his faint. Turpin was still un- | conscious. He remained so, when the | customs officer was able to stand, and fetched water and bathed his forehead. He was still in a swoon when the life- | boat came back to fetch them ashore. | The gale was abating rapidly, and, since the tower had stood so long, half a dozen men had volunteered to risk their lives! for the rest of the night, and to work the | light. The others carried Turpin to the | life-boat, and rowed him and his com- panion ashore. He woke on a sofa in his ! enemy's parlor. The enemy was speak- ing about him to his wife and the doc- tor. . i "We owe him our girl's life,” he said, “and that means | owe him mine. . . .! No. I don't know him from Adam. Sailor chap from the west coast, I fancy, not from round here. Never seen him before. The owners of the Seamew ought to do something handsome for him; and the passengers too. Fair's fair!” Turpin opened his eyes slowly, and smiled at his old enemy. If Harrison— that was the customs officer's name~«did not mean to identify him, he was not! afraid that any one else would. “We'll share,” he said, “Two hundred and fifty lives apiece, or thereabouts. . . . We can give each other a life apiece; and to spare. .“s “He is wandering a little,” the customs officer told his wife and the doctor. “Rouse yourself, old pal.” He touched Turpin's rough hand; and it closed on his. “A life for a life,” he whispered, too softly for his wife and the doctor to hear. “Fair's fair, mate!"—By Owen Oliver, in Harper's Weekly. Nervousness is a common feminine dis- ease. Women try all kinds of nerve quieting potions which are offered as a cure for nervousness, in the form of “compounds” or “nervines.” And yet no cure is effected. The relief is only tem- porary. The reason is that these potions are opiates and narcoties. They put the nerves to sleep for a time, but when they wakefagain their condition is worse than edicine recognizes the relation of this nervous condition in wom- en to the forms of disease which affect the sensitive womanly organs. To cure the nervousness the cause must be re- moved. The use of Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription will result in the cure of weakening drains, inflammation, ulcera- tion and bearing-down pains, the com- mon causes of nervousness in women, Nothing is just as good as “Favorite Pre- scription,” because nothing else is as harmless or as sure. It contains no alcohol, and is absolutely free from opium, cocaine and other narcotics. and starved in the winter is only a par- able of life. If we would have strength in old we must store it in the sum. mer of life. It is important that men in middle should not allow the vital powers to run low. To ent this re- a stimulant. will increase ire sh, 5 ta ot ng glan tis a body-building medicine without an NO HANDCUFFS IN FRANCE Some Ingenious Methods by Which the Police There ileep Prisoners From Escaping. picture appearing in the French press | mades, and already an advance model or | | two have been seen. To judge by these, to- | of a prisoner being led off to the sta- tion by a policeman and the descrip- tion, “The Apache being taken away handcuffed by the agents.” Ag a mat- ter of fact handcuffs are altogether out of date in France and are never used. Instead of the braceleis every po- liceman carries a “cabriolet,” which | is a veiy rough and :nassively made article resembling a huge watch chain some ten inches long with a stout wooden crossbar at either end. An expert can slip this over the wrist of an offender in a twinkling and with both the crossbars in his hand has only to give it a twist to inflict the most excruciating pain ind compel instant and lamblike sub- mission. Ancther common method of pre- venting escape is to make the pris- oner place both his hands in his side trouser pockets and then pass a string round hig wrists and round his waist and bid him march. He can walk at a very smart pace, but any attempt to run out of a shambling | half of the edge of the hat. trot immediately brings him down, nose to the pavement. If no string is handy all the brace buttons of the (trousers are cut off and the culprit is made again to put his hands in his pockets. As in the ! i i Duty makes us do things well. but love makes | us do them beautifully. — Phillips Brooks. : FARM NOTES. | —fentleness pays best with the colt or i horse. i | —There is a great deal of humanity in | axle grease. | C— {It has leaked out thatstripes are to have !' —The boar should be well fed but not Scarcely a day passes without 3 |; finger in the pie of the coming tailor- allowed to get too fat. ! , neither evenly spaced nor discreet in| su | coloring. The new idea is developed on | morrow’s stripes bear no resemblance at all to the thing of yesterday, for it is -—Hogs should have clean pastures, : beds and water, and a variety of food. | —Driving a tired horse to town after is one way to make a young horse They get old quick enough without | a somber surface, enlivened at wide in- | the abuse of too much work. | yellow, the crudest green and the most | long way; so, fortunately, the striped ma- | , of pure white. tervals with a fine line in the most vivid downright thing in blues. A little of this sort of enlivening goes a terial is used sparingly. The coat of a suit, for instance, would be built of the stripe, whereas the skirt might be merci- tulty plain, and vice versa. A few bold spirits, later on, will probably face their coat revers and collars with satin match- ing the brilliant lines of the stripe, thus adding to the gayety of the outlook, if not to the beauty of their complexions, _ Hemp is the straw of the moment. It is pretty, unusual, and should have great popularity. it can be scrubbed with scap | and water when soiled and blocks again easily into shape, says the Indianapolis News. A handsome spring hat in this straw is It has a broad upturned brim which is faced with black velvet. This facing goes to within an inch and a The only decoration upon this hemp hat is a small ornament of white. This | is held close together at its point of con- | tact with the brim, then flares out from A methods, even though they may tell the former case, he can only walk, since | so soon as he frees his hands his nether garments fall about his legs and he is “entrave” in the Iatest fashion. Few of these devices are apparent to the casual passerby, who often wonders at the passive docility with which some villainous looking indi- vidual under arrest follows his captor to the station. Sometimes on a coun- gendarmes on foot or on horseback, leading a prisoner between them. This is in obedience to a quaint regulation whereby prisoners ars never sent by train from place to place, as there are no funds set apart for railway fares. Consequently four or five times as much is spent in food, drink and lodging for the escort as would be for the ticket; but the regulations are observed. In such cases the police often use the “poucettes,” though strictly speaking this instrument is not legal. It is a sort of loose thumbscrew which is fixed so as to keep the two thumbs comfortably together so long as the man does not struggle, but a twist of the string held by one of the police is enough to destroy any wigh to escape~—ILondon Standard. Japanese Custom. A common complaint made by tourists in Japan is that they are obliged to pay for everything far high- | er prices than the natives are charged; or, in other words, that because they are foreigners, they are fleeced. But a glance at the social conditions by which the people have been educated would reveal the curious fact that throughout Japan's long period of iso- tion it was an accepted principle that the rich must live for the sake of the poor, and prices have always been based upon the purchaser's rank in society or upon his presumed ability toe pay. This understanding remains largely in force today, being fully rec- ognized and acted upon by all favored classes throughout the empire. The occidental, coming from lands where | the reverse practically holds good— the poor living for the sake of the rich—naturally complaints of being robbed, as from his point of view he really is; but it is not because he is a foreigner, but because, being a tour- ist, he is presumably wealthy, and ‘must, therefore, conform to the custom of the country which permits the poor to levy a tax upon the rich without thereby incurring the slightest imputa- tion of dishonesty. — Arthur May Knapp, in December Atlantic. George Junior Republic. The George Junior Republic is a community established in 1895, near Freeville, New York, by W. R. George as a method of reform in the treat- ment of dependent and deliquent children. The organization is similar to that of a miniature republic. It has a constitution based upon that of the United States, and the government of the community is carried on in the same way. At first the founder was president with other adults holding the most important offices, but from 1896 all offices have been held by citizens. Each citizen may work for the founder or for other citizens who contract for labor. All purchases are made with the republic's aluminum coin, later redeemed by United States currency. School is held and farming, carnentry, t, | printing, care of the establishment, dressmaking, domestic service and cookery ave the other activities fol lowed. The entrance age Is from twelve to eighteen. Futile Worry, John D. Rockefeler, Jr., at a recent dinner in New York, said of success: ‘Success depends a good deal on the recognition of values, The successful man knows what is important and what is unimportant. He doesn't waste time over trifles. That, he knows, would be as silly as the Tar- rytown girl's course. “A Tarrytown girl, after reading a . letter from her fiance, said pettishly: “q do wish Joe would learn to write more clearly. I can’t tell from this postscript whether he is sending me 10,000 or 100,000 kisses.’” i i 10 be observed are long and straight. | Next one sees that the kimono sleeves, | i because of their simplicity, cannot leave | the hat. The crown is untrimmed. In the fina! summing-up of what the prevailing fashions for Spring are to be, one may feel sure that the general lines which have won for themselves popularity us without a difficult struggle, though it is true that in many of the new models sleeves are put in at the shoulder line or a few inches below with a fine French cord. This method enables u: ‘0 have a long satin or chiffon sleeve, which we have not been able to indul: in lately. — Harper's Bazar. An extremely narrow white enameled leather belt is worn with the white serge suits. In making a skirt in which one gore has a selvage which joins on the bias, notch the selvage edge to prevent its shrinking says Suburban Life. 1f the ma- terial does not ravel, it is best to cut the selvage edge off entirely; but, as most cotton goods will ravel, the notches should be made, to prevent the drawing up of the seam. Not only in cotton materials, but like- wise in silks, this year is the tendency toward vivid and sometimes almost crude combinations of color strongly marked. When asked the reason the head buyer of a large silk store answered that it was the effect of the Indian durbar. The de- signers for the great French silk pane: acturers are still worki t ideas inspired by that eve tend ' effects may be noticed for some time, says a New York Tintes writer. Three of the most fashionable styles of new wallpapers are imitations of hand air-brush work in ae rome effects, grass-cloth and “flock” papers that repre- sent silk and velvetbrocades. In the lat- ter class come shadow stripes, with their velvety surface, which are more in de- mand than ever; and the self-toned Louis XVI designs, that depict rich satin bro- cades, with the figure thrown into relief merely by a surface that concentrates light upon it and throws the background into shadow. Not less charming and adapted to a wide variety of purposes are the grass- cloth papers, that appear to differ from grass-cloth only in price. Thepaper can be had as low as 18 cents a roll, with cut- | out borders at the same price, and comes in the similitude of various grass-cloth weaves, one of which is new, and exhibits a much rougher surface than oneis famil- iar with in grass weaves and which wears much the aj ce of heavy raw silk with the soft luster inherent to silk, and all the appealing light and shadow effects common to uneven threads in raw silk. Particularly lovely are grays, mauves,and other pale tints, in which a silvery light seems to play over the surface. In that grass-cloth papers are about twice as wide as the majority of other varieties, their economy is manifest, and besides the sorts that emphasize grass weaves, one finds grass-cloth stripes ex- ' tremely popular, says Suburban Life. Decorators use with this paper any attractive frieze or el paper that suits their fancy, thout respect to similarity of surface and where money is no object real grass-cloths are more in demand than ever. Noticeably beautiful among the new wall coverings are the crowns Lat pe i h be so effectively papers, w may be so disposed among wall and ceiling decora- tions. Indeed, crown and panel treat- ments are the newest upon walls; but their loveliness carries with it two re- strictions, one of which is that the cen- ter panel of three should be wider than the other two, in order to appear equal in size, and also that the presence of up- right division lines upon walls in small rooms tends to make the rooms seem py gy Fee vis wd ow t golds an ows are so fashionable, halls, dens, Pig dining and living rooms are likely to have Egyptian tendencies in decorations that possess the charm of novelty, together heer aes of val t classes of papers find harmonious complements in drap- eries of cretonne, chintz and oriental textiles that sell for from 17 to 50 cents a yard, and upward, for the best hand- blocked like fine draperies, are not so easily matched, and it is well to purchase tapes- tries and hangings of b vel vets first, then have the wall paneled to accommodate these, and, last of all, seek the fabric or pa with which the wall is to be covered. In this connection, an important thing to remember is that the in emancipation pi Present season ushers rom rooms where yalis, upliolstety and hangings show weak repetitions of colors and designs. Cloaks, scarfs and stoles are made of supple and pliable plush; the and texture of this new material in a dark brown shade give impression of seal. varieties; but fine wall coverings, | Pl —Good implements are as essential in | Progressive gardening as good fertilizer iF gol . One can not do work with in uate implements nor is it eco- nomical to dispense with those that are needed. If you want to make good as a gardener, get improved implements. —Young pigs must have unbounded freedom in direct sunlight and pure air for healthy, normal growth. They must i be able and induced to run and play at | large, for upon a strong physical consti- {tution depends the future health and growing and fattening power of the older og. | —L'me mav sometimes be used to good | advantage in the orchards. Where green | crops have been turned under the soil is | apt to become acid, too porous and plant food become unavailable. When this is the case use hydrated lime, from 600 | pounds to a ton per acre, according to ! the needs of your soil. | ~=For anyone to claim that they have ! cows in their herd that will give a “pail- | ful of milk with no other feed than just | hay" is to show their ignorance of dairy truth. A good cow will milk quite well ' for a while after calving with very little feed, but no one but a fool will imagine | she can do this for any length of time | without material to make the milk from. —Qats and peas may be pastured by sheep after the crop is six or seveninches i high, but care should be exercised in not allowing the sheep to graze down too | closely. If hay is to be made, the crop | must not be grazed after the oats joint | or after the peas blossom. Peas and oats | make a good pasture for sheep, because ! it comes on just at the seasor when suc- | culent food is most need:d. As a soiling crop there is nothing else better for : sheep. , =—Bran is one of the very best foods | for chickens. It may be placed before them all the time, and they will not eat too much of it. One of the main ad- | vantages in feeding bran is that it con- tains more mineral matter than ordinary ground grain, and supplies that which may not be abundant in the ration. It is customary to add one pint of linseed meal to two quarts of bran, mixing this with four quarts of ground grain. When made into a mash, bran need not be fed over once a day, and it is good when given with clover hay or cooked potatoes. —Just how thick to plant corn depends considerably upon climatic conditions during the season, so that it is practically a guess whether to plant thin, thick or just right. The common belief that three in a hill is the proper number, the hills being three and a-half feet apart, or the equivalent number if drilled, does not al- ways hold good. Whi.e three in the hill | is, in many cases, the proper number, it ‘is not always so, | On rich land, such as river bottoms, rich pastures or lots, in many cases five to a hill are none too many and four to the hill is a very satisfactory number on many fields in a high state of cultivation. On worn land from two to three plants to the hill mignt be the thick planting. The locality is a large factor in deter- mining the number of plants to the acre. The dried parts of the corn belt require thinner planting than in the more humid sections. The northern localities that cannot produce large corn on account of shortness of the season can advantageous- ly plant thick to secure large yields with their small corn. —Muskmelon a delicious vegetable can be grown in any locality where corn will ripen and no garden is complete without them. One of the first steps to success is to get good seed; never use seed which was grown in the home garden, as the chances are that cucumbers or were growing nearby, in which case the seed would be sure to be crossed and the product therefrom would be of poor fla- vor or enfirely worthless. Although they do best on rich, sandy soil, they may also be grown on heavy soil by adding some sand and fine, rotten manure to the soil of each hill. Have the ground deeply plowed and finely har- rowed. your hills by the soil to a h of about eight inches and twelve inc in diameter. To this soil add a shovelful of fine, ;rotted manure (and sand if necessary) and after m the whole well together it should be aced in the hole n. You will now have a hill twelve in in diameter and about three inches high, on which plant from fifteen to twenty seeds, cover- ng about one-half inch. As the plants are vi tender the seed should not be planted. before the nights are quite warm and danger from frost is past. As soon asthe plantsare up they should be dusted with wood ashes, soot, or air-slaked lime; the latter seems to be the most effective. These preventives a eg Sedo t, fori are allo goa few days undisturbed the whole crop pay be ruined. These remedies should applied early in the morning while the dew is still on, so that it will stick to the leaves; dust it well over and under the leaves. As the hills should be from four to five feet apart each way, it is not necessary to waste all of this room, but between the hills some early like lettuce, radishes or peas may be planted, as gen- erally they will be matured before the vines commence to run. Commence to stir the soil as soon as the plants are up, not only to kill weeds, but also to disturb the bugs, if they are present. After the nts are well started and r from insects is past, thin out to the three best plants to each hill. the soil fine and loose at all times until the vines be- gin to run; if we are to expect a crop of melons, no grass or weeds should be al- lowed to grow in or near the hills. After the vines have attained a length of about three feet the tips should be nched off. This will encourage the set- ting of fruits and will make them ripen earlier. When the stem cracks away from the fruit easily they are ripe. They should then be picked, for if allowed to Toman on the, vine 8300 1 they will be- come and m . New Fordhook, Rocky Ford or Netted Gem, Extra Hackensack and Early Model are varieties g which have proved to be very good. iv Cea
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