6
TO HAPPINESS.
It ain't so far to happiness—lt's lyln' all
around;
It twinkles In th» dewdrops, (brings
blooms to barrnn ground.
It sings >J all the breezes; It ripples in
the r.lis;
It's wrttin 011 green banners that wave
from all the hills.
It ain't so far to happiness; we rob our
lives of rest
To find it o'er broad oceans as far as east
form west;
From ail Ihe dear home places ill sorrow
we depart,
And dream not that its dwelling place is
ever in the heart.
It ain't so far to happiness; It's shining
all along;
It's In the lowliest violet, it's in the
thrush's song,
.And hold It—ye that find It. forever to
breast
Till you sleep and dream forever in the
roses of God's rest.
—F. L.. Stanton, In Atlanta Constitution.
The Trouble s*
on the Torolito.
BY FRANCIS LYNDE.
CH APTER VI I.—CONTINUED.
"There arc plenty of itching trig
ger-fingers hereabouts just now, and
one of them is going to crook itself
some dark night if Wykamp doesn't
have a spasm of common sense. What
do you suppose he's up to now?"
I made the sign of unknowledge;
and Macpherson drew his chair
nearer and lowered liis voice in def
erence to the Dionysian-ear quali
ties of the loosely built house.
"You know his attitude toward—•
toward Winnie—Miss Sanborn? Well,
he changed it in a day; came here
two or three times and tried to see
her. and when she wouldn't he be
gan on the girl—Selter's daughter.
I don't know how far it has gone, but
far enough to make a family row,
with the falher and mother on one
Bide and the girl on the other. Of
course. Nan believes in liim and
stands up for him; but Jake knows,
and loads his rifle accordingly."
"There'll be a murder," I ventured.
"I'm afraid of it. And at this time
It would be most confoundedly in
opportune. The news of the fight
with the land company has gone
abroad 111 the county and the state,
and public sentiment is with the set
tlers. But if one of them should for
get himself and happen to kill the
land company's chief engineer—well
you «ee what would happen; public
sentiment would take the other side
In flic turning of a leaf."
"Assuredly. Can't you bring the
girl to her senses?"
Macpherson grinned. "I've already
burned my in that fire—
burned them rather badly. You
haven't forgotten about the pony and
the riding-lessons, have you?"
"No."
"And. besides, I have a funeral of
mv own and I can't furnish mourn
ers for Wykamp's. I'd much rfttlicr
furnish the corpse."
Silence, for the space of a full min
ute. and then I say: "You haven't
found out, anything more?"
"Not a syllable. I've been respect
ing her prohibition as much as I
•could, feeling as I do, and coming
here every night. We meet and
speak and pass, and that's all there
is to it. But I've seen and heard
enough to make tne feel murderous;
she fairly shudders at the mere men
tion of his name."
"I wonder what he did to her?"
"I don't know; but I'm beginning
to suspect that Nan does. If—if it's
anything—anything bad"—the words
■came hard—"it would be like the
fiend to boast of it to another
woman."
"You mustn't jump at conclusions,
■else it, will be your itching trigger
finger instead of Selter's. Why do
yon think Nan knows?"
"I can't tell; it's in the air. I've
•caught her looking at Winifred in
a. way—but don't make me talk about
it—don't make me talk about any
thing. Turn over and goto sleep, or
I shall go away."
I was too weak to withstand him,
and, truly, sleep was again knock
ing at the door. But when the door
was opened and closed again, a
dream came between and I saw Wv
kainp directing the work on a dam
in a precipitous canyon—saw him
and wondered that I had not before
remarked that his ears were pointed,
ami that a pair of satyr-liorns curled
gracefully over the visor of his out
ing-cap.
CHAPTER VIII.
DOCUM IS NT AHY KVIDENCE.
(Winifred to I'riscilla Bradford.)
Boar Prissie:
Your last letter accuses me of a
lack of confidence, and it's so. I
have been "talking scenery," as you
say, and it is because a thing so
dreadful has happened that I haven't
been able to bring myself to write
about it, even to you. But I shall
lose my mind if 1 do not confide in
some one; and since you have asked
fur a share of the burden, you shall
-have it.
Inasmuch as you know all the piti
ful foretroings, for you 1 can com
press the dreadful thing into three
words: He is here. How he found
me out I don't know; or if it were
.design or a mere arrow of spiteful
■chance; but the miserable fact re
mains. lie is the engineer in churge
of an irrigation project which in
volves me welfare of the entire set
tlement: his camp is but a short
lialf-miie from the schoolhouse; and
J aiii forced to see him every day.
Knowing what this must mean for
jne, you will wonder that 1 did not
shriek and run away at the very
first. That, indeed, was the first im
pulsive prompting, and under other
circumstances I should have obeyed
it unquestioningly. But it is not so
easy to disappear when one is far
from the highways of travel; and
there was a second thought potent
enough to make me stay —and suffer.
l*ut together all the little odds and
ends I have written about Mr. Mac
pherson (but you have doubtless
done this long ago) and draw your
own conclusion. There is fuel enough,
God knows, to keep the shame-fire
burning all through my miserable
life, but this is not of it. Having
said so much, you will understand
what follows, reading between the
lines if you care to.
Our first meeting—the only one in
which he has had the hardihood to
speak to me—was one evening when
1 was walking home from the school
house with Mr. Macpherson. He was
riding past and he recognized me,
wheeling his horse to fling himself
from the saddle and to add another
insult to all that has gone before.Mr.
Macpherson resented it prompily,
like a man and u gentleman, and he—
he struck him! After that, I knew
I had to stay; that otherwise there
would be more misery and perhaps
bloodshed; and however rich his de
servings, God would require his life
at my hands.
So I have stayed and suffered, not
knowing what a day might bring
forth, and drinking the cup of terror
to the dregs. Thus far, Mr. Macpher
son has amply justified all my be
lievings of him. His quarrel with the
land company is quite as bitter as
that of the settlers—the plans of the
company, if carried out, will practic
ally dispossess him—but he will not
make it a personal matter with the
engineer—for my sake, if for no bet
ter reason. So long as he does not
know the shameful facts, I tell my
self there is reason to take courage;
but if he should find out—oh, Pris
sie! living as you do in the peaceful
quiet of the old New England home
you can't understand. But the men of
these wildernesses, men reared in
homes just like yours, perhaps, be
come terribly swift to right their
wrongs with the strong hand.
You will say that, so long as I
keep my secret, exposure can come
only through the man who will stand
a self-confessed villain in the telling;
and this is true. But the dastardly
hardihood of this man is past belief,
and I have begun to fear that the
worst is yet to come. You will re
call my frequent mention of Jacob
Seltcr's daughter. From what I have
seen, there is reason to fear that
she is in danger of becoming his
latest victim. They arc together a
great, deal, and Nan's dislike for me
is growing day by day. What lie lias
lold her, I can only surmise; but her
attitude toward me has lately
1 changed from frank aversion to
something like contempt. Merciful
heaven! If he should boast to her,
and it should come to Mr. Macpher
son's ears—but 1 must not antici
pate.
Write me a good long letter, Pris
sie, dear, and try to comfort me if
you can. Lovingly,
WINIFRED.
(Richard Grantley to Eugene Hal
cott.)
Dear Halcott:
I was foolishly glad to hear from
I you again; glad to learn that Colo
rado has given you a little longer
j lease of life, if no more. Your hand
f \ Oi
"WHY DO YOU THINK NAN KNOWS?"
writing is so cheerfully undecipher
able that I have not yet mastered
your opening sentences, but 1 gather
from a readable word here and there
that you were convalescing from an
attack of "barn fever," whatever
that may be, when you wrote. I
don't know the malady; but if you
are convalescent that is the principal
fact.
You are right in supposing that I
know something of Wykamp. He
was a classmate of mine in the
school of engineering, and was with
me one year on the geodetic survey.
He is bad medicine in a moral way;
is rather unmoral than immoral, I
should say; the quality seems to have
been left out of his make-up. There
are localities on the Carolina coast
where he doesn't dare show his face
—and lie is no coward, either —and
I even here in Boston .where his people
are known and respected, there are
doors which will never again open to
him.
The episode you refer to occurred
in New Hampshire, and the facts
were swiftly and deeply buried —by
the young woman's people, I suppose.
I haven't, been able, thus far, to get
at the details in any sort ofsequence,
but there was a marriage, which was
no marriage, and a woman scorned,
and all that; you know the pitiful
round of such things. Without
knowing anything about the merits
of this particular case, 1 should not
hesitate to lay evary ounce of the
burden of blame on the shoulders
of the man. He's bad, as I say; and
in his peculiar specialty has few
equals and no superiors.
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JANUARY 23, 1902
Your plan to block his present
game by putting the evidence of one
of his former escapades into the.
hands of the young woman is in
genious, but it won't work. As
against the lightest word of a pro
fessed lover, all the newspaper
charges in the world would weigh
as hydrogen—or coroiiium. if that be
lighter. None the less, I'll send you
the newspaper clipping*, if 1 can un
earth them in the files.
Sincerely, as always,
DICK.
(President Baldwin, of the Glenlivat
Land Company, to Chief Engi
neer Wykamp.)
Dear Sir:
Yours of the 16th, stating that you
have made excavations on the site
last chosen for the dam in the upper
canyon is at hand.
Without going into the technicali
ties, I must say that I think you are
mistaken. I went over the ground
last year with our consulting engi
neer, and he is quite sure tliat, a dam
at the point where you are working
will be entirely safe. Make such
changes in the plan of construction
as the nature of the substrata de
mands, and push the work with the
utmost speed. With all due regard
for your opinion, I will say that I
have always found the members of
your profession inclined to err on the
side of permanence at the cost of
celerity; and the work must be
driven. Results are what we want.
Take another week for the exca
vating, and if you do not strike bed
rock, putin concrete and build your
dam. A change to the former loca
tion, as you suggest, is impossible.
Macpherson will not sell, and he is a
man of means and influence, abund
antly strong enough to fight a battle
which would delay us indefinitely.
Moreover, the settlers are threaten
ing, and you must keep the peace at
all hazards. Your destruction of their
flume and ditch was exceedingly ill
advised, and if it be not too late, I
would suggest that these be re
placed. Yours truly,
JOHN BALDWIN,
President U. L. Co.
CHAPTER IX.
A MIDNIGHT VISIT.
It was well on in the month ol
August before 1 had progressed far
enough on the road to convalescence
to bear removal from the farm
house at Valley Head to Macpher
son's; and after the buckboard trip
to the ranch at Six-Mile becameapos
sibility, I still lingered on at Selter's,
being by that time critically inter
ested in the small tragi-comedywork
ing itself out under my eyes as the
long summer days waxed and waned.
Interested, I say, but involved would
be the better word. I could no longer
call myself an onlooker.
If there were other reasons for
my stay—if, in those short weeks
which will always be marked with a
red letter in any poor calendar of
mine, there had come into my life
a thing which common loyalty bade
me triple-lock in that chamber of the
heart which is at once the sanctuary
and the tomb of hopes unrealized
and unrealizable, 1 shall not utifold
it here. This is Maepherson's story,
and none of mine; but if I say that
in those days of leaden-winged con
valescence Winifred Sanborn gained
an ally whose loyalty was not
measured by the hope of reward, it
is sufficient.
But though for me the days were
as the days of the lotus eaters, the
tragi-comedy went on, workingoutits
details with relentless precision. The
breach between Seller and the land
company widened day by day; and
Wykamp's reckless by-play with the
Tennessean's daughter gave it the
depth of personal hatred as between
the vindictive descendant - of the lie
demptioners and the engineer. Mac
pherson was still on the sideofpeace,
but it was evident that bis influence
over Seller was strained to the
breaking point. In the family at the
farm-house the daughter was at
sword's points with the father and
mother for Wykamp's sake; and
though Wykamp had long since been
forbidden the house. Xan met hitn
and walked with him in open defi
ance of her father's interdiction.
It was in the hope that the girl
might still be induced to listen to
reason that I had written to Grant
ley; but when the forgotten news
paper story was finally in my hands
I was as one who has been suddenly
made responsible for the safety of a
powder-magazine. For, hidden under
the charitable hyperbole of the re
porter who had written the news
paper account, there was a story too
despicable for any recounting; the
story of Wykamp's perfidy and Wini
fred Sanborn's dishonoring. Having
the proof in my hands, I knew not
what to do With it. It was incredible
that it should not bring the girl to
her senses; but without showing it
to her I could hardly hope to make
her believe it. And to put the clip
ping, and Grantley's letter of expla
nation which accompanied it, into the
hands of Nancy Selter, was like set
ting the clocmvork of an infernal ma
chine in order and turning it over to
a passion-mad girl with power to set
it in motion. Bruited abroad, there
was no limit to the trouble for which
the story might be responsible. It
would inevitably destroy what small
peace of mind Winifred had been able
to gather up out of the wreck of the
past in the new environment. It
would probably cost. Wykamp his life,
at the crack of the mountaineer's
rifle in ambush, or at the hands of a
vigilance committee upon which
every man in the settlement would
be eager to serve. Failing in this, it
might easily make a murderer of
Macpherson. I knew my friend's
character and the strength of it; but
there be provocations too mighty to
be shackled by any promlsu of for
bearance.
I'nder the circumstances I c;uld do
nothing but watch and wait; and, as
the time passed, I did not dare to
leave the Selter household. Slowly,
and by inches, as il were, it was
driven in upon me that I should be
compelled to set the infernal ma
chine in motion as a last resort, if
1 would not be a party to another
crime; but I refrained until it be
came clearly evident from Nan's con
temptuous attitude toward Winifred
that Wykamp had given the girl his
own version of the shameful tale.
After that, 1 waited only for what
might promise to be a fitting oppor
tunity.
The opportunity came one day
when Selter was afield, and her
mother's absence at one of the neigh
bor's left Nan alone wth me. They
had slung a hammock for me under
the shelter of the farm-house porch,
and the girl was sitting on the door
step, sewing. Not knowing any tra
jectory of indirection in such a mat
ter, I sent my first shaft as straight
as 1 could aim it.
[To Be Continued.]
A ROYAL SAUCEBOX.
Story of the Childhood of flie t.nte
Dowaurr Emprcua of Ger
iii n
The late dowager empress of Ger
many was for so many years a prom
inent figure in the world's gallery of
unhappy women that it is not easy
to think of her as a little, laughing,
golden-haired girl, with a merry
tongue that often got her into trou
ble with her august mother, Queen
Victoria; yet that is the picture of
her which Vanity Fair presents.
The late queen, who brought up
her children as wisely as any mother
in all England, insisted among other
things that they should treat all
members of the household with re
spect, and address each member by
his or her correct title.
The little princess royal frequently
broke this rule, her most serious of
fense being a determination, which
no amount of punishment checked,
to call the physician in ordinary by his
last name only—"llrown."
The queen, finding all other penal
ties futile, had finally threatened to
send the princess royal to bed at the
next offense, no matter at what time
in the day it should occur. Walking
with her mother one morning along
the corridor in the palace, the little
Victoria met the physician.
"Good morning, Brown!" she cried,
saucily. Glancing up, she met the
sorrowful and displeased eyes of her
mother, and immediately added:
"And good night, Brown, for I'm go
ing to bed!"
Then, with a courtesy to the queen
and the barest nod to the physician,
the princess royal danced off to the
nursery. As soon as she was inside
the room she said, with a defiant toss
of her golden, curly head:
"Please, somebody, put me to bed.
I've been dis'spectful to Brown
again!"
Griilinin'ii Grit.
The little story below is Lord Wolse*
ley's tribute to the bravery of Lieut.
Gen. Sir Gerald Graham, V. C., G. C. 8.,
G. C. M. G.:
At the storming of the Taku forts
Graham, who was in China with Gor
don, led the sappers, whose duty it was
to lay the pontoon across the wet ditch
surrounding the great northern fort.
While superintending this operation
he was on horseback, and being almost
the only mounted officer present, af
forded an easy mark to the Chinese
matchloekmen, who had already
picked off 15 of his sappers.
During the height of the uproar
caused by the firing of the great guns
and small arms, Lieut. Col. Wolseley,
who was standing by Maj. Graham,
having some remark to make, placed
his hand on that ollicer's thigh to draw
his attention.
"Don't put your hand there!" ex
claimed Graham, wincing tinder the
pain. "There's a jingal-ball lodged in
my leg."
It was the first notice he had taken
of the wound. —Youth's Companion.
"Don't Get ley AY i<l Me."
Trust a messenger boy to be up on
expressive slang. The particular one
who had a message to deliver the
other morning at the office of the
general passenger agent of the Penn
sylvania railroad was as tough a
looking specimen as you could find in
' a day's journey. His cap was placed
at a perilous angle on his frowsy
head, tobacco stains lurked about the
corners of his mouth, and he was
pufling a cigarette stump. The dig
nified clerk who took the message
scowled darkly. "Sign dat," demand
ed the boy, holding out his slip and
expectorating copiously on the floor.
"I'll have to put you out of here if
you don't know how to behave," said
the clerk, severely. A look of scorn
passed over the boy's grim features.
"Aw. don't git icy wid me, or I'll slide
all over youse!" he exclaimed. Then
he sauntered out whistling "Go
Away Back and Sit Down."—Philadel
phia Record.
Mixed Mental Pli'klra,
a rnonds are good stepping-stones
to matrimony.
It doesu't matter how much you
kntfw about the world if the world
doesn't know you.
Some of the counts whota American
heiresses buy are not bargains but
merely remnants.
The women at a literary club meet
ing enjoy it much better if each one
has a new pattern of Battenburg
lace to work on.
Some men hate to see women
standing in a crowded car, therefor®
they never look tip from their papers.
—Catherine Cain, in Judge.
KEEPING MILK PURE.
It Can Ho Done If tlx* IllKht Kind of
I'uil and StrniniiiK Aiiparalut
la taed.
Poor butter is very often the result
of impurities that yet into the milk at
milking time. Cloth strainers will
help mat ters materially, but first of all
thoroughly rub the cow's udders with
a piece of burlap before milking. The
best pail for milking with cloth strain
ers can be made by the tinsmith after
the pattern shown in the cut. Lay the
cloth tightly over the top of the pail,
then press the top piece down inside
the rim of the pail. The milk can
not spatter out, and must pass through
the cloth into the pail. Probably not
one dairyman in a hundred is as par
ticular as he should be in the matter
of getting the milk from the cows in
the cleanliest possible manner. After
visiting many dairy farms and noting
the filthy manner in which the cows
are cared for and milked, I think my
statement of not one in a hundred is
not wide of the mark. In many barn 3
COVER FOR MILKING PAIL.
the conditions are simply disgusting,
while one can rarely find a stable
where a thoroughly painstaking effort
is made to keep every particle of for
eign matter and every foul odor out of
the milk. Even under the very best
conditions as regards cleanliness it is
utterly impossible to keep all impuri
ties out of the milk if the latter is
drawn from the cow into an open pail,
for hairs and some dust particles will
be loosened from the cow by the action
of the hands in milking. However,
with a pail like that shown in the cut
and two thicknesses of cotton cloth,
or, better still, a layer of surgeons'
absorbent cotton, laid between two
sheets of cheesecloth and caught to
gether here and there with thread and
needle, almost absolute cleanliness
can be secured. A large sheet of such
a strainer can be made at once, and
circles cut from it for each milking.
The cotton mentioned is absolutely
pure, and is of a nature to check the
passage of any impurities. By the use
of such a device the milk and cream
will not only be practically pure, if all
other precautions are taken to keep it
so, but it will keep much longer than
milk and cream secured under the or
dinary conditions —a very decided ad
vantage, if one ships his cream away
or has a milk or cream route, for there
is, perhaps, no more common com
plaint front customers ob i milk route
than that the milk or cream does not
keep from one day to the next.—N. Y.
Tribune.
SCIENCE IN MILKING.
Good Cows Are Frequent!}- tliilned
by Men Who I)o IVot Know How
to Handle Tliem.
Milking is an operation which re
quires skill, as it has an important
effect on the amount and quality of
milk given. Dairymen know that
there are as great differences between
milkers as between cows and that
cows will do much better with good
milkers than with others. Indeed,
good cows are often almost ruined
by poor milkers.
The milker should avoid handling
the cow more than is necessary, and
he should make it a rule to do his
work quickly and thoroughly. He
should never go from a sick to a well
cow without first cleansing his hands.
The habit of wetting the hands with
milk is filthy in the extreme and
should never be practiced. Some peo
ple think it is necessary, but this is a
mistake. The hands should be kept
dry. If they are not, it is impossible
to prevent drops of milk from con
stantly falling from them into the
pail.
The pail should be held close to the
udder, so as to expose the milk to
the air as little as possible. The
further the streams fall and the more
they spray, the more dirt and bac
teria they collect. Contamination
from the foremilk must be avoided by
discarding the first few streams
drawn, or less than a gill in all. This
entails little loss, as the first milk
drawn is always'poor in butter fat,
and if it happens to be badly con
taminated, as is frequently the case,
much injury and trouble may be
saved.—Farm, Field and Stockman.
Clean the entire body of the cow
daily. If hair in the region of the
udder is not easily kept clean it
should be clipped.
Provide water in abundance, easy
of access, and always pure; iresh, but
not too col/ 4
ALFALFA OR LUCERNE.
Gernld McCarthy, M. S., S*>H II Give*
• Yield SuritttKftliiK Any Other
Hay Crop.
Alfalfa Medieago Sativa is one of
the oldest cultivated crops. It has
been cultivated for 25 centuries, its
native home is supposed to be that of
the primitive Aryan stock from which
all the European nations are de
scended. Mr. Gerald McCarthy, M. S.,
says that alfalfa is a very long-lived
perennial plant of the pulse or
leguminous family. It roots very
deeply going from 6 to 30 feet deep,
and as a consequence is practically
drought proof when once well estab
lished. It requires a rather dry soil,
I rich in lime. The plant is tender and
j feeble when young and requires a
I mellow surface free from "weeds with
j plenty of soluble plant food at band.
| On worn lands this crop usually fails
to catch unless the soil has been
given a good dose of stable manure
or bone meal just previous to sowing
the seed. Once started a sowing
lasts from 10 to 30 years. The dry
valley and mountain lands of the
Kocky mountains seem to be the
home of this plant in America. It
also succeeds well on the Pacific
slope and in the Mississippi valley.
It does well on the lighter soils of the
Atlantic coast and gulf states, but
requires great care to get it started.
It is usually sown broadcast in early
fall using about 20 pounds of seed
per acre. No nurse crop is desirable.
When well eared for the yield of this
crop is enormous, exceeding any
other hay crop.
In New Jersey four cuttings per
year are obtained; in the gulf region
eight cuttings are the rule. The
yield is one and a half to two tons of
air dry hay per cutting, giving a total
yield for the year of 0 to 16 tons per
acre.
One ton of this hay contains the
following amounts of plant food:
Nitrogen 43.8 lbs.
Phosphoric acid 10.2 lbs.
Potash 33.6 lbs.
As with all other lcgumines the
nitrogen conies from the air. The
potash and phosphoric acid come
from the soil and to keep up the
yield an annual dressing of these
substances equivalent to that which
has been carried off in the hay must
be given. Taking the average yield
at six tons per acre we obtain:
I Nitrogen, 2G2.8 lbs worth $31.53
! Phosphoric acid, 61.8 lbs worth 2.47
Potash, 201.6 lbs worth 8.06
■ Total fertilizing value {42.06
To replace the above amounts of
potash will require 403 pounds of
muriate of potash. To replace the
{ phosphoric acid requires 425 pounds
lof superphosphate. But where the
j growing season is long and the tem
j perature favorable the yield may be
j larger and the fertilizer must be in
j creased proportionately. A good
| normal fertilizer for alfalfa is as fol
lows:
! Muriate of potash 500 to 1.000 lbs.
Superphosphate 6"0 to 1,000 !bs.
Lime 600 to 1,000 lbs.
MILK STOOL AND PAIL.
The V'oiiibl nn t ion Here Described la
Held in lliteli Eiteem by All Wliu
Have turd It.
I 1
We have tried several kinds of stools
| and have seen all styles in operation
! in various parts of the country, but
| nothing suits us so well as the style
shown here, says a Michigan farmer iu
| Hoard's Dairyman. We made .the first
! one when we commenced dairying.
| The cut shows how to make it. The
I board A should be about 22 inches long
for a tall man and about eight inches
J wide. The two end pieces, 1» and C,
' can be cut and adjusted to suit each'
j milker. We made the stool s»o as to
| have the sekt D about ten inches high.
MILK STOOL AND PAIL.
All pieces are about eight inches wide'/
It is a pleasure to use this stool. One
can sit comfortably without bracing.
No need of hugging the pail; simply
let it rest between the knees. The
pail should be tilted slightly, and, thus
arranged, a good, rapid milker will
spatter very little milk. This stool
keeps the pail off the floor and thus
keeps it clean. We prefer a heavy tin
pail, slightly flaring and of good depth.
A flange at the bottom is a protection
and strengthens the pail.
TIMELY DAIRY NOTES.
Do not change the feed suddenly.
Salt should always be accessible.
liead current dairy literature and
keep posted on new ideas.
Have the herd examined at least
twice a year by a skilled veterinarian.
Do not move cows faster than a
comfortable walk while on the way
to place of milking or feeding.
Never allow the cows to be excited
by hard driving, abuse, loud talking
or unnecessary disturbance; do not
expose them to cold or storms.
Feed liberally, and use only fresh,
palatable feed stuffs; in no case
should decomposed or moldy material
be used.
Observe and enforce the utmost
cleanliness about the cattle, their at
tendants, the stable, the dairy and all
utensils.
Promptly remove from the herd
any animal suspected of being in bad
health, and reject her milk. Never
add an animal to the herd until cer
tain it is free from disease, especial
ly tuberculosis.—Farmers' lieview.