6
DISTRUST.
■ST. t» not tha mountain. It Is not the land;
And It Is not the deep. wide sea;
And not the stretch of the desert sand
Can. separate you and me,
Sweetheart,
Can separate you and me.
Hands may clasp and tighten and hold,
And heart be pressed to heart,
Yet only shadows the arms enfold.
If souls have grown apart,
Sweetheart,
If souls have grown apart.
NOT yet (he grallop of racing hors®
Can make the distance wide,
And not the steam of electric forco
Can banish us side from side,
Sweetheart,
Can banish us side from side.
But the cruel thought, the harsh distrust,
The word that biteth sore,
•"Each from each apart could thrust
So far we could meet no more,
Sweetheart,
In this world never more.
—Blanche Nt vin. in N. Y. Independent.
My Strangest Case
BY GUY BOOTHBY.
Author of "Dr. Kikola," "The Beautiful
White Devii," "Pharos, The
Egyptian," Etc.
(Copyrighted. 1/Jl, by Ward, Lock & Co.]
CIIA PTEIt X.—CONTINUED.
"I shall be grateful to you all my
life for the service you have rendered
me," 1 replied, "liut how did you man
age to gain admittance to this house?"
"It was quite easy; the birds had
flown," he answered. "Has the sus
picion not struck you that they were
going to clear out and leave you there
to starve?"
"The brutes," 1 answered. "But I'll
be even' with t heir leader yet. And now
let us get away from here as quickly as
possible. Have you any idea where our
man has gone?"
"To Naples," Lepallard replied. "I
disguised myself as a pompous old
bourgeois, and 1 was behind itim when
he asked for his ticket and distinctly
heard what he said."
"Then I shall go after him at once,"
112 replied. "He will in all probability
be off !iis guard, lie will imagine me to
be still locked up in this room, you
•aee."
"And I shall accompany you, if you
•will permit me," said Leglosse.
"Hut why?" I asked in surprise.
"What have you got to do with him?
You have no case against him, and
you cannot spare the time to do it
.simply out of kindness to me."
"It's not kindness, it's business, my
'friend," he replied. "You may not be
lieve it, but 1 have a warrant for your
.man's arrest."
"'On what charge?"
"Ou a charge of being concerned in
a. big embezzlement in Cochin China,"
he answered. "We laid the other two
men by the heels at the time, but the
Englishman, who was the prime mover
in it, we have never been able to lay
■our hands upon. I felt certain that
day when I met him in Amsterdam
that I had seen him somewhere be
fore. Ever since then 1 have been puz
zling my brains to discover where it
was, and why it was so familiar to
me. A photograph was eventually sent
us of the Englishman by the colonial
authorities, but in that photograph
he, the person I suspect, wears a
beard and a heavy mustache. It is the
same man, however, and the descrip
tion, even to the mark upon the face,
exactly tallies with Hayle. Now I
think I can help you to obtain a rather
unique revenge upon the man, that
is to say, if you want it. From what
you have so far told me, I understand
that you have no evidence against him
strong enough to justify the issue of
at warrant. Well, I have that evidence,
and between us you may be sure we'll
bring him back to Paris."
This was delightful hearing after all
we bad been through lately; at any
rate I greeted the prospect of Le
g-fosse's cooperation with acclamation.
It would be hard if between us we
could not find Hayle and bring him to
=the justice he so richly deserved.
"Now, let us get out of this," I said.
""I must obtain something to eat if
I perish in the attempt. I am nigh
starving. A basin of soup, a roll and
a cup of coffee are all that I have had
-to-day."
"You shall dine at once," he an
swered, "and here. There is an excel
lent little restaurant further down
the street, and one of my men shall
go there and tell them to bring you
up a meal. After that you shall go
home and change your costume, and
then we will arrange what shall be
•done about the traveling."
Thi-s programme was carried out to
-fhe letter. We made a good meal, at
least I knew that I did, and when it
was eaten, a cab was procured, and in
company with Leglosse 1 said good-by
to the house in which 1 had spent so
abort a time, yet in which 1 had been
•o miserable.
"I shall never know how to repay
you for your kindness," I said to my
companion as we drove down the
street. "Had it not been for you and
your men I should now be starving in
that wretched place. I'll certainly for
give llayle if he is ever successful
enough to take me in again by one of
his rascally tricks."
"You must not let him do that," re
turned the Frenchman, shaking his
head. "Our reputations are at stake."
When 1 reached my own apartments
the concierge was much relieved to see
me. Khe had been told that I was
dead, perhaps murdered, and Le
glosse's visit to find me had not helped
to reassure her. A packet of letters
aud telegrams were handed to me,
which 1 carried up to my room to read
flierii while I was changing my attire.
Never before had I been so glad to get
out of a dress suit.
I had just finished my toilette and
was in t he act of commencing t he pack
ing of the bag 1 intended taking with
an, wU.»u (bel t nuu tuj< Ml liiu tiooi.
I opened it, to find th« concierge
there.
"There is a lady in the parlor to see
monsieur," she said. "She has a maid
with her."
"A lady to see me?" I asked, in
credulously. "Who on earth can she
be?"
The concierge shook her head. In
my own mind 1 had arrived at the con
clusion that it was Mile, Beaumarais,
and that llayle had sent her to dis
cover, if possible, whether I had es
caped from my confinement or not.
On finding out that 1 had, she would
telegraph to him, and once more he
would be placed on his guard. At first
I felt almost inclined not to see her,
but on second thought I saw the folly
of this proceeding. 1 accordingly en
tered the room where the lady was
awaiting me. The light was not very
good, but it was sufficient for me to
see two figures standing by the win
dow.
"To whom am I indebted for the
honor of this visit, mademoiselles?" I
began.
"Don't you know me, Mr. Fairfax?"
the taller of them answered. "You
forget your friends very quickly."
"Miss Kit water?" 1 cried, "what does
this mean?"
"It is a long story," she answered,
"but I feel sure that you will have
time to hear it now. I am in terrible
trouble."
"I am indeed sorry to hear that," I
answered, and then glanced at her
maid.as if to inquire whether it were
safe to speak before her. She inter
preted the look correctly and nodded
her head.
"Yes, Mr. Fairfax," she said, "you
can say what you please before Nelly."
"Then am I right in interpreting
3'our trouble as being connected with
your uncle?" I asked.
"Yes, that is it," she answered. "You
have guessed correctly. J)o you know
that he and Mr. Codd have disap
peared ?"
"Disappeared?" I repeated. "Have
you an}' idea where they have disap
peared to?"
"So, but I can hazard a very shrewd
guess," she replied. "I believe they
have crossed to Paris in search of
Mr. llayle. Since last Sunday my
uncle has been more depressed than
ever, while the paroxysms of rage, to
which he is so subject, have been even
more frequent than ever. If the truth
must be told, I fear his troubles have
turned his brain, for he talks to him
self in such a queer way, and asks
every few minutes if I have received
news from you, so that I cannot help
thinking his mind is not what it should
be. You must understand that on
Saturday last, thinking it might pos
sibly be required for the case, I drew
a large sum of money from the bank;
more than £IOO, in fact. I securely
locked it up in my writing table, and
thought no one knew anything about
it. Yesterday my uncle and Mr. Codd
went for a walk, and did not return,
though I watched for them several
hours. While I was thus waiting I
opened the drawer in the writing
~~
-
"WE'VE BEEN DONE AGAIN." I
CRIED, BRINGING MY FIST DOWN
WITH A THUMP UPON THE TABLE.
table to procure something I wanted,
and discovered that the money was
missing. Only one construction could
be placed upon it, Mi-. Fairfax. They
hail wearied of their inactive life, and
had set off in search of Hayle."
"They are aware of his address in
Paris, are they not?"
"Yes, my uncle repeated it from
morning until night," she answered.
"In point of fact he did little else.
Oh! it is terrifying me beyond meas
ure to think what may happen should
they meet."
"You need not fear that," I replied,
"llayle has tired of Paris and has
bolted again. Very probably to a place
where they cannot hope to find him."
I believe she said "God be thanked"
under her breath, but 1 am not quite
certain upon that point. I did not tell
her of the trick llayle had so lately
played upon myself. If the telling
were necessary it would be able to
come later on.
"May 1 ask what brought you to
Paris, Miss Kitwater?" I inquired, aft
er a pause.
"My great fear," she answered. "I
wired to you from Charing Cross to
say that I was coming. Did you not
receive my message?"
I remember the fact that, not
having time to open them all before 1
was called away, I had put some of
the telegrams on one side. As ill luck
would have it Miss Kitwater's must
have been amongst these. 1 explained
that I had been away from the house
all day, and only that moment re
turned.
"I felt," she said, ignoring my ex
cuses, "that 1 must come to you and
tell you all that has transpired. Also
that 1 might implore you to keep the
men apart at any cost."
"We can easily find out whether
they have arrived in Paris, and also
wtoether they have been to Jlayle's
ttpurtuieu ts," 1 biiid. "That would
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JULY 31, 1902.
certainly be one of the places which
they would try first."
While I was speaking there was the
sound of a step in the corridor outside,
and the next moment Leglosse entered
the room. He was in, the highest spir
its, as be always was when he was
about to undertake a new piece of
work. Seeing that I had visitors he
came to a sudden standstill.
"A thousand pardons," he said in
French. "I had 110 idea that you were
engaged. I will wait outside."
"Don't do anything of the kind," 1
returned in the same language. "Come
in, and let me introduce you to Miss
Kitwater, who has just arrived from
England."
"Miss Kitwater?" he repeated, in
some surprise. "Surely 1 understood
you to say that your client, the gen
tleman who had lost his sight through
llayle's treachery, was M. Kitwater?"
"That is quite right, and this lady
is his niece," 1 returned. "She has
brought me extraordinary intelli
gence. Her uncle and his companion
have suddenly disappeared from tin
little village of Surrey, where they
have been staying some time with her.
It is her belief that they have come
to Paris in search of Ilayle. There
would have been trouble had they
met, but, fortunately for them, and
for Ilayle, he has given them the slip
once more. It would be possible for
you to find out whether they arrived
by the morning train, and also wheth
er they have made inquiries a* llayle's
apartmrtits, would it not?"
"Quite possible," he answered. "It
shall be done at once. I will let you
know in less than an hour what I have
discovered."
1 thanked him, whereupon he bowed
to Miss Kitwater, and then disap
peared.
"M. Leglosse is also in pursuit of
Ilayle," I explained, "lie holds a war
rant for his arrest on a charge of
embezzlement in Cochin China. For
that reason we are following him to
Naples to-morrow morning."
"To Naples. Has the wret«lied man
gone the»e?"
"So we have been led to believe,"
I answered.
"Then do you think my uncle will
find it out and follow him?" she asked,
wringing her hands. "Oh it is all too
terrible. What shall I do?"
"Well, if I might be allowed to be
like David Copperfleld's Mr. Dick, 1
should be practical, and say, 'dine.'
1 suppose you have had nothing to eat
since you left England?"
She gave a little wan smile.
"We have not had very much, cer
tainly," she answered. "Poor Nelly,
you must be nearly starving."
The maid, however, protested that
she was not; but was not to be de
nied. Bidding them remain where they
were, I went downstairs and inter
viewed my faithful friend, the con
cierge. With her I arranged that Miss
Kitwater and her maid should be pro
vided with rooms in the house for that
night, and having done so went 011 to
the nearest restaurant. In something
less than ten minutes all was settled,
and in under 20 they were seated at
their meal. At first the girl would not
sit down with her mistress, but, with
her usual thought fulness, Miss Kit
water ordered her to do so.
"And now, Mr. Fairfax," she said,
when she had finished, "we must dis
cover the hotel where we can stay the
night. At present we know of 110
place in which to lay our heads."
"You need not trouble about that,"
I said, "I have already arranged that
you shall have rooms in this house if
you care to occupy them. The old
lady to whom it belongs is a particular
friend of mine, and will certainly do
her best to make you comfortable. I
presume that it was your bag 1 saw in
the concierge's office, when 1 was there
just now?"
"We left it there," she answered,
and then gave me my reward by add
ing: "it is very kind of you, Mr. Fair
fax, to have taken so much trouble. 1
cannot thank you sufficiently."
"You must not thank me at all," 1
replied. "In helping you I am only
doing my duty to my client."
I had scarcely said the words before
I regretted them. It was a foolish
speech, and a churlish one as well. She
pretended not to notice it, however,
but bade her maid go down to the
concierge's office, and take the bag to
the room that had been allotted to
her. The girl disappeared, and when
she had gone Miss Kitwater turned to
me.
"Mr. Fairfax," she said, "I have an
other favor to ask you. I assure you
it concerns me vitally. I want to know
if you will let me go with you to
Naples. In order that I might not be
in your way, we might travel in dif
ferent compartments; but go 1 must.
I am so frightened about my uncle.
If I follow him to Naples, it is just
possible I might be able to dissuade
him from pursuing Ilayle. If he were
to kill me for preventing tliein, I
would not let them meet. Believe me
when I say that I am terribly anxious
about him. Besides—"
Here she paused for a moment, as if
she did not quite know how to con
tinue what she had to say to me.
"As 1 have said, you and M.—l
mean the French gentleman—could
travel in your own way. All that 1
want to be assured of is that I may
be in Naples and at hand should any
thing happen."
"If you really wish it, I do not see
why you should not go?"I replied med
itatively. "But if you desire my can
did opinion, I must say that 1 think
you would be far better off at home.
Still, if you desire to come, it's not
for me to gainsay your wishes. We
will arrange therefore that, unless
you decide to the contrary in the mean
time, you accompany us by the 8:50
train to-morrow morning."
"I thank you," she said.
A few moments later Leglosse re
turned with the information that it
was as we suspected. Kitwater and
Codrt had arrived in Paris that morn
ing, and had visited llayle's lodgings
only to tin-1 him gone.
"Wlut U xuoru important Hilt,",
he continued, "they hav* to
learn that Ilayle had gone to Is'aples,
and they will probably l«*yve by the
2:50 train to-morrow morning for
that city. It, is as well, perhaps, that
we arrange to travel by the next."
"Cburage, courage, Miss Kitwater,"
I said, seeing that she was trembling.
"Try not to be frightened. There is
nothing to fear." Then turning to
Leglosse, 1 added: "Miss Kitwater has
decided to accompany us to Naples. As
a matter of fact, my position in the
case has undergone a change since J
last saw you."
lie looked from one to the other of
uh as if in astonishment.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Hitherto," 1 replied, "I have been
acting against Ilayle, with the inten
tion of securing him, in order that my
clients might have a most important
meeting with him. For the future,
however, my endeavors will be used
in the contrary direction. They must
never meet!"
"Then the best way to bring about
what you desire is to assist me," re
turned Leglosse. "Let me once get
my hands upon him in the name of
France, and they will never meet."
"Hut we have to catch him before we
do that," I said.
"Never fear, we will do it,"he an
swered, confidently, and thafTseemed
to settle it.
Next morning at 8:50 we left Paris
for Naples.
[To Be Continued.]
WHEN THE PREMIER DOZES.
Scenes In the IlrltlNh Parliament
That AtToril Great Amusement
to the Spectator*.
It may not be becoming in the pre
miers of Great Britain that they some
times fall into a doze during the ses
sions of parliament, but they never
theless do. though on rare occasions,
says a London paper. Lord North was
the duke of Devonshire of the eight
eenth century. 1 lis parliamentary epi
taph might have been:"He yawned
and yawned and yawned and fell
asleep." Indignant orators were con
stantly complaining of his refusal to
listen to their speeches, and the pre
mier had a way of humiliating them.
"Even now. in these perils, the noble
lord is asleep," burst out an angry
member of the opposition, and Lord
North, waking up, exclaimed: "I wish
I was.""The physician should never
quarrel with his own medicine," the
sleepy minister retorted to another
grumbler, and to a speaker who im
peached him of all sorts of crimes and
called, attention to the fact that he
was dozing Lord North complained
that it was cruel to deny him the solace
which other criminals enjoyed—that
of a night's- rest before they met their
fate.
But the best of all the stories of the
sleeping premier is that of the peer
who bored parliament with a history
of shipbuilding from the days of Noah
and his ark. North dozed at the men
tion of the ark, and slept on till the
speaker reached the Spanish armada,
when a colleague awoke him. "Where
are we now?" asked North, only to be
told that they were then in the reign
of Queen Elizabeth. "Dear, dear,"
exclaimed the prime minister, "why
not let me sleep a century or two
more?"
BREAKING IT GENTLY.
An lowa lintel Clerk Who I* Kntltled
to the First Price for Thouuht
f ullicsa.
"Chicago is on the top limb, of
course," said the drummer who was
just returning from a trip, says an ex
change of that city, "but they have a
graceful way of doing things farther
west.
"I was staying at a hotel in an lowa
town a few nights ago when a bellboy
woke me out of my first sleep to hand
me in the card of a man I had never
heard of and to ask me to come down
to the office at once.
" 'Tell him I'm in bed,' I replied.
" 'Yes, sah, but he wants to see you
mighty bad.'
" 'Then be may take it out in want
ing. I'll see him in the morning.'
" 'But he can't wait,' persisted the
boy.
"'Then he can move on.'
"'But he dun won't, and de night
clerk says you'd better come down.
Needn't i>e in no great hurry, sah, but
come down when you is all ready and
bring your grip along.'
"I saw that something was up," con
tinued the drummer, "and I got out of
bed and dressed myself. I began to
smell smoke as I dressed, but the ele
vator was running, and there was no
excitement.
"The night clerk was putting the
books and valuables in the big safe,
and as I walked up to the counter he
smilingly said:
"'Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Blank,
anil 1 didn't until the last minute, but
as a matter of fact the hotel is on fire
and has got to go. Nothing to pay,
thank you, and may 1 kindly ask you
to step outdoors before the ceiling
comes down on your head?'"
"Ml 11 »t» (iißulc" Kalln.
"Some years ago I visited an old
friend of mine in Minneapolis," said
a well-known Milwaukee railroad
man,"and lie spent considerable time
taking me about to show me the many
interesting places in that interesting
city. One day he took me out to see
the famous Minnehaha falls, and after
1 had feasted my eyes on this beauti
ful work of nature he invited me to
accompany him down the gulch
through which the little stream Hows
—at least half a mile and there called
my attention to a little cascade that
is an exact miniature of Minnehaha
falls.
"'What do you call this cascade?'l
asked of my friend.
" 'We call this Mi not Uiyjil*.' "—Alii
nu uk u SeaUuel.
VALUE OF COW PEAS.
A Crop That Jlnkm Poor I.and S«
Fertile That II Afterward IsUood
Fuouith for Anything.
We have shown pictures of the
seed and the little cow-pea plants,
now, in the cut an idea is given ol
the full-sized plant! The way the
crop grows when th» conditions art
right is enough to make a lazy man
get up and beat the dust out of his
own clothes. We do not all agree as
to the best plan to follow with
cow peas, as the following note
from J. 11. Hale will show: "I read
with interest everything you prinl
about the cow pea, and you are al.
right to feed it on poor land, but
i
PERFECT COWPEA VINES,
when you say 'no one should thick ol
: sowing cow peas 011 good soil' you
are 'way 'way off. They are worth
many times their cost in the way
they improve the mechanical condi
tion of the soil, and I have seldom
seen much of our good lands in the
i east that are not somewhat im
i proved by the addition of a little
. nitrogen. I sow cow peas on every
, ir.r-h of good land, as well as poor,
i that 1 can find available for this
plant during its season. Just now
I am clearing tip a rough, rocky,
: brush pasture that is too tough to
plow, so with an extra heavy cut*
' away I am chewing it up and seed
ing it thickly with cow peas." What
we meant was that on the average
farm it is better to grow corn or
some similar crop when the soil is
already good enough to grow it. Put
the cow peas on poor land and
make it good enough to grow what
you need!—liural New Yorker.
THE ABUSE OF SHADE.
Too Many Trees and Shrnlis Around
the Farm House Produce l'n
liealtliy Dampness,
For our hot summers shade around
the house seems to be an absolute ne
! cessity. It is well to remember, how
ever, that, like most other good
thing*, we may so use shade that it
becomes absolutely harmful. It has
often been observed that while a home
is new and has little shade it i.< health
ful, but after the house is buried un
der trees the family begins to suffer
from various diseases, which when the
the trees were small and casit- little
shade they were entirely free from.
The explanation is this: When a
house is buried in shade, it becomes
dark and damp. Darkness and damp
ness are both favorable for the growth
of molds, mildews and disease germs.
Sunlight dries the house and kills out
right the germs of most of our formid
able diseases. Rheumatism and con
sumption thrive especially in dark and
damp houses.
In the dark dirt accumulates; dis
ease runs rampant in dirt, and 71 amp
ness. And then in darkness and ddrl
the arch enemy of man, the devil, too
is at home, and we have the quartets
darkness, dirt, disease and the devil
Shade should be around the house,
not over it. Let there be open places
all around the house, so that, the sun
may shine directly upon it. This will
keep it dry and wholesome.
Another evil which comes with toe
many trees is the shutting off of the
currents of air so necessary when it
is very hot. Heat is much more en
durable with plenty of moving ait
than it is when there is no circulatior
whatever. Plant trees, plant them in
abundance, but not too close to the :
lionise, and when they become too
dense cut some of them out. Kemem
ber the injunctions: "Tie temperate
in all things." "Hold fast to that which
is good."—G. G. Groff, in N. Y. Trib
une.
WennlnK Plsrs Too Early.
A series of eight experiments re
cently demonstrated the advisability
of keeping pigs 111 sows as long a>
possible, consistent with the health; ;
and strong condition of the mother
says Farmers' Guide. This for many |
reasons, chief of which is that u sov
and her pigs together will extraci
more nourishment from a given quan
tity of food than will the weaned pigi
alone. The sow and pigs were sepa
rately weighed each week and any lost
or gain of the sow was deducted from
or added'to the increased weight of tlu
pigs. The pigs were allowed tore
main on the sow for ten weeks, then i
similar course of feeding was carriet
on with the pigs for seven weeks. Tin
sow and pigs consumed on an averagi
231 pounds of meal and 334 pounds «»•
skim milk iu making a similar in
crease.
PREPARE FOR DROUGHT.
Mirny Seasons That frith Co
lli uu K liotTiipunrs of llain Knd
in IJry Spells.
A look ahead is worth more than
ft dozen glances behind, unless the
latter are used to draw a lesson
from. After the drought it is poor
consolation to say that if we had
done so and so the crops would have
been saved. It is better to be pre
pared fur a drought early in the
season, and to do this is simply to
give the crops the cultivation they
actually need. First we should do
our plowing as early as possible, and
then the harrow and cultivator
should follow the plow, at regular in
tervals. By giving early and deep
and continued cultivation we accu
mulate moisture in the soil so that
we have a surplus to withstand any
ordinary droughts. But to retain a
surplus of moisture the soil must
be in a finely pulverized condition.
Lumpy and cloddy soil soon parts
with moisture, either through soak
ing down into the subsoil or being
carried away by the winds and sun.
Deep plowing is necessary at first,
but surface cultivation thereafter is
best. The few inches of topsoil that
is finely pulverized may then dry
out by the hot weather and winds,
but the roots of the plants will find
a moist subsoil which they can
run down to. This is beneficial to
the plants because it strengthens
their power of resistance to drought
and makes them sturdier and more
vigorous growers. Surface feeding
plants are always the first to suc
cumb to drought.
One should use the roller more
| freely on soils to store up moisture
j against drought. This is particular
|ly true on very light, loose soils
where the capillary openings are al
ways so large that water passes too
| readily upward and downward. The
roller compresses this soil and
makes it firmer, so the movement of
the water is slower. Bapid move
ment of the water in the soil, either
j upward or downward, is to be avoid
| ed. The soil that holds it and re-
I fuses to part with it is what we
| need. We can get such mechanical
| conditions in almost any soil if we
plow, harrow, cultivate and roll
j properly. Such preparations against
drought are the best that can be
done, for if the dry spell does not
appear the plants will be benefited
by the cultivation to such an extent
| as to pay for all the trouble.—\V. E.
Farmer, in Boston Budget.
POPULAR IN SOUTH.
Outdoor Fresh-Air Closets for th«
Storage of All Sorts of House
hold Necessities.
It is. common in the south for
; country folks to have a sort of out
door fresh air closet, a small de
tached structure set in the shadiest
place possible, standing upon four
tall legs, with a flat shingled roof of
barely enough slant to shed the
rain. The floor is at least four feet
l frtf
OUTDOOR FRESH AIR CLOSET,
from the ground and the whole
structure only wide enough to reach
well across one's arm. There are
shelves all around and the weather
boarding up near the roof is drilled
with tiny augur holes for ventila
tion. The door fits tightly and
fastens with a lock. Around each of
the legs is fastened a tar bandage
six inches above the ground, which
traps ants, spiders and their ilk.
The structure is whitewashed inside
and out twice a year. In hot weath
er shelves and flooring are washed
every morning and scoured twice a
week. Such a fixture should not
cost over three or four dollars, even
if one hires it built. —Mrs. T. C.
Cummings, in Good Housekeeping.
TIMELY FARM NOTES.
The best way to keep weeds) out of
the fields, is to keep fertility in. The
grass will then assert itself and con
quer the weeds.
Whether potatoes are to be grown
on the level or in ridges depend*
largely on the soil and to some ex
tent of. th* reason. It. would be a
mistake to attempt to raise potatoes
by level culture in a clay soil badly
drained.
When once established alfalfa
should be cut at. least three times
yearly, the first cutting occurring in
June, well before the usual time of
having. If cutting be delayed quality
sniffers. It must, therefore, be-grown
by it-self, unmixed with gra*s.
Vnl un l>le Salve for Horses.
A salve valuable to horsemen, says
the New York Tribune, may be made
of equal quantities by measure of pine
tar, sulphur and lard. Mix the sulphur
with the tar and stir it well, then add
the lard and stir again. Set it.on the
sto\e and simmer for six hours, occa
sionally stirring it. It will cure the
scratches on horses, and galls froin t he
harness. For scratches thoroughly
wash and clean the parts with castile
»r some other good kind of soap, und
ihuu rub ua the salve.