Farm, Harden and Household. Farm Stairs. It is mentioned in the Tsmdon Gar den that when the Cheshire maiket gardeners wish to keep their onions for an unusual length of time, they nail them in bnndlea on the ontaide'of the honse. and, in this way, slightly pro tected from the wet bv the eaves, they keep, on an average, five weeks lon war than those of the same varieties and of the same crop, stored in the ordinary manner. A well-known breeder of Light Brahmaa records it as his experience that from s large rooster you got large chickens, and from a small one, small chickens. He adds :" 1 know this is so. 1 don't care if you have only six pound hens, if you have s twelve pound cock you will get big chickens." A Tennessee correspondent tells the Jtural .Sun that he cured chicken cholera by "taking essence cf ginger oue tablespoonful, putting it in enough water to mix into dough s quart of meal and feeding three times a day." Mr. M. B. liatohman expresses his opinion that ten years from this tune very few strawberries will lie grown for enr city markets without the aid of irrigation. Calves may be turned into a good clover aftermath, or a wheat-stubble, if the yonug clover is thrifty. Half an ounce of salt daily will prevent bloat. It they can get skimmed, or even sour milk until six months old, they will be the better for it. Cows need extra feed, or they will fall off in milk. Corn, or the green fodder, should lie giveu them daily iu addtion to their pasture. Carbolic soap snds left to dry upon their legs will keep flies at a distance. Three hours at noon in a cool, clesu stable will baa grateful change for them from a hot, unshaded pasture. A correspondent of the Poultry World recommends the administration of sulphur for gapes in chickens. He wets the tip of s feather vthe rest being stripped to the quill), and rubs it in the sulphur, and then introduces it iuto the trachea of the sick chicken. One application is found sufficient. A writer in the .YorfAtre-rirru Former gives the followiug hints to those about purchasing milking stock : A crumply born, full eve, head small and abort, dished face, that is, sunk between the eyes, skin soft and loose, deep from th# loin to the udder, and very slim tail Pall Past urine at Meadow*. A luxuriant growth of young, fresh grass in meadows during the fall usnallv tempts farmers to turn in their stock and feed it down. Tins practice is fax too general for the good of meadows, and the " running out" of the beet specie# of grass for hay is due in a great measure to this fall pasturing. Timothy in particular ia a grass which i greatly strengthened by an unchecked fall growth. Ai is well known, the rwot is a sert of bnlb.which can scarcely be considered more than an annual pro duction ; a new stem springs from the side of the old bulb every season. Boon after the old stem is mature or is cut away, a new one starts from a bud near the base of the bulb, growing np in the form of a few leaves, gathering sustenance from the earth and air dar ing the autumn months, preparatory to a more vigorous growth the following season, when the flower stalks appear. Where meadows are composed of mixed grasses, or, as is very commonly the case, red clover and timothy, stock will always eat out the best, leaving the poorest. They will seldom touch the clover, so long as a spear of grass can be found, and of the latter the very best species usually suffer most from late pasturing. Upon very rich soils where the after math appears vigorous and thick, pasturing for a while in autnmn may not cause any considerable injury to the next year's crop, bnt there are very few meadows, and especially in dry seasons, that will long withstand the catting of a crop of hay and close pasturing the same season. As a general practice, it would be a far preferable system to top-dress a meadow aa soon as the hav is removed, and then cut the aflermath.if sufficient ly strung, instead of pasturing. If dry weather follows baying, the second growth will be none too vigorous for giving strength or protection to the roots in winter, and if wet weather fol lows, the tramping of cattle will be more or less injurious according to the nature of the soil and kinds of grasses cultivated. Tea Rales for Farmer*. 1. Take good papers and read them. 2. Keep an acoount of form opera tions. 3. Do not leave implements scattered over the farm, exposed to snow, rain, and beat. 4. Repair tools and buildings st s proper time, and do net suffer subse quent threefold expenditure of time and money. 5. Use money j udicionsly, uJ do not attend anction sales to purchase all kinds of trumpery because it is cheap. 6. See that fences are well repaired, and cattle not grazing in the meadows, or grain fields, or orchards. 7. Do not refuse to make correct ex periments, in a small way, of many new things. 8. Plant fruit trees well, care for them, and of course gat good crops. 9. Practice economy by giving stock shelter during the winter ; also good food, taking ont all that is unsound, half rotten, or mouldy. 10. Do not keep tribes of oats and snarling dogs around the premises, who eat more in a month than they are worth in a life time. Prise Farm. It is a part of the regular business of the English agricultural associations to offer premiums, frequently of SSOO in amount, for the beet cultivated farms. Generally there are three premiums of fered for the first, second and third best of the farms entered for competi tion. In some parts of Germany, in addition to the award of prizes to the best managed farms, the worst culti vated farms are sought out, and the Btudents of the agricultural schools are given the opportnnity of comparing the worst and beat managed farms together. This is a most valuable aid in their education. We commend the idea of awarding preminma to the best-cnlti vated farms of certain districts to the State agricultural societies, believing this would result in great good. The f>rize farms might not be visited by a •rge number of farmers from a dis tance, but the agricultural journals would take pains to make known in the widest manner everything of interest connected with them. W Inter Apples. Get a few nice clean barrels, plsoe them by the bide of your trees in the orchard ; then pick your best fruit off the tree one at a time, carefully laying them in a basket fastened to the ladder oa which yon stand, the frnit to be re moved singly by band into the barrel, and carefully and accurately placed therein, so as to fit tightly and evenly, until it is full. Nail on the lid and put awav in the oellar (if dry) until you wish to dispose of them. Don't do all this just after a raiu, or in early morn ing when the heavy dew ia covering frnit and leaves, bearing in mind that extraneous moisture helps along the decaying procees with unerring oer taiuty. The seoond class fruit, to be used first, may be put in large boxes, or in bins, but at all times, and under all circumstances, handle with the greatest care. Keaptm* K((*. An English paper is authority for the statement that if eggs intended for set ting are stored with the large end down they will keep perfectly good for hatch ing more than a month. The reason given is that the air babble does not spread so much as when the small end is down, and that the spreading of the babble injures the vitality of the egg. A successful poultry breeder in Massa chusetts claims to have proved the cor rectness of this assertion, and he adds that eggs thus treated will all batch at once, instead of varying several boors, AZALEA. Azalea. I shall never forget when th< name first caught nir ere*. It was late at night, aud 1 was sitting up watt-j mg for father's earning homo. Our ro mi, over Lambeth way, was hot and sfcnfl'y, and there was a restlessness on me as 1 sat in the dark, and hvoked out into the street that wns full of moon light, Harry, tny brother, who hao mvn hot and feveriah and drowsy all day, had tumbltxl to aleap on the hearthrug, and there was only bin hard j breathing to break the silence. 1 listened to it till its monotony drove me wild. I walked to and fro till I felt and at last t thought, " 1 will sU uI down and get a mouthful of air. The street's to quiet, 1 shall hear father'a step long before he cornea. And ht mav be glad if I meet bun." So f crept out of the liouae, I was | giad to breathe the fresh air, and itaud the moonlight seamed all ouo, and j ! pithed and quieted me. I wandered down the street towards the river, ami stood at the oorner wailiogaod reveling in thecoolnesa As t did so 1 noticed that the light fell strong upon a board ing, covered with huge posters, round a building they were running up, and it was so light that I could read these quite platulv. Tbarc were many tltia and sniait. but none ao big and show* as one with great letters that seem eel tumbling forwards, and those lettora made the word " Azalea." " Thcv are taller than I am, surely," I thought; "1 will go and measure. They won't tumble on me for all they look ao terrible." And 1 ran over the read—forgetful of all else in the moment and marched up aud dowu in front of the letters, which towered far above as if 1 had ' bean in an arcade. For 1 was little more than a child, and ao small and light that 1 lock ad even younger than I waa. Though Harry aas younger, we j looked much of an age, and were in deed singularly alike, esjeeially as to onr bearing and way of carrying our selves ; but this was not surprising, for Harry as au acrobat's sou had been well trained, and I, out of mere dariag and love of the thuif, oould do all that he could do —some f the feats, father ; said, even better. But perhaps he only said this to spur Harry on, for he was not much given to praising us. He was a hard, stern man, with an eye like An eagle's, blank and scorching under hi? bushy brows, that used to look us ink- obedience without hi a saying ever a word. Still ho was kind to us in his way, and would have been more so, I thiuk, but the acrobat's is a trying life, and the drink ho took inado him irri table. I inarched up and down before the letters, aa 1 have said, and fell to won- Idertng what they meant ; and aa 1 did so, all at onoe a rough hand was twisted into my cutis—they hung right to my want —and a rough voice demanded fiercely what I did there at that hour. It was father—the worse for liquor, I ' could see, for his eyes were like hot coals, and at first he was disposed to be angry ; bnt as he looked op from my terrified faoe to the big lettere, his stern face related, and he loosened his grip of niT hair. "How did you know of this Minnie?" he demanded. " Of what, father?" I stammered. "The poster there. Yon came to look at the fine poster, didn't /ou ? How did you find it out ?" He saw by my look that I did not nnderetaud him, and when I mattered something about only eominw out for a breath of fre*h air, dragged me into the middle ut the road, and with itn press ible pride poinUd again to the grand letters. '• Look at them," he cried. " Beau tiful, ain't they ? I've done the trick at last, my girl. The French gentle man that came to see Harry tumble, I last week, will make our fortunes. Your brother is Azalea 1" 1 was so surprised that I oouid net answer. It fairly took my breath away. He gave one more look fall of pride at the word, and we went back to the house. On tfie way be told me, with a garrulity unusual with him, of what nad happened—how the French gentle man had Lit upon the novelty—how that it consisted of a sort of " vampire trap," from which the performer was to be shot up into the air twenty or thirty feet, and to alight on a stage titers— and how that Harry had just met the French gentleman's requirements, both from his skill and hiß girlish appear ance, because the excitement to be created abeut Azalea would be increased from there being a mystery whether it was a boy or a girL. We entered the house as he finished, and I tripped upstairs and lit a candle, which I gave to father as he entered oor room. Harry was still sleeping on the rug, breathing hard. The light showed ns his face—it was bright red. He has been stricken with fever ; and before the week was out, we two, hud dled together in the corner of a coach, followed the peor boy to his grave. • • • * • • • Azalea took the town. " How !" yon will exclaim ; "was he not really dead, then t" Alas ! yes, and truly, deeply mourned over. My father was jn s passion of grief at his loss, and in deep despair at the consequences. The French gentleman came to the house half-frenzied. "Bat man," cried he, 44 I have spent a fortune in advertising this—this son of yours I" " True, and it is most unfortunate—" my father began. " Ban I" cri ! tho other, and bound ed ont of the room. In doing so he nearly tumbled over ue JB i crouched weeping in the j ::Hsage, so that I cried out. tie stepped aside—started— rapped out a French oath—and darting into the room he had just quitted, slammed-to the door. There was a long conversation in subdued voices, ana when at length he quitted the house, his face was radiant and bis conrtesy profuse. On the mat he presented me with the rote from his buttonhole, and kissed the tips of the tight gloves he seemed to have been born in, all the way as he backed down the steps out into the middle of the road. That night I gave my father a prom ise that 1 would face the public in place of our poor lost Harry, and try my hardest to realize the golden dreams his death had shattered. And later, when he thought me sleeping, I stole out to have another look at the great letters on the wall. They had a freah meaning for me now, and oh, how hnge and terrible they looked I Surely they were bigger than ever as I cowered down before them. And they bent for ward farther and farther, as if to crush me—poor little mite that I was—till I was fain to cry out and tear myself away from them in mortal terror. I kept my word though, and practiced hard, thinking much of what I bad to do and little of what might come of it; sustained, moreover, by encouragement both from my father and the French man—who every day gave me a flower from his button hole, and kissed his glove-tips whenever he caught my eye, as if in that act be administered some reviving cordial—and so at length the flrat night's performance came with tri umph ant results, and Azalea was the idol of the town. There was something vastly pleasant in the position. The performance I had undertaken involved danger every night. But I had no fear, and the ring ing plaudits, and the sweet sense of popularity, drove all thoughts of danger oat of my head. Sometimes I fancied that there was an anxious, a pained look in my father's face, as he waited on me and watched my every movement, inspiring me With confi dence by his eagle glance ; but what ever his apprehensions, I did not share them, ana in time grew easy to indiffer ence. At last—but quite at last—l even overcame my awe of the great let ters on the wall, beside which I was so inslgnifioant, and grew to amusing my self with the fancy that they simply bent forward out of courtesy towards me, joining in the general homage. Bo I was proud and happy in my strange Life, and I might have continued to be so, but for one circumstance. I had noticed, but without attachiug any meaniug to it, that on most nights a particular box occupied by a curious looking person, who watched me with concentrated attention. He was an elderly man. with dyed black hair hanging long aliout a colorless face. A singular ravenous look was in hia eyes, and he had a habit of twitch j ing up ins face, so as to show a long row of white teeth, evidently false. As he sat he would rest his thin bony i hands, clutched together hard, on the front of the box, a tremulous diamond showing that he endUrod strong uervous excitement. These peculiarities 1 should never have noticed, but that all at once a rumor reached me, investing this msu with a terrible interest. 1 came to know 1 cannot tell how that he had s tlxed conviction thai mv career would t( rtmnate fatally, and a half morbid de sire to t>e present on the occasion. Thus he never missed a night, lie was al ways in the house, aud alw.tra, if jam sthle, tti the place ui which 1 had nattoed him. rilowly but surely the presence of ' this uiau, combined with the knowl edge of why he oatno, began to have a strange effect upon me. I began to he hauuted with the thought of him. It uuxed ii(i with my dreams anil broke uy rest It troubled mv wsling hours U such an extent ttist 1 grew nervous, distracted and irritable, and pride and pleasure alike weut. I began to shrink with apprehension from my uighllv task. 1 found uivself speculating on the possibilities of failure, of uiullla- Uou, of sudden death. iVottbt of iny own powers temled toward* real lu rl|i|dilt. The terror of the letters on the wfclli revived, and at sight of the now familiar uatne tuy heart would throb violently, and mv luuha tremble. " If he would only absent himself for once for once only !" 1 found myself reporting all day ; and " You will fail ! YOU will fail !" rang in my mind like a demon chorus. There tx>uld be bnt one end to this. At la*t it came. One night, as I was uerving myself for the great leap (a dead silenoe and hush of expectation IU the housed, and just as 1 had g'ven the signal tins uiau rose from his seat. Ills doing so attracted my gaze, my concen tration was List, mv will was paralysed, l'tie spring sent me flying iute the air— j tiir was a cry, a crash, a surging as of tumultuous ln-ruahiug waves, and then a blank ! After that night Azalea appeared no more. • b • • • In the very clutch of death I was vet spared ; uiy father hat! saved my life ; but I had received injuries which re sulted iu a long and weary illnsea. Happily my exerUous had placed us in comparative afiinence, though the sno eeas had chiedy enriched the old Frenchman, who had never failed, dur ing my long illness, to call daily, leav ing me a flower and his card, until I had whole packs of the latter on the little table at my bedside. When I began to recover we traveled, and once I was horrified at seeing on the platform of a railway station, as we dashed past, the white face of the man who bad waited to gieat over my death. Evantnaily we settled down in a little midland village, where we were nil known, and our antecedents unsus pected. And so the story of my life might have ended, bat that it chanced to me to meet ar.d favorably impress the sou of a gentleman of that neighborhood. He made me the offer of his hand. With the memory of the past vividly before me, I promptly refused. It was not right, I knew, that oue who had filled the compromising position 1 had done should become the wife of a man of family and position. But he would Dot be repulsed. Again and again he . urged his suit, till refusal became rude ness, and there was but one thiug left ■ for me to do. It was necessary to take him into my confidence, and I did so. Need I say that his amazemeut knew no bounds ? He could aut for the mo ment find words iu which to give ex pression to it. When he did, it was only to express his hslf-incredulity. He had, himself, witnessed Azalea's ex ploits. And was it indeed a woman? And I that woman ? " Yon see," I urged, " there is a bar rier betwe- n ua which nothing can overleap. Would to Heaven you could have believed this, and spared me this humiliation." He took my hand. " Minnie," he said, "be my wife." "No, no, no," 1 protested; "con sider your position, your family, the friends it would estrange, the contempt it would bring U)x