VOL XXXI
THE PHOENIX.
Do you know why the PHOENIX bicycle is the most
popular wheel in Pittsburg? Do you know why it won
the Butler-Pittsbugh race, and the Wheeling-Pittsburg?
Simply because bearing, chain, tire, frame—all the
parts —are made of the best material. Because we
build the lightest,easiest running wheel that is safe and
reliable for the roads.
We also make a specialty of an easy running and light
lady's wheel, which is equally popular.
A guarantee is a good thing in its
way. The PHOENIX guarantee cov
ers every point, but the best point ot all
is the fact that repairs or claims for de
fective parts constitute an exceedingly
small per centage of our cost of manu
facture.
For catalogue and other information
o
address,
THE STOVER BICYCLE Mfg. Co.
FREE PORT, ILL.OP
J. E. FORSYTHE, Agent.
BUTLER, PA,
BUTLER FAIR.
September 4, 5,6 and 7, 1894.
Entries in Horse and Cattle Departments
close August 27th.
EXCURSION RATES ON ALL RAILROADS-
For Premium Lists Apply to
W. P. ROESSING, Sec'y.
BUTLER, PA.
DECLINE.
There has been a decline in the
price of materials from which buggies
and other vehicles are made, therefore a
decline in the price of vehicles. Come
quick and see before it advances again.
S. B. MARTINCOURT & CO.
BUTLER, - PA.
• W. F. HARTZELL. L. M. COCHRAN.
BUTLER ROOFING COMPANY,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
—Excelsior Fire-Proof Slate Paint—
For Shingle Roofs,and Ebonite Varnish for all Metal Roofs. Also,
Agents for the Climax Wool and Asbestos Felt, the King
of Roofing Felts.
All kinds of roofs repaired and painted on the shortest notice.
Estimates given on old or new work and the same promptly attended
to.
ALL WORK GUARANTEED.
BUTLER ROOFING COMPANY,
J2O SOUTH MCKEAN STREET, * * * BUTLER, PA.
_W A Summer Drive
Wjjjg&S, loses a measure of its pleasure if the carriage is less lux
urious, easy running and handsome than it might be
Fredonia Buggies
have nothing but good points. They're the handsomest vehicles you can
—arc as strong and secure as they're sightly.
Ask and insist that you see them at your dealer's.
Made by FREDONIA MFG. CO., Youngstown, Ohio.
IN MID-SUMMER \
! <%, npiKß Alt ADVERTISIX*
<%. ■ BTIBULAST FOB BCSISEKB.
X THE CITIZE* SELLS IT. - %
THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
Weak All Over
Is the condition of thousands in hot
weather, especially if the blood is thin
; and impure and the system poorly
nourished. By taking Hood's Sarsaparilla,
1-IOOd'S
JH parilla
■ your blood w ill be £ f«
purified and you trill fl UJL vu
jr.»in strength of mind
nerves and body. P.e *
sure to get Hood's and only Hood's.
Hood's Pills are sate, harmless, sure.
MARTHA WASHINGTON
COOK-BOOK
,g—FREE!
1 320 PACES.
t C=£- h - - ILLUSTRATED.
3 ' One of the Cook
ie STJ Books poblithed. Tt caa
-1 M £1 tuin-> rrcijx s f<>r all kinds
ti of ( Icing Id• , LTt
meats oti Medicine. Lti
> qaette, and Toilet recipes.
6 indexed for handy refcr
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I S MFL!LE>D FRLE,
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WOOLSON SPICE CO,
A Scientist claims the
Root of Diseases to be
in the Clothes we Wear.
The host Spring
remedy for the* hi lies,
etc., is to discard
vour uncomfortable
old duds which irri
tate the bodyr-leave
your measure at
ALAND'S for a
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tit well, improve the
appearance by re
lieving you instant-
O J
lv of that tired feel
ing, and making vou
cV CP J
cheerful and active.
The cost of this
sure cure is very
moderate
TRY IT.
JOHN KEMPER,
Manufacturer of
Harness, Collars,
and Strap V\ ork,
and Fly Nets,
and Dealer in
Whips, Dusters, Trunks and
Valises.
My Goods are all new and strict -
first-c ill work guaran
teed
Repairing a Specialty.
:o: :o:
Opposite Campbell & Templeton's
Furniture Store.
342 S. Main St., - Butler, I'a.
All light suits
at reduced
prices at
THE RACKET STORE.
$8 Suits Reduced to $5
10 Suits Reduced to 8
12 Suits Reduced to 10
THE RACKET STORE
BOOKS
FOR
25 CENTS!
ALTEMUR ED., CLOTH AND
SILVER.
STANDARD WORKS.
NEW ISSUES.
EXAMINE THEM
AT
DOUGLASS'.
Near I'ostoffice.
SONGS MOTHER USED TO SING.
X had listened, but his sermon
Failed to reach my hard old heart.
, He must be a powerful preacher
r Who can make my tear drops start.
But. I toll you, I was softened.
' And tho tears began to fall,
When his voice was raised in singing
Songs I loved when I was small—
When his old voice swelled in singing
Til it made the old church ring
With the melodies my mother
Used to sing!
1 recalled, while he was singing
Those old songs so dear to me.
The dear time of life's bright morning,
When I sat on mother's knee.
Soon my tears were faster flowing
Than in all my life before,
For I heard poor mother singing
As she sans to me of yore.
Oh, the peace that filled my bosom:
All my cares and pains took wing
While he sang the songs my mother
Fsed to sing!
Oh. I care not how hard-hearted
Or ungodly you become;
Care not whither you may wander.
Whither you may n."- :e your hnme;
Until death has closed your eyelids.
To your memory will cling
Those sweet melodies your mother
Used to sing!
—James Rowe, In Good Housekeeping.
Mm* UNT JAKE!"
i Wj/P* ~ , JBR "Well?"
/. U<i Jim's to ice
|-,/w- was jerky,
"" \ pleading, and
1 anxious; Aunt
Jane's quiet and unresponsive.
"There's a balloon ascension over to
j the fair grounds to-morrow."
"I don't know that that concerns me
| —or you."
"It does me, Aunt Jane. I want to
go. Can't I?"
"You have had your day at the fair,
James."
Jim hated to be called James, proba
bly because the only one who had
ever called him so, being Aunt Jane,
always spoke it in a chilly tone.
"But, Aunt Jane," with an increase
of anxiety, "if I'd known there was
going to be an ascension I wouldn't 'a'
went yesterday. I've never seen a bal
loon. I want to—awful bad. I'll —
behave real good."
Jim's voice weakened a little on the
last words; not that he did not mean
an honest, stalwart promise, but that
he knew his behavior on the day be
fore had been open to criticism. He
was not at all surprised that Aunt
Jane agreed with hiiti in this.
"James," in her coldest, quietest
voice, "I suppose you remember some
thing of what took place yesterday."
"I'm sorry—" began Jim, who, to
tell the truth, had not felt any sorrow
for his escapades until they now
seemed in danger of erecting a wail
between himself and further fun.
"It's no good to be sorry, but it is
some good for me to know that you
are kept out of mischief. You got
into a fight with the boj's from Holmes'
school. You let some of the prize
ducks out of their cage and they were
chased by the boys, and I had to pay
for them. You"—Aunt Jane's tone
showed that she was approaching the
climax of Jim's sins—"rode on one of
the race ponies."
"It wasn't in a race. It was just
some of us trying the ponies. It went
good, too, and they said I rode tip top,"
Jim continued, consumed by his long
ing desire for just such a pony.
"What did you look like when you
came home?"
"Well—l tore my clothes, I know.
And —but this bump's going down, and
my eye'll be all right by to-morrow.
Annt Jane, please : et me! I'll behave
well—honest and tine 1 will."
"1 think you have had enough of the
fair, and that settles it."
Jim knew it did. He Walked out
without another word, but with just
the birth of another thought in his
mind—a thought so wild that at first
it arose only to be Bet aside.
He sped into the hayloft and threw
himself down in a paroxysm of anger
and despair. The cool air blew in
upon his hot cheeks, and the great
elms, their yellowing leaves one by one
beginning to lose their hold on tho
branches, whispered in the autumn
breeze. The grass was still green, and
everything about the prosperous, well
kept farm was pleasant to look upon.
But Jim hated it. From the time of
the death of his parents, two years
before, he had made his home with
another branch of the family, in a
house full of rollicking boys and girls,
who received, perhaps, rather too
little than too much training. Then
I circumstances had ordered that he
should go to Aunt Jane's.
He had been received with kindness
whinh was not intentionally cold.
Miss Preston desired to do her duty by
her orphan nephew. He was well
provided with all that a boy belonging
in a well-to-do family should have.
But before he had been for a week in
the big house on the big farm, Jim, if
he had been that kind of a boy, would
have cried his heart out with lonely
homesickness.
Not being that kind of a boy, he
took refuge in things about him, mak
ing friends with servants and animals,
soon liking and being liked by all ex
cept Aunt Jane. She, cherishing a
belief that boys were prone to ill-do
ing and must be held down, did her
best to keep him repressed by her chill
manner.
He grew fairly to hate the measured
tone, sometimes indulging in a willful
bit of mischief by way of finding re
lief in rousing Aunt Jane to a little
show of auger.
As he,now lay in the hay, his whole
soul arose in a rebellion quite foreign
1 to his naturally genial disposition.
With a little management Jim could
have developed a frank and generous
good will which would have made him
a most lovable inmate of any home.
"I won't stand it!" he cried to him
self. "I hate Aunt Jane, and—she
hates me. Yes, I know it. She always
stops me in everything 1 want to do.
I won't mind her. I'll—go to the fair
in spite of her!"
It was a daring thought, but the
relish of it increased as he dwelt on it.
"Yes, I will! I'll go, and I'll stay
all day. And I'll do everything I want
to do. If she'd been good about It and
let me go, y$ have been a good boy.
BITTLKH. FA.,FRIDAY. AUGUST IT, 1894.
"What'll she say when I com®
home?"
The wild thought grew with the
cherishing.
"I won't come back! I hate it here.
I'd rather go and work for my living
somewhere. I'll—ride a race horse."
The idea was delightful in its utter
recklessness. Doubly so because it
would be shocking to Aunt Jane.
Early the next morning Jim stood in
his room, firmly set in his new pur.
pose.
The suit of clothes he had worn at
the county fair lay on a chair, mended
with the painstaking care which Aunt
Jane brought to all that she did. If
Jim could have remembered a singlo
really tender word or look from his
aunt, it may be supposed that his
heart would have been touched by this
evidence of her care for him. If even
she had once in a while roundly
scolded him, it would have been, Jim
thought, refreshing; but that cold
look and measured voice—ah!
"I'll wear my best suit —yes, I will!
What's the difference? As I'm never
coming hack, she can't roll up her eyes
and look shocked at me. And I don't
care if I do spoil 'em. either!"
An hour later at breakfast time Jim
could not be found, nor did any reply
come to the numerous >:alls of his name.
"I'm ready to guess I know where
he's gone, though, ma'am," said the
housekeeper. "I saw him go out the
side gate an' roun' the back of the barn
just after I got up. So I reckoned in
my own mind he'd gone to the fair.
Possessed about that balloon he was,
all yesterday. Just liko boys, you
know, ma'am," with a-look which con
veyed an appeal for mercy for the
criminal.
But Aunt Jane set her lips together,
thinking within herself that for a lady
who had never done such a foolish
thing as get married it was really
rather hard to be bothered by the boys
of other people.
But as the hours wore on Miss Jane's
hardness relaxed a little. She was
uneasy at the thought of the scatter
brained boy being at the fair, with no
one to look after him.
The quiet of the place seemed op
pressive. She hud learned, scarcely
realizing to herself, to like the sound
of the careless shout and rattling talk,
not to speak of the bright eyes which
were so like those of her brother who
left home so long ago as the result of
a trifling quarrel, never to come back.
"I believe I'll drive over to the fair
grounds myself," she observed early
in the afternoon. "I really wanted to
get hold of a few of those premium
Hubbard squash seeds. And this being
the last day, I could likely get them."
Jim was having a glorious time at
the fair. He whipped a boy who was
abusing a smaller boy, dashed in
among a lot of horses to catch hold of
one which was getting beyond the con
trol of the woman who drove it, found
a lost little girl and walked around
with her for an hour in search of her
friends, drank too much lemonade and
ate too many peanuts, quarreled with
some boys at a merry-go-round and got
knocked off one of the wooden horses,
rode a donkey in a race, and, after
having been lavishly dined by the
mamma of the found little girl, was
fully ready to enjoy the balloon as
cension.
The crowd was oollecting around it,
with the usual Inside fringe of boys;
the very inside fringe being composed
of those happy boys who (rtianced to
have no one looking after them.
Prominent among these was, of course,
Jim.
He balanced on the very edge of the
hole in the ground in which was built
a fire over which the balloon, in pro-
Cess of being filled with hot air, bobbed
and swayed ip a manner most exciting
and aggravating to boys who could
not get inside the more afid more
closely-packed crowd. He conversed
with the balloon man, offering to go
up with him on that, or—remembering
that he was now to look out for his
own living—any other day.
"Think you'd like it, do you?" said
the man.
"Yes, I know I should."
"But I go on the trapeze, till I get
clear up. Then I climb into the
basket."
"I'd do that," agreed Jim. "You let
me try it."
"I guess you'd better wai* a bit,"
This was disappointing; 'out Jim, re
solved to learn all the ins and outs of
balloon travel, continued to mix him
self with matters in a way which
brought upon him more than one rat
ing from those engagedictlie inflation
of the big toy.
"All ready."
"Hurrah! hurrah!"
Cheers rang up from a thousand
voices as at length the aeronaut
threw off his outide clothing and ap
peared in p suit of gayly colored
tights.
"Out of the way!" shouted a man, in
a voice of dismay.
The shout was for Jim. As the tra
peze ropes which had been lying slack
straightened out with the loosening of
the huge ball from the confining cords,
Jim felt a rasping along his neck,
caused by a swiftly moving rope. Then
it tightened, and. with a gasp, lie laid
desperate hold of it above his head, as
a half-noose cut cruelly into his neck.
Cries of idnrm filled the air, but just
now ringing with cheers. A dozen
arms were reached out in attempt to
help, but the boy had in one instant
been jerked out of reach above tho
heads of the crowd.
"Hold on! hold tight!' -
Frantic shrieks followed him.
"Don't let go. or you'll be dashed to
pieces.
"Good fellow! Brave boy! Hold
on!"
The aeronaut had just time to let go
his hold on the trapeze, his quick eyo
at once perceiving l that his weight
I i ■: b§ - «
I />i
'Jmm
HE CONVERSED WITH TUE BAI.I.CON MAN.
on the rope would take away the last
chance for the boy's life.
At that moment there fell upon Jim's
ear a familiar voice, raised to a pierc
ing cry.
"It's my boy! Mine—mine! Let him
down! Give him to me!"
And for one moment his terror
stricken glance fell upon Aunt Jane's
face—not cold and forbidding, but
strained in an agony of tender fear.
With a scream» of fright his eyes met
hers in a frantic appeal for help—the
help he knew she could not give.
The chorus of excited voices mingled
in a hollow roar, then died in silence
as Jim went, up—up—still struggling
with that cruel rope. At last he got
it around one arm, then another,
loosening that choking pressure about
his throat. Another passing of the
rope about liis arms, each one attended
with fearful effort. The blood rushed
to his head. There was a blackness
before his eyes and a roaring in his
ears.
Another violent struggle for the lif*
which s«emed so sweet no\v that It
might be going from him. He gained
another twist on the rope, and conld
now draw a free breath.
A frlance below turned him sick and
giddy. As through a mist he got a
glimpse of the distant landscape. He
was moving on and up, a helpless speck
between heaven and earth.
Where was he going? When should
he stop—and where? Would it be
hours in which he must be held in this
wise? Would darkness find him still
drifting at the mercy of the wind?
Then another thought came. Thts
was being his own master—starting
out to have his own way! What a wild
longing seized him to be back among
the quiet farm scenes which he had
fiometimes found irksome! Even Aunt
Jane's peculiarities could be borne.
Bat how about that look caught from
Aunt Jane's eyes? No coldness or in
difference there, surelv.
Along with a cry for help went a fer
vent resolution to make better use of
his life if the blessed opportunity
should come.
"He' 6 drifting over the lake."
"Then that'll be the last of him."
"No—not if he gets down before
•lark."
Excitement had run wild on the fair
ground. Women cried and fainted,
and men turned white, as the boy
was carried beyond reach of possible
help. Throats were hoarse with shout
ing after him directions which could
not be heard.
Aunt Jane, beside herself with ex
cited alarm, was taken in kindly
hands, and conveyed home against her
vigorous protest.
"We'll bring you the news the first
moment," she was assured. "We'll
follow hitn up alid keep constant
watch."
Numbers of the country neighbors
followed the slowly-moving balloon,
which at no time rose beyond easy ob
servation. Boats were had in readi
aess as at length it hung over the lake.
"It's coming down!"
"What makes me feel so funny,
tvhen I ain't hurt a bit?"
Jim asked it when near the end of
liis quick ride home, sitting on the
bottom of a light buggy with his head
an the seat. He was glad to lay it
flown again after a look around.
"No wonder you feel funny, mv lit
tle chap." said his kindly caretaker.
"No —you're not hurt, but it will take
i few days of your aunt's nursing to
jet you back where you were."
And there she was —-Aun't Jane rush
ing to meet him, witii a cry of thank
fulness. As she clasped him in her
&rms it might have occurred to both
that they had found something which
Ihey hail before been missing.
If Aunt Jane had, she never said so.
But in later years of his happy boy
hood. Jiin sometimes said to himself:
'I had to go up iu a balloon to find out
some things."—Christian Work.
—ln Big Luck. —Otis De Smith—"You
seem to be in high feather, Snobberly."
Bnobberlv —"Ah, yaas, I am in high
spirits! I've bad tremendous luck—al
nost found a four-leafed clovah. don't
per know. I found one with three
leaves, bah Jove!" —Texas Siftings.
She Will Die an Old Maid.
Richard —By the way, how do you
»nd Miss Smart get along?
William —Oh! that affair Is all over.
Richard—You don't mean it?
William—You see, I'd made up my
mind about a week ago to bring mat
ters to a crisis. So I began by saying
that I had a question I wanted to ask
her.
Richard—Yes.
William —She tossed her head and
said any fool could ask questions.
Richard—And you?
William —I merely told her perhaps
it would be just as well, then, to let
some fool ask my question.—Boston
Transcript.
Hardly Salted to the Occasion.
Editor (looking over reporter's copy)
—What's this! "Our esteemed fellow 1
citizen, Col. Jones, is believed to be at
death's door?" Didn't we print a
sketch of Col. Jones' career some time
back? Look it up. and bring it up to
date in case he should die to-night.
Reporter (after an inspection of the
flies) —Here it is, sir, but I'm afraid it
won't do for an obituary. It was writ
ten when wo were opposing Col. Jones
for the legislature.—Life.
An Important Post.
Store Boy—Can't get off to-day. We're
takin' an inventory of stock. Awful
bus}*.
Chum—Wot good are you in taking
inventories?
Store Roy—Good? I'm more impor
tant than the head bookkeeper. I wash
the flyspecks off last year's goods.—
Good News.
INTELLIGENCE OF FISH.
Tourist —You told me the lake was
full of fish, but I couldn't get a bite all
day.
Landlord—Well, you see. they have
no faith in your bait. They Uiink that
if you had anything de- .-ut to eat you
would feed yourself. —Fliegende lilact
ter.
An Exception.
"Was you at de weddln' ob Matilda
Snowball?"
"Yes, indeedy, I was dar. I enj'yed
de ceremony werry much. I usually
enj'ys it werry much, but dar is one
young lady I wish I had nebber seed
married."
"Who kin she be?"
"My wife; but don't tole her I said
so."—Alex Sweet, in Texas Siftings.
The Newest School.
Patron —Can you tell what ails my
wife?
Doctor—She does not take enough
outdoor exercise.
"She does not feel like it."
"True. She needs toning up."
"What have you prescribed?"
"A new bonnet."—N. Y. Weekly.
An Obstacle.
Little Bessie (the only child of her
mother, who is a widow) —Don't you
like me?
C'astleton —Why, yes, my dear; what
made you think I didn't?
Bessie—Mamma said she didn't know
but you would object to me. —N. Y.
Herald.
Those Endlcn* Questions.
"Whose funeral is that?"
"Gashwiler's."
"What! Is Gashwiler dead?"
"Not that I know of. He is probably
riding around in the hearse ft>r the fun
of the thing."—Truth.
Naturally Follow*.
"Higgamore can put all his house
hold goods into one truck watgon."
"Higga'norc is a sensitive soul, isn't
he?"
"Eh?"
"So easily moved. See?"»—Chicago
TVihnn..
THE ART OF SALTING
Some tioo*l Advice for l'urmem Who Rot
Small l>*lrlr».
If those of our readers- who are
making store butter or any cheap
grade could follow it to the consumer
they would be able to see things from
another standpoint. And as it is a
fact that most of the butter is still
made on the farm and also that it is In
ferior in quality as determined by the
price received, the matter is surely
worth locking into. Let us consider
that portion of common dairy butter
which is not classed as snap grease,
but is clean and sweet and would have
sold at creamery quotations but for
defects which might have been reme
died. The topic this time will be the
salting. Of prime importance is the
quality of the salt.
Ordinary barrel salt is unfit for but
ter. It is coarse, harsh, hard to dis
solve and impure. This should be suf
ficient to banish it entirely from the
dairy, but it does not, and thereby a
great loss is sustained. When the
wholesaler gets a load of this butter
he shaves it up thin and shokes out
the salt. lie doesn't do this for noth
ing. He then rechurns it in some skim
milk to impart a flavor, for the water
which took out the salt left it flat fla
vored. Then he salts with good dairy
salt, works and packs it and puts it on
the market. All this is expensive, and
even then the product is not as good
as it would have been had this extra
treatment been unnecessary.
Under no circumstances use common
salt Get the best dairy salt. The Gen
essee is all right every time, and sev
eral other kinds are also good. Some
experts have a preference for one kind,
some for another, but in the private
dairy a salt which is not only pure and
soft (so it will not tear the grain), but
dissolves quickly, is desirable. This is
because the temperature of the com
mon farm dairy room is not under con
trol, and the butter may be injured by
simply standing for the "slow" salt to
dissolve. On this account, the writer
advises the farm butter-maker to
learn to salt in the churn. It saves
time, saves work, saves exposure frnd
keeps the churn sweet, for salt is a
germ killer with a power to keep sub
stances from decomposition.
Salt the butter as soon as washed.
Sprinkle the salt over it, then slowly
revolve the churn a few times and the
salt and butter will be mixed. The
moisture in the butter will speedily
dissolve the salt, and then the surplus
brine can be pressed out, and the but
ter "is finished." Salting in the churn
eaves working, for there will be no
streaks to get rid of. But be sure the
butter is in granular form when the
salt is put in. If it is all in a lump
then do as you please with it and be
responsible for the result. It can b©
made good butter, perhaps, but it is a
ticklish job. a job calling for hard
work, and few there be that succeed.
There is no sense in taking these
risks, for it always means unnecessary
work, and generally cheap butter. In
churn salting, use more salt, because
the butter is very moist, and a given
amount of salt will be in a more diluted
solution than it would with less water.
About ounces to the pound will give
the same quantity of salt in the finished;
butter as one ounce to the pound
when salted on a worker. —Orange
Judd Farmer.
FOR COOLING MILK.
A Bfoch Through WhU-li th© Air ( an Cir
culate Freely.
Cooling the milk as soon as possible
after it has been taken from the cow
is essential to successful dairying. In
well-equipped dairies this is done by
means of aerators, or by setting the
milk in vessels containing fresh cold
water. Where none of these means are
at hand the same effect may be pro
duced, although to a less degree, by
using a bench such as is shown in the
illustration. It can be of any conven
ient length, and it will be handiest to
BENCH FOB COOLING MILK,
have it just wide enough to hold two
rows of cans, pails or whatever vessels
are used for cooling the milk. Make
it as you would the frame of an ordi
nary home-made bench, putting in
one support running lengthwise, half
way between the two long pieces
which connect the legs. Crosswise
over this frame stretch heavy strong
wires about an inch apart and staple
them t'> the side pieces and also to the
center piece. Light, narrow strips of
iron placed at regular intervals will
also answer the purpose. The two
rows of vessels will then be placed up
on metal having no chance to touch
the wooden frame and the air will
come in contact with all sides of them.
The bench must be kept in a cool
place.—Orange Judd Farmer.
DAIRY SUGGESTIONS.
A LOSS of appetite and a drooping
head are among the first indications of
illness in the cow.
REMEMIIKK, it is the very best butter
that brings the highest price, not that
which is only average in quality.
WHILE wheat bran is a good feed lor
milk cows, it should always be fed
with stronger grain to secure the best
results.
IT is a point in handling cream not to
allow it to become 100 sour, for the
butter takes and keeps the flavor of
the cream.
To SECURE the best development with
a young heifer she should not be bred
for a second calf until her first calf is
at least lour months old.
THE temperature for churning, ac
cording to the standard rule, is from
58 to 03 degrees, but different cream
often requires a different temperature.
Cows THAT are imperfectly milked
from whatever cause, either careless
or imperfect milking from the fault of
the milker, or from the difficult task
by reason of the anatomical construc
tion of the udder, soon degenerate into
worthless animals. —Farmers Voice.
Cheaper.
Nodd—l thought you were going tg>
get up a fair to pay off your church
debt.
Todd—We were. Hut the congrega
tion heard of it and made up the amount
at once.—N. Y. Herald.
Correct.
Little Orpheus—Say, pa, what Is a
banquet?
Pater —A banquet, my boy, is a place
where bodies are stuffed and brains
are starved.—Arkausaw Traveler.
Resigned to the Depression.
Smythe—Do the hard times affect
your business?
Landlady (theatrical boarding-house)
—Not at all; my boarders wouldn't pay
anyhow. —Raymond's Monthly.
A U>MOD In Manner*.
Little Boy—How long have you had
that doll?
Little Miss—This is a girl doll, an'
you ouglin't to ask her age. —(rood
News.
Her View of It.
She —I don't see how anybody can
like caviare. It's a depraved taste,
He —No, it's a cultivated taste.
She —Well, that's the same thing.—
Life.
Iler Children.
Justice O'Halloran—Have you any
children. Mrs. Kelly?
Mrs. Kelly—l hov two livin' an' wan
married. —Boston Home Journal.
A NEW INSECTICIDE.
Thought to He More effective and Desir
able Than Pari* Green.
A new and important discovery in
the domain of pomology has been made
by F. C. Moulton, of the gypsy moth
commission. Maiden. Mass. Arsenate
of lead was the substance used which
was prepared by dissolving 11 ounces
of acetate of lead and 4 ounces of arsen
ate of soda in 150 gallons of water.
These substances quickly dissolve
and form arsenate of lead, a fine
white powder which is lighter than
paris green and while being fully as
effective in its operation in destroying
insect life is far preferable for several
reasons. If by any means the mixture
happens to be used stronger than
necessary to destroy insect life, even
three or four times the necessary
strength, it in no wise injures the foli
age of the plants upon which it is
sprayed. This is a great thing in its
favor, for frequently in using pari*
green for potato beetle larvro and for
the cotilin worms, as much injury re
sults from the poison burning the foli
age as would result from the insect if
let alone.
This Is a better insecticide than paris
green under all circumstances and for
all insects, says Prof. Fernald. It has
the advantage of being readily seen on
the leaves, so that one can tell at a
glance which have and have not been
sprayed, which is often of great con
venience. Being lighter than paris
green, It does not settle so quickly,
and, as a result, can be distributed
more evenly over the foliage. A great
objection to the use of paris greec. is
the liability of using an overdoae, and
thereby injuring the foliage of the
{ilants sprayed. With the arsenate of
ead, it can be used, If necessary, In
the proportion of 25 pounds to 150 gal
lons of water without injury to the
foliage. Prof. Fernald advises the ad
dition of 2 quarts of glucose, or if that
cannot be obtained 2 quarts of molas
ses to each 150 gallons of water, used
for the purpose of causing the Insecti
cide to adhere to the leaves. He says
the experiments last season show that
the Insecticide will remain on the trees
for a long time, even after quite heavy
rains, and we Infer, prove effective.
The cost of these chemicals is given at
8 cents per pound for arsenate of soda
and 14 cents for acetate of lead, at
wholesale. It should be borne in mind
that these substances are all poison
ous, and should be used with as great
care as paris green.
THE ART OF GRAFTING.
Bark and Rind Grafting and the Cleft
Method Explained.
There is occasion for grafting, now
and then, on almost any place, small
as well as large. We like to test fruits;
but we do not like to continue raising
poor varieties year after year. The
poor varieties, just as soon as their in
ferior character becomes known, must
?'ive way to good ones, or to others for
rial. We have hundreds of varieties
of tree fruits. As they come into bear
ing and are found to be worthless,
cions are to be inserted the very next
spring. Consequently there will be
need of this operation almost every
year for years to come. With grape
vines it is only different In so far as we
already know what we want to keep,
and what varieties we desire to ex
change for better ones. We can do all
our grape grafting In the spring and
have done with it almost forever.
Grafting, of course, Is the quickest
method of getting a good tree or vine
In place of a worthless one. At the
end of May for instanoe it is rather
late for the operation, yet we can
succeed well enough provided we have
the cions, and these should not have
started far into growth. The grape
oions, indeed, must be perfectly dor
mant. Good cions, however, often do
better when inserted into wood afCer
growth is started than at any other
period. The trees to be operated on
might have been head down in autumn
or during early winter. We have usu
ally employed the ordinary graft meth
od. The accompanying illustration
(reduced from Garden work) repre
sents at the left a grafted limb, tied
and waxed. The wax or clay is spread
on the amputated part (A) of the
stock, on the wound (E) at the junc
tion of the cion with the stock, and on
top of the cut cion (0). The terminal
bud (U) is not covered, nor the embed
ded bud (Y) in the incision.
Bark or rind grafting, as shown at
the right of illustration, is usually as
successful as cleft grafting and often
more convenient, and perhaps better
for the future health of the tree. If
the stock is large, a number of cions
cut to resemble the specimen shown
at the extreme right may be Inserted.
To avoid irregular splits in the bark,
a longitudinal incision (D) may be
made in the bark. This will not only
facilitate the sliding of the cion (0),
but also permit the others to be at
case. After tying the crown of the
stock, top of cions and front and
back on the bark of the stock, may bo
waxed or clayed. Clay and fresh cow
mauure. well mixed together and made
soft like putty, is often used in Europe
in place of wax for covering- grafts.—
American Gardening.
SAWDUST IS not A bad mulching ma
terial for fruit treeu and small fruits,
especially after it has been used for
bedding horses.
NEVER weary of welldoing und spray*
Ing, at least not until the fruit is out
of danger from insects and disease.
A Wlic Scarecrow.
"I say," said the tramp to the scare
crow, '"let's swap clothes."
"Not I," said the scarecrow. "Fact
is, it would never do."
"Why not?" said the tramp.
"Well, the crows, seeing me, are
scared. They think I'll run after 'em.
Hut if they thought I was like you
they'd know I'd rather fall asleep. I
tell you, old man, crows know a thiug
or two. They judge by appearances."
—Harper's Young People.
Helping rap*.
A minister's wife was starting out
for a walk and invited her little daugh
ter to go with her.
"Xo, mamma, 1 can't," was the very
positive reply.
"Why not?"
'"I have to help papa."
"Help papa! In what way?"
"Why, he told me to sit here in this
corner and keep quiet while he wrote
his sermon, and 1 don't believe he is
half done yet."—Washington Star.
Wauted Uli Name Chanced.
"Well, John," said the judge to a
pigtail celestial, "what can I do for
you?"
"Want to gette name changed."
"What's your name now?"
"Sing Sing. No goodee. Gette
changed to Walbee Twice."
"To 'Warble Twice?'"
"Yey. All same Sing Sing."—Te*aa
No. 33.
A BENEVOLENT BARON.
lit* Big Winning* on the Turf Distribute*
Among the Poor.
Rather more than a year since, says
the London Telegraph, we gave a list
of the charitable donations bestowed
by Baron de Hirsch in 1893 upon the
hospitals. homes and benevolent instl*
tutions which he had selected as recip
ients of the large sums of money won
by him upon the turf in public stakes
in 1891 and 1803. In the first of these
years the baron won about £85,000 and
in the second year about $175,000, in
cluding such small items as moneys
paid to the secoud In selling races and
the prizes attaching to second and third
places in general races. Altogether
the sum amounted to about $210,000.
and this munificent gift represented
the baron's gross winnings in public
stakes, from which no deduction was
made for theexpenseof training a large
stud of horses, for traveling charges,
forfeits, stakes, jockey's fees and other
items comprised in the large and
swollen bills with which owners of
race horses are but too familiar. It
was universally admitted that the for
tunate owner of the famous mnre La
Fleche. by whom the greater portion
of the above named large sum was
won, had displayed great generosity
in friving away all his winnings for
charitable purposes without subtract
ing his expenses. What is to be said,
however, when, as in the present in
stance, the example set by the baron
in 1893 is not only followed but dupli
cated in 1894? During the racing sea
son which close in November last
Baron de Dlrsch's horses won in public
stakes about 837,500. This seemed to
him, and to the kindly almoner
through whom In both cases the
baron's bounty has flowed, to be
but a small sum for distribu
tion in comparison with the no
ble contribution to London charities
made in the previous year. Under
these circumstances the baron re
marked that, without establishing a
precedent, he had made up his mind to
double the sum that his gross winnings
amounted to in 1893, and accordingly
he drew a check for 875,000, which he
handed to his friend for distribution.
It was his wish that this sum should be
divided among London hospitals and
charitable institutions, and 866,500 was
thus disposed of, the balanoe remain
ing having been reserved for sundry
smaller calls.
ST. PAUL'S INSURANCE.
Nearly Half a Million In Money-Many
Precautions Taken Agalnit Lightning.
St. Paul's cathedral is insured, says
"Spare Moments." Out of the total
proceeds of the fabric fund, for keep
ing the building in repairs, about 86,000
a year—Bl,2so is expended on a policy
of insurance against fire. The church
is insured to the extent of 8495,000. 80
far as human precautions are of avail,
the cathedral Is secure against light
ning on a scientific plan which was
suggested by the Royal society, as far
back as 1769.
The seven iron scrolls which support
the ball and cross, are connected with
other rods, used as conductors, whioh
unite them with several large iron
bars descending obliquely to the stone
work of the lantern, and connected bv
an iron ring, with four other iron bars
to the leaden covering of the great
uipola. a distance of fifty feet. Thenoe
ttie communication is continued down
ward by the rainwater pipes to the
lead-covered roof, and thence again by
leaden water pipes which pass down
into the earth, partly through iron,
and partly through lead. On the clock
tower, looking down Ludgate Hill, a
bar of iron connects the pineapple or
namentation at the top with the iron
staircase which leads up to it inside,
and thence to the lead on the roof oi
ths church.
The bell tower at the northwest an
gle is similarly protected. By thesA
lueens the metal used In the building
is made available for the work of con
ductors, the metal itself being em
ployed merely for that purpose, being
exceedingly small in quantity when
compared with the bulk of the fabric
which it serves to secure.
AN ARMLESS NIMROD.
Bag* More Game Than Any Other Hunter
in the Same County.
An armless Nlmrod is the wonder of
the people and the envy of the sports
men of Bucks county, says the Phlla?
delphia Record. He Is John Simon, of
Zion Hill, and his prowess is some
thing marvelous. Simon's arms were
ground off above the elbows in ma
chinery a few years ago, but his lovG
of hunting spurred his ingenuity, and
he overcame his seeming insurmounta
ble obstacle. He straps his single-bar
rel, breech-loading hammerless gun io
nis right arm, and when he sights
game he swings the piece over ths
stump of his left arm, takes quick aini
and fires, generally with telling effect.
His mode of loading is as uniae as his
shooting. He carries the shells in his
hat, and when he wants one bows low,
drops his hat on the ground, pulls ou{
the ampty shell with his teeth and in &
similar manner loads, then pushing
his head into his hat to re-cover hfl
head. Despite his affliction, Simon
has done some of £he best shooting in
Bucks county the past year, his record
Standing: Sixteen opossums, flvs
pheasants, five dozen blackbirds, thirty-
Seven rabbits and twenty-one quail.
Tramping (or • Purpose.
An amusing story is told of the late
Prof. Henry Morley. Some years ag6
when the "slumming" boom was occu
pying general attention he was ftC
cos ted one day by a peculiarly emaciat
ed and ragged Individual, who solicited
Aid in moving terms. Prof. Mor lev,
who was proof against such pe
titions, responded with a silver collL
"Thank you, Prof. Morleyi I'm inuOQ
obliged," su!d the man. "You know
pie, eh?" 4 'Yes, I attended your leC-
Sures at King's College in 1860." "Pea#,
oar, I'm sorry to see you in this state,"
"Not at all, my dear professor, I am
doing some articles for my paper, and
the editor insists on my making my ffy*
searches in character, will you dine
with me to-night?" and he handed a
card bearing a well-known name.
Collecting; Statistics.
A northern gentleman asked an old
negro, who was the driver of a cart to
■which was attached a venerable mule:
"How old is the mule, my colored
friend?"
"He am like yersef, boss, pretty well
on in life."
"But how many years?"
"Same as you, boss, only two."—
Alex Sweet, in Texas Siftings.
And He Had Nothing to Say.
Husband—Now, I think this is going
too far. You promised me you would
countermand your order for that dress.
Wife—l wrote that very day.
"But here Is the dress and the bill
for it—enough to bankrupt me, almost.
How do you explain that?"
"I gave you the letter, and suppose
you forgot to post it, as usual."—An
swers.
A Thorough Confession.
"Herbert," she said, "tell me one,
thing, and tell mo truthfully. Were
you ever Intoxicate* 4 ''"
"Well," replied the young man, "I
•was air-tight once."
"What <lO you mean?"
"I had a tooth pulled and tool*
laughing gas."—Washington Star.
Well Seasoned Joke.
"We don't want bear stories," said
the editor. "Our readers demand some
thing spicy."
"Well," said the man with the paan- ;
uscript, "this a story is about ft clan*-
fett toftr. VjtacieA!* 1