THE RAT. i A Tale of the "Third Degree. By J. RAMSEY REESE. The chief of the detectives tat alone in Mulberry street From behind the gren swinging door which led from liis private office to the assembly room and the Rogues' Gallery he could hear a rumble of voices while the de tective sergeants talked over the crooks who had ben "stood up" at roll call for Identification and future remembering. The system of memor ies at Police Headquarters la primary, but undeniably effective. He could even distinguish the click of the brass catches as some one earching through the "gallery" un loosened panel after panel of the hinged wall photograph album. The chief's brows were contracted and he pulled at his beard. He had not been head of the Central Office for many months, and, besides, he was alone and might allow himself momentary relaxation ol feature forbidden him In the presence of his subordinates, who must be impressed with an offi cial front It was annoying worse than an noyingit was dangerous. The mur der was a week old, and already the newspapers were in full cry over the Inefficiency of the department. He knew that the Detective Dureau was expected to "make good." And "mak ing good" meant making arrests. If the situation had not been a desper ate one he would not have ordered the bringing in The Ratthe night be fore. Warren and Murphy had taken tUm In McTurk's, with the Bing Sing cell chalk Unt still In his face. He had not been out six weeks, and he was very drunk. And so the Rat had keen taken, and the chief of the de tectives had sent across the street to ay that reporters might call at four and be told how the mystery had been solved. He sighed heavily as he re flected, for the Detective Bureau was more to be desired than a precinct. And he had been long enough in uni form to relish the privilege of wearing citizens' clothes, to say nothing of having his picture printed in the news papers a great many times, with, as tute remarks upon crime which he fre quently distributed, neatly typewrit ten. He looked at his watch. It was half alter three. Then he leaned forward In his chair and touched an electric desk button. A uniform sergeant re sponded. The chief nodded. "Harry" he said, "bring In The Rat." The green door opened and closed, and opened again as The Rat entered. He slouched half way across the room, and, turning, glared at the chief, who said "Good morning" affably enough and pointed to a chair placed so that the light from the courtyard would strike the face of Its occupant fairly. His appearance did not belle his title this man The Rat. He was a sharp featured, stunted creature, with thin hair tha grew far down upon his neck and clustered about his eyes, which were set strangely close to gether. His mouth lacked the curve of expression, without which no mouth Is human; and the upper lips was so short that it gave one the impression of being continually drawn back in an ugly sneer. Not a pleasant spectacle to dwell upon was The Rat. The chief looked at him hungrily. "If I could only make him stand for It," he thought, "it would be the pret tiest sort of a story. He looks the part. The papers would print dia grams of his head, and sent women re porters to write about inherited crim inal Instinct It would square me for six months." This is what the chief thought. . What he said was, "So you've come back to us. eh" The Rat swore. "Cut that out" said the chiof, pleasantly. "You're sober now. We're only holding you till you . tell us where you were Tuesday night. That's all. They found 'Dutch' Galla gher over on Crystal Square early Wednesday morning. There was a knife and a red handkerchief, Rat These!" With a quick movement the Chief whipped the knife and handker chief from the top drawer of his desk and held them towards the prisoner. But The Rat was emotionless. He looked at the detective and the ob jects he held In his hand. There was no surprise or fright, only hatred In his gaze. The chief leaned over the desk. His voice was soft and almost appealing. It came from between bis lips that were well-nigh locked, and he touch ed The Rat's arm. "It's silk with a bloodstain." The prisoner swore again compre hensively. . "I ain't afraid of your third dogree." he snarled. "Bring It along. I know it's coming. They told me all about It up the river. There's a greengoods man up. there in tier 7. named Burke. He works In the bake house because he ain't no good on th"e stone piles. He's got one side of his face stove in, and three fingers twist ed together where two of your ward men give him the Jltsu turn. Yon hired a stoolpidgeon to squeal on him, and because be wouldn't split on a pal, you done him." The man's voice rose to half a scream. "You done him," ne nowiea, "juBt as you 11 do me." "Don't be a fool." said the chief gently. There were beads of perspira tion on his brow. He would have liked to beat in the face of the sodden creature in front of him. But Instead he purred to him. "This was different, Rat," he said wheedllngly. "Galla gher was drunk. You know he was always ugly when he was drunk. There was fight He was going to kill you, nd you killed him. You killed him In self-defence. You understand In self-defence." The Rat leered openly. "Doyers street f'r you,," he chuckled with a cunning look. "Doyers street and the long pipe dreams." The chief threw himself back In his chair, disgustedly. The electric fan whirred upon the shelf above his head, fluttering the loose desk papers, and twisting awry the coarse red locks about The Rat's forehead. Otherwise It was very still, and it was also very Warm. They had taken the bracelets of the prisoner, and be sat twiddling his greasy felt hat between, uncertain thumbs. The chief chewed an un lighted cigar and walked to the open window. As he stood gazing gloomily down Into the gray courtyard, there came the sudden flourishing notes of a street piano, playing to the urchins from Mott street on the strip of as phalt beyond. He could hear the echo of the happy children's voices while they flocked to the music box. He knew Just how it looked, although the Jt.tM 1.1.1 - U I uitij uiivn vtwu uiu lb Hum uiiu. There was the smlling-faced Italian girl with the tambourine, gathering the nickels from the Idlers strung pre cariously along the Iron basement railing, watching the dancing. Even the nurses from St Barnabas s Home next door were peeping appreciatively out of the downstairs windows. . The piano was finishing the final bars of the Intermezzo from "Cavallerla Rub tlcana," left over from the last stop ping place on Elizabeth street The chief wondered why. Then here was a quick pause as the man at the crank turned the change stop, and a gay waits tune floated over the brick wall into the courtyard. By the shrill little cries of delight that followed It, the chief knew the chil dren were dancing. He turned away from the window dejectedly. The piano rasped upon his nerves. As he turned he saw the Rat sitting upon the edge of the chair, his head raised towards the sound of the playing, and swaying to the echoing rhythm. The chief stared for an instant and then slid softly Into his seat behind the desk, as the street piano rippled: "There's Just one girl in the world lor me. Only one girl has my sym pa-thee. She's not so Very pretty, nor yet of high degree, But there's Just one girl In this world for me." The Rat was mumbling to himself and smiling as if he were remember ing something nleasant. His Una were curled back to the rums. htM hl en. J Joyraent was not edifying, and when , - 'i nis gaze wandered past that of the chief, the head of the Detective Bu reau knew that it penetrated the gray cartridge paper of the wall behind him, and knew, too, that The Rat's mood was far flunc. The man t still Jerking his head with the staccato tempo or tne piano. "Coney. Coney and two camp-stools on the deck by the dago fldlers both ways," he muttered. Ho said It aloud, but It was as If he were talking to himself. The chief's hand moved towards the electric push-button and then paused Irresolute. The outpour ing notes of the street piano trickled like cool water through the room closeness. "Coney in the summertime," repeat ed The Rat vacuously. "It's God's own country. Coney fr me of a Sun day afternoon wit' the sunshine and the trolleys Jamful 'S the limit, what! " He swelled out his sparrow chest proudly towards the playing: "'8 the limit" he chuckled. "Wif a shine and a new cellurold rim on and nickel stogie in yer transom, yer on f'r yer money, and yer It Say, I've danced In Staucb's wit' Mame." The Rat's voice softened almost Imperceptibly, hut the chief caught the change and gripped the sides of his chair, breathing Irregularly as If afraid to break the spell. "There was a Job of dishwashln' at the Tivoll; six plunks comln' reg'lar every week wit' now and then a small plk In the pool room over the Volks Garden. I was wearin' real clothes and I made good. It was me swell front what won out wit' Mame. I wasn't pretty, but me front sent me home in a canter. And Mame wasn't no chowder party pal. She'd a mem'ry overnight and a good eye f'r a white man. And the man what says she was struck on 'Dutch" Gallagher's a liar. "There's Just one girl in this world for me," rippled the piano from out side, with a final burst of treble. Then the music ceased suddenly with the hollow knock the ltd of a box makes when it is let fall. And at the sound, The Rat's head drooped upon his breast again. The chief's right hand crept slowly to the pencil tray and scrawled a few words upon a piece of paper which be gently tore from a yellow pad. "Keep the Qulney playing. Don't let him stop," the pencil traced. He looked furtively at The Rat. The little man's head was still sunken upon his soiled waistcoat, and he did not notica whan the other tiptoed to the green door and thrusting a hand out beyond, tip toed back again, to the desk, waiting. The renewed tinkle of tha niann floated Into the courtyard, and the de tective smiled as be distinguished the tune. It was the refrain of a senti mental ballad, which made tha audi. ence at Tony Castor's applaud wet eyed. The cLlef had watched them do It more than once. Bo he stared at the shrunken man before him expeo tantly. Seems to me it sounded like the birds at play, Darling, Sue, dear, don't believe I'm chaffing. Bless your heart, I love you In the same old way." Slowly The Rat raised him from his thargy. His bent shoulders quiver ed, and he was no longer the huddled heap In the chair, Inert and limp. Up went his head as he listened up, un til his gaze met that of the chief. "Look here," he said hoarsely. "He let her starve. He let her starve on the top floor of a Cannon street tens- mnt I wasn't. wise to It up the river. I wasn't wise to It I kept hammer ing away on a Sing Sing stone pile, tblnkln' he was lookin' after her. Why, I believed him square. It was stripes and the stone pile f'r me, and f'r htm the Bowery of a Bat'rday night wit' the easy come-ons ready waitln' on the pavement. "He come ter see roe In the Tombs before they took me up.. 'I'll look af ter Mame, s'elp me,' he said. And wit' that I horsed the deputies In the smokin' car and give me pedigree In the warden's office like the real thing. I thought 'Dutch' was right The calendar ain't turning like no rou lette wheel up at Sing Sing. But it went a heap faster wit the letters from 'Dutch' what give. Mame's love at the end. Mame didn't write. She wasn't no scholar. And how was I to know that 'Dutch' was lyln'?" The Rat halted waverlngly. But the piano refrain sent him plunging on. "They took me good conduct time off and I got me ticket of leave. And I was fr the home route wit' a new suit of paper clothes and me stone-pile cush in 'em. I hadn't let 'em know I was comln'. I wanted to surprise Mame. It was dark w'en I got ter Cannon street. I meets Sweeney, the janitor, on the top of the stoop, after rushin' the can. Fifth floor?" I aBks, thinkin' maybe Mame had moved. Sweeney eyes me and says, 'Wot're you handtn' meT' 'Mame Gllllgan, you mutf I says, and pushin' past him made as if ter go upstairs. "Sweeney crossed himself! and wit that I kuowed there was somethtn' gone wrong. It struck me cold be fore -he cpoke, and I've never felt warm since but once." The Rat's yellow teeth rasped against one an other like a terrier worrying a bono. He went oa thickly. " 'Didn't they put you next?' says Sweeney. 'Next ter what?' I asks. 'Mame Gllligan's dead in Bcllevue these six months' he says." The Rat put one hand to his bead painfully. "When Sweeney says that somethln' busted in here," he said. "I've been gone a bit in me nut ever since, but not too much gone f'r find in' 'Dutch' Gallagher. Why, a dog wouldn't have treated Mame the way he'd done it. She'd been starved. Thei ambulance doctor what come when Sweeney found her senseless In the hall said she hadn't ben eatln' enough f'r weeks. 'Dutch' had left her. She'd hocked everything she had except the ring I'd bought her. They buried her wif that on. He'd been wrlttn' to me and sendin' me Mame's love after she was dead, and be knowed It I'd been doln" the time f'r both of us, and he'd let Mame starve." Calmly The Rat's hand went out to where the knife lay upon the desk by the stained handkerchief. The chief did not stop him. His breath was coming and going In little puffs, and his mouth was trembling at the corn ers, as if he were trying to be very calm and found it hard work. The Rat took up the knife as be might havo grasped a friendly old pipe. He crooked his fingers about the handle and weighed the blade In his srasD, It was all mechanically, Jerkily done. "He was dealln' faro In a brace game on Fourteenth street" he said. "I waited fr him that night And when I seen him leave I followed him. When he got to Chrystle street I was wif him, but he didn't know it. I sneaked up them stairs behind him quiet as death, and when I turned around at the top landin' ter look by the gaslight it anyone was followln', I seen Mame walkln' up after me and polntin' toward 'Dutch' on ahead, and I knewed then I was doln' what was right." The Rat's voice wavered for the moment. His lips parted drily, and be licked them with a swollen tongue. It was as it he were going on. Then, of a sudden, there came the hollow sound of the street piano stop, as the Italian at the crank changed tunes. The chief started to his feet with a smothered curse. In through the open window crept the music: "Break the news to mother. Just tell her that I love her. Just say to her I " Like one startled from an awful dream, The Rat shivered and rolled his eyes in a quick effort to find their true focus. Ills stare fell upon the face of the eager watcher, and then upon bis own hands with the open knife. Outside, the street piano walled industriously. The detective met his rush with the heavy nickel butt of the telephone receiver fair upon tho forehead. From behind the green swinging doors rushed two In uniform. They looked from the unconscious man to the chief, who was tugging at bis beard with his arms crossed. "And the papers will say we gave him the 'Third Degree,'" he said smiling vaguely. To a little group In the room came the incessant vox humana of the street hurdy-gurdy. "Take him out," said the chief shortly. "He'll be all right In an hour." And for God's sake stop that piano." New York Post 'IBS Babyland. "How many miles to Baby-laud T' "Any ono can tell) Up one Might, To the right: rlease to ring the bell." "What ran vou see In Baby-land T "Little folks In white Downy brads, CradLe-bedfi, Faces pure and bright." "What do thev do In Baby-land r "Dream and woke oud pluy, Laugh and rrow, (tlmut ami grow; Jolly timet have tlieyt" 'What do they say In Bnby-landr "Why, the odrinnt tiling: Might as well Try to tell Wbut a birdie tings!" "Who Is the qtieen of Bnby-land T "Mother, kind and tweet) And her love, Born above Guide the little feet." George Cooper, in Indianapolis News. What O'clock Is It? If you carry a watch, all right; If you don't carry one, borrow one for the occasion. Lay the watch In your left hand face up and, holding a pencil in your right hand ask some person to think of some hour of the day, from one to twelve, and having deducted it from twenty to remember the remainder. Your Intention, you will say, Is to tell him the hour he thought of, and you are going to count around on the dial promiscuously -by pointing with your pencil, and when you have counted the number that he was to remember as the remainder he must stop you. Let us suppose that he thought of five; then the remainder would be fif teen. You now count, mentally of course,1 by pointing your pencil to dif ferent hour marks, taking care to point to the XII mark at the eighth count Then count backward in regu lar rotation to XI, X. IX, etc., and when you come to V, or five, he will stop you, as this well be the fifteenth count, corresponding to the remainder, fifteen, which he was to remember. You then know that five was the hour thought of. You point to XII at the eighth count because twenty, the number from which the hour Is to bo deducted, is eight more than twelve. You may vary the number from which the hour Is to be deducted, but the differenct between that number and twelce is the count at which you must point to XII and then go backward. Suppose you tell him to deduct tho hour from eighteen. Then point to XII at your sixth count because eighteen la six more than twelve. A variation of this kind will make the trick all the more mysterious. New York Herald. Warmest Living Thing. Could you name the very warmest living thing In the world, if you were suddenly asked to? It Is also one of the prettiest and most wonderful things In the world a bird. Probably you know that the ordin ary temperature oftbe human body Is 98 degrees. This may rise to 99 and even to a fraction above It, hjit 100 de grees means that we have fever, and if we get up to 101 we are very un comfortable. A temperature of 104 means almost certain death. The other night on retiring to bed I softly raised my window and brushed the heavy snow off the sill. Instantly I heard a commotion, a beating of lit tle wings; and from the slats of the outside shutter where it had been hid ing for shelter flew a sparrow. Ugh! It makes me shudder to think of that tiny thing exposed to the bitter wind and the' snow. We look at the saucy lit tle birds In winter, and we wonder bow It Is that they do not freeze to death; how It Is they can survive the dread ful storms. It Is because they carry around with them such a very high temperature, ranging according to species, from 105 to 109. They do not feel cold any more than you feel It when you have a fev er; or if they feel It they don't mind It The swallow, which Is the most ac tive of all birds peculiar to this cli mate, so active that the Greeks used to say It had no feet, meaning that It never alighted anywhere but was al ways on the wing, has a normal tem perature, while that of a duck, taken under Its wing while It was In a state of repose,' was found to be 107. Birds have very short Uvea, but they enjoy them more than we do; they live faster, so to speak; and know more of exuberance, the pure joy of living, than we can imagine. Did you ever think, too, how warmly they are clothed? Feathers are warm er than fur. When we human beings want to protect ourselves from the cold of winter we send hunters up to the frozen North to bring down from the breasts of the elder duck. Think of that down! One side of It has lain against that warm breast and the oth er against the Ice floes! and when we have It made up Into quilts or gar ments we And that it keeps us warmer than anything else posHlbly could. It Is also wonderful to think tow light in weight these feathers are which give such warmth. You see, they have to be. A bird could not carry much weight as it cleaves the air, any more than you could when swimming. How exactly the need of the little creature was met when it was clothed In feathers. Indianapolis News. The Troubles of Jackie. It was a very comfortable homa Mother Rabbit bad carofully hollowed cut the burrow and made It ooaey with hay and dry loaves and lined It with fur from her own breast Yet thosu bunny babies were not satis lied. "It Is too small," they said. 'Our legs are always getting tangled up." But as Mother Rabbit said, "that was to be expected, as there were seven ta bles and each had four legs. Besides Jackie always made matters worse. He did so love to play tricks. "And bow can a fellow help It?' Jackie would answer, "when his eyes are shut so tight he can't see a wink. I wish they'd hurry and open. I guess I'll rub them. Maybe that will help." Rub bing, however, only made tbem sore, so he soon stopped It Then one day they opened all by themselves, and he was proud Indeed. But very soon be found something to grumble about "Don t take my fur," he said. "It Is too thin." "Do stop complaining," answered his mother. "A week ago you had no fur at an. it will bo as thick as mine In time." "Well, my legs won't get any bet ter, anyhow," he went on. "Just see them. My front ones are ever so much shorter than my back ones. Why are they not alike?" "For shame!" cried his mother. "No thing suits you. How could we rabbits take Jong jumps if our legs were all the same size? You should see your father Jump." "Our father!" crioa all the bunnies. "Have we a father?" "To be sure you have," replied Mrs. Rabbit "When you are a little older we will all go out to Bee him." After this Mrs. Rabbit had very little peace. Jackie especially was always asking her questions. "I suppose It is bemuse he has a su perior mind," she told herself. Never theless, it was very tiresome. At lest camo the important day when the chil dren were to see their father for the first time. They had grown quite big and were looking very pretty indeed with their new grayish brown topcoats, their whitish vests and their cunning little upturned white tails. Their fath er was very proud when he saw them. He was a big rabbit, with long whis kers, and very wise In rabbit ways, so of course they learned many things from him. He showed tbem how to gnaw bark, so that their tectb, which wore growing all the time, might not get too long, and how to hold their cars so that they could bear the least sound and run for cover. He also showed them how to crouch down among the grass and loaves and lie so still that an enemy would never guess they were Uiere. Besides this he told them where they could find the juicy young vegetables and the tender green things that rabbits so love. No wonder they felt very, very wise as they scampered home after the talk was over. "Tomorrow I shall try all those things," Jackio decided. But alas! In the morning their mother came to them in great trouble. "My children," she said, "the reapers are out Tbey are coming nearer and nearer, and Boon our home will be torn open and we ourselves killed perhaps. There Is no time to talk,' she went on, seeing a question on Jackie's Hps, "do Just as I tell you. I will wait until those dread ful men are looking the other way. Then, when I say 'run,' don't stop a second, but follow right after me. I know a good hiding place if we can only reach It" Of course the little bunnies wore ter ribly frightened. That Is, all except Jackie. He was more anxious to find out what made the strange noise he heard. So when his mother, waiting her chance, cried "run," be went only a fow steps beyond the burrow and there stopped. "I'll soon see what it Is," be said to himself. But alas! Just then some one called: "There goes a bunny. Catch him, quick!" and before he bad time to Jump a band was out stretched and he found himself a pris oner. Now, indeed, he regretted not obey ing his mother. Oh, how good be would be if he could only get back to her once more! he thought, but struggle as he would, he could not get away. So, with bis heart beating wildly, he trlet to resign himself to his fate. At last after what seemed a long, long time to unhappy Jackie, the voice said: "Poor little bunny, be does seem so miserable, I think I must let him so. I wonder If be can And bis mother." . Jackie's heart leaped with Joy. "Yes, yes, I will And her," be tried to say, "and, oh, I'll be so good after this! so good!" Then, all at once, the ter rible bands seem to fall away from him and for one delicious moment he could not move, so great was bis baplness. In the next he had darted away, just as straight as ho could go for tho thicket where his unhappy mother watched and waited. And bow she fondled him! Smooth ing out his roughened coat and rub bing by nose against his little wrink led one. His brothers and sister, too, gathered about him and told him how glad they were to have him back. "Oh, mother, dear, I mean to be so good," whispered Jacitls, as his mother tucked hira into bed that night. And she, giving him a loving pat, answered: "I believe you mean to try, Jackle."-r-I.ou i bo Jamison, In Birmingham (Ala.) Age Herald. Culte the Thins. Editor I'm surprised that Nuritel didn't want any notice in our society column about his going to Europe. Reporter Well, you see, be want to give the Impression that he's so swell now that bit going to Europe shouldn't excite comment at all. j Philadelphia Press. mm Manure snd Fertilizer. The "American Fertilizer" reminds Its readers that the farmer who uses manure and fertilizer thereby gains from the soil more than he applies, be cause the materials which he adds to the soil serve to render soluble the In ert plant foods existing In. the soil; and as It takes capital to make money In business, so It takes manure and fer tilizers to make the soil more subser vient to the demands of the farmer. Every dollar expended for plant food to be applied to the soil Is an Invest ment which In the future Is sure to bring good returns, because of the abundance of raw materials existing In the soil ready for use when prop er methods are applied for deriving them from the vast stores which are always in reach with the aid of suit able appliances. The growing of green crops for manure benefits the land not only by returning to the soil that which may have been derived there from and from the air, but also, through chemical action of plant roots, which have the capacity of changing the characteristics of the various "salts" in the soil, and as tho roots cf plants appropriate carbonic acid as an agent in neutralizing the alkaline mat ter, various compounds are formed. Alkalies also neutralize acids, and there Is a constant tendency to effect chemical changes by reason of the use of green foods, manures, fertilizers, plaster and lime. The soil Is the bank of the farmer upon which he can draw, but he must first make his deposits. Cultivation, tile drainage, the use of certain crops and a knowledge of the characteristics and requirements of the soil will give the intelligent farmer a great advantage over him who does not carefully consider the reserve of plant foods in the soil. Care of Farm Implements. Most people seem to think that if the tools and implements are protected from the Influence of the sun, they suf fer no Injury during the rainy and low ering weather. But this Is a serious mistake. The Influence of any and all kinds of weather, Is always more or less injurious to farm Implements, whether the varloiiB parts are ma.de of Iron, or a portion only of iron, and the remainder of wood. As a general rule the Injury and damage done to farm implements by unnecessary exposure to the influence of the weather wears out the working parts more than all the labor that Is performed with them. And this is more emphatically true along the seacoast, where the sea breezes highly charged with saline ma terial, come In contact with those parts of implements which have pol ished steel or Iron surfaces. Several hundred miles away from the seashore, mechanics experience little difficulty In keeping their saw blades and other steel tools from rusting. But near the salt water, steel plows, saws, cultivator-teeth, polished bearings on mowing machines, steel rake-te3th, and all such Implements, runt very quickly when not in actual use. If the polished surface is not oilel or varnished. Plows are left frequently standing in the ground with the damp earth In contact with the polished nould-boird and land side. Tho consequence Is that a thick scale of rust Is found over the entire surface, thus destroying more metal than would actually wear, off In some time when the implement is in use. The true way to take care of such tools is to wipe the polished surface dry, and oil It with any kind ' of oleaginous material which has no ' saline material in it, or to varnish the surface. The Epitomlst ' Compsritons of Dairies. If those from whom the cows are purchased should take the same view of the matter as the dairyman the animals would soon realize a price that would place them beyond the reach of those desiring them for the dairy, but the breeders of such cows find a profit in keeping calves In or der to sell them at maturity to the dairyman. What is the consequence of this mode of conducting a dairy? It Is that the dairyman keeps twice as many cows as be should, in order to derive a quantity of milk and butter that may be produced from a smaller number of animals. If the yields from any two dairies are compared it will be noticed that the product of one is different from that of the other, for It Is an impossibility to collect a herd of common cows of uniform quality, and even if the yields from the two dai ries approximate a certain amount a difference will be created by the meth ods of management, no two dairymen following the same rulo. In purchasing such cows they must be taken solely upon the honor of the dealer, and until tested the dairyman cannot know whothcr he has a bargain or not. For tunately, our common stock of the present day Is better than that of a few years ago, but it is due solely to tho Infusion cf an occasional dash of thoroughbred blood. Observations of many dairies will roveal the fact that a majority of them use moetly common cows. The term "common" Includes not only the scrub native but also those cows that, though somewhat above the average, are un known to the dairymen so far as their breeding is concerned. The pretext for this is that dairymen can better afford to buy cows than to raise them. Calves and heifers require room In the stables, and the dairymen are more disposed to utilize such places with . cows in full flow of milk rather than to keep young stock, they believing It a more economical method of doing j business. Philadelphia Record. Strawberry Culture. The king of small fruits Is the straw berry, says I. M. Merrill, Mich., In The Farmer's Voice. After years of ex perimenting I have settled down to tha raising a few kinds,. those of standard excellence and have found toy trade, growing year by year. Where one Is situated near a large city the strawberry grower experiences! little trouble in disposing of his crop,, but away out In the country, away from the great centers of trade, the problem Is a far different one, and un less a man has an aptitude- for the. work I would advise him to let small fruit entirely alone. Fruit raising Is a business by Itself and will ever remain such. The gen eral farmer had best not dabble In It. To become a successful fruit raiser requires, as I have said, an aptitude for the work, Indefatigable Industry and a large degree of patience. Possess ing these there is no danger of a fail ure. In my own case I fotind that It is one thing to raise the fruit and another thing to sell it People can be educated! up to the fruit habit. When I first set out with a few crates of berries to seek customers I was truly surprised at the lack of In terest displayed by people In general. My first customer was a farmer who reckoned he'd take a quart tor tha woman and young ones. Still another farmer, a wealthy cat tle raiser with a large family, refused even to look at my wares, sniffing at the Idea that "strawberries" were la any way necessary for the family table. But mark you, this same man Is now an eager customer of mine to the tun of from fifteen to twenty crates of berries every year, with no grumble at the price. He says his folks can't get alone without the berries both fresh and 1 canned; and yet before I began selling, tbe only small fruit the family saw from year's end to year's end were a few small wild berries. I had many arousing experiences dur ing my first year in the business, and was at one time well-nigh discouraged but came out with flying colors In tbe end and lived to rejoice over the vic tory. Arguments for Orchard Cultivation. I am aware that there is a strong: -prejudice In many parts of Massachu setts against the cultivation of apple orchards. This Is only prejudice, bow ever, I am Bure, and will be overcome! In time. I have never yet heard of a man having an orchard suitable for cultivation who, having once fairly tried good cultivation with modern orchard implements, has afterward gone back to sow his orchard down to gross. On the other hand, I do know of men who have made the op posite change, namely, from the sod system to cultivation, and who have- found It entirely satisfactory. I could show instances of this In some of the largest and best orchards In western Massachusetts and still more sd in Ver mont, where I have been longer ac quainted. ( The arguments against cultivation are commonly four: (1) that plowing cannot be done in an orchard; (2) that It injures the trees; (3) that It Is too expensive; (4) that It Injures the qual ity of the fruit. These objections cant be answered very briefly. 1. The objection that It cannot be done Is best answered by the fact that it is done done constantly and on a large scale. It Is harder to do In an old orchard which has never been cul tivated, and under such circumstances may not be advisable, but, even so, It can often be successfully and profitably accomplished. I have myself once done this with an orchard of two acres, of badly neglected trees between 30 and 40 years old, and the results were entirely satisfactory. 2. If an old uncultivated orchard 1 put under tbe plow, the tree roots axe considerably torn, and some damage The best proof of this lies in the fact, may result Orchards cultivated fronv the beginning are absolutely uninjured, (which, by tbe way. Is a fact) that many of the very best orchards In. every part of the country are under thet plow annually. 3. Cultivation Is more expensive' than doing nothing at all, hut It pays: better. 4. There Is some show of reason in the statement that cultivation has a bad effect on the fruit The fruit is sometimes less highly colored and. does not keep quite so well. On the other hand, it is larger, sorts better at the sorting table, and brings a larger return to the acre, because there ls more of it Finally, I ought to draw attention to the fact, that in the larg est, most famous and most successful apple regions of this continent Nova. Scotia, upper Ontario, Western New York, Michigan and the great apple belt of tho Central States cultivation is generally recommended and prac ticed. Prof. F. A. Waugh for Lowell Journal. Horse Notes. A lump of salt should be kept In each manger. Tbe chill should be taken off the drinking water. Corn in the ear with wheat-bran la good for variety. Shredded or cut corn fodder is good for a change in place of hay. The frcg should never be cut but left a big pad to take jar aul keep the. logs sound. The sharp oold air will not hurt thorn but never leave tbem out iu a storm. At the end of February Increase the feed and be sure tbey have plenty of exercise in yard or harness, and they w.il be strong and In shape for the- bard spring work, with very lutle ex tra cost of fatting. I
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