THE STARS.
I sliull walk bravely, bravely thru:is;i my
days.
Though lovo, that flaming torch that
lighted me,
Has dropped nwny In darkness utterly,
I shall nut taker on these unguessed
ways.
Nor cry aloud for any spaik to see
The forward step, Ust, fulling, 1 might
be
A lost thins dazed and walling In the
hme.
Vor God who gives each soul Its certain
light
Will leave me not In darkness. For a
space
I may go blindly where no guidance
bars;
Tet, ronrtdrnt that In this torchless night,
Sudden shall break above my upturned
face
The white, unchanging radiance of the
stars.
Tlieodnsla Garrison In Alnslee's.
Billy Henderson,
Express
Messenger
By T. L. Sappington
"What's that?" Merrihew, express
clerk in chargo of the car attached
to the night mail, was very busy, and
bis tone was unusually sharp. Billy
shifted from one foot to the other
and repeated his announcement that
he was the new assistant engaged
that morning. The man stared at him
open-mouthed.
"You?" he cried: "Oh, no, you've
made a mistake, son. This is a man's
business."
"All the same," said the boy dog
gedly, "Mr. Booth, the manager, gave
me the place, and I'm to make the
trip with you tonight."
Billy was not a beauty. His hair
was red and his nose turned up, and
at some remote period he had lost a
front tooth, but the light in his blue
eyes warmed your soul, and perhaps
that is why Mr. Booth was inclined
In his favor.
"Gave you the place, did he?" re
marked the messenger, scowling.
"Well, we'll see about that." And
leaping from the car he strode into
the office.
When he-emerged a few moments
later, his manner was still more bel
ligerent. "Come on, now," ho
growled: "what are you standing
there for? Off with your coat: there's
plenty to do."
Without a word the boy followed
him into the car and was still hard
at work when the engine shrieked and
the train pulled out. And so Billy
Henderson entered the service of the
Great Western Kxprcss Company;
and Merrihew saw to it that his lot
was anything but an easy one. His
blunders, both large and small and
they were numerous at first were
commented on cruelly, and he was
never allowed to forget for a mo
ment that the place he filled really
belonged to some, one of the group
of eager and adult applicants who
clamored for it.
"You'll last just so long," said
Merrihew op.o evening as the train
swung onto the main line. He Illus
trated his remark by measuring the
length of his forefinger. "Booth
thinks he's smart working In a kid
like you, but he'll think different to
morrow." "I wish I knew what made you so
down on me, Mr. Merrihew," said
Billy. "I can't help being a boy, and
a fellow has to commence some
where." "Then why don't you commence in
the right place," snarled the messen
ger, "What do you want to take a
man's job for? Ain't I got responsi
bility enough without having an in
fant like you to look after? I don't
know what the company is thinking
of, but It won't work, and we've fixed
an age limit, and we're going to tell
Booth tomorrow."
Sure enough, the next day a dele
gation waited on Mr. Booth and de
manded Billy's instant discharge and
an assurance that no assistant mes
sengers would be taken on under the
age of twenty.
At first the manager was inclined
to refuse to treat with the committee
at all, but after consulting higher
officials of the company and careful
ly canvassing the strength of the
combine It was thought best to sign
the agreement and Billy received no
tice that his services would not be
required after the end of the. week.
. Of courso he was indlgrmnt. "I
don't think you've treated me fairly
at all," said he to Merrihew; It was
his last trip in the company's ser
Tice. The night was cold and rainy,
and his spirits were as dreary as the
weather.
"Oh, shucks," replied the man, care
lessly. "You wouldn't have held the
place anyway. It -vas never meant
for a boy. Suppose something hap
pened to me, what would you do here
all alone?"
"I'd do my level best," said Billy.
"Humph! Maybe you would, but It
might turn out to be the worst under
the circumstances."
The night mall made but few Btops
and the two clerks generally took
turns napping It. Since passing the
switch tower Billy had been stretch
ed out on the heap of blankets that
served as a couch in the corner of
the car. He had not yet grown ac
customed to the all-night vigil, and,
despite his sore heart, it was not long
feefore his eyes closed and he forgot
bis troubles.
He was still sleeping when the train
came to an unexpected halt at Fen
ton, a' small flag station, to take on
an undertaker's box, much to Merrl
hew's disgust.
"Nice lot of mourners they are In
that town," muttered the clerk. "Why
couldn't they travel with their old
corpse? As It is, we got the blamed
remains instead of the baggage Bai
ter." f
Billy, only half awakened, merely (
nodded in response to the grumbling
of his companion. With heavy eyes !
he noted tho lantern suspended from I
the swaying celling, the hunched up
figure of Merrihew as he sat before
the open safe checking his slips, and
the sombre outline of the casket on
its trestles extending lengthwise In
front of him. And then drowsiness
again overcame him.
It seemed that some one called.
Still in doubt, he lay listening. Surely j
somebody was speaking, and it was
not the messenger's voice, either. He
lifted himself on his elbow, now ful
ly nlort The smoking lantern cast
a fitful light about the car, and at
first Billy thought he was dreaming,
for Merrihew, his usually ruddy face
wearing a horrid pallor, was standing
tinder It, his bands raised rigidly
above his head, while at his breast
was levelled a pistol held by a mask
ed and bearded Individual who eat
cooly upright in the bewreathed cas
ket. The corpse had come to life.
Evidently the bandit supposed the
clerk to be the sole occupant of the
car. Only half tho cover of the box
was raised. This being hinged had
enabled the intruder to make his ap
pearance with the silent swiftness
necessary to take the unsuspecting
messenger unawares.
"Turn out your pockets," command
ed the outlaw; puick now!
Not daring to resist, the unhappy
Merrihew did so, his belongings
dropping to the floor with successive
thuds, his revolver among them.
Bily's pulse heat fast. The man's
back was toward him, but he had no
weapon. In a rack directly above,
however, reposed three blue glass
fire extinguishers, long-necked hot
ties to be thrown In case of a con
flagration. ' Noiselessly he rose to
his feet. Softly he extracted two of
them, his eyes fastened In dreadful
fascination on the figure in the coffin.
Perhaps Merrihew's face gave the
bandit a clew, for just as Billy hurled
the bottle in his left hand the fellow
turned with a yell and fired. Al
though unhurt, the noise of the ex
plosion startled the bey, and his mis
sile did no damage, but the other
bottle, following instantly, reached
its mark.
Half blinded by the shower of bro
ken glass and sting of the gush
ing fluid the ruffian swayed drunk
enly, and in that moment the lad
was upon hira like a wildcat. By
this time, too, Merrihew had recov
ered his wits and his weapon, and
when the robber had regained his
sight he found himself a prisoner.
Grimly the messenger ordered him
to climb out of the box and empty
pockets, Billy meanwhile pinching
the bellrope the proper number of
times to bring assistance from the
train ere w.and ten minutes later the
disgusted lawbreaker sat in the
smoker tightly bound, with an arm
ed brakoman sharing his seat. His
confederate, waiting with a team at
the lonely spot where It had been
planned he should leave the train
with his booty, whipped up his hor
ses and fled when he saw the express
rush by.
Tho next morning Billy stood on
tho platform of the terminal station
as the railroad police passed with
the bandit on their way to the
street. The hard-visaged fellow
paused.
"Hold on a minute," said he to the
officer grasping his arm. Then he
stepped up to Billy. "I dont know
your name," he said, "and I don't
want to know It, but you're all right.
Yes, sir; you're the boy for your
job."
"You bet he Is." said Merrihew,
clapping Bilty affectionately on the
back; "and he'll hold it, too, whether
the other fellows like It or not."
Glass Clothing.
Spinning glass for practical uses
was very well known by the ancient
Egyptians, and we are now rediscov
ering it. Spun glass has long been
known as a siirlosltv. A Freno.rimflu
In the middle of the last century de- j
velopcd the process along commercial
lines, but died wlhtout revealing his
secrets. Those seem, however, to
have been recently rediscovered In
Germany.
Glass thus drawn out Into very thin
threads is flexible and it Is thought It
will be possible to epln and weave It
into clothes. These garments would
be Incombustible, non-conducting, and
impervious to acids. They can be
beautifully tinted by using tinted
glass. The insulating properties of
the glass-wool would render 1t valua- J
ble as packing where it Is desirable to '
keep in og exclude heat. In this case
we should be resorting to the mineral
kingdom for. our clothes, though as yet
we have not got those asbestos gar
ments which could be washed by
throwing them on the fire. Pittsburg
Despatch.
New Watch For the Blind.
To enable the blind to tell the
time by a specially constructed watch
various -devices have been Invented.
The latest, of Gorman origin, Is a
watch which Instead Of the twelve
figures on its face has twelve knobs.
By an ingenious mechanism each
knob in succession sinks for an hour
into the dial. The usual watch ring
being at the XII., the ,bllnd person
feels along the face of the watch un
til he comes to the space where the
knob has disappeared. This Indicates
the hour. The ordinary minute band
Is represented by a snorter and
stronger Indicator, wWch is raised eo
as to clear the hour knobs, and by
whicb the minutes can be told, or
rather felt, with surprising exacti
tude. New York Bin.
Ingenious.
A sweet little boy who went to school
Was up to all soils of tricks.
He discovered that 'J when upside down
Would pass for the tlguie 8.
So, when asked his ago by a stranger
once,
The cute little youngster said,
"I'm 9 when I Btand on my feet like this,
But 6 when 1 stand on my head!"
New York Times..
Use of Medicine.
"Medicine," eaid a little girl, "is
something that makes you careful
not to catch cold "again."
"Mamma," he said at dinner, "may
I have another piece of pie?"
"Why do you ask," answered his
mither, "when you haven't eaten what
you have on your plate?"
"But, mamma, if I could have an
other piece, I wouldn't eat the crust
of this one." Harper's Bazar.
Feeding the Sparrows.
I am going to tell you about feeding
tap little sparrows Inst winter. When
the snow was on tho ground I used
to put bread crumbs out on the win
dow sill, and in the beginning they
were afraid to come near enough to
eat (hem. But when they learned I
would not harm them they came by
the dozens every morning for their
breakfast. Now, when there is no
snow arid It is so warm, I feed them
In the back yard every morning and
evening, nnd they nro so tame that I
can almost pick them up. I guess this
Is all for this time. I hope I will bo
successful. If nt first you don't suc
ceed, try, try again. Amanda Van
Billiard, in the New York Tribune.
Two Pet Bantams.
I want to tell you about 'a pair
of white cochin pet bantams given
me a few weeks ago. Their names
are Peter Pan and Miss Prudence.
Miss Prudence has laid nine eggs
eight of which are set under another
bantam owned by one of my boy
friends. Peter Pan is very tame and
talks to me in his own language ev
ery time I feed them. I have made
a house for them with a door and i
place in tho top where I can look In
and a nest box where Miss Prudence
lays her eggs. I have also made a
screen to keep off the sun and rain,
and In the yard is a shell box end
drinking fountain. Hoping my letter
is interesting, I remain, your constant
render, D. Oswell Shephard In the
New York Tribune.
Mistake Mr. Butterfly Made.
"How are you this morning, Aunt
Matilda?" asked the little girl of the
old woman.
"Well, honey," she answered, "Ise
feelin' so well dis nio'nln' dat I is
gwine see de doctur 'bout it."
"Why, Auut Matilda," exclaimed
the little girl, "what in the world do
you want to see the doctor when you
are so well?"
" 'Cause I don' fo'bet de sperl
ence of Mr. Butterfly. Dat's why I
alwus makes it a p'int to see de doc
tur when I gits to feelin' well as I
does jes' now.
"I havo never heard of the experi
ence of Mr. Butterfly, Aunt Matildn,"
remarked tho little girl, "but I do not
see why you should see a doctor un
less you are sick.,,
."Course, honey, said the old wo
man, very tolemnly. "I isn't a-deny-in'
da yo' shouldn't see de doctur
when yo Is sick, but Jes' the same,
chile, Ise ono of dose here folks what
what b'lieves dat yo' better see de
doctur, an' see him quick, when yo' Is
a-feelln right smart mo' den jes tol
er'ble, fo', as I done said, I isn't done
fo'git de sperlerce of Mr. Butterfly."
"Suppose you tell me, Aunt Ma
tilda," said tho little girl, as she
seated herself in tho old woman's
great chair, "all about Mr. Butterfly."
"Reckon I better had, honey, fo'
den yo' gwine' 'predate de reason of
seeln' de doctur when yo' is a-feolln'
so perticlur fine. Dat' is, honey, Ise
gwine tell yo" do same as Mr. Wizzle
Wuzzle done tele it to mo. Mr. Wlz
zle Wuzzle, he says dat in de olden
time, jes' how fur back even Mr.
Wizzle Wuzzlo hisself disremembers,
Mr. Butterfly was one of dese hero
s'perior pussons what yo' can't tell
nuthin' 'tall to ono of dese here folks
what stops yo' in the middle of a
word when yo' starts in fo' to tell
'em sumthln' nulhcr a-by say'; 'Yas,
yas; I knows all dat pufllckly. Pu
flickly, sah.' Dat is, honey, one of
dese here know-alls."
"I think, Aunt Matilda," remarked
the little girl, "I have heard of Just
that sort of a person."
"Well, honey, " replied the old wo
man, "den yo' knows percisely de
sort of pusson what Mr. Butterfly
was, an' Ise sorry to say, chile, dat
dey isn't all Mr. Butterflies, needer.
But. howsomever, at dat Mr. Butter
done hod his good traits, fo' I 'mem
bers 'stinctly dnt Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle
lay dat Mr. Butterfly was charitable
an' dat he was one of de leadin'est
members of de church, an'"
"Why, Aunt' Matilda,' interrupted
the little girl, "I never before heard
that butterflies ever went to church "
"Well, as to dat, honey," said the
old woman, "I Isn't a-sayin' dat I ever
done seen 'em tendln' church myself,
lut I'se lived long muff fo' to know dRt
what "Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle says he done
seen, an 'as Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle say
stinctly dat Mr. Butterfly wae one of
de leadin'est members of de church,
Ise bow to b'lieve dat Mr. Butterfly
done tended de church. But whar dat
church war, nur what de 'suasion of it
was, I doesn't presume to say, 'cause
nuthor thing, Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle never
done specify it
"But be dat all as Is may, honey,"
said the old woman, after a pause, "got
nuthin' 'tall to do wld what Ise gwine
say, an' dat Is dis: dat the day when
Mr. Butterfly had rid up to de pos' of
fice fo' to git his mail"
"Rode up to the post office to get his
mail, Aunt Matilda?" repeated the lit
tle girl, In a doubting, questioning
manner.
"I done said, honey," replied the old
woman, slowly and precisely, "dat ene
day when Mr. Butterfly had done rid
up to do pos' office fo' to git his mail
an' dat's jes de percise words of Mr.
Wizzle Wuzzle hisself, chile Mr.Coon,
what was de postmaster, say 'Howdy,
Mr. Butterfly? How is yo a-feolin' to
day, sah?' An' Mr. Butterfly, as he
done tuk his mail from Mr. Ooon, say,
'Howdy, Mr. Coon? Ise a-feelin so
well today, sah, thank yo', sah, dat I la
filled wld 'stonlshment, sah, at de
height of my pufflck veellness, sah."
"Den, honey, 'cording to Mr. Wizzle
Wuzzle, Mr. Coon, 'spress hisself to de
'feet dat dere's sech a thing as beln"
too well In dis here worl', an' he 'vised
Mr. Butterfly dat ef he has a'feelln' dat
well hlself he'd see de doctur right off.
Yas, yas, Mr. Coon,' says Mr. Butterfly,
'I knows pufflckly well, sah, all dat yo
gwine say, but yo'll 'souse me, sab,
when I says, as I does, sah, dat I'll wait
till I se sick, sah, befo' seeln' de doctur,
sah.' An' wld dat, honey, Mr. Butter
fly Jumped on his horse an' rid off. But,
as he done rid off, ole Jedge Owl looked
up from de paper date had Jes" come
in his mall, an'"
"Do owls read the papers, Aunt Ma
tilda?" asked the little girl.
"I'se never seen no owls a-readln' of
de papers, honey," replied the old wo
man, "but I'se been here too long,
chile, fo' to b'lieve onllest what I sees,
an' as Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle 'stinctly say
dat ole Jedge Owl was a-readln' of his
paper, course dat's 'nuff fo' me. But
wedder he was a-readin' de paper nur
sumthln' nuther else got nothln' 'tall
to do wid de fac' dat, as Mr. Buterfly
rid off down de road, ole .TeriVn nwl
tips an' says to Mr. Coon: 'I'se Inclined
to u lleve wld yo', Mr. Coon, dat, dere's
sech a thing aa beln' too well in dis
here worl', an' I furder b'lieves wld
yo', Mr. Coon, dnt when yo' Is a-feel-lu'
right smart mo' den jes' toler'ble,
den dat's de time fo to look up de
doctur 'bout it.' An sure 'nuff, honey,
Mr. Coon an' ole Jedge Owl was right."
There the old woman stopped, as if
she had nothing more to say, which she
orten did when she had reached an
Interesting point in her Btories, but
the litle girl well knew she would con
tinue, so she kept very quiet, and then
the old woman said:
"As I was a-sayin', honey, Mr. Coon
an' ole Jedge Owl know what dey Is a
talkln' 'bout. An' ylt it done happen
sooner den dey 'maglned It was gwine
happen."
"What was it that happened so soon,
Aunt Matilda?' asked the little girl,
as the old woman again most provok
lngly stopped.
"Well, honey, nuthin' mo' nur less,"
she continued, "den de fac dat Mr. But
terfly drapped dead while he was a
laughln' an' a-talkln' at de supper
table dat evenin'. An' he die dat sud
den, honey, dat Mr. Wizzle Wuzle say
dat lots of de folks didn't know nuthin'
'tall 'bout it 'till dey see de funeral per
cession a-comln' down de street an'
hear de ban' a-playln' at de head of
it."
"With a band at the head of the pro
cession, Aunt Matilda?" Interrupted the
little girl. "Why, Aunt Matilda, I
never heard of such a thing as a but
terfly's funoral."
"Well, honey," remarked the old wo
man, "I never hoard of it nuther 'til
Mr. Wlzzlo Wuzzlo done tole it to me.
But Mr. Wizzle Wuzzle he 'Bplalned to
me dat Mr. Butterfly was a great s'ciety
man, b'longln' to dis B'ciety an' to dat
s'ciety, an' I don't know what all else
s'ciety, so dat mo' s'cieties done turned
out to Mr. Buterfly's funoral den I kin
tell yo' 'bout. An wld all dem s'cieties,
honey, I'se wonderin' why dey didn't
have mo' den jes' one ban'. ,
"But, honey, dey only had dat one
ban' I'so a-tellln' yo' 'bout, an' ylt dat'e
got nuthin' 'tall to do wld de fac' dat
Mr. Butterfly done die sudden. An'
what's mo', chile, de docturs don't
know no mo' what's de matter with
Mr. Butterfly, 'cept dat he's dead, den
yo' nur me. But I knows dis, honey,
dat Mr. Wizzle Wuzzlo say dat Parsoa
Crow, dat 'flclated at de funeral, say to
de mo'ners an' de udder folks: 'Bred
dercn an' sisters, on dis mo'nful 'cas
ion, I wants to 'spress on yo de Im
po'tance of a-seeln' de doctus when yo'
is a-feelln' right smart mo' den when
yo' is a'feellng right smart mo' den
jes tolerable. To feel jes tolerable la
dis here worl' of sin an' trlblashuns,
bredderen an' sisters, Is 'bout all we
po' miserbul sinners Is 'titled to feel,
an' I wants to warn yo' bredderen an'
sisters, dat when you gits to a'foslla'
mo' den Jes' tolerable dat's de time fo'
to drap whatever yo' Is a-doln' an'
start off fo' de doctur jes' as fas' as yo'
kin git dar.'
"An, honey," said the old woman,
very elowiy, and very solemnly, "I'se
never done fo'git what Parson Crow
done say on dat 'casion, an' dat's why,
chile, I alwus make It a p'int of seeia'
de doctus fas' as I kin when I finds my
self a-feelln' mo' den Jes' tolerable,
thank yo'." Washington Star.
A watch Is composed of ninety
eight pieces.
8llo the Corn Croc
i . The blades and stalks of the corn
j crop alone contain 45 percent of the
I nutritive value of the entire crop. We
I have called attention to this fact sev
eral times in order to prompt farm
ers to silo their corn crop when they
have live stock to feed, as 45 percent is
too great to allow to go to waste.
Indiana Farmer,
Don't Neglect the Colt
The fanner owning 40 acres or more
of land, who does not raise at least
one colt every year Is not doing bis
best. The mare will do most kinds of
farm work and raise her colt without
much lose of time. If the colt is prop
erly handled from the beginning it
will not give much trouble. Never al
low it to run after Its mother when she
is working. This worries and frets the
mare, and it wears out the colt. Keep
it at the barn, loose in a box stall, and
tempt It with a little clover hay and
oats. Early colts will he weaned pret
ty soon now. If they have been
brought up to this point right, wean
ing does not mean much. Feed more
frequently with sweet clover hay, oats
and corn, and the colt will soon be
able to take care of Itself. Keep It In
the barn at night and allow it to run
with other young stock in the pasture
during the day. Indiana Farmer.
Mangels or Turnips for Cows.
Where silos are not had to provide
succulent feed for diary cows, many
do the next best thing by growing tur
nips or mangels. There is always the
one objection to turnips the rink of
tainting the milk; and especially docs
this turnip flavor develop In butter af
ter it is held some time. It is claimed
that if you feed turnips directly after
the morning milking there is no dan
ger of taint; however, we would not
care to risk our reputation as a butter
maker on it. If you cannot put up
silage and must have something elfc,
why not raise mangels. You can raise
more of them to the acre than you can
turnips, and you can avoid the risk of
turnip taint. But whatever you do,
don't fall on a good store of succulent
feed1 for next winter. Cows do their
best when on clover, You can provide
sweet clover hay for next winter, but
succulence must come from some other
source. Indiana Farmer.
Storing Alfalfa.
After a barn the next best place for
storing hay Is a shed with an adjust
able or lifting roof. The ground di
mensions should be ample to allow tho
first cutting to cover its floor and not
be over five or possibly six feet deep
when first put in. The bottom of the
mow should be raised at least one
foot from the gorund, and the floor
space every three feet eoPlsrot shrd
space every three feet. Poles or joists
covered with dry straw or old bay make
a good floor. Spread the hay over the
entire floor surface, on a layer of straw
or other dry material. Use barrels or
boxes as recommended for ventilation
In the barn, and lower the roof until
the second cutting. For such a roof the
covering should be of some such ma
terial as ruberoid, and the rafters need
not be heavy except about every six
teen feet. Strong iron clamps can be
easily adjusted to the supports. When
the second cutting is ready, raise the
roof, which should be in sections, and
put the second crop on top of the first.
Follow this plan for all other cuttings.
If a shed with a stationary roof 1b used
dry straw, or hay, or corn stover
should be put on top of each cutting to
protect the alfalfa from rain. Almost
any kind of a shed or covered structure
Is preforablo to a stack. From Co
burn's "The Book of Alfalfa."
Methods of Poultry Management.
The work In poultry management at
the Maine Experiment Station has been
of great value to poultrymen, especial
ly those located In tho colder portions
of the United States. Systematic worl;
with Plymouth Bock hens was begun
more than ten years ago with a view
to an increase in the yield of eggs, and
to developing the most satisfactory
methods of hatching, rearing, feeding,
etc.
An Interesting feature of the work is
tho uso of trap nests. A band with a
number is placed on the leg of each
! hen. The nest boxes are constructed to
that the hen as she goes In springs a
trap which dotes a door after her,
and she remains a prisoner until re
leased by an attendant. In this way,
a exact record of the egg laying of each
hen is secured, and the experimenter is
able to select the best for breeding
purposes.
The United States Department of
Agriculture has issued for free distrib
ution a Farmers' Bulletin describing
the Methods of Poultry Management at
the Main Station. He describes in de
tail the construction of the buildings
used, especially those known as "cur
tain front" houses; the methods of
feedbng; the use of disinfectants, etc.
It contains many ideals and suggestions
that will prove helpful to the practi
cal poultry raiser.
Management of Sheep.
I wean my lambs during the latter
part of July. Somo advocate allow
ing them to continue to run with the
; ewes, but the latter will do much bet
ter without the lambs, ana wun pienry
of pasture the lambs will make bettor
growth if they are separated from the
ewes. "
Food requirements of the ewes and
lambs are very different at this time,
which, makes a separate box more
necessary. I do not fatten the ewes,
but put them Into plump condition
preparatory to entering the breeding
period and the winter. The larohs
on the other hand, are pushed rajidi
as quick maturity is a matter of iL f
siderable importance if a good prtfl
is to be made. The lambs make i bet
ter growth while young at less cort i
pound1, and taking all things Into con
sideration, it is more desirable to get
them oft the market at the earliest
possible moment.
' I allow my ewes the run of a good
mixed pasture, with access to a little
clover, and they do exceedingly well.
I feed them no grain at this time. The
flock Is provided with a plentiful sup.
ply of good, pure water, which is very
essential, as a discouraging outcome
is apt to be the result if they are al
lowed to drink impure water. I feed -the
lambs a small quantity 'of oat
mixed with a taste of bran as an ari
ltizer, and allow them the run of
fresh clover pasture, which keeps
them growing nicely.
Frequent change of pastures Is
great help With sheep, particularly
with the lambs, which are rather par
ticular about what they eat. If they
are turned' Into a new range after
shower it will be surprising to sei
how thoroughly they will go over the
grass again, even though it has beet
cropped closely before.
I watch my ewes and lambs closely
for any indications of stomach worm!
or other Insect pests. I keep the
stable darkened and accessible, so that
they may get away from the flies la
muggy weather.
Sheep must be properly handled to
be profitable, and no one will have
good success in raising these animate
unless he gives them good care and at
tention at all times. W. H. Under
wood In the Indiana Farmer.
The Profitable Turkey.
The turkey is one of the most profit
able of all classes of domestlo fowl!.
They are only adapted to the farmef
who has an unlimited range for them,
but on such a range they will do fti
Immense amount of good during the
summer season by destroying grass
hoppers and other ihstects, turning
these into flesh that Is always In de
mand for good prices. It Is probable
that a pound of turkey meat can be
produced on a farm ns cheaply as a
pound of pork; but even if It cost
much more it would still be profitable,
for turkeys always sell for much more
dinn hogs.
May Is a good month In which to
hatch turkeys as the young turkey
come .out Just when the weather ie
settled and steadily warm and insects
become plentiful.
For the last three years dressed tur
keys have retailed all the way from
19 to 26 cents a pound, owing to their
scarcity. From reports to date this
scarcity seems still to exist. This con
dition has stimulated the raising ot
turkeys to a marked degree, and the
writer has bjen one of those who has
been tempted, by reason of the high
prices, to engage in the industry.
At the outset, it must be said that
one's knowledge of raising chickens,
no matter how extended that knowl
edge may be, or how successful one
may have been, Is not of much value
when it comes to raising young tur
keys. Their nature is so different and
the method of caring for them so dif
ferent that one must learn it as a bus
iness distinct and separate from that
of chicken-raising. We do not say one
can not combine the two, for we be
lieve It can be done successfully.
One may take a brooder iuu oi
chicks, and, provided they are well
hatched and vigorous, can, by the us
ual care and attention, raise the ma
jority to maturity, but not so with
turkeys. He can hatch the eggs in an
incubator with good success as tur
key eggs are usually better fertilized
than hen's eggs but he can not con
fine them in brooder runs, and unlese
he has broody turkeys or hens to
mother them when hatched he may
lose the greater portion. They must
be given their liberty at a very early
age, as the wild instinct, especially in
the bronze variety, is so strong that,
unless given their freedom to roam
and forage over fields and pasture,
they will sicken and die.
Turkeys are more creatures of hab
it than any other of our feathered
fowls; yet, while they will roam over
the prairie during the day in search
of food, they will always come lome
at night If one will make a practice of
feeding them, however lightly. We
have never been troubled by their
staying away at night, for as soon as
they return, about sunset, we Immed
iately take a dish of grain and they
follow us straight into their house,,
knowing they will receive a small ra
tion of food. Indianapolis News.
Farm Notes
Eggs should be culled the same as
other things.
How many raisers test the eggs they
guarantee to be fresh?
When a hen is not kept well she
can't be expected to do well.
It is said to be best to start raising
poultry in the fall rather than la
spring.
Try shaving some young sweet corn,
or even field corn, for the young chicks
and see how they will go for It
Make the best of what room you
have, but above all things don't try to
keep too many fowls on a small place.
You don't have to wait for the In
cubator to get broody and then If you
don't want to set It you don't have to
break It up. '
Every boy living In the fruit and
truck district would do well to xV&e,
himself thoroughly acquainted wits
budding and grafting.