YOUTH'S HERITAGE,
*The world is mine,” said the millionaire.
“Come, show me the thing that I cannot
uy
whe god of the world is a god of gold,
hove gold, gold, gold—and a god am 1!”
*Phe world is mine,” cried the
youth,
Though never a penny of wealth have I!
WAN doors stand wide and all roada are free
have youth, youth, youth-—-and you can-
eager
not buy!
~Isabel E. Mackay, in Youth's Com-
pamion. ~~
¥ FE I¥yY
Rupid and Bray Hairs
Qessssss secssatestsnsess
(+) HE pretty gray-haired lady
sighed. “I never relly
T had a fair chance at part-
ridge before,” she said, in-
dicating her well-filled
plate with a pathetic smile.
“I have a fellow-felling,” she con-
tinued, “for that old gentleman who
said that the wing of the chicken was
doubtless the very nicest portion of
all, but that he had never tasted it.
When he was youug the old people
~ mwvere supposed to monopolize it, and
now that he had grown old, he said,
it had to be reserved for the young.
*My dear,’ he lamented, ‘I have never
tasted the wing of the chicken! Trag-
fe, wasn't it?”
“It was dastardly!’ The fine-looking
white-mmustached gentlemen on her
gpight hand stifled a snort of indigna-
tion.
«“Nothing gets away from the young-
sters of to-day,” he growled. “I'm
only a bare fifty-nine, as you know—""
“Yes—i remember you were always
Just five years ahead,” the sweet-faced
little lady smiled sympathetically.
“Fifty-nine years, Mrs. Merrydew!
“and to judge from the attitude of the
young fledgelings in this hotel, one
would say I was a relic of the stone
age—belonged somewhere, unclassified,
svith the pyramids and Rameses 11."—
his genial face took on a sudden mul-
berry hue: “dastardly, I repeat! You
can’t plead the most trivial sensation
of indigestion nowadays, even just a
plain, ordinary headache, but it's put
down to incipient senility—I meet it
on all sides, 1 can tell you!”
. “I know—I know!” responded his
fair listener, appreciatively. “And
that rosy-cheeked girl from the acad-
emy prefaces every other remark to
me with ‘In your day—-! It does
eome hard, certainly, when one is still
In a fair state of preservation, and can
yet maintain ordinary conversation.”
“Conversation, humph! merely the
fast expiring efforts of a once powerful
intellect, my dear madam,” quoted the
elderly gentleman, savagely.
The pretty little widow giggled out-
right at this—she could look very charm-
Ing when a smile dispelled her natur-
ally pensive expression. ‘Really, it's
a comfort to meet you again, after so
Jmany years,” she confided, “let's go
over to that window seat, where we
«can sympathize. I feel quite as young
as I did twenty-five years back—and
younger; but there is always such an
unreasoning prejudice regarding gray
hair—it’s public opinion concerning it
that harrows up your soul.”
“Gray hair is most becoming over a
youthful face,” put in the gentleman,
with 2 gallant bow, while they both
Withdrew to a friendly alcove. “Ob,
thank you for not saying ‘still’ youth-
1! That ‘still’ {s such a paralyzing
ord!” the little lady shuddered. “They
fight as well say: ‘Mrs. M. still re-
tains her intelligent expression.’ It is
all very unnerving.”
He chuckled, and moved his chair a
frifle closer.
“I say, this judging of age by years
§s the most outrageous procedure ever,
dsn't it now? I maintain that it is
primitive and unworthy of our so-
called civilization. One might as well
Judge by rheumatism, of which babes
fn arms are our most prominent expo-
hents in these days. Why, that young
sub out yonder at tennis is barely a
self-confessed twenty-four, and yet his
mamma (the stout, be-diamonded per-
‘ gon, with three chins) is sore put to it
to extricate him from his considerable
and flourishing crop of wild oats (regu-
{ar horse-chestnuts they are, too, I
believe!) My dear young friend, you
and I might be styled mere babes in
the wood by comparison with this
world-weary youth! And yet'—the
white mustache went upward with a
twist of fierce exasperation—“he want-
ed to know what colleges they had in
my day, and were telephones and horse
cars invented.”
The lady laughed so heartily that the
frate speaker joined in perforce after
a while.
“I'm so glad you came,” she re-
marked prettily; “I am getting demor-
alized here alone by myself. Of course
my daughter comes at times, but then
I am more than ever guilty conscious
of my shortcomings. If I as much as
mention wearing my brooch or tor-
toise-shell comb down to dinner I feel
that it is almost a personal Insult to
per, and sometimes I just long to take
up the baby and soothe and pet him
‘swhen he is hungry or fretful, but I am
promptly informed that the best
grandmothers do not do it. Of course
it is all for my best good, for she says
4t all in love, and it hurts her more
than it does me (as she thinks it does).
As for an eardrop, an eardrop is an
anachronism! I don’t mind any of
these things so mucl, but in my little
parlor at home there are my pretty col-
ored wreaths, and that quaint shell
work father made, and the tidies I
worked long ago when mother was
alive—all unhygienic, I suppose—"
“Unhygienic!” ejaculated her listen-
er hotly, “and I've an old red silk
dressing gown, reeking with germs, no
&oubt, that’s been the chief prop and
stay of my declining years; it's got to
£0, of course, as soon 4s my folks
strike the place!”
| “And the motoes my little Emma
worked when she was 1M, before the
last!"—the sweet volce trembled a little
~*1 can't let them go, even If for
thelr own sakes: “I'he Lord Will Pro.
vide,’ ‘Welcome,” ‘No Cross, No Crown’
«1 cling to them all, even if they are
old-fashioned.” Her voice ended In a
little sob.
The elderly man cleared his throat
with 8 mighty nolse and patted the
plump little hand in wordless sym:
pathy.
“Anyhov:, when it comes to the old
drama we're all right!” he ventured at
last. “Think of those good old names,
and the old standard shows they gave!
Plays that hurt nobody, and gave our
imaginations some small chance for ex-
ercise.” (A tacit but vigorous opinion
of the modern stage was conveyed in
the repressed growl with which he
concluded.) The pretty color deepened
a little in the lady's face; she looked
up, smiling brightly.
“I have a certain tassel from the old
museum,” she said softly; “I had to
have something.”
“And I have a gilt cherub from one
of the upper boxes,” he chuckled.
“Jove!” he went on, his voice sinking
to a confidential whisper, “it's good to
meet some one who has things to re-
member! Mrs, Merrydew—Anna!” he
said softly, *‘do you ever recall a plece
that answered to the name of the
‘Carnival of Venice’ or the ‘Blue Dan-
nbe Waltzes?
“And the ‘Last Hope, and ‘The
Malden's Prayers’ and the ‘Battle of
Sebastopol’? Can I ever forget them,
you mean? And yet, if I want them
nowadays I have to steal away and
lock the doors like a criminal! And—
what's the matter?'—she broke off
suddenly as some memory of past
wrongs darkened his face for a mo-
ment.
“Matter?” he echoed; “perhaps you
noticed that at my parlor chat last
evening nobody listened or appeared
to care a straw for my modest remin-
iscences of Holmes, Longfellow, Low-
ell and Emerson? I was a doddering
old imbecile to have undertaken it, of
course. Everybody simply yawned un-
til the lady monologist came on—the
humorist.”
“Humorist!” ejaculated the little
widow, warmly. “There was nothing
humorous about her except her bon-
net—and our $20 doubtless went for
that ‘creation!’ If that be creation,
give me chaos!” |
“1 was a little lower than the jani-
tor,” he continued gloomily. “And
the worst is yet to come. A sweet
young freshman from Yale, addressing
me as ‘In your day’ (why is that ine
nocuous observation so unfailingly ex:
asperating?) said he supposed I wad
acquainted with all the leading lights
of the early nineteenth century? I
effaced myself before he could ask
about Washington and Lafayette, and
did I sign the Declaration of Independ-
ence. It was blood-curdling?’ The
speaker mopped his brow in fevered
retrospect. “But the limit was reached
this morning, when some youngster of-
fered to read me the war headlines in
the morning papers. I made up my
mind then that I was considered in the
advanced stages of paresis.”
“It's fearfully aging, I think to
meet such things,” sighed the little
lady pathetically. “And then—some of
the old ways I simply cannot get over
—1 don’t want to try! The old hymns
I lived by, and shall die by—that have
brought me through so much sorrow
and loss; there have been crises I
never could have survived without the
help of those old tunes”—she was
weeping softly into a delicate film of a
handerchief.
“Never mind, dear little woman—
these things are our for keeps, and no-
body can take them away.” His voice
was full of sturdy optimism and sym-
pathy, but it was very gentle, and d
bit unsteady, too.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, suddenly, sit-
ting up straight as though struck by a
joyful inspiration. “Cheer up! I can
see where we get ahead of the new dis.
pensation of things, after all! Haw!
Haw! I just happened to bethink my+
self of some old wine, inches deep in
cobwebs, that these infernal young:
sters would give half their possessions
to attain! The spoils are not always to
the young—ha! ha! great joke, isn’t
it, er, my dear?”
Milady dried her eyes and smiled
faintly at his new-found exuberance
of spirits.
“I have some almost priceless old
laces, and some china such as those
rosy maidens have never even dreamed
of in their philosophy,” she affirmed,
“ond a highboy and sideboard that are
worth their weight in gold, and some
andirons—you remember those an-
dirons of mother’s, don’t you, Stes
phen?’ She blushed slightly as shd
spoke—it had been a quarter of a cen:
tury since she had called him Stephen.
“And possibly you forget the waf-
fles I made you one day—"
“Waffles! say no more! I muy be a
past, a pluperfect, but there are some
memories that tell me I have not lived
in vain!”
“That soup to-night,” ke interrupted,
breathlessly, “Mrs. Merrydew—Anna!
didn’t it seem to you that it lacked a
faint touch of something—something
impalpable, inexpressible, soul-satisfy-
ing—almost psychological—"
“It did, indeed; also the steak and
the croquettes! As you say, a some-
thing—""
“Onions!”
“Onions!”
The word burst forth from both si
multaneously—they gazed at one an-
other in speechless ecstasy.
“I just love them in everything,”
she faltered in sweet confession.
“Everything—everything! Mrs. Mer
rydew—Anna! Dearest!”
The Yale “fledgling” who was just
entering the door closed it softly again,
and reflected that there are some
things that youth does not monopolize,
after all.—Boston Transcript.
The history of coal is comparatively
modern.
USING UP PETER'S PUMPKINS,
Peter, Peter Pumpkin-eater
He will hungry go,
For Joe ng kd and Bob and Ned
And Phil and Fred and John and Jed,
And even little Tom and Ted,
And every boy | know,
Has made a Jack-o'-lantern
(And some are making twoj.
Poor Peter, Peter Pumpkin-eater!
What will Peter do?
~—Youth’'s Companion,
THE TARY MARK.
Tt was the first day ol the month,
and the reports for the month just
closed were brought home by the chil-
dren, and a dreadful cross appeared on
Margie's report on the “tardy square”
for the last Monday.
Papa always examined the reports,
and the children knew that all marks
were considered and the reason for
them demanded.
Margie's face was very red when
ghe handed her paper to papa. Papa
pould understand that a little girl might
miss in spelling, or might not do an
example right when she was sent to
the board, and sixty pairs of eyes
watched every motion of the chalk,
but papa could never understand why
any one need ever be tardy.
Margie watched papa “out of the
corner of her eye,” as she would have
said herself, while his eyes traveled
down the paper. At last he came to
that dreadful black cross, and glanced
up at her.
“Well, how was this?” he asked.
Margie was slow. Her best friends,
and she Lad many of them, always
had to acknowledge that she was slow.
So now she stood in front of papa, curl-
ing the corner of ler apron round a
lead-pencil, and trying hard to think
just which of the many things that
had happened last Monday morning
would be likely to impress papa the
most, for it would take such a long
time to tell them all, and the noon
hour was most gone.
“Well,” said Margie, “I couldn't seem
to find but one blue and one pink hair
ribbon, and I had to hunt a long time
to find mates to them.”
If she had said that Sister Beth had
sent her upstairs twice for a book,
whose title was so long she had had
much difficulty in remembering it, or
reading it when she did come to it..or
if she had said that she had played
with baby while mamma had curled
Beth's hair, or if she haa said that
papa himself had told her to go round
by Mr. Ford's with a note, all of which
had been equally true, she would just
have been told to start earlier the
next time; but she unfortunately chose
the thing that seemed of no import-
ance to her father, - hile it had re-
mained in her mind because Margie
was an orderly little soul and usually
knew where her belongings were, and
the errands and the baby were such
every-day events that they did not
seem really worth mentioning.
But papa had said such a dreadful
thing. Margie opened both eyes and
mouth wide; she really could not say
a word, and papa had gone out of
the house and down-town without giv-
ing the matter another thought.
An hour later mamma, going through
the room, had found uer all in a heap
on the floor, just where papa had left
her, sobbing gently to Lerself.
“Why, my deary,” said mamma,
swhat has happened?’ And little by
little Margie told her story, although
even then she forgot the errands and
the baby, until she came to the dread-
ful thing papa had said.
“Hb said,” she sobbed, “if I was late
again this month 1 should have to
avear a blue and a pink or a red and
green ribbon, one on each pigtail, for
a whole week! O mamma, do you
think he would disgrace me 80°?”
Margie was slow, but what she lost
in slowness that month she made up
by starting early. It never entered her
head to refuse when the other chil-
dren claimed her time to do errands
which they should have done them-
selves. Margie noticed that now quite
frequently mamma interfered. When
Philip said, “Here, Margie, run up-
stairs and get my history. I've just
time to finish this story before school,”
mamma said, “Phiiip must get his his-
tory himself. I want Margie to start
for school now.”
.I have spoken of Margie's many
friends. One of her best was Miss
Gardner, the second-grade teacher, who
had found out that she really did know
things, even if she was so slow about
letting you know she did, and had pro-
moted her to the second grade.
Miss Gardner was the very nicest
teacher, Margie thought, so the next
night after papa had said “that dread-
ful thing,” Margie waited after school
to walk home with her, and had told
her all about it.
Now Miss Gardner liked Margie as
much as Margie liked Miss Gardner,
and a little girl who always knew
what she was talking about and who
always tried to ‘commodate” was &
pleasing variety in that busy school-
room, so Miss Gardner made a plan
to help Margie, although she said noth-
ing about it.
It was really amazing how many
people watched the outcome of that
month, Margie had confided in the
grocer at the corner, while he was ty-
ing up a bundle for rer one day, and
the milkman who brought baby’s milk.
when she had ridden down to school
one morning, but refused a more ex-
tended ride. “You see how it is,” she
had ended her explanation, “I don’t
teel as if I'd enjoy the ride, thinking |
about those ribbons, ‘specially the red
and green.”
Papa, on his part, had heard consid
erable about those ribbons, Iirst mams=
ma had taken him to task. His part
ner. who was one of Margie's fast
friends, wanted to know “what he
meant by abusing that child so.” Aud
asked to explain himself, he had
brought up the story of the ribbons.
Even Miss Gardner had stopped him
on the street, but by that time papa
had heard about the errands and the
baby, much to his surprise. “Can you
tell me why on earth she did not tell
me about those and not about those
absurd hair ribbons?" he gasped.
“Why, yes, I can,” said Miss Gard-
ner, with the came smile that made
the children love her. “You see, the
errands and the baby are so much a
matter of course that she didn’t think
about them, and for such a dreadful
offense she felt as if she must have
some especially important excuse, and
the ribbons had made the most impres-
sion on her from the fact of its sel-
dom occurrence.”
Papa thanked Miss Gardner, and ex-
plained that he had thought that he
was letting Margie on’ with a very
slight punishment, but that he had
found out his mistake. mid he had
also found out how many more friends
his little girl seemed to have than he
had any idea of; and then Miss Gard-
ner and papa had laughed.
When the month ended Margie
brought home her report with a smil-
ing face. ‘Che spaces for the tardy
marks were all blank. Papa took the
paper, and in his most impressive style
congratulated Margie upon her suc-
cess, and then assured her that in fu-
ture he could trust her to take care of
her own tardy marks, and that wheth-
er tardy or not, he should know that
she had done her best.
Margie felt that the month of anxi-
ety had been well spent if she had
gained such a boon as that, but still
she felt tha: she must make it thor-
oughly plain that she had had a great
deal of help, “specially irom Miss
Gardner. You see.” she ended. “Miss
Gardner didn't want me mertified, so
she never rang the nell if I wasn’t
there without coming to the door to
see if I was coming, and once she
waited until I ran into the yard, and
then when I couldn't pes'bly be called
1ate she rang it.”
“H'm!” said papa. “I wonder if
Miss Gardner knows the meaning of
the word partiality *”
“I think so,” said Margie. “Miss
rardner knows about everything.”—
Martha Durant, in Youth's Companion,
TO MAKE PINHEAD DRAWINGS.
Take as many sheets ot paper of the
same size as there are to be players,
and lay them on the tabl: with all the
edges evenly placed. Now take five
pins or five grains of rice, and hold-
ing them between the thumb and fore-
finger a little distance above the table,
drop them on the top sheet of paper.
Put pencil dots where the pinheads
or the grains of rice lie oun the paper,
and holding the sheets firmly so that
they do not move, thrust a strong pin
through them all. This will result in
having each sheet of paper pierced in
five different places, one paper being
like another.
Now distribute these papers, one to
each player, and give also to each a
pencil, telling them to write their
names in one corner of the paper, and
then to draw the figure of a person,
using one dot in the head. one in each
hand and one in each foot.
No talent in drawings is required, as
the more ludicrous the results are the
more fun the drawings afford. A prize
should be awarded to the player mak-
ing the best drawing, and a consola-
tion prize to the one making the poor.
est.
The picture shows
the five dote
where the pinheads touched the paper,
and three drawings made from and in
cluding them.
instead of a human figure, you may
have the players draw animals, if you
wish, varying the number of dots. But
in each case the dots must be in like
position on the different sheets of pa-
per, and the same animal or bird
should be drawn by each player. as
this shows the variety of imagination
that can be used by different people in
the same simple game.—Good Literas
ture.
Ae———————i—
It seems that after payinw $1500 a
voltine for “Fads and Fanvcies,” New
York's smart set still has money
enough left to pay $1300 a pair of
“medicated boots.”
NEWSPAPER PRINTING,
Call For Better Presawork and Smaller
Sunday Papers,
Jolin A, Loving, printer, of Spring-
field, Mass, writes to the Republican
of that city on newspaper typography.
tle thinks that the so-called comic sup-
plements are a debauchery of Journal.
{sm, The ablest and most influential
papers are generally examples of
typographical good taste.
After touching upon the laborions
processes by which a book is made
letter-perfect, Mr. Loring continues:
There is no time for this sort of
leisurely procedure on a daily paper,
where, by the inexorable limitations
of the day, hours must be compressed
into minutes and every second be-
comes a treasured interval, Frequent
ly during my employment upon an
evening newspaper the last telegraphic
copy came in as late as 4.50, we
rushed the forms down to the press.
room at 5, and caught the mall (rain
a quarter of a mile distant at 5.10.
Everything had to go on the jump
like lightning to do it, but we always
“got there.”
So, as a practical “book and job”
printer, my views on the improvement
of daily newspaper manufacture are
influenced by an appreciation of the
limiting conditions governing produe-
tion. Here are three suggestions: The
first is important, possible, and the
public is entitled to it; the second is
desirable; the third relates to a luxury.
1. Better presswork Is wanted;
clear print with ink that is black, not
dirty gray mud. .
2. Make a few copies of each day's
principal edition on permanent all-rag
paper, for the office bound files and
public libraries. To leave no daily his-
tory of our time except upon wood-
pulp “news” paper is a crime against
civilization.
3. Reduce the ordinary Sunday pa-
pers to the same number of pages as
on week days. Tor the ‘Sunday sup-
plement use super-calender book pa-
per, upon which fine half-tone cuts and
high-grade typography may appear in
their perfect beauty.
Modern photography and photo-me-
chanical engraving give the live news.
paper a splendid opportunity, whieh, if
fully exploited might result in adding
a regular feature of great educational,
historic, artistic and financial value,
and strengthen infinitely the prestige
of the journal in its home field.
Some of the metropolitan dailies
have advertised “art supplements’ of
this nature, but the performance fell
far short of the promise, generally on
account of inexeunsably poor all-round
workmanship and material.
WISE WORDS.
There is no killing the suspicion that
deceit has once begotten.—George El
fot.
The scorn of genius is the most ar
rogant and boundless of all scorn.—
Ouida.
Among all the fine arts, one of the
finest is that of painting the cheeks
with health.—Ruskin.
Time 1s the greater comforter of
grief, but the agency by which it
comes is exhaustion.—London.
One may dominate moral sufferings
only by labor. Study saves from dis.
couragement.—Duchess d’Abrantes.
Earnest discussion is commendabie;
but factious argument never yet pro-
duced a good result.—Scottish Re-
former.
You will always find it a safe rule
to take a thing just as quick as it is
offered, especially a job.—Old Gorgon
Graham.
I find friendship to be like wine, raw
when new, ripened with age, the true
old man’s milk and restorative cordial.
—Jefferson.
The sense of this word among the
Greeks affords the noblest definition
of it; enthusiasm signifies God in us.—
Madame de Stael.
Struggle with the outer world keeps
up and increases the elasticity of an or-
ganism; internal conflict lames and
wears it out.—Carmen Sylva.
Love and friendship are stronger
than charity and politeness, and those
who trade upon the latter are rarely
accorded the former,—Seton Merriman,
No great thing is created suddenly,
any more than a bunch of grapes or &
fig. If you tell me that you desire a
fiz, I answer you that there must be
time. Let it first blossom, then bear
fruit. (hen ripen.—Epicietus.
It is while you are patientiy toiling
at the little tasks of life that the mean.
ing and shape of the great whole of
life dawns upon you. It is while you
are resisting little temptations that yon
are growing stronger.—Phillips Brooks,
Relief For Earache.
Earache is one of the most distress
ing ailments of childhood. FIeat, per:
haps, gives as much relief as any ap-
plication. The ear may be gently
filled with water as hot as can Le
borne, poured in with a teaspoon.
The child should lie with the affected
ear uppermost and after a short time
turn on that side and let the water
run out. Sometimes a small mus.
tard plaster behind the ear stops the
pain. It should be left on only a few
minutes.
Cosmopolitan Household.
A typical South African household
described by Olive Schreiner had an
English father, a half Dutch mother
with a French name, a Scotch gov-
erness, a Zulu cook, a Hottentot
housemaid and a Kafiir stable boy,
while the little girl who waited oun the
table was a Basuto.
VBown on Smoking.
The Rev. W. Mayo, of Bristol, In-
formed the annual meeting of the Brit.
Ish Anti-Tobacco and Anti-Nareotie
League, at Manchester, that 000 girls
In his city have resolved to “have noth-
ing to do” ya boys who smoke.
Farm Topics}
ESE SS SS SO
SEED CORN,
When selecting ‘your seed corn al-
ways bear in mind that the plants from
kernels with the largest germs geners
ally withstand drouth much better thar
would otherwise be, the case, because
of the simple fact that they are nour
ished the best,
A SEED POINTER.
The time for purchasing seed to be
used for this year's crops has about ar.
rived, and probably we could give no
better advice than to say that seed of
the best quality isinvariably the cheap
est in the end. Poor seed is costly at
any price, and should not be used by
any one under any circumstances,
PLOW DEEPLY FOR CORN.
The cutworm often destroys whole
fields of corn, compelling replanting,
which makes the crop late and less
able to stand dry weather, The corn
land should be plowed deep and left
rough, so as to permit the frost to en-
ter. When cutworms are exposed to
alternate thawing and freezing weather
many will be destroyed, though cold
without dampness may not injure them.
SHEEP GREAT FORAGERS.
It is claimed that a farmer can keep
one sheep for every cow without feel-
ing the additional expense, as sheep
consume much that other stock will
not eat. The use of sheep is most ap-
preciated by the fact that they are
great foragers, and destroy a large
number of weeds. A flock of sheep
confined to a limited area will also
add considerable fertility to the land.
USELESS AS MANURE.
There is always a large amount of
coarse material in the barnyard that
has little or no plant food in it, es-
pecially if it has been exposed. Such
manure is not worth taking to the
fields, and if turned under it will make
the soil dryer in summer. Such. ma-
terial should be made the foundation
for a new heap, so as to rot it down to
less bulk, and also to use it as ab-
sorbent material for fresh manure.
GOOD SEED POTATOES NEEDED.
yood seed potatoes are necessary if
a large crop is expected. Never at-
tempt to economize on seed. Get the
best, as any mistake made will last
into the harvest. Use whole seed, if
possible, and give more room in the
rows. While the sprouts from single
eyes are breaking the ground the tops
of whole potatoes will be large enough
to plow. Many farmers have lost
money by cutting the seed potatoes in-
to small pieces in order to reduce the
cost, but for every dollar thus saved
they lose much more in the crop.
DESTROY POTATO BEETLES.
In the potato the most important
constituent is starch. Thousands of
bushels of potaoes are used in the
starch industry, which assists in main-
taining prices. Bakers also use pota-
toes in the making of bread, and pota-
toes are also used largely for food in
various ways. It is through the agency,
of the leaves that the starch is elabor-
ated in the tubers, hence it is necessary,
that potato beetles be destroyed before
they damage the vines, instead of al-
lowing them to consume a large portion
of the growth. The best potatoes are
produced early when the vine growth
is vigorous.
BETTER WAIT.
When the weather becomes warm
there is a temptation to plant early,
and especially the garden seeds. It is
a mistake to do so, however, as there is
liability of frost at any time. If the
ground is not well warmed the seeds
may never germinate, and plants that
are tender, and which come up early,’
may be so checked in growth on a cool
night as to seriously interfere with
their progress during the season. It
has often been noticed that late plants
which come up from seeds make more
rapid headway than some grown in
hotbeds and then transplanted. This
is due to the fact that they get abund-
ant warmth at the start, and are not
checked at any stage of growth. It i
well to get the plants out as early as
the weather will permit, but it is better
to wait a week or two rather than in-
cur the risk of loss from late frosts, as
time thus lost cannot be regained.
REMEDY FOR TICKS.
I find a good many of my lambs are
badly infested with ticks since the
sheep were sheared. The sheep are
quite clear of them. What can I do
for the lambs?
The American Sheep Breeder an-
swers this question as follows:
The best thing that can be done is to
dip the lambs in any good dip which
is used for the scab. There is only one
sure remedy against this and the scab
insect as well, which is to dip properly,
the whole flock twice every year, once
jn the spring before shearing—when
the fleeces will be much improved in
appearance by it—and the other in the
fall before the cold weather arrives.
This will be found not nearly so trou-
blesome as one dipping only in the
year, and in fact will pay the whole
fexpen:e of it in the improvement of the
fleece, and again in the clearing of the
lambs—and the sheep as well—from all
kinds of parasites such as these ticks
and fleas, as well as that most trouble-
some disease—the sheep scab, If the
flock is once freed completely from all
these parasites there will be no future
trouble, and these regular dippings will
be a very easy matter, costing only a
trifle to then insure complete comfort
to the sheep as well as to their owner.
and a great economy will result,
—
Soren
{
Foi
Fine
in our
becom
such s
and
of the
burnis
bearin
ziness
Sere
the re
absolv
E. Pi
It reg
diseas
nothix
For
wome!
nervo
matio
ness |
the p«
their
invalu
childb
Tan
licited
at the
Mass.
time }
solute
B. Pin
Mrs. |
Mrs
toWo
form ¢
romj
am,
receiv
by wo
your
quick
advise
in-law
twent
and si
vising
the vi
ing fe
has tI
your
poor,
advar
assist
An
only r
roaste
and e
used
Berlin
Shak
soak O°
ing rin
utting
hroug
gqueez
an hou
then st
to shee
The
uors i
$709,0(
fit bet!
Intrinsi
WwW. L.
Men
CAL
las sho
without
Fast Co
‘Write
D
0
TOR CC
Gx
for boc
PA!
If ami
with w
eyes,