FREELAND TRIBUNE. PUBLISHED EVERY ' MONDAY AND THURSDAY. TLIOS. A. BUCKLEY, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. OFFICE: MAIN STREET AMOVE CENTRE. SUBSCRIPTION RATES. Olio Yoar ,1 SO Six Months - 75 Four Mouths - 50 Two Months 25 Subscribers are requested to observe tho date following tho natnu on tho labels of their papers. By referring to this they can tell at a fflance how they stand on the books in this office. For instance: (irovcr Cleveland 2RJunc9s means that Cirover is paid up to June 28, 1886. Keep the figures in advance of the present date, lie port promptly to this office when your paper is not received. All arrearages must be jaki when pafier is discontinued, or collection will hu made in tho munncr provided by law. THE sure foundationsof the state are laid in knowledge, not in ignor ance; and every sneer at education, at culture, at book learning, which is lite recorded wisdom of the experi ence of mankind, is the demagogue's sneer at intelligent liberty, inviting national degeneracy and ruin. NEAR Lagro, Ind., a mill dam 500 feet long across the Salamonie ltiver has been destroyed by lire. Tho water in the river had been very low and it is supposed that lisliermen ac cidentaliy set it on Are. It burned for about a week. A burning mill dam is a curiosity, but it has been duplicated before. A dam across Fox River at Ottawa, 111., burned several years ago under similar circumstances of low water and dried out timber. AMERICAN dentists are in dcraanu all over Europe for the melancholy reason that Americans have the worst teeth in the world. The need of preserving American teeth against decay due to bad dietary habits has developed dentistry in the United States to a high degree of skill. Europeans, who do not drink iced water lirst and eat tho hottest of pastry immediately afterward, have not afforded the teetli menders of their respective countries equal op. portunity for progress, and they are compelled to seek the services of American dentists who have numer ously and successfully sought Euro pean openings. Russia lias at last put up a bar. No professional man can obtain a license in Russia unless he has passed an examination In Russian. French used to bo a satisfactory alternative language. Rut French itself has been put under ban because French doctors were becoming as numerous there as American dentists. SOME of the patents of the Bell Telephone Company were not issued in this country until 189.1, but they were granted in European countries for the same inventions in 1877. As a consequence of a law of Congress requiring patents to expire in this country as soon as their term is run in any other, these patents will be come open to the public next year unless this law is repealed. A strong effort was made to repeal this law at the last session of Congress, but though it was tried ttvo times each attempt failed. If we are to be sub jected to foreign competition, we ought to have the advantage of every labor-saving machine just as soon as its patent expires in any other coun try. The patent creates a monopoly hero. This is only tolerable so long as our competitors in manufacturing are subjected to the same hindrances as we are. A VERY interesting case in insur ance was presented in Chicago re cently. Tho manager of one of the larger companies received a proof of loss from an agent in a near-by town for a sulky plow which was destroyed in a (lro in a blacksmith shop. The owner of the plow carried insurance on his farm machinery, hut the pol icy was written to cover It on his farm a mile away. Some repairs were found necessary and the plow was taken to the blacksmith shop, where it was when the lire destroyed the shop and the plow. The owner made claim for indemnity on the ground the repairs to the plow were necessary and asked to be reimbursed for its value. The ease is similar to one which came up in Milwaukee some time ago. A woman who car ried insurance on all her household effects sent a sealskin jacket to a fur rier to he repaired. Fire destroyed the shop and the woman asked to he recompensed for loss. When this case came before the courts, as it did, the Supreme Court of Wisconsin de cided tho insurance company was responsible for the loss, on tho ground that the repairs were necessary tc the garment, that the taking of it tc the store did not release the insur ance company from liability. The policy under which this decision was rendered contained a clause insuring the property "contained in said dwelling." 'The decision caused a change in the wording of the policies, which now read "while contained in said dwelling." it would lie well for every one to read their policies care fully and watch for new clauses. SUN fcFOIS. Thoro'a n flock of rus: on .1 flawless blario— On the armor of prico there's ono ; There's a raolo on the cheek of tho lovely maid— There are spots on tho sun. Ilut the bla to of Damascus has succorod tho weak, The shield savo l a knight from a fall : The mole is a k'raco on my lady's cheek— ] The sun shines for all. —S. A. Walker, in In dependent. MA'MOFSKLMT BY FLORENCE L. GUEItTIN. (OfC) \t A ' M oISELLE" \hJ L I was 11 butterfly. b I ("'M 10 'btted from | ■ Ift I flower to flower I m\\Y uiirn 1 in berown dainty i: ■ I!' fashiou, absorb- I B f * U S what sweet- i ness ami pleasure 1 5 P - K * l(J from 1 I oaeb, ami cast- fcx*mf in<; the blossom ; aside when she ] bad deprived it of what had been the best it contained. She was a \ butterfly that pleased the eye and 1 ornamented the landscape, but ono 1 i that caused tl e passer-by to shake his ; < head and ask what the end would be. , Could she go on in that way forever? i 1 Would life always yield her honey, t unmixed with gall?" Would she ever | become serious, less selfish, less flip- 1 pant? Would she ever marry and set tle down? Or, if she did not, would > slio grow old, as other women did, or ( forever remain distractingly young i ami irresponsible as she was now? 1 Ma'moiselle was 110 longer a young 1 girl, people said. At twenty-eight it 1 was time that a woman should long 1 since have been at the hcud of a house, c the mother of a growing brood, ilut : Ma inoiselle shook her head and said that she really wouldn't cure for it; - that she was just beginning to find out t how to enjoy herself; that she loved t her freedom, her liberty, her good > health, her ability to relish the flavor { of all things, too much to exchange them for an uncertainty. $ The unkind ones said that the real reason was that she loved all men too \ much to marry one; that she was a j disgraceful little flirt, and that they ] pitied the man who really did win her. : j And they could not forgive her the ; fact that, in spite of her frivolity una general undesirableness in the'r eves, 1 there were a number of men who were 11 undoubtedly willing, and even anxious, ' , to accept the position of husband to i 1 Ma'moiselle, and be led by her the | , dance thut they predicted. ! , It was Josiah Dalrymplo who ' ( christened her "Ma'moiselle." She ! c had some French blood in her; and being rather proud of the fact, she - did her best to accentuate it. It was hardly an affectation, for 'her tastes < were innately French, Fhc had de veloped tho habit, when a child, of I . giviug an expressive and decidedly ' , foreign little shrug to her shoulders. , She could speak the language, too, it 1 being the one study to which she had ; paid any serious attention, and she loved to chatter it. Dalrymplo said ' that she reminded him of a" picture he had once seen in the Paris Salou ; a figuro in fancy dress, that might have served as a model for "Folly," but was simply catalogued "Portrait of u Young Lady and ever afterwards he had called Elisc Coudcrt "Ma'moi selle." Dalrymplo was about as little like a , butterfly as she was like a grub. It had falleu to his lot to be one of the toilers of the world, uml though (-till a young man he had won a place and name for himself by his own untiling efforts. He was serious by nature and j upright through principle. He be lieved thoroughly in the gospel of : hard work, and knew that success I worth having would not come easily. I liis life was earnest, his purpose un flinching, his amusements fe.v. ' Ma'moiselle was among the latter. When he had had u particularly try- i ing day, downtown, it rested him to drop in, 011 Ins way to his rooms, at ; Mrs. Coudert's attractive home. The 1 drawing room was always light and ! airy—anything heavy and severe be ing excluded by Ma'moiselle, whom Mrs. Coudert never opposed ; and he 1 could generally have a little chat with Mu'moiselle herself, it was sure not to be a draiu on his intellect, while ! his eye was gratified by the tasteful \ surroundings, and his ear amused by the conversational twitter, although of Ma'moiselle herself his reason did j not always upprove. It refreshed him ' even to scold her, presuming as lit often did upon his old acquaintance and the friendship lie hud had with her brother, now married and living far away. He went up the steps to her lioust i one afternoon, unusually depressed, I 011 account of business complications, ' ami met young Wuterbury coining | oilt. Wuterbury was a tall, smooth ' faced, manly looking fellow, with i features like those cut in u catneo, but now pale and set. iff went by Dalrymple with an uusnniing nod, and the latter passed into the house. Ma'moiselle was still in the drawing room, with a countenance that told no tales, hut was us serene and fresh as usual. "What have you been doing to that boy V'ho asked, after he ha I shaken hands and drawn a chair up near to Iter. iSlie laughed, and flushed a little as she replied : "Nothing, O father confessor, ex cept to tell liiiu how foolish ho was. Tea?" she asked questioningly, turn ing to the cups on the low table be side her, and picking up a thin siico of lemon with the tougs. "No, thanks," he said shortly ; "you know tiiat. I hate the stuff. I only 1 take hot lemonade when I have a ' coid.'' j Ma'moiselle scored ono word in her small mind. It was "grumpy," so she waxed more amiable herself. She moved her cliair back a little and faced him. Putting two small feet, in ridiculously pointed, high heeled slippers, on a low footstool in front of her, she let her head rest on the back of her chair and her bunds ilroj), in a resigned fashion, into her lap. "What is it, Josiah?" she asked, looking at him in a quizzical way— she always called him Josiah when she wanted to tease him—"what is troub ling your soul now?" "I was thinking of young Wuter bury," he said, quite seriously. "I am sorry lor him." She turned her head a little uneasi'y. "For being so foolish?" she asked, j gazing up at the ceiling. I "No," he replied ; "he couldn't pre j vent that. Hut you might have done | so. Why did you not tell him that he was foolish at the beginning of the winter? Why did you let him play the devoted knight to you, going about with you and seeing you day after day, becoming wrapped lip in you, only to be told in the end that he was foolish'?" "Because, my dear Josiah"—with unusual sweetness—"you can't tell a man not to fall in love with you, be fore you arc sure that he is going to do it; and after that—well"—with one of the characteristic little shrugs, and a smile that showed her even white teeth—-"it'sgenerally too late." Then, changing to a more plaintive key, she said: "Don't be disagreeable to-ilay, Jo; you know how I dislike disagreeable conversations. Auil don't stand lean ing there, looking down at 111 c as if you were a preacher and I the sinner. I know that I'm frivolous, I know I'm vain—fond to distraction of attention, even. You see I admit it all, so you can't argue with me. I assure you 1 agree with yon. lam quite hopeless. Now sit down'--as he smiled a little - "and be pleasant, and let's drop that tiresome boy. Isn't ho hand some, though? What a nose, and what shoulders ! I could almost adore him." Dalrymple dropped wearily into the chair near her. "I think that F will have some tea," he said; "F am tired." "What? Change your mind weak ly, like any woman?" she exclaimed joyously, delighted to think that she had diverted 111111. He leaned his head on his hand and watched her fingers fluttering about among the tea things. They were white, with the pinkest of nails, and fairly glittered with rings. He thought she wore too many rings. Ho had o;ten told her so; but tlioy were the one ornament in the way of jewelry of which she was prodigal. "J could not live without them," she had oucu said, holding lier palms out with the ten jeweled digits ex tended in trout of her and gazing at them fondly. "They are a moral support to me, really, just as good clothes are, you know. Perhaps vou don't understand that, either, but that's because you're not a woman. I love my rings, and really don't be lieve 1 could exist without them. They mean so much to me. I love them for the fire they contain, for the sparkle that they give out. If [ feel downcast, J move my hands about, and the rings glisten and seem to say, •Cheer up; tli.-ru ia light and life in me,' and I brighten immediately." "How long have I known you, Ma'moiselle?" Dalrymple ask :d, as be ! leaned forward and took the cup she held out to liiui. "Eleven years," she replied. "What in ago! Don't tell me you remember how old I was then." ■ "Hut I do," lie replied, smiling 0 j little in his slow way. " 1 remember j perfectly. Eleven years—" He j sipped the tea and seemed to 'no think ing. "And how ninny lovers have you I had since then, Ma'moiselle?" i "How do 1 know?" she replied, pushing the footstool away somewhat impatiently, feeling that the corning | lee Mi re had not been averted after all. "No, you couldn't be expected to ! remember, of course," he said ; "but I I t hink I do. 1 have been a spectator, you 1 know, When F first knew you, you 1 were only a child, but you were very I much as you are now. There were | diumlera even then. The lirst that 1 j recall were young Wiuslow and old j Howard. They were always hanging ! around you. Then there was that i English chap who blushed so, and the titled Italian, whom we all hated be- J cans lie looked like Mephistoplieles. | Vnd that awfully nice fellow—Bab cock, wasn't it? who had it worse than s?omo do, and who left so sudden ly and went ranching. They say," lie went on, looking thoughtfully down into his cup, "that he has—gone to the dogs sine ." "SVell," she said feebly, "could 1 help it? I could not make myself love him." I "No, he replied; "of course you couldn't help it. You good women never are to blame for anything. You never drive a man to drink or to folly and ruin. It is always his fault if lie does any of these things through love of vou. You never t ike a young boy aui let him grow to care for you, to make you his ideal, to fairly worship you, ouly to be laughed at in the end. You never start him in life with false and bitter ideas of wo men because one lias disappointed liiiu. You irreproachable women never break men's hearts or wreck their lives. Ft is always their own fault, you say. There are some sius, Ma'moiselle," he said, speaking very slowly, "thatare not down in the dec alogue auil yet are crimes." "And by all this you mean," she said quite lightly, "that I am one of the criminals?" "F mean that you are one of the ir reproachable women," lie auswered, looking at her seriously. "You have [ bccu boru witJi a cUurxu—a power to please—l don't know what it is, but I have watched it work destruction for eleven years. You are not the pret tiest woman I know, Ma'moiselle, nor yet the most intellectual, but you are the most fascinating, and—" "Thank you," she interrupted drily. "It was fitting that you should admin ister that sugar pill after being so brutally frank." "I am afraid that I feel liko being still more frauk," ho continued; "and jierliaps I do not chooso my words happily. But I felt siek at heart when I saw that boy at the door, aud kuew so well what had happened. Where is he now, and what do you suppose he w'ill do to-night?" "It is not as serious as you think it is," she said gently. "He will get over it." "Yes," ho agreed ; "he will get over it. They all do, in time. But the getting over it, ma'moiselle; you j | don't know what that means. Irre proachable women never do." "Go on," she said, coldly. "The end, Josiah, is what I have been hop ing for ever since you began." "The end is," ho said, that this woman is generally caught in her own snares. She at last limls out that af ter all she, too, has a poor thing called a heart that is not as lifeless as she thought it. She learns what it is to love aud to suffer." "You mean—?" Ma'moiselle said, leaning forward in her chair, her hand tightly clasped, tho color and brightness gono from her face. "I mean that she at last meets some one to whom she does not in the least appeal ; some one on whom all of her wiles are lost; some one who does not care for her. She inspires polite indifference, the most maddening thing in the world—that is all." If he had brought a lash down on her shoulders he could not have stung her more. She rose quickly nhd went to the window, standing with her hands still closely clasped in front of her, looking out at the placid passers by. It was some time before she spoke. "1 am trying to think whether I shall take the trouble to answer you or not," she said at last. "You have gone further than you have ever goue before, and I have let you. I had a morbid curiosity to be present at my own dissectiou. I am glad to know what you really think of me. But I hate such conversations ! I hate such scenes! lam not given to making long speeches, and, as you told me, I am not clever. But whatever my faults are, saying uupleusaut things is not among them. Flattery may be part of my wiles, but at least it never hurts. I feel," she said, turning to ward him and passing her hand wearily over her forehead—"l feel at least ten yeur3 older than I did when you first began." She leaned a little on a table near her, and his heart smote him, she looked so frail and childish. "Per haps it i all true, what you have said. Perhaps lam what you think. But what do you know of a woman's heart? What do you know of her inner life and motives? Simply what you observe, aud what she is pleased t) tell you. Because she does not wear her heart on her sleeve, or surrender it to some man, are you justified in thinking that she is with- I out one? How do you know that she is without one? How do you know that she has not suffered? How do you know that her frivolous life is not an effort to hid it? What right have you to predict pain for her, when—" She turned away, unable to liuish Dalryinpie gazed at her, aghast. Her slender frame was trembling, and for the first time he saw that her eyes looked pained and earnest. He hardly supposed her capable of expressing any emotion save almost childish joy or pleasure; yet now, as lie looked at her, he lelt as if bo had laid bare her quivering soul. He took one step toward l.t r and held out his hand. ".Ma'moiselle," he said softly, "for give me." The front door opened, and in an instant the portieres leading from the hall were parted, us Mrs. Coudert entered the room. Dalrymple dropped his haud aud turned to greet her. He did not set; Ma'moiselle alone after that, and soon took his departure. As he stopped into the open air ho drew a loug, deep breath, and almost doubted the reality of the scene he hail had with Ma'moiselle. He was glad that Mrs. Coudert bad come iu just when she did, before ho had had time to take hack those cruel, trutli tul tilings. It had been the hardest task of his life, but he was glad that he had had the strength to say them, j It had settled one thing in his mind. She cured for some one elso. She had suffered—she, who never seemed to have a care or a serious thought. It was some one whom perhaps she had known in her early youth—some one whom she hail sent away and regretted ; some one whom she had found out too lato that she loved. A lew days later the worst that he had dreaded tor his business came upon him. Every day chronicled fresh failures, and in one of the crashes he saw the enterprise that he had given years to building up, totter and fall like a house of cards; the money he had toiled to amass melt be fore liis eyes. In the opinion of tho world he was a ruined man, everything —save honor—gone. There was nothing to do but to be gin again. This he preferred t<> un tier take in unother city. He settled his affairs as best ho could, and pre pared to leave town. He had some money, left liim by his mother, aud he intended to travel a little before he decided where to locate aud again be gin the battle of life. He postponed bis good-by to Ma'* moiselle until the lust. Ho bail not seen her since that day when, be now felt, be bud presumed—when be bad touched upon u wound where he aup posed there was nothing but callous ness. She came down in a clinging gown of palest heliotrope, and nestled back among the cushions at one end of tlio couch. She said that she had not been feeling well; that she certainly must be getting old, for she was developing nerves. And she played with a litt'e gold smelling bottle, holding it oc casionally to her nostrils. It was one of her airs, she told him; she never hud been known to faint in her life, but simply liked tho smell of it. Then there was a little pause in which ho felt conscious and constrained, yet could not tell why. "I am going away, Ma'moiselle," he said at last, looking away from her, "and I could not bear to go without apologizing—without telling you how sorry I am you understand—for what I said last time." "Yes," she replied, smiling; "I un dorstand. It was quite tragic, wasn't it? You will let us hear from you— mother and me? Wo shall be anxious to know what you are doing." It was plaiu that she did not wish to talk of that last conversation, and he became more uneasy than ever. Ho had wanted to say so much about his repentance, but felt that he had been cut off. He sat and gazed quite stu pidly at her hands as they played with the vinaigrette, wondering what made them look *so different. They were as white as ever, the nailK were as carefully manicured, but—they did not seem like the hands of Ma'mois elle. He had it at last. Tho fingers did not wear a ring; and ho had never seen her without rings before. "Your hands look strange, Ma'mois elle," he said. "Your rings -part of you, you know—where are they?" A wave of color rose, dyeing her throat and face. It filled him with amazement. He sprang to his feet, a sudden thought seizing him. Thrust ing his hand deep into his pocket, he drew out a draft, signed by the cash ier of a well-known bank, but seut to him anonymously. He had not had time to trace it, and did not in tend to use it, but believed that some business friend, wishing todielp him, had sent it. He gazed now with hor ror from the slip of paper to tho little, ringless hands of Mtt'moiselle, then into the eyes that 110 longer met his, but drooped guiltily. "Ma'moiselle," he said sternly. Tlie small hands went up to the face, covering tlie hot cheeks. "Afa'moiselle," he repeated'less se verely, but with reproach in his tones. Still there was no reply, but the pillows shook, and he knew that she was crying. The next time, that he said "Ma'moiselle," it was from his knees beside her, where he gently took the little palms from her face, and looked into her eyes with the lashes all wet. Then he dropped his heud on the unadorned lingers, and kissed them reverently. AVhen ho lifted his head again to take her in his arms, something glist tened on the hand of Ma'moiselle, but it was not a diamond.—Muusey'a Magazine. WISE WORDS. Love always weeps when it has to whip. Love never bestows a burden that is heavy. Birds with bright plumage are sel dom fat. Law wears iron shoes, and don't care where it steps. People who make crooked paths never get in earnest. One symptom of backsliding is a lack of thankfulness. Religion pare and undefiled never works by the month. It takes more courage to endure tliau it does to uct. There are no real strong people in this world but good people. The truth we hate the most is the truth that hits us the hardest. The sins that pay their rent prompt ly are the best ones wo want to give up. Growth iu grace is never prompted by watching for faults in others. Every time a bad man throws mud at a good mau he hits himself iu the face. A lie is often told without saying a word, by putting the rotteh apples iu the bottom of the basket. One trouble with the church is that there are too mauy babes in it from live to six feet high.—Rani's Horn. New Trick ot the Usurers. The usurers of Berlin, Germany, have a new trick. Parties who seek a loan through advertisements iu news papers are informed that they can have the money, by paying an inter est of six per cent. —and by renting a lloor of such and such a house belong ing to the money lender. If the bor rower accepts, ho is compelled to •sign a lease running for a number of years, at a very high rent. In this wise, many a horrible or hardly fin ished house is filled from cellar to ; garret iu a very short time. Then | everything is tried to sell the house, and as the leases are apparent evi dence that the property is a paying one, dupes are generally found.—New York Press. Picturesque Names. In making treaties with China each foreign country has choson its own name. Euglaud is Ying Kwo, the llourishiug country; Franco is Fa Kwo, the law-abiding couutry; the United States is Mei Kwo, the beauti ful couutry ; Germany is Je Kwo, the virtuous couutry; Italy is I Kwo, the couutry of justice; Japan is Ji Kwo, ! the land of the sun, but sho prefers to ; be called Ji Pen, the land oi the ris- I tug BUU.— Detroit Free Press. PROFIT IN APPLE TREES. Tbe Rural New Yorker quotes the following: "I approve of setting out apple orchards, for I am persuaded that the apple crop of the future is going to be a profitable one, as the population increases faster than the apple trees, and many of the orchards now standing are growing old and go ing into decay." POINTS ON FARM ACCOUNTS. Says the National Dairyman: "If you would keep an account with your fields, you would find out that you can produce corn, oats, hay, or any thing cheaper on a well-manured field. You would lind that there are certain expenses which are exactly the same whether you have a good crop or a poor one. These are: (1) Interest 011 original cost of land, buildings and fences; (*2) cost of seed, and to a certain extent (J) cost of cultiva tion." WINTERING PARSNIPS. The practice of leaving parsnips in tiie ground through the winter is very general, writes <i. A. Woolson, of Vermont, to Ihe American Agricul turist. The prevalent idea that freez ing and thawing add materially to the flavor of the vegetable is erroneous, in experience proves. The better way is to dig them late in the fall and store iu a cool cellar. The advan tages to be gained by this process are the early date at which they can bo placed u the market and consequent bight r prices obtained, and the length of time they retain their flavor and freshness in spring and early sum mer. Parsnips thus cared for have been kept into June with marked suc cess. Furthermore it avoids the neces sity of hustling around to dig the roots in the spring before the tops have made much growth; likewise worms and rot are unknown. GLANDERS. Glanders is a contagious malady, which can be communicated from one animal to another by actual contact only ; therefore, to prevent the disease Irom spreading it is necessary only to isolate all subjects which have been exposed to the disease until the period oi incubation has expired. The period oi incubation, or, in other words, the time of receiving the contagion into the system and the appearance of the disease is usually in the acute form live to ten days, while in the chronic form it may be two or three months. All exposed subjects should therefore be quarantined for from sixty to ninety days. There is no cure for glanders. In the neighborhood where Ihe disease has prevailed due precau tion should be taken to guard against the spread of the disease. All diseased subjects should be promptly destroyed and the carcasses should bo burned. All suspected animals should bo kept isolated under veterinary supervision until they can be pronounced sound or destroyed. The stable where ihe diseased subjects have been kept, as well as all clothing, utensils, harness, etc., should be thoroughly disinfected. —American Farmer. POULTRY DUST BATII. Nearly if not quite all species of fowls use the dust bath, says Albert F. Firestine. They choose a spot of line, dry soil and scrape little holes, where they pulverize tho dirt until it is re duced to a flue dust. In this they roll and shake their feathers and allow the dust to penetrate to the skin. It ap pears that in somo way this is deleter ious to tho parasites wtiich infest the plumage or tho skin. It has been said by some naturalists that as all in sects breathe—not through the mouth as warm-blooded animals do, but through little openings in the skin situated in rows along the side of the body—the particles of dust close these openings, so that parasites dio of suffocation us quickly as a quadruped would if held under water. This has been denied by some scientists, who say that these holes are defended by a very delicate but effective apparatus that makes it impossible for any foreign matter to enter, no matter how minute it may be. lie this as it may, I know that wild birds take dust baths when ever the weather and tho state of soil permit. Nature is a good guide, and whether tho dust bath is for the pre vention aud absorption of effete mat ter which has become too odorous, or whether it acts as au insecticide, it is certainly advantageous to fowls or they would not use the dust bath. I say that tho careful poultry-keeper will provide dust boxes for birds, filled with fine duet, coal ashes, thoroughly dried and mixed with insect power. It makes but little difference which of these varieties of soil you use; the principal part is to have it clean. That is, not a highly manured soil, but a comparatively unfertile ono is prefer- j able. The next quuliflcatiou is that j it must be perfectly dry.-—Western ! Garden. FALL CALVES THE REST TO RAISE. There is no longer any use disput ing tho extra value of fall calves for raising. And they constitute ono of the chief sources of profit to tho but ter dairyman, who has his skim milk and raises his own cows, finely bred. It is no wonder that such wise men esti mate the value of skim milk at one I cent per quart. Aud they have learned I how to employ it to Uio best advan- tage. "I always feed it with bran," says one. But bran alone would not do, although it is essential to rapid growth because of its bone-producing elements. A little flaxseed, properly prepared, returns to tho milk a part of the fat removed by skimming, and keeps tho bowels in order. Boil it in six times its bulk of water for twenty niiuules, or until it makes a jelly. Two tablespoonfuls of this jelly placed in each gallon of milk fed the calves, with a handful or two of bran, accord ing to the age of tho calf, will make large, sleek, choice animals. Too much bran fed to very young calves is not desirable. There is no com parison between fall calves carefully reared in the barn in this way for tho first six months, and spring calves turned out to battle with flies inside of two months after birth. The evi dence is wholly in favor of tho fall calves. And it is surpriring bow soon they begin to eat hay. Give them the best early cut. Many nro beginning to find a similar course satisfactory for veal production, slightly increas ing the jelly with full rations of milk, but not enough to cloy the appetite. Some feed a little corn meal in con junction with the ration when fatten ing veal. This must be used judi ciously— not more than half a pint at a meal to the oldest, biggest calves. Such veal at this season and until veal begins to be low in price will sell as readily and for as much money as veal fattened on expensive butter fats. Look out for well-bred heifer calves. —American Agriculturist. FARM AND GARDEN NOTES. If any little pigs are expected on vonr farm be sure the sow has warm quarters. Use tho sprinkler of kerosene at least once a week and keep tho roosts always saturated. When fattening an animal push from the start—gradually at ilrst of course —and save time and feed. With proper management medium weight hogs are the most profitable to grow for the general market. Over-feeding is a waste—for indigos tiou is tho result ami food that is un digested, uuassimilated, is wasted. If the young stock are not thrifty when they go in to winter, it is doubt ful if they will come out thrifty in the spring. Tho boys and girls of the farm ought to be allowed a plot of grouud wherein they can grow something for themselves. Give your children good, sound, en tertaining and morally heathful read ing. Subscribe for the best magazine for your wife. How are tho cow stables? Full of cracks or well battened? Winter is here and you ought to have the stables iu shape now. Laj ing hens will always give better results when supplied with plenty of sharp, gritty material with which to grind their food. Never allow a hog to eat or sleep in the dirt. It is naturally a clean ani mal, but it does not always have the opportunity to be so. All animals enjoy a clean, dry bed at night. Do you know of anything better than good straw and plenty of it to furnish such a bod? It is a serious mistake to keep the teams iu almost complete idleness un til spring opens, aud then force them suddenly into hard work. There is no money now in big, fat pork. The market calls for lean bacon. Tho weight of the curcass should not exceed two hundred pounds. Look well to tho young calves, that they do not go into the winter stuuted. Two mouths' good care through tho winter will put them ou grass next spring in good shape. The capacity for work of the horse depends, in no small degree, upon the condition of his shoulders; hence by preventing galls aud sores bo is able to do tho field work faster. Apples may be kept in cold storage for many mouths if perfect, unbruised fruit is selected, carefully wrapped in paper aud kept at a temperature of uot over thirty-eight degrees. The wise farmer looks into the future. He doos not do this because he is unduly anxious, or becauso his faith iu farming is weak, but because it is a precaution which his business demands. With present prices for wool and mutton, as compared with tho cost of fodder, the keeping of old sheep can < not be made profitable. It is a good time to dispose of all that are getting aloug in years. Tho fall mouths are importaut as providing a time during which the food of tho stock may bo gradually changed from the succulent grasses of summer to the dry, • concentrated foods of winter. With a large flock of chicks, abun dance of milk, a good-sized patch of strawberries and vegetable garden, the health of the family may virtually , bo assured and the provision dealer's • bill greatly reduced. In pig-keeping the breed is not of so much impoitance as the type. The ; kind wanted is ono that will finish off symmetrically at Iroiu six to eight . mouths old if pushed, as market feed- I ing in general should be, makiug good . weights without excessive fat.
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