AN OPTIMIST. "0 aged man, pray, if you know, Now answer me the truth!— Which of the gifts that the gods bestow la the greatest gift of youth? "0 aged man, I have far to fare By the divers paths of earth, Say which of the gifts that with me I bear Is the gift of the greatest worth? "Is it the ipight of the good right arm, Whereby I shall make my way Where dangers threaten and evils harm Holding them still at bay? The old man smiled: the listening breeze Grew whist on the sun-lit slope* The old man sighed: "Ah, none of these! Youth's greatest gift is its hope." —Florence Earle Coatcs, in Lippincott's. THE: BETTER WAV. By Alice C tpe- psOUISE!" "Yes, auntie." MWt lim "Where is Bob Hunter?" T. "He has gone home." LIB- " S ° ° ARLY " WHY <UD H ° "He had letters to write, lie said." The old woman glanced at the girl anxiously. Her eyes were dim, but she fancied that Louise looked as If she had been crying. "My dear," she satfl, softly, "Bob Is only a man—and—you wouldn't let any sense of duty stand between you?" The girl flushed deeply, and turned her lovely face toward her questioner. "No, auntie, don't worry; it isn't a question of duty." "I thought, perhaps—Bid. Is so close, he would object to me, and 1 wouldn't, not for the world, keep you apart. The poorliouse has no terrors for me—not If it makes you happy." "You have a queer notion of what would make me happy. No, you are all 1 have left, and we'll Tide a wee to gether.' " And tile girl pressed her soft check against the one so old and wrinkled. "It's hard," murmured the eld aunt "First there was the old father and mother you nursed so long, nnd now there's me—and ho's a likely lad as ever was. He'll be rich some day." "Yes," said the girl, quietly. T know It. He's made of the stuff that pro duces rich men. Let's forget him, for he is not of our world." "But I hoped," persisted the old woman sadly, "that be might lift yon, at least, up to his world. You work so hard, you are only a girl. Yonr life ought to have been so different" "His world is not above mine," ex claimed Loulso earnestly, "It is far bo low. "I do not care to step down. Never mention this again, auntie, please." But when the winter of snow nnd rain set In, and Louise had to plod back and forth a mile through tlic storm to the little millinery store, where she was hired nt seventy-five cents a day, the old woman more than once brought up the nnine of her old time lover. "He's gone to the city," she said one day, "getting a salary thnt would make us rich, one year of it" Louise, pale nnd weary, answered nothing, but the old woman continued plaintively. "Now, if it hadn't been for me you'd a been living like a queen. Seems like instead of helping you, as I want to, I only take all your hopes away. Dear, dear, how long 1 do live." "IIusli!" said the girl, sternly, "now unkind you are! You are all I have In the world. You are all I have ever had since—since they went away!" "You're twenty-five," said the old woman, softly; "you're the prettiest girl for miles around. I always thought •" "I'd marry. Well, I won't," an swered Louise, brightly, "for I'm de termined to be an old maid." Bob Hunter had been in the city twenty years. He was no longer known as Bob, but as Robert Hunter, j millionaire. He bad friends, such as they were, astute business financiers like himself; servants who ran at his bidding, but not one person In tho whole world who loved him. Even the little errand boys knew Idm for what he was, hard, cdld and un charitable. They were paid their stipu lated prices, never a cent more. This world and this Ufa was only a place to live long In, in order to grow rich and richer. II" seldom recalled his eld country home; there were no ties there to hold him. Only, sometimes, there came n Booting memory of n fair young face, the one faco In the world he had truly loved. "She was a little fool," he woulu mutter; "she's been a martyr long enough. I didn't propose to saddle myself with that old aunt. Well, she eho.se her way, I hope she's enjoyed it." Accident brought back Ids old home vividly at last. There was a railroad running through that part of the couu try that he desired to buy. "I'll run out there a few days," he said; "it will be prudent to do so, and I wonder how the old place looks by tills time, anyway. Nobody will reeog ulze me. I dare say." But they did; tho newspapers thnt heralded his name, and the old neigh bors who remembered him as a boy wanted to seo the great man be luid bee omo. A number of old friends, as thoy were pleased to call themselves, un dertook to show him around ODd to point out the improvements that twen ty years had brought about. There was a new court house, a new (ail, and, lastly, a fine, large building, lately erected for tho county poor. Bob did not enre a copper cent to be shown any of tho affairs, but be bad "Is it the strength wherewith I shall climb Where few before have trod— . To the mountain tops, the peaks sublime That glow in the smile of the god? "Is it the never-failing will, Invincible in might, Which armed against oppression 6till, Shall vanquish for the right? "Or is it the heart, thou aged man!— The heart impassioned, strong— Which shall be blest, as naught else can, In perfect love ere long?" McKeever. Uls own reasons for being civil, henee he permitted himself to ho dragged hither and thither and at last actually found himself Inside the handsome new poorhouse. "The matron will show us through," said the obsequious friend. "Who knows but you may run across some of your old acquaintances," he added,with a light laugh. In one of the large halls they passed a woman bending over a little child, who was sobbing bitterly. The woman sut in a low armchair, nud her face was hidden, hut the mass of brown hair rolled In a knot at the nape of her neck was heavily streaked with gray. "Get out of the road, Jimmy," said the matron. "You are always getting hurt." Then turning to the woman she said, "Have you finished the shirts?" Tho woman raised her head nnd re plied softly thnt she had. The sun light streaming In through the window brought her head and face and slight form Into bold relief. Ho saw her plainly, ber voice had be trayed her even before he had known or guessed her identity. Yes, it was Louise, older, frailer, helpless and a beggar, no, not exactly that, for It seemed even here she was n toller as of old. "My God!" ho thought, "how long has she bee n here?" But they hurried him on, nnd when oneo mor i In tho open air he felt he had not reached It any too soon. He was never so near a fainting lit in his life. "Are yon ill, Mr. Hunter?" inquired more than one. "A little," he rcpll d. "I think I will go to my room at the hotel and rest until supper." But no sooner did he find himself alone than ho sent for one of the maids, a girl that he knew had always lived in the place. "Mary," said ho, "I want to ask you a few questions, and you're not to tell any one a thing I shall say. If I make you n present of five dollars, do you think you can held your tongue?" Mary tossed her head and eyed the five-dollar bill. "I can tell the truth without being paid. As for telling anything else, no money could make mo do that" "Very well, my girl, I only want the truth. When was Loulso Upton taken to—to " He did not finish, something seemed to choke back the word. The girl's eyes opened nnd grew round as saucers. Ah, she remembered now hearing her granny tell that Louise Upton had once had a lover who had gone away nud grown rich. Could It bo this was he?" "Only a year ago," she answered softly, pitying the man she saw was really suffering. "She worked as long as she could, hut It was rheumatism crippled her feet nud she could not run a machine, then her hands were bad, too, and—and there wasn't any one to take care of her, so she asked to bo put where she is." "How long lins her aunt been dead?" "Her aunt! Oh, I can just remember her; about fifteen years, I think. But a nicer, sweeter lady than Miss Loulso couldn't he found. Lots of us cried and would have helped her, but she said no, she would go where she be longed." "Where she belonged!" repeated the rich man in a tone of voice that made the girl's oye3 sparkle. "Here is yoiu - money; take It, and I'll not forget you, either." "Thank you," said the maid, smiling joyously. "You are very kind." Very kind! Did the walls take up the words and echo and re-echo them? Kind, very kind! Him; kind! 110 sat lor an hour with closed eyes nnd compressed lips; then as the shades of evening stole around, ho passed out and sought oneo more the matron of the county infirmary. "It is i t the hour for visitors," she said crossly. But when he explained that lie must see one of tho Inmates privately, and tendered another flve-dollar bill, ho was qnlekly admitted. 110 waited for her in a cold, damp room called the reception room, and she came at last—at last. The door opened softly, there was a thump, thump of two crutches over the floor, nnd Louise, wondering and surprised, stood before him. He hawed and wheeled forwnrd n small sofa upon which she sank, more nnd more surprised, for Bhe did not recognize him, "Louise," he said, huskily.-cotnlng out Into the stronger light "Lotilse, don't yon know me?" "Bob—Bob Hunter!" "Yes," he said, taking n seat nt her side. "Bob Hunter. Don't yon want to shake hands?" She half extended her hand nnd then drew back. "Don't, if you don't want tow" I 'ft ' "Oh, It isn't that—but my hand " He knew, when he took It almost by force; the pretty, white hand that had been was now drawn and toil-marked. He held it between both his own, his head bent over it, while a hot tear fell upon it. Louise felt her breath coming and going at a most surprising rate, while she could not speak. "I've thought It all over, Louise, ever since I found you here, "this afternoon. I never knew what a cold-hearted vil lain I was before, hut I know it well enough now. " Still Louise was silent. "I loved you. I have never loved any one c'.se, but money was my God, and— and it conquered me. But to-day,when I snw you so frail and helpless nnd so poor, and thought of all your life had been, and contrasted It with what it might have been, had I not been so cruel In tho past, I felt that I wanted to go out and shoot myself." "But you didn't," said Louise, smil ing with something of her old bright ness. "Mo, because back of It all was a lit tle hope, a faint rny indeed, but I thought, perhaps, even If you hated me, you might let me see that—that you never wanted for anything. If you don't, I won't answer for the con sequences." "Fie, Bob?" "Of course, there's a better way— that is, if you don't hate me after all, wlileh do you choose?" The cold and cheerless room seemed to - ..ango to one of radiant splendor, wkeu he bent over to hear her low re ply: "I have always tried to choose 'the better way.' "—Household Companion. I.aftt Days of Clifford's Inn. Clifford's Inn, London, which in the course of a few months will have gone the way of some other Inns, and have been knocked down In the course of modem Improvement by the hammer of the auctioneer, had retained as be came an Institution which Is the pre mier of Its kind, and dates from the days of Edward 111. more than one quaint manner and custom. The so ciety, for instance, was governed by a principal and rules, and the rules were just as much incarnate as was the prin cipal—more so, Indeed, some of them. Latterly, to obviate any invidious dis tinction, all the members were tnnde rules. There was also a "Kentish mess" at which you might consider tt rather a privilege to be asked to dlno. Dinner ended, the napery of an ex tremely long and highly polished black mahogany table would bo whisked off wtth a swift dexterity unexampled elsewhere. And then there would be brought to the President what looked like a hammer and was a little hard baked loaf, and, anon, send It skim ming to the other end, there to be as dexterously caught In a basket. In to ken that the fragments that remained of tho banquet were pannlered for tho poor.—Phlladedphla Telegraph. Earth** Most florgrons Pitlacit. Seventy-four years after St. Peter's at Rome was finished. Shah Jehan was building the most magnificent palace In the East—perhaps In the world—the beautiful Palace of tho Moguls at Delhi. It Is made of red sandstone nnd white marble; some of Its walls and arches are still Inlaid with malachite, lapis lazuli, 'bloodstone, agate, caruellan and jasper. There were once sliver ceilings, silk carpets and hangings embroidered with gems; the pillars were hung with brocades; the recesses were filled with china and vases of flowers, treasures of tlio goldsmith's craft, also, 110 doubt from Frnncsyind Italy—the Italy of tho Renaissance and the France of Mavy of Medici. Beyond doubt there was the famous Peacock Throne "a sort of large four-posted bed all made of gold, with two peacocks standing behind It, their tails expanded nnd set with sap phires, rubies,-emeralds, pearls and dia monds, while a parrot cut out of a sin gle emerald perched upon the tester." On the front side of the canopy was a dia mond—the Koh-i-noor, now among tho crown jewels of England. Tavcrnler, tho jeweler, who was at Delhi In 1(1115, beheld these wonders and thought they represented, all told, "200,000,030 of livres,"—Collier's. Woman's Uenily Wit. South Wales proudly tells this story as proof woman's superior wit: An inland revenue officer called to In quire if a lady had a license for her dog. Slio politely asked him to come In and sit down while sho looked for It. In a few minutes she smilingly en tered the room, bearing the license. Then it appeared she had In the mean time paid a visit to tho postofiice at the corner. From Yorkshire, says the London Express, comes a story that surpasses this one from South Wales. A bailiff bad to seize tho furniture In a cottage. He knocked at tho door. A relative of the woman who rented the house presented herself. She wore a woe-begone countenance, and whis pered with her forefinger before her mouth: "Hush! Sho is going. Call again. If you kindly will, sir!" The officer of tho law was compas sionate. He postprfned his visit for a week. The relative again appeared upon tho scene, and, with tears In her voice, said: "She's gone! She's gone! And she's taken all tho furniture with her!" A School For Ilakcrg. There Is hardly a phase of modem Industrial life but which can be learned at some school specially devoted to Its teaching to better or oqual advantage than tlio old-tlmo apprenticing system. If there was 0110 branch that had beoD overlooked It was that of the baker and confectioner, but this Industry Is no longer so neglected, -as tho London National School of Bakery nnd Confec tionery offers a course of the most ad vanced Instruction In this work. t®luct\ and © © © © /\dv©nturo. HOUSE CLIMBED A STEEPLE. -—JIOME of the feats of horse l=j o=lj manshlp on record are so W | marvelous as to be almost .L3 j incredible were they not lull [[jOll supported by the unim peachable evidence of so many who actually witnessed them. It is not many years since a reckless Dane made a wager that he would ride Ills horse to the summit of tho spire of St. Saviour's Church, in Copenhagen; and, Impossible as tho feat may ap pear, he actually won his wager and decsended to the earth In safety. The contemporary accounts of this mad performance are in the highest degree thrilling, with their picture of the blanched, breathless crowd looking up with straining eyes at the horseman, growing smaller and smaller as he wound his way round and round the dizzy, narrowing steeple, expecting every moment to seo horse and rider dashed to pieces at their feet, until at last he stood sllouhetted against the sky on the topmost pinnacle, and waved his hand triumphantly to the crowd so far beneath him. To understand this feat at all it Is necessary to say that tho spire was climbed by a steep and narrow stair case, which winds around it; but think of the daring, the courage and coolness necessary to accomplish such a climb, when the most trifling slip or loss of balance would have meant a swift and terrible death. A similar feat was performed by that adventurous monarch Ferdinand VII. when he rode his favorite horse to the top of the tower of Seville cathe dral. This, however, was a less haz ardous performance than that of the Dane, for there is a fairly wide Inclined pathway which climbs the tower; nl thongh to tho spectators It seemed Im possible that the King could ever emergo from the venture alive. There Is an account of a feat of horsemanship which seems more won derful than either of those doserlbed. It Is stated in the records tfiat in the year 1000 a man rode to the top of St. Paul's on his horse Morocco, to the amazement of thousands of onlookers. If this feat orcr had any existence out- Bido ot tho Imagination of Its chron icler, it Is probable that the ascent was made by a staircase which may have been a feature of old St. Paul's. Almost equally wonderful are the feats recarded of a pair of thorough bred Arabian horses, the property of Professor Holloway, of Wyoming. These horses have been trained by their owner to make dives of seventy feet and more Into a lake. "At a signal one of them starts up an Incline at a quick walk until he reaches a platform seventy feet above the lake below. The professor ,1a standing on tho shore, and as tho horse looks down from the plat form ho calls, 'All right f At tho sound of his voice tho horse, without a sec ond's hesitation, leaps from Ills pin nacle and, flashing through the air, dis appears In a cloud of spray, from which he quickly emerges and swims briskly ashore." It Is doubtful whether any horseman, however daring and expert, can excel the skill of some Cossacks. When rid ing at full gallop they can pick up a child from tlio ground and toss It high In tlio air and natch It repeatedly like a ball. They will, also at a gallop, leap off their horses, pick up any small ob ject, nnd without checking the horse's speed leap In a standing position on his back. They will rldo their horses down pre cipitous cliffs, on which there scarcely Seems footing fornn agilo mountaineer, or leap them thirty feet down into a river; while a common feat Is for a Cossacli galloping at full speed to snatch a needle nnd thread from one of his fellow and thread the needle In less tlmo than would seem posslblo In an armchair. Few of theso performances, however, are more astonishing than that credit ed to John Leech Manning, who rode his horse Into an upstairs dlntng-room at the White Ilart Hotel, Aylesbury, nnd Jumped him over tho dlning-tnble. In describing the feat ho says; "Noth ing was removed from the table; in fact, tho dinner wns actually going on. I Jumped the horse barebacked with out bridle. The horso performed he fore more than forty gentlemen, who were dining after tho steeplechases." Some of the records of long-distance lidos are well worthy of nolo, as when Mr. Osbaldoston, tho famous squire sportsman of seventy years ago, rode 200 miles nt Newmarket In eight hours nnd forty-two minutes, in November, 1831. using twenty-eight horses for tho journey. In October, 1701, Wilde cov ered 127 miles on horseback at tho Currngh In six hours nnd twenty-one minutes; nnd twenty-six years ago Leon, the Mexican rider, rode 100 miles at Alexandra Farlc In three minutes under five hours, nn average speed of more than twenty miles an hour. In the following yenr Loon covered 505 miles In less than fifty hours, a won derful feat of endurance. A CLOSE CALL General Edward M. Hayes, hot re cently mado a brigndler-gonoral. Is one of the few remaining old-time scien tific soldiers. He has seen service In tho cavalry since 1855, when he enlist ed as a bugle* to tlio old Second Cav alry. General nnyeo Is large In stature, but with nil his huge size and military bearing, ho Is a quiet, soft-voiced gen tleman, easy in his manners, awl as much a plain citizen as though be had never lived with regular soldiers. Yet he has seen more phases of life tban most other officers now to the army. He Is ow ot the few loft who served in the old army of the days before the Civil War. It was in the days when most ot the vast country lying west of the Miss issippi Itiver was n trackless wilder ness that "Jack" Hayes, as he is known to his brother officers, enlisted Ilis tirst tight with the Indians took place in 18,57, near the Brazos River, and the next year, 1858, he went on Van Dorn's expedition against the Co mauekes, and was in the famous tight of Wichita village, which proved to he one of the greatest battles ever fought between the American Indians and tho United States soldiers. In 1859 he was in the bnttle of Jun gle Hollow, which was also fought un der General Van Dorn, and in 1850 he was in another indlan light, this time under command of Fitzhugh Lee. This was his last Indian battle before the great Civil War. It was during this period of service that Colonel Hnyes, then a bugler, six teen years old, saved the life of Fitz hugh Lee. This, he says, is the story of the incident: Lieutenant Lee and Hayes had been to see Sara Houston take the oath of oillce as Governor of Texas at Austin. On their return it was learned that In dians had made a raid, killing a few settlers and running off some cattle. Leo took twelve men and Hayes, and started after them. He struck their trail the next night, and followed It for more than lLfty honrs, at the end of which they came up with the Indians on a plain near a timbered bridge. The command charged the Indians, and In a short time had the band on a run. Tho Indians scattered, and two of them made for the timber on the right. These two, one the chief,were followed by Lee, Hnyes and a trooper. Lee and Hayes happened to see an Indian dash for a patch of rocky ground. The trooper was left in charge of the horses, and Lee nnd Hayes started after tho Indian on foot. They had not gone far when Lee called: "Look out. Jack; he Is not far from hero. There is his blanket." As lie said this, Lee picked up tho blanket, which was a bright red, and hung it on his gun. A moment later, Hayes henrd loud talking, nnd turning around, saw Lee and the Indian In a hand-to-hand battle. The Indian had shot Lee through the arm with an ar row, nnd Gien had jumped upon him from behind, before Lee could use Ills pistol. In the straggle, the pistol fell to the ground. Hayes went to Lee's rescue, but was afraid to shoot lest he should hit the wrong man. Lee at last got hold of the Indian and shot him through the jaw. This did not disable lilm, however, nnd when It was about all up with Lee, Hayes fired and killed tho Indian.—-New York Sun. IN AN EARTHQUAKE. I shall long remember my first expe rience with an earthquake. Early In October of 1000, I was at Homer Spit, that lies between Chugnclilk nnd Kachcmak Bays. I was very anxious to get some men to go with me Into the mountains, and, hearing there were four. living In a cabin at Anchor Point, twenty-five miles north of Homer Spit, whoso services I might secure, I start ed out afoot to find the place. I did not leave nomer until 1 p. ra., and night then came very early In these lntltndes. I felt euro, however, that I should reach the place before It be came very dark, and I might have done so, but the only route was along tho beach, and In many places It was ex tremely rocky, affording very uncer tain footing; then, at short intervals, small streams poured over the high sea-walls, nnd spread over the sands of tlie beach, where I was compelled to wade them, nnd my footwear wns soon full of water. I had not gone far when n cold rain commenced to pour down upon me in torrents, and I was soon thoroughly soaked, nnd my cloth ing, much increased In weight, clung to mc, and greatly rctnrded nty pro gress. After ninny trying adventures, I arrived at the cabin late at night, so tired that I lost 110 time in stretching myself In a pair of blankets, on tho floor, and was soon nsleep. I had slept several hours, when I wns awak ened liy ft very peculiar nnd unusual sensation. The cabin was rocking and creaking and performing all sorts of strange evolutions, and everything loose on the floor nnd walls was play ing hlde-nnd-seek, In nnd out of Its dark corners. My first Impression was that our hillside was sliding Into Knchemnk Bay. I hurriedly staggered to tho door, very much after tho stylo of walking In a rapidly moving ex press train while rnnuing over a rough road-bed. When I opened the door. I could seo by the coming light of day that our hillside was yet intact, and then I realized what was taking place. I was really delighted, for I had ofteD wished for tho experience, nnd, unlike almost all other experiences in the north. It came to me without any effort 011 my part. From "An Explorer- Naturalist In the Arctic," by Andrew J. Stone, in Scribner's. Tlio Knlsor In Plain Clothe*. (Jormnns have seen the Kaiser In plain clothes, says the London Ex press. Yet he does wear them some times, hut only when it is absolutely necessary, for he prefers uniform, even at home. The time he Is in mufti In Berlin Is when he goes to his tennis court He tlien wears a white flannel suit, but out-of-doors covers it with a military cloak. When he Is In England, however, mufti Is the rule. This is also the only time that anybody has ever seen the Kaiser in a dinner jacket or a black dress coat Formerly the Kaiser ordered all his plain clothes from England, browns and light grays being his favorite col ors; but now he orders everything In Berlin nnd Potsdam, mostly In the lat. ter place* • * Farm Topics* TO BREAK A HALTER TELLER* Several horsemen have given theil) methods of breaking horses from pull ing nt the halter. The best method* and most effectual I ever saw tried is to buckle a strap around the ankle of* one of the forward feet, and then run F" the halter through the hole in the. manger or hitching post and tie the end to the strap around the ankle. One month's application if sure to cure.—ll. W. Hardy, in New York Tribune Farmer EARLY POTATOES. Early potatoes should be of a variety, that will come early. While the yield of the crop is important, yet the crop that gets into the market a week sooner than usual will bring 100 per cent, more In price. Seedmeu offer new, varieties every year, but so many of them are claimed to be "the earliest"' that it is impossible to make a selec-- tion. There are, however, well-known early varieties that have been tested* and they should be given the prefer ence until something better has beenJf tried in a limited way. SELF-ADJUSTING HARROW. The tool herewith illustrated you will observe is hinged at the front end to prevent leaving a strip in the mid dle. Make a strong hinge similar to the clevis for each side, the coupliug /p cue Vis dirtq: J / pin acting as a tooth; thus you can ad just the harrow to any uneven width of row, cleaning the entire space at one trip. Take a trace chain four feet long, staple the ends to side pieces, one third way back; this not only prevents the horse from raising the front end from the ground, but spreads the har row, thus counteracting its natural tendency to close. As an orchard tool they are unsurpassed, as they can be closed up while passing a tree, thus avoiding injury.—The EpitomlsL SYSTEM ON THE FARM. System and order are laws of na ture. Too many of our farmers disobey these laws, by doing their work in a confused, unsystematic innsner, hav ing everything and about the farm yard kept in a disorderly way, allow* ing buildings to become ragged a tottering, and carrying on the general management carelessly and recklessly. System and order are necessary in every trade or profession, and not least in farming. They are essential as economizers of labor and expenditure, us well as promoters of happiness and comfort. The man or woman who does not plan may toil incessantly from' early morning till late at night with out accomplishing as much as he or she who has worked systematically for a much shorter period. Have a definite plan of work. If there are several to do the work, let each one be assigned a certain part of it, thus avoiding con fusion nnd delay. Have a place for tools and implements, that they may easily be found wlien needed. See that all machinery Is in running order by the time the season for its use lias come. It Is well to have machines looked nfter before putting away afteiv. having been used. Keep buildings anil jf yard in order and neatness, nnd farm life will be more pleasurable and profit, able.—Gustav M. Bruce, in The Epit omise . CARE OF THE BROODER. ; Use dry sand, sawdust or even paper on the floor of the brooder, changing frequently. An occasional serubbiug with soap and water will aid in keep ing the floor sweet and clean. Polish up the glass and allow the chickens the benefit of the sunshine whenever possible. A hydro-safety lamp is much better than a common oil lamp. Trim tbo wick nnd fill the lamp as often as there is tlie least danger of the oil becoming exhausted. It does not pay to run the risk of having the light go out and the chicks become cbiled. If lime is used in the brooder, sprinkle plentifully l with some non-Irritating substance to prevent Injury to tbo feet of the little V chicks. As the brooder is the home of r the chicks and they are confined ex clusively to It for the first few days, during that time it requires extra care. Small trays for feeding are useful, both for keeping the feed from he coming filthy huil for preventing it from becoming mixed with the litter on the floor."" A small fountain should be used for watering the chicks. I usually take a small tea plate, pour it about two-thirds full of water and In. vert a saucer in the centre, or a bowl Inverted will do as well. Sometimes I use n lint dish nnd cover with a stone, leaving only sufficient room for the chicks to insert their heads and drink. This keeps tho floor compara tively dry, which is a great help to ward keeping tho brooder clean. An occasional airing and sunning will sweeten the brooder wonderfully. Take an old scrub brush and some boil ing soapsuds, scour out the brooder and leave In the sun until thoroughly dry. Turn so that every part will come In direct contact with the rays.— Mrs. C. B. Barrett, in New England Homestead.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers