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OLD SAWS IN RHYME.
. .. ion , specs louder than woi is ever an;
r an't eat you? cake and h >ld ou u> It. too.
v heti the eat is away then the little mice play.
When there is a will there is always a way.
One's deep in the mud as the other in mire;
jump from the frying pan into the Ore.
T , lP n*-s no use crying over milk that Is spilt;
N„ accuser is nwded by conscience of guilt.
, r( . mU st l>e some fire wherever Is smoke;
-j-j,,. | itcher goes oft to the well till its broke.
... pogues falling out honest men get their due;
Whoever it fits he must put on the shoe.
. j wor ; ; and no play will make Jack a dull boy;
A thing of much beauty is ever a joy
A half loaf is better than no bread at all;
And pride always goeth before u sad fail
THE GREEK CINDERELLA.
fThe story of “Cinderella" Is very old and has
through many forma Perhaps it may be
surprising to know that the Greeks told this story
to their children many centuries ago Here is the
Greek version. |
There were once three sisters Bitinning
flux, and they said. “Whosever spindle
lulls- let us kill her and eat her."
The mother’s spindle fell, and they let
her alone.
Again they sat down to spin, and again
the mother’s spindle fell, and again, and
vet again- “Ah, well!’’ said they 4 “let
us eat her now!"
“No!” said the youngest, “do not eat
her; eat me, if flesh you will have."
Hut they would not; and two of them
killed their mother and cooked her for
eating. , , ,
When they had sat down to make a
meal of her, they said to the youngest,
“Come and tail, too!
Hut she refused and sat down on a
saddle which the fowls were covering
with filth and wept. Then the youngest,
whom they called Cattle Saddleslut,
gathered all the bones and buried them,
and smoked them every day with incense
for forty days, and after the forty days
were out she went to take them away
and put them in another place. And
when she lifted up the stone she was
astonished at the rays of light which it
Kent forth, and raiment was found there
like unto the heavens and the stars, the
Kjsring with its (lowers, the sea with its
waves, and many coins of every kind.
On Sunday her sisters went to church;
then she, too. arose; she washed and at
tired herself, putting on the garment
that was as die 1 leavens with the stars,
and went to church, taking with her a
lew gold pieces in her purse. When she
went into the church all the people were
amazed and could not gaze upon her by
reason of the brightness of her garments.
When she left the church the people fol
lowed her to see whither she went. Then
she filled her hand with money from her
bag and cast it in the way. Then the
crowd scrambled for the coins, and left
her alone. And straightway she went
into the house and changed her clothes,
and put on her old things, and sat down
upon the saddle. Her sisters came home
from church and said to her: “Where
are you, wretch? Come and let us tell
you how there came into the church a
maiden more glorious than the sun, who
had such garments on as you could not
look on, so brightly did they gleam and
shine, and she strewed money on the
way. Look, see what a lot we have
picked up! Why did you not come, too?
worse luck to you!"
Next Sunday they went to church
again, and she did the same. Then they
went another Sunday, and just as she
was flinging the money she lost her shoe
among the crowd and left it be
hind her. Now the king's son was
following her, but could not catch
her, and only found her shoe.
Then said lie to himself: “Whose ever
foot this shoe exactly fits, without being
either too large or too small. I will take
her for my wife." And he went to all
the women he knew and tried it oil, but
could not manage to lit it. Then her
sisters came to her and said: “You go
and try it on: perhaps it will fit you."
“Do not make fun of me," she said.
However, she went down, and when the
prince saw her he knew the shoe was
liers, and said to her: “1 will take you
to wife."
“Do not make fun of mo." she an
swered, “so may your youth be happy!"
“Nay, but I will marry you," said he,
and he took her and made her his wife.
Then site put oil her fairest robes. When
a little child was born to her the sisters
came to see it. And when she was help
less and alone they put her into a chest
and carried her off and threw her into a
r ivcr, and the river cast her forth upon
a desert.
There was a half wilted old woman
there, and when she saw the chest she
thought to cut it tip (for firewood) and
took it away for that purpose. And
"'lien she had broken it up and saw
some one alive in it, she got up and naado
clt So the princess was left alone, and
heard the wolves howling, and the swine
and the lions, and she sat and wept and
prayed to God, “Oh, God, give me a
little hole in the ground that 1 may hide
my head in it and not hear the wild
beasts." and lie gave her one. Again
R he said, “Oh. God, give me one a little
larger, that 1 may get in up to my
waist." And he gave her one. And
she besought him again a third time,
and he gave her a cabin with all that
she wanted in it; and there she dwelt,
nnd whatever she said, her bidding was
done forthwith. For instance, when she
wanted to eat she would say, “Come,
table, with all that is wanted! Come,
h-od! Como, spoons and forks, and ail
things needful," and straightway they
a h got ready, and when she finished she
would ask, “Are you all there?" and they
Would answer, “We are.”
n One day the prince came into the wil
derness to hunt, and seeing tlie cabin ho
Went to find out who was inside; and
when he got there he knocked at the
coor. And she saw him and knew him
Horn afar, and said, “Who is knocking
ft the door?" “It is I, let me in." said he.
‘‘Open, doors!" said she, gnd in a twink
hog the doors opened and he entered,
•he went up stairs and found her seated
f n a chair. “Good day to you,” said lie.
“Welcome!" said she, and straightway
•y* that was in the room cried out, “Wel
come! “Come, chair!” she cried, and
cne came at once. “Sit down,” she said
t° him, and down he sat. And when she
fsked him the reason of his coming, she
hade him stay and dine.
He agreed, and straightway she gave
icr orders: “Come, table, with all the
covers," and forthwith they presented
themselves, and he was sore amazed.
Come, basin,” she cried. “Come, jug,
pour water for us to wash! Come, food,
l!! ten courses!” and immediately all that'
foe ordered made its appearance. After-
Vk 'urds, when the meal was ended, the
I-vince tried to hide a spoon, and* put it
fate dace; and when they rose from
table, she said, “Table, have you all your
covers?"
“Yes, f have."
“Spoons, are you all there?"
“All," they said, except one whiclr
said. “I am in the prince’s shoe."
Then she cried again, as though she
nad not heard, “Are you all there, tqxioiis
and forks?"
And as soon as the prince heard her lie
got rid of it on the sly and blushed.
And she said to him, “Why did you
blush? Don’t be afraid, 1 am your
wife."
Then she told him how she got there
and how she fared. And they hugged
and kissed each other, and she ordered
the house to move and it did move. And
when they came near the town all the
world came out to see them. Then the
prince gave orders for his wife's sisters
to lie brought before him, and they
brought them and he hewed them in
nieces. And so thenceforward they lived
happily, and may we live more happily
st ilk
Fiction of Today.
For some time past the fashionable
tendency has been largely in the direc
tion of a conscious, not to say willful,
thinness of narrative material. The old
merits of fullness and “hotly"—virtues
apparently hereditary in that lineage of
robust minds which can be traced back
ward without a break from George Eliot
to Fielding—have !>een growing rarer
and rarer. In their place the art of
making a very little go a very long way
has been carefully cultivated by undoubt
edly dexterous hands. Fiction lias almost
reached the point of sheer bravado in
some developments of the “society" novel,
notably a species grown in American
soil, or rather in New York conservato
ries and forcing beds, and distinguished
by an elaborate triviality which no
amount of cleverness can render other
than vapid. Such a fashion can never in
the nature of tilings be long lived. Those
miracles of inexhaustible nothingness,
in which the tiniest rivulet of incident
just trickles across a continent of dia
logue, cannot long be interesting, even
as miracles, in an age to which the mi
raculous does not make a permanently
successful appeal.—Fortnightly Review.
Good and Had Taste.
Don’t put your initials or your name
over everything you possess, so that peo
ple who pick up a fork or look at a pil
low sham will read, “John Brown, my
property.” It’s all right to mark things
of use in some such a way, but not
things of beauty, and if you must so
mark them make the letters small and
put them on the hack of the objects, not
the front. The woman who wears her
initials in diamonds on a brooch is vul
gar. The man who prints his monogram
on his china does a useless thing, for no
body is going to run away with his
dishes. Don’t be too showy and com
plex. Don’t make your napkin rings too
emphatic and obtrusive. Put flowers on
the table, but place them loosely or in
glass, for if you put them in china or
any other opaque substance you conceal
half their beauty—namely, their stems.
Don’t entirely cover your wall with pict
ures, and when you have a picture don't
let the shop keeper kill it with a big gold
frame. Try bronze or something that
will relate to the picture on the wall,
and not make it stand out like a big,
shiny spot of color and gilt gingerbread.
—Decorator and Furnisher.
A Panic Stricken Atlanta Man.
%
An Atlanta man had a very thrilling
experience the other day. He had oc
casion to go a short distance up the
Georgia Pacific road, and was thinking
of the late accident of Nitkajack creek,
as he looked out of the window on the
trees and bushes flitting past. Suddenly,
just ahead and coming rapidly toward
the train on which he was, the man saw
another passenger train come flying
around a curve in the road. He jumped
from Ids seat and started for the door.
Remembering his overcoat, he turned
back and caught the coat from the back
of the seat. “Look out for a collision!"
he yelled, as he started toward the door.
Everybody jumped from their seats and
made a wild rush for the door. As the
excited man had bis hand on the door
knob there was a rushing sound outside,
and the approaching train dashed harm
lessly by on the Western and Atlantic
track, running parallel to the other. The
man sank pale and gasping upon a coal
box near the door. —Savannah News.
“Nytn Crinkle.”
In this great metropolis there is no
more interesting personality than that
of “Nym Crinkle,” who is known in pri
vate life as Mr. A. C. Wheeler. lie is a
slender, well made man above the aver
age height. He has nervous bands, an
aristocratic head, and eyes'lull and blue.
His gray blonde hair and mustache tes
tifies to his forty years. Mentally, he
reminds one of Robert Louis Stevenson.
There is the same fascinating facility in
picturesque phrasing, the same love of
dainty argument, and line spun analysis
in quaint lines of thought. Socially,
Nym Crinkle is gentle; his cruelty is all
in his pen. Wit, poet and cynical phi
losopher, lie is anything in appearance
but a journalist. Instead of growing
thinner, his writing gets broader and
better as he gets older. —Current Litera
ture.
Black Stockings.
As it is so fashionable for both chil
dren and grown folks to wear hFck
stockings, it is well to know how to wa°h
them so they will not fade. Roth cotton
and woolen should always be washed
before they are worn. Lay them all
night to soak in cold water. Wash them
next day by themselves in two waters,
warm, but not hot, the soap being pre
viously rubbed into the water so as to
form a lather before the stockings are
put in, and mixing with the first water
a tablespoonful of gall. Then rinse them,
first in lukewarm water, until the dye
ceases to come out and the last water is
colorless. Stretch them and hang them
out immediately in the air to dry as fast
as possible. —National Stockman.
To Cure Frost Bites.
A splendid cure for frost bites is a
solution of alum and water, strong as
can be made. Hold the frosted flesh in
the solution till the frost is drawn out.
This you will know easily, as the flesh
will look wrinkled as one’s hands do on
wash days. You will feel no more in
convenience from that frost bite.
The following passage occurs in a no
tice recently posted on the court house
door by a constable of Wicomico county,
Md.: “I have seesed and took intoexecu
tion, a’cordin to law and iniquity, the
following aforesaid property.”
At a western church fair a device for
getting up a testimonial to the pastor
bore the following legend: “Drop a dol
lar in the slot and see the pastor smile.”
UTE DILL’S PARTNER.
Half way up the mountain which over
shadows Cheyenne canyon is a rude log
cabin of only two rooms.
Many years ago, when reports of the
finding of gold drew men from every
state lfi the Union, there appeared in
this grand but desolate canyon a man
bv the name of Rivers—Stanley Rivers,
, lie said—who at once proceeded to erect
a cubin for himself. This completed, he
kept well within its walls when not ac
tually engaged in prospecting. He lo
cated his claim and went about it as
readily as an old miner.
The little town of Colorado Springs,
four miles distant, was often visited by
the miners when they had accumulated
a little dust, but Rivers had never ac
companied them on these occasional
sprees, although they had often urged
him to do so.
A man in a mining camp who does not
drink is considered, as a general thing,
beneath tlie notice of the average miner,
but it was riot so in this case. Here he
had the confidence and respect of the
rough men gathered around him. and,
by his gentle ways, boyish face and
pleading blue eyes, had won every man
over to Si Is side.
They no longer urged him to go with
them: they went, and respected him.
There was not a man in ail the camps
around who would not have taken the
part of the “tenderfoot," as they jocu
larly called him. And not only that, he
knew it.
His past was a blank, and he mildly
resented all efforts to reveal it. On one
occasion Ute Bill had pressed him too
closely on the subject, and be reproved
him by saying:
“Bill, I think you are a friend of
mine, but I would rather have you
throw me down that shaft of yours than
ask me to tell you my past life. It is
too painful."
if the boys could have seen Bill then;
if they could have looked upon him as
he stood abashed before this slender,
pale looking young man; he, who had
killed his man; this “Indian chewer,"
who had come out ahead in a hand to
hand fight with a hear; tills same Ute
Bill, who figured as a desperado in the
country round for a hundred miles,
they would have wondered if he had
suddenly taken leave of his senses.
But they were alone, and in an hum
ble voice he said:
“Beg yer pardon. Mister Rivers, I
didn't mean to hurt yer feelin's. I hev
kinder taken a liken to ye, a sort of
fatherly interest, and if y.e say the word
we’ll be purds.”
The word was said, and great was the
surprise in camp when the new partner
ship was announced the next day. What
had come over Bill? Was he going to
reform? It was a seven days’ wonder,
but gradually died away until it was no
longer an attraction to see Bill’s six feet
of muscle and brawn towering head and
shoulders above his delicate looking
“pard" as they prospected the country.
One day in their wanderings they
found they had nearly reached the sum
mit of the grand o ! d peak at whose base
flowed the waters of the San Juan creek,
when Bill suddenly uttered an exclama
tion of amazement.
“Look here, pard, we’ve struck it tins
time: chunks of it!"
Rivers, who had been patiently clip
ping specimens oif the ledges which jut
ted out here and there, hastened to his
side and looked. Bill had a piece of
dark looking rock in his hand, and was
turning it excitedly over and over, his
eyes glowing like stars in his intense ex
citement.
The news eprar.d like wildfire through
the camp. All the miners were half
crazy over the find, and deserted their
old claims to search for new ones. There
vva3 no doubt of the vast wealth that
lay in the mine which Bill and Rivers had
opened. It was a settled fact that the
men had more money than they could
ever realize beaming down on them as
the mining ore should be turned out.
As the two men were lying on their
rough beds in the little cottage they
talked of the future and its grand pros
pects. Bill was full of'enthusiasm, and
pictured in glowing terms his highest
ambitions, to bo realized when he should
count his thousands.
He would be a congressman. What
thrilling speeches he would make. He
would have every word of them printed
in the newspapers. He would own a
fast horse, and the “hoys" should have
all the drinks they wanted; they should
not go dry while he was on top of sod.
And he stopped suddenly and looked at
his companion.
“What’s yer lead, ole pard? Will yer
hang onto yer dust, or spend it like yer
got it?"
For a moment Rivers was silent.
“I dare not think what disposition 1
shall make of it. 1 will probably go back
east. My plans are not definitely set
tled," he finally answered. Bo the sub
ject was dropped.
Bill knew the quiet, retiring man at
his side well enough to know all inquiries
to be fruitless. So he turned over, and,
after a few more words about the work
of the morrow, he fell asleep.
When the morning dawned Bill was
up and stirring. Rivers slept late, and
at last Bill thought he had better awaken
him. As he shook him in his rough way
he noticed the bright spots on Rivers’
cheeks and hisshort, irregular breathing.
“It is all right now, Liiiian," mur
mured the sick man, tossing uneasily;
“it's ail right now. I've got the money
to keep you where you should be." Bo
tenderly, pathetically came the words
that the rough miner brushed away the
tears as lie listened to the hidden story of
his “pard’s" past life. He told it all in
his delirium, and seemed to live the long
years over: how he had loved this deli
cate girl, reared in luxury and ease,
and when lie lost the fortune lie hau so
slowly accumulated he dared not tell her
of ids love. He would not ask her to
share his poverty arid hardships. He
had come away and staked his life and
love in the search for gold, and found it.
Yes, now he could clasp her slender hand
in his and give her all the riches he
possessed in return. Over and over again
he called her name.
Bill softly stroked the brown hair
from his forehead, and as he did so Riv
ers said: “It is so soft —her little hand —
it rests me to feel it on my head." And
lie lapsed again into a resiless sleep.
“Dura that big paw!” said Bill, look
ing at his rough, brawny hand, and then
at the white forehead on fthe pillow.
“And ther ain’t a woman’s hand in the
camp to fix things easy for him. I’d
give the hull bizness if he was only out
of this muss.”
But before two hours had elapsed
there was a doctor from Colorado Springs
bending over the sick man. and by the
bedside sat a pale, slender girl, watching
with intense interest every motion and
word of the patient, and soothing him
with her little hands holding his. Bhe
came with the doctor. Bill stood inside
the door, and looked like a bashful
schoolboy in the presence of this stran
ger. who seemed to l>e taking his place
and caring for Rivers when he ought to
be doing so. But lie asked no questions,
and waited for the doctor’s answer.
“Just keep the camp quiet. Bill, and
Miss Lancaster will give the medicine
and see to the rest. He is worn out with
excitement, and a little quiet, with good
nursing, will make things right. If the
fever is no better in six hours let me
know." And that was all the explana
tion Bill got from the doctor.
Yd as she a professional nurse? Bill
guessed so. And lie thought how nice it
would be if he could be sick when Rivers
got well.
The camp was still—Bill had ordered
it so—and every man asked how the
“tenderfoot" was. and about the “gal."
“Dunno," was all the answer they got
to the latter question, and Bill told all he
knew when he said that.
Rivers was in a serious condition, and
before the six hours were up a horseman
dashed out of camp and after a doctor.
It was Ute Bill. He could not stand by
and see him toss back and forth in bed.
It was too much. He wasn’t used to it.
The doctor had to make {mother trip—
Bill said Rivers was worse.
When the doctor had made an exami
nation of his patient he declared the worst
was passed, and left Rivers sleeping
quietly under a gentle narcotic.
All this time the girl had not released
her watch by the bedside, and she seemed
to be soothing away the delirium of the
fever in gently passing her hands over
the sick man’s temples. Her eyes never
left off their watch of every movement
of the “tenderfoot's" face, and Bill stood
by wonderingly, casting a furtive glance
at the delicately featured face bending
over hispard’s pillow, and trying to solve
tbp problem in his mind.
Hours passed, and finally, with a long
sigh, Rivers opened his eyes and looked
at Bill leaning over the foot of the bed.
Then his wandering attention was fixed
on the anxious face by bis side. There
was no glad cry of recognition—it was a
mutual understanding. All the warmth
of his great love was expressed in the
gently whispered name “Lillian," as he
drew her face to his. Resting her head
on his shoulders, she told him of the
long years of waiting for tidings from
him and the hasty letter from Omaha,
which she had only received a few days
before. Bhe had left home, friends,
everything, and gone to seek him in the
wild west, she knew not where, but she
had found him. And Bill had disap
peared.
A few days afterward one of the
“purds" gave up his claim to the little
cabin, and the minister said the cere
mony which linked two lives into a
world of their own.
Many and hearty were the rough con
gratulations. That e rening the miners
gathered at the little home to say a word
of welcome to the beautiful young bride.
Even if it were spoken by a big. rowdy
miner like Bill, there was a genuine
ring of manliness about it, and made her
feel quite at home in the wild, pictur
esque spot so far from every sign of
civilization. As the men filed out slowly
Rivers conducted his girl wife to the
porch of the rude cabin, and, standing
close by his side, she sang one verse of
“Home, Sweet Home." The tender,
sympathetic voice fell on the still night
air with a wonderful sweetness, and
awakened many old memories in the
hearts of the rough, coarse miners
gathered there.
Heads were uncovered and there were
tears wiped hastily away as Bill led
them to the saloon. Was there rough
talking and coarse jests now? No. As
each man raised his glass a solemn hush
fell upon the group, broken at last by
Ute Bill’s voice. It was choked and un
natural.
“Boys," he said, “I neve, bed but one
pard, but I give him up to the best pard
a man ever got. And i'll never hev an
other till I get one like his."
Bill set his giass down and walked
away abruptly. It was not long until
the saloon was deserted and the camp
hushed in the repose of night.
After that Bijl did not seem like his
old self. lie was quiet and solemn. He
knew what was the matter, but did not
care to let the boys know where the sun
shine had fallen on Lis rough heart and
then so suddenly been swept away.
The next spring came, and the doctor
made another trip to the little cabin.
When Ute Bill went up the next day
Rivers led him into the dainty bedroom
and gave him a peep at the tiny baby
girl that had come that night. The big
rough hand closed tightly over throne
of a more delicate mold that was laid in
his, and the two men understood each
other. were tears in Bill’s eyes
and an ache in his heart which no one
but Rivers should ever know as he turned
silently away.
The miners gathered again in the sa
loon to drink to the health of the mother
and child, and hear Bill, now glowing
with animation, tell about the baby and
its queer ways until they all wanted to
see the youngster. A vote was taken,
and the camp was to he christened after
the baby, and Bill had forgotten to ask
her name. Away lie went, and soon re
turned. He looked sheepish and finally
came forward and said:
“Boys, yer got me this time. They’ve
called her ‘Utella!’ as near my name as
they could get, and it’s my layout.
What’ll ye hev?"
The classes clinked merrily, and Mr.
Bill beamed with happiness.
Not a day passed that Bill did not visit
the cottage, and as the wee babe grew to
a toddling, lisping girl. Bill was her chief
sympathizer, and the boys in camp at
last called him “Uncle Bill.”
“There’s no harm in me lovin' her,”
he said one day as he stroked the curly
brown head nestled against his breast;
“the other wasn’t for me.” And Rivers
glanced up quickly at Bill, and then to
his wife, who was sitting by the door
way with* her dainty fingers busy in
mending a little frock.
“It was before 1 knew"—and Bill swal
lowed tiie big lump rising in Iris throat
and tried to go on, but his voice broke
and he trembled in the vain effort to sup
press his emotion. Rising suddenly he
left the cabin.
That was years ago. The mining camp
has disappeared and only the lonely cot
tage marks the spot where it once stood.
Stanley Rivers lives with his wife and
dark eyed girl in an eastern city and en
joys the wealth lie made in the pictur
esque spot which now bears the namb of
Cheyenne canyon. Bill never married;
he loved the beautiful girl who sat by
the bedside of his sick “pard;” he loved
the tiny babe who played upon his knees
and laid her soft cheek against his own.
And when he died they found a little
faded shoe which contained a slip of
paper. It only said: “Give all mv dust
to my pard’s baby.” And Ute Bill, the
roughest miner in the camp, was buried
near the little cottage in Cheyenne can
yon.—New York Star.
FARM, FIELD ANI)GARDEN.
FACTS WORTH KNOWING ABOUT
MATTERS OF GENERAL INTEREST.
Work Dane by tlio Bureau of Animal lo
(lustry In Stamping Out Pleuro-I'ueumo
nia in Infected Districts —How the Opera
tions Were Conducted.
Cong mss has been liberal in its appro
priations for the suppression of pleuro
pneumonia, but has not assumed author
ity to regulate the movements of animals
except in transit from one state to
another without the consent of the states
concerned. In states where the disease
existed the necessary legislation has been
obtained for enforcing quarantines and
for condemning and slaughtering affected
animals and co-operating with the United
States authorities in suppressing the dis
ease.
From a report of the work done by the
Bureau of Animal Industry in stamping
out pleuropneumonia during the seven
months ending July 81, 1888, it is learned
that a large amount of work has been ac
complished. Up to that date and within
the time mentioned the bureau had pur
chased and slaughtered G.O-17 diseased and
exposed animals. Its inspectors had care
fully examined more than 188,000 head
of cattle and 1,442 premises had been dis
infected. In addition to this there has
been the supervision of animals in transit
through and across the infected districts
and of the trade in dairy cows in all of
the infected counties. There has been the
continual supervision of all the animals
in the infected counties and the frequent
re-examination of herds in suspected dis
tricts.
As showing the manner in which
the operations have been conducted in
infected counties, the cattle v.nre care
fully examined as soon as possible after
the quarantine was established, and a
numbered tag was put in the ear of
every bovine animal in the infected dis
trict to prevent a change of animals
from one farm or stable to another with
out a permit, and these numbers were
recorded in the office cf the bureau in
the respective states where the work was
going on. Post mortem examinations
were made upon all animals which died
within the infected limits, and in this
way many diseased herds were found
which otherwise would have escaped
observation.
On the discovery of an infected herd
the animals are appraised and slaugh
tered and the premises thoroughly dis
infected. A smiicient number of men
are employed who do nothing but re
novate and disinfect buildings and yards
where the disease has existed. A mix
ture of chloride of lime and whitewash
is applied with a force pump so thor
oughly as to penetrate every crevice of a
building where infection may exist. In
some large stables the constant work of
ten men for two or three weeks has been
required before the premises were in a
proper condition for the reception of
fresh animals.
It is stated by Mr. Salmon, chief of
the bureau, that the extent of the disease
has been very materially lessened in all
the states where it has existed, and if
the work is continued for a reasonable
length of time we shall be able to en
tirely eradicate this disease from our
country.
Baltimore county, Md., was one of the
worst infected regions in the country,
and for many months it appeared as
though very little progress was being
made. The disease also existed in several
other counties, where it was speedily
eradicated, and the regulations were
made more stringent and effective, so
that at the time of the report the only in
fdfcted district was a very small section
in Baltimore and its suburbs. Virginia
and the District of Columbia have been
freed from tlio malady. A force has
been at work in Pennsylvania since
April 10 last, and it is believed that the
disease is practically eradicated from
that state.
In New Jersey a large amount of work
has been done, but diseased herds were
still being found. In New York state
the disease has been eradicated from
Delaware, \Vashington and Richmond
counties, with very little, if any, remain
ing in Westchester county, and New
York county pretty thoroughly freed
from it. There still remained the coun
ties cf Kings and Queens, where, al
though the disease was less than when the
work began, there was much left to be
done. As gathered from the tables it
appears that the average that lias been
paid for exposed azid diseased animals
purchased and slaughtered within the
period mentioned lias been nearly $24
per head.
Of Interest to Bee Keepers.
The subjoined is a summary of infor
mation derived from individual reports
to Gleanings in Bee Culture, and ac
cording to that source gives a correct
idea of the present condition of the
apiarian pursuit throughout the states
and territories:
1. The average price of comb honey
throughout the United States is a small
fraction'over 10 cents per pound. The
market is improving some, as will be no
ticed. In some cases it sells as high as
80 cents, in a large number of localities
it is sold for 25 cents. In only three or
four places does it sell for less than 15
cents. 2. The average price of extracted
honey is a fraction over 12 cents per
pound. There seems to less fluctuation
in the price of extracted than the comb.
3. A trifle over 48 per cent, of honey was
secured throughout the United States by
the reporters, and probably this percent
age represents very nearly the propor
tionate amount secured by the beekeep
ers as a whole through the country. 4.
Of those who report in regard to the
quality of honey, sixty-six report good,
thirty-two fair and only eight poor. 5.
Of the number who reply in regard to
the season, thirteen report it to have
been good, forty-four fair and fifty-three
poor. If we put those who report good
and those who report fair together, the
ratio stands 57 to 53. In other words, in
about half the localities the season lias
been poor, and in the other half from
fair to good. G. This season is decidedly
better than, the last; sixty-six report bet
ter, twelve about the same and twenty
seven worse. At this rate we may ex
pect a tolerably good season next year if
the gradations from worse to better mean
anything. 7. As to feeding, very little
was done this fall; of these who report
eighty will not be obliged to feed at all.
Tho remainder, twenty-seven, will feed
some, but not much.
The roof of the poultry house should
be tight, the sides well battened and the
knotholes covered, or the entire sides
covered with tarred paper to prevent
draughts, and the floor made in such a
way as to take no drainage from the out
side and be perfectly dry.—Cor. Ameri
can Agriculturist.
A DISORDER AFFECTING CATTLE.
Tho Symptom* and Car© for tho Malady
Commonly Known a* “Bod Water.”
The disease generally designated as
“red water" lias puzzled the highest au
thorities in England and on the conti
nent, its well as our own practical stock
keepers, for all are at variance as to the
cause. Yonatt lays it to the quality of
the general produce of the soil and to an
acrimonious condition of the bile. Pro
fessor Williams thinks it due to an im
poverished state of the blood, arising
from want of proper food, while others
attnouie it to theovm, to ua ti oi exercise,
etc., etc.
The symptoms are better defined than
are the causes. The first is a feverish
condition, ami generally there is at first
a relaxed condition of the bowels, amount
ing to diarrhea. Presently this gives
place to obstinate constipation; the ani
mal stands with its back arched, and
evinces great pain when pressure is ap
plied over the loins, just as we see in
eases of liver derangement. As in ail
vaccine disorders, the milk is soon con
spicuous by its absence, and if the secre
tion is not entirely suspended only a lit
tle, and that of bad color and sickly odor,
can be obtained. The urine l>ecomes
more and more intensely colored as the
disease progresses, passing from red or
chocolate to almost, cluck.
As in most diseases, there ae appar
ently two forms —the acute and the
chronic, the latter sometimes runningon
for months, the animal eventually dying
from pure anaemia. Our knowledge of
the treatment of this disease is fortu
nately superior to that of its pathology.
An aperient is always indicated even in
that stage when diarrhea is a prominent
feature, and preferably we employ ono
with a known action on the liver, for it
is probable that this purging is due to
excessive bile production in the earliest
stage. A purgative is frequently useful
in diarrhea to remove material that by
its presence gives rise to the purging
from the irritation it produces.
A good drench for red water, accord
ing to a well known English authority,
is: Barbadoes aloes, G drachms; nitrate
of potash and ginger of each, 4 ounce;
Epsom salts, 12 ounces, in a quart of
warm ale.
In three hours, give spirit of turpen
tine, 2 ounces; linseed oil, 1 pint.
Promptness in the treatment of “red
water” is important, those cases making
tiie quickest recovery that are attacked
in the earliest stages. If constipation
has set in the purgative must be re
peated, and assisted by enemas of warm
water until the bowels are relieved. This
done, a combination of tonics and eiem
inatives give the best results, Tho
anmmia must be combated by a diet that
is at once nutritious and easy of diges
tion, Milk and eggs, or eggs and port
wine, are very useful. As medicine give:
Sulphate of iron, 1 drachm; chlorate of
potash, 2 drachms; powdered gentian,
2 drachms; in the food if freely taken,
if not in old ale.
Salt is useful, either in the form of
rock salt to lick, or as table satt, mixed
with the food.
Rotation for Potatoes.
In reply to a query on tho subject of
potato culture, The World says: If you
fertilize and cultivate properly it is not
necessary for you to change your potato
planting to another field, for, unlike
some other crops, potatoes may he raised
successfully on the same ground for
quite a long series of years without any
rotation with other crops. This has been
well demonstrated in the experience of
Mr. E. S. Carman on his experimental
farm, where on a limited portion of a
email plot the j ield was at the rate of
more than 1,000 bushels to the acre, and
cn the whole plot nearly at the rate of
COO bushels. This was upon ground
on which potatoes had been grown for
twelve successive years. Such experi
ments do not set figures that can be
reached in ordinary farming, but they
do demonstrate that if the farmer has a
convenient field adapted to the potato,
and will yearly supply the loss in the el
ements of plant growth abstracted by a
preceding crop, lie need not change fre
quently from one field to another.
Keeping: Pigs Through the Winter.
A Pennsylvania farmer, with many
years’ experience, expresses himself as
follows:
“I aim to keep as few pigs through the
winter as possible. There is far more
profit in having pigs come early enough
to make good perk in the fall than there
is in keeping a lot of young shoats
through the winter, for too much of the
food consumed goes to keep up the neces
sary animal heat. The pig likes warm
weather and warm quarters, and unless
comfortable shelter and a warm bed is
provided for him in a climate like this.
Lie will not do much more than hold his
own from Christmas until the middle of
March. It is quite common with many
to leave their pigs in cold weather with
out any special provision for their pro
tection or without proper bedding, which
is not only cruel, but is a short sighted
policy. Feeding pngs will keep them
alive through the winter, but if they are
to put on liesh they must not only be
fed, but have comfortable quarters.”
Wire Fences for Poultry.
For keeping poultry off of gardens
nothing is as good as a woven wire fence.
They rarely try to get over it. and it need
not be more than four feet high. As it
seems to present no obstruction all their
attempts are made at the bottom, and,
finding them useless, they soon give it
up. To induce a hen to fly a fence them
must be a top rail in sight. This the wire
fence should not show, consequently no
attempt will bo made.
Tilings Thufc Arc Told.
A. B. Alien, the noted breeder, i3
quoted as having said that “plum color
showed a good strain” ui pigs.
Idle horses in winter stables should
have the shoes pulled off, and working
horses should have their shoes frequently
reset to keep the feet in natural shape,
advises A. \V. Cheever.
Shallow plowing and insufficient culti
vation is affirmed by a writer in Rural
Home to be the great cause of run down
lands.
T. B. Terry says of the Beauty cf
Hebron potato: “Most of the potatoes
grown for several, years have been of the
Beauty of Hebron varietv. This.year we
had no others except a few experimental
rows. We grow early potatoes so as to
get them oil for wheat. The Hebron
cutyields everything else in the early lino
on our farms. Out of some ten kinds, all
choice, grown to test the matter this
year, none came up to* the Hebrons.”
A dairyman whose object has been to
make “butter as good as it could be
made,” without reference to cost or any
other consideration, testifies that it has
paid him a remarkable profit.
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