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THE MILKING OF THE COW. The milk pail used to versif y a mild and mel¬ low metre When I used to milk old Brlndle in the yard. And the shining milk was sweeter unto me and little Peter Than oriental perfumes of myrrh, frankin¬ cense and nard. The sunset flung its banners from the gilded hills about us, Ami the odors of the evening seemed to drop from every bough. There was peace and glad contentment both within us and without us, At the sweet mellifluous milking of the cow. And wandering like a memory,. ,<om the si¬ lent past's abysm I smell the grateful odors of the fragrant evening breeze, And I bend to catch the chrism of the twi¬ light’s glad baptism, And the outstreched benediction of the trees. The glory of the summer night, the magic of the mountains. And the tinklings of the twilight on the farm are with me now But through all the mingling music still I hear those falling fountains, The sweet mellifluous milking of the cow. Still I hear the joyful rhythm of that tittil- lating tinkle, And I smell the grateful odora of the placid, perfumed night, Odors Mown from glens a-sprinkle with wild- rose and periwinkle, And from lakes where lazy lilies loll in languor for the light, ntrough the valley of Long Years that is glimmering behind me I peer down through the vista that con¬ nects the then and now, With a youth’s audacious unconcern a care- loss boy I find me, At the sweet mellifluous milking of the cow. —S. W. Foss, in Yankee Blade. THE PICTHRE IN THE FIRE. BY FJjAVEL SCOTT MINES. The fleet of yachts lay 'at anchor off Newport, swinging idly to and fro in the gentle wind. It was a peaceful, lazy way of taking life, appealing to the higher senses in all externals, and pro¬ moting placid thought. Nothing to worry, no social or business cares, it was »u Arcadia replete with all modern con¬ veniences—something truly to be de¬ sired. So Tom Armstrong thought to himself, as he lay at full length in a canvas chair and smoked after his din¬ ner. The sun wus setling far beyond the land in a blaze of golden glory, and every yacht reflected some color of the sunset. Yachts on every side of him lay rolling in a passing swell, and his own yacht rocked gently (the from side to side. A little while after sun sank from sight the the and 1 moon came u® over ocean, lights began to Apt the shadowy fleet. There was a new activity among the people about, and presently a quartet on one of the yachts began to sing. Then row boats put off from each of the yachts, and before long a line of boats encircled the yacht where the singers were stationed. The party was a col¬ lege glee club, and the young men, ap¬ preciating the applause which came from the audience, went on one song after another, while the half circle of row boats tossed in the water. Tom Arm¬ strong was among the assemblage of row boats, he aud his guest having rowed out from the yacht, and the effect was one that appealed directly to him. His oars rested on the gunwale, and ha paid no heed to the fact that his boat was slowly drifting toward its neighbor. “Hullo, there*" said some one, sud¬ denly, almost in his ear. Tom started, and saw that he was bearing down upon the boat, and almost touching it. He put forth his hand to catch the stranger boat and prevent them colliding, hut as he did so his Angers touched another hand that was out¬ stretched. Itwasonlya second before both hands were withdrawn, but in that time Armstrong’s boat had gently bumped against the other. “I beg your pardon!” he said, raising his cap hurriedly and reaching for the oars. “It was very careless in me.” He looked toward the occupants of the boat as he spoke, and quick as a flash the thought darted through his mind that his carelessness was a blessing, for looking at him was the prettiest girl im¬ aginable. It was her hand that he had touched and drawn away from so quick¬ ly, It was not more than a glance that ho gave, but lie could have picked her out agnin in any throng. He rowed away very slowly, aud stopped as soon as he could. He could just see the form and outline of the other boat, and could count the occupants. There were two ladies and two men, and Tom wondered who in the world they were and what re¬ lation they were to the girl; he seemed to be wonderfully interested in her, con¬ sidering the time he had seen her. The songs had been going on all the time, but Tom had paid little attention to them. The college boys had about exhausted their stock of new songs and chanced upon some of the old favorites. When they sang “Aunt Dinah's Quilting Party” the occupants of the surrounding boats took up the chorus, and Tom was certain that he could distinguish the voice of the pretty girl when they sang “And ’twas from Aunt Dinah's quilting party wasseeiDfc Nelly home.” With this idea (for it was all imagina¬ tion on his part, no doubt) he called loudly for an encore, and sat still, trying again to distinguish her voice in the score of others. When this was done the singers were evidently getting tired, for they started “Good-night, Ladies,” and the people, acting upon the gentle hint, began to move off in all directions, looking, in the pale moonlight, like a lot of gigantic water spiders. At least that was what Tom’s guest and friend, Will Townes, suggested; but Tom sneered at the idea, and seemed to get really angry over it. He lost sight of the particular boat that the girl was in, so he went directly to his yacht Asquam, bemoaning his hard fate that he had been unable to find out which her yacht was, so that he might find an opportunity to meet her. Tom went on deck very early the next morning, and he was no sooner there than a voice hailed him. “Ahoy, Asquam!” It was from the yacht Phyllis that had come to anchor a few lengths from him the night before. “Hullo 1” he answered. The gentleman who stood on the other boat put up his hands to his mouth, and called, slowly: “Don’t you want to go outside to-day and have a little brush? There’s a beautiful breeze.” Tom hesitated a moment, and looked at the sky. He wanted very much to find the girl that had taken his fancy the night before, but as he looked around at the fifty or sixty yachts he realized the hopelessness of his task. “All right,” he replied; “I’ll go. When shall we start?” “Right away, if you are willing,” shouted the other. “By-the-way, you don’t appear to recognize me. My name is Quincy.” “Why, oh yes! It’s such a time since I saw you I had forgotten it for the mo¬ ment,” answered Tom, as he recognized a friend of his elder brother. “How aro you?” “Fine!” called back the other. “This is rather a distant greeting, but we’ll see more of you, I hope. By-the-way, Arm¬ strong," he added, as a second figure came up from behind him, “let me in¬ troduce my niece, Miss Quincy, Mr. Armstrong.” And Tom was face to face with the girl whom he had seen in the boat on the previous evening. “The yacht’s named after her.” Tom bowed low,for a minuted he could not reply, and then he made some com¬ mon place remark, wondering if the girl remembered him. That all happened in July; and through the summer wherever the Phyllis went, there was the Asquam to be found also. Whenever Miss Quincy needed an escort, Tom Armstrong was on band; and when¬ ever the young man indulged in any of his day-dreams, there was Miss Quincy to be found. Her unde, who was older than Tom, was very glad to have pleas¬ ant company for the girl, and she did not seem to object particularly. In fact, she was not an impulsive girl, and gave no signs when her dislike was not deep, neither showed she any deep interest when she wished to hide her feelings. Tom, as it might be imagined, grew more and more devoted day by day. He was very ephemeral in his tastes, but he was free to confess that he was more deeply interested with Phyllis Quincy than he had ever been before in any other girl. He, of course, regarded her through glasses of rose, but an outside observer would have acknowledged her to be a girl of much sweetness and strength of character; and she was beauti¬ ful as well. Not above medium height, with brown hair, and dark eyes of won¬ drous depth, it was no wonder that the young man was so deeply smitten. As for Tom Armstrong, ho was one or those fortunate individuals who are blessed with a great talent in art and music, and yet so well off in worldly goods that he did no more than gain a mediocre success in the various lines—a mere dabbler, in truth. But yachting seasons have an end, and when the two yachts sailed into New York Bay, and the parties went their different ways, there was much regret on both sides. They had lots of mutual friends, however, in the city, and they met at outside entertainments so frequently that it seemed strange they had never met before in their lives, though it must be confessed that their meetings were not altogether chance. Miss Phyllis lived with her uuele, and Tom was soon at home there. Months passed by, but brought no defi¬ nite results, for Tom, who could not be termed faint-hearted, was not sure of winning his suit, however sure he was of himself, and he dared not risk his hopes by a premature confession. They were seen together in society a great deal, and sharped-tongued gossip had them en¬ gaged, but Tom had to visit his family in Boston during the Christmas holidays, and society kindly broke the engagement during his absence. “Has it been ten weeks or ten days since I went away?” asked Tom, upon his return shortly after New Year’s. “It depends altogether how you reckon time,” she had answered, quickly. Phyllis had been glad, indeed, to sec him again, but he could gather no idea of her feelings toward him, and he was terribly slow about proposing, so con¬ trary to his usual reckless way of going at things. It was an evening in March. The great logs blazed in the open fire-place and filled the room where Tom sat with a rosy gleam. He was in his library at home, and he watched the great black shadows that rote and fell ay the fitful flam* shot suddenly to life and as quickly died. That evening he was more than ever conscious of that love which had entered into his life, something higher and purer than he had ever dreamed be¬ fore. Imagination had never pictured such a perfect state, and yet it was so imperfect in its semblance to a dream. He searched his heart honestly and tried to banish the dream, striving all the while to retain the ideal. It seemed as though two forces of his nature were alert as he reviewed the past. He had no assurance that she loved him, and yet that evening had waked a feeling of reality in him, and he felt as though he had received her whispered “yes.” One of the great logs in the fireplace fell asunder, sending forth a puff of smoke, which floated out into the room, and as he gazed at it he suddenly started. The red glow of the fire lit up the room with straDge effect as it spread wider and wider until it formed a thin veil, and pictured through it he saw a wonderful sight. He saw a musi c-room, one that he recognized,and seated before the piano lightly runniug her finger over the keys was Phyllis. Stopping, she looked in his direction, and her beauti¬ ful eyes were filled with sadness, and the quiver of her mouth told of deep feeling. He felt her eyes look into his for a moment, and then turning to the piano she began softly to sing. He list¬ ened attentively, and as she touched the keys the music sounded softly through the room, and he caught the words she sang. The melody was new and strange, but full of a gentleness and sweetness, while the words sounded as though heard in a dream—the tender words which Mrs. Browning wrote: “ Unless you can think, when the song is done. None other is sweet in the rhythm; Unless you can feel, when left by one, That all men else go with him; Unless you can know, when upraised by his breath, Unless That your beauty swear—‘For itself wants proving; life, you can for death’— Oh, fear to call it loving 1” For life—for death! there was some¬ thing so sweet in the deep minor strain in which they sung. There was no printed page before her, and she sang with her eyes half closed, while the ac¬ companiment was an inspiration. “Unless you can muse in a crowd all da On the absent face that fixed you; Unless you can love as the angels may, With the breath of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behooving and unbehooving; is Unless you can die when the dream past— Oh, never call it loving!” The picture slowly faded, and Tom bowed his head. He did not think of it as a delusion, it was real to him. Suddenly starting up, he lit the gas, and drawing out a box of colors,sketched swiftly on a paper before him. It was the picture that he had seen. Dim, un¬ defined, he drew the background, the piano, and with a few steady strokes be barely outlined the sweet face so dear to him. And when it was done he printed underneath a line of music—that air which she had sung. He wrote no words. Would she understand? he wondered. He decided to deliver it in person the next day. Phyllis was somewhat surprised at his morning call, but greeted him gladly. He placed the picture in her hands without a word, and going over to the piano, ran over the music that he had heard accompanying the song, When he turned the girl was standing gazing at the picture iu wonder. “Phyllis,” he said, at her side, “is it true?” She turned to him with a wonderfully sweet smile. “Tom,” she hesitated, “how—how did you find it out? How could you have heard it?” “Ah,” answered he, laughing, “some have said that ‘love is blind,’ but love has second-sight, my Phyllis.” “It is true,” she said, simply, holding out her hand.— Harper's Bazar. The Beautiful Blue Danube. Among the most important rivers iu Europe is the Danube; in fact, it is the second river. It has a length of 1700 miles; it and its tributaries drain a val¬ ley having an area of over 300,000 square miles. Many natives live along its banks and those of the rivers which flow into it, and nearly thirty dialects are spoken from its source to its mouth It rises iu the Black Forest, to the north of Switzerland, and almost in sight of the French frontier. Through Bavaria and Austria is its course, through Huu- gary, past Servia and Bulgaria, Rou- mania and Roumelia, which tributaries flow in from Bosnia and Macedonia od the south and Poland on the north, so that practically the valley of the Danube comprises the most important portion of Eastern Europe. It runs through the battle-ground of civilization and sav- agery. Here the Romans contended with the Scythians and the Huns; here the Greek Empire strove to maintain its supremacy over the hordes of savage tribes which came down from the steppes of Russia; here, after the Empire of the East faded away, Charlemagne contended with savage tribes of semi-Asiatics; here all Europe fought the Turks for genera¬ tion after generation, until, by a great battle fought under the walls of Vienna, the flood of the Mohammedan invasion was rolled back toward Asia.—Detroit Free Press. In Yorkshire the English peasant if he happens to see the new moon without having a piece of silver money in his pocket immediately turns heels over head to .change his luck. THE FARM AND GARDEN. PREPARING SHEEP SKINS. Make a paste with fresh lime in water, thicker than whitewash, and spread it over the flesh side of the skin, and then fold it together so as to leave the wool out. In a day or two, or more, it will be ready to pull; try it by examining. Sometimes fresh wood-ashes is added to the lime in making the paste, and some persons use wood-ashes wholly. This is the old method .—Country Gentleman. BALING HAY. The baling of hay does not add to its feeding value in any way, and would not pay for mere ease of storing it. But for transpoitation it is indispensible. The best machines are those presses known as continuous—that is, they take in hay at one end and turn out bales at the other without stopping. A press worked with two horses and costing about $140 will turn out ten tons or 100 bales, in ten hours, with three men. No. 16 wire of soft iron, made specially for this purpose, is used. The fastenings are hooks and eyes, which are purchased ready made. —New York Times. WHEN TO SELL HOGS. Sell your hogs when you can get the most money for them at the least outlay. The ups and downs of prices we cannot readily control, but by careful attention to feeding and the use of the scales we can tell closely whether we are making corn into pork at a profit or not. If not, there ought to be a change of ration or an immediate sale of marketable stock. It does not pay to hold beyond the time of profitable growth and fattening. Most successful feeders believe it pays best one year with another to sell the pork when the highest point in gain has been reach, letting the question of probable higher prices alone. Corn used in keep¬ ing over-fattened hogs will make twice as much pork if given to other animals. It is a losing game to hold for an in¬ crease of price as a rule. Make all the pork you can out of your corn in just as little time as possible.— Western Swineherd. CHANGING EGGS. One of the practices among farmers is changing eggs with each other in order to avoid in-breeding. In the first place, the eggs themselves are a risk, as no one can tell what they may produce, perhaps no two chicks from them being alike and no breeding of value in the stock. In the next place, the changing of eggs makes the flocks iu a community all of one blood, so that really nothing can be gained by the practice after it has been persisted in for a while. Get pure-bred males from some source, or eggs from some breeder of pure breeds. If you must cross, do it correctly. Do not waste time in the attempt to better your flock by changing eggs for some nonde¬ script stock that has no merit nor pos¬ sesses any advantage. To improve a flock, one should know the kind of stock he is using, and what can be expected from it. The changing of eggs is a practice usually pursued by those who do not know the value of the breeds, and such persons should not be encouraged. —Farm and Fireside. IMPORTANCE OF CORN HUSKS. Doubtless to most farmers the busk on corn as well as the chaff of grain seems a useless appendage,though apparently un¬ avoidable. But when all corn and other grain grew wild the husk was a very neces¬ sary part of the plant,to preserve the seed from vicissitudes of weather until the time came for it to grow again. Corn in the husk and on the stalk dries out be- fore its vitality can be injured by severe freezing. The lightest frost nips the husk, which thereafter dries up and forms a dry covering over the grain. It is for this reason, rather than from mere shiftlessness and laziness, that many Western farmers who grow Dent corn leave it until nearly spring before they husk it. If they threw bushels of wet ears in a heap they would either rot down if the weather was warm or freeze so as to kill the germ during weather when the thermometer went down to zero. But the husk in cultivated corn each year grows of less importance as better means are devised for drying coru artificially. It is likely that improved much less difficult .-Boston CuttiraUrr. EFFECT OF IRREGULAR SHEEP FEEDING. One of the defects of a large quantity of wool which finds its way to our mar¬ kets is an unevenness in the size and strength of its fibre. This greatly re- duces the value of the wool for manufac- tiring . purposes, and , necessarily dimin- . ishes the price which it will command. The cause of this defect is usually to be found m irregular feedyig, or in undue exposure of the animals, with consequent injury to their health. If the sheep are well fed part of the time and poorly fed at other periods, the fibre of their wool will certainly be uneven. Anything which injures the health or reduces the strength of the animal will have the same effect. Not a few farmers who have been obliged to sell their wool at low prices have blamed the purchasers for paying so little, but the latter have been merely acting for self-protection. The sheep from which the wool was taken had been badly kept, and the wool was of an inferior quality because of thi9 want of skill in feeding and caring for the flock. No way has yet been discov¬ ered by which sheep, or any other uni- mals, which aie neglected can be made to return as large a profit as those which are well fed and properly tended.— American Dairyman. COWS CLEAN BY COMPULSION To ‘ 'board up mangers so high that stock cannot reach forward far enough to soil the platform on which they stand” is well, but it does not always ef¬ fect the purpose, writes O. 8. Bliss. I have had cows that no shortening of their stalls, before or behind, whether in stanchions or otherwise held, would re- strain from not only soiling the platform, but themselves. One which was so val¬ uable that I very much disliked to part with her tried my patience for a long while, and I adopted various expedients, only to be beaten every time. She would arch her back and crowd her hind feet almost to the fore ones,in spite of every¬ thing in front of her. I finally, as a last resort, with a view to turn her out if she failed, hung a frame down from the ceil¬ ing over her back. The plank across her back was six inches wide. This she contrived to get down by vigorous lift¬ ing ancj swaying herself from side to side. I then put up another, the cross¬ piece of which was made of good tim¬ ber, but five-eighths of an inch thick where it came in contact with her back about six or eight inches behind the shoulders. It was placed about an inch above her back when standing in her natural position, and was firmly braced in its place. It accomplished the pur¬ pose most effectually. She was later on given much more freedom of action in her place, and from being always soiled on legs, flank and udder, became as neat and cleanly as could be desired. The ef¬ fect was in no wise harmful. She was simply compelled either to abandon the bad habit of doubling herselt up or to back away from under the sharp edge of timber and step down from the plat¬ form. She tried both, and eventually accepted the first, and has since been all right. It should be added that she is fastened in her stall beside another cow on the opposite side by a strap around her neck with a running ring upon .—New an upright stanchion at her shoulder York Tribune. FARM AND GARDEN NOTES. Artificial stimulants are rarely needed by fowls. Warm, dry quarters are essential to the laying hens. Fat is a better protection for fowls against cold than pepper. Dry or whole grain should never be fed exclusively to laying hens. The queen cells are elongated and are the ones in which queens are reared. Sunflowers and sorghum can always be fed to advantage without threshing. Remember that the Lyringas will thrive and do well in almost any soil and situation. A tablespoouful ot ginger in a quart of water is a good remedy for scouring in poultry. “Ripe” honey is honey which has by evaporation become sufficiently thick to be sealed in the cell. Sprinkling fine ashes or lime over the walls and roosts is one of the cheapest and best remedies for lice. Soft soap rubbed on the legs and al¬ lowed to remain on a short time is a good remedy ior scaly legs. The Polyantha roses, which bear their small double flowers in clusters, are what is known as perpetual bloomers, and are a good sort to have in one's garden. At a recent meeting at St. Catherine s, Canada, a vote was taken on the ques- tion of outdoor versus iudoor wintering of bees. The majority favored packing on summer stands. Seeds should always be planted in fresh, most soil. If the soil is dry, it draws the moisture from the seed, if it contains any, and the seed has to lie aud await the necessary moisture before it can sprout. A ca]f can be prevented fr0lu having ] lorns by an application of crude potash the spot where the incipient horn can be felt. The cost is next to nothing, The plan o{ dehorning is gaining in f avor a ud done in this way has much to coulmend it. . at tho a S™ ul ural /««. “ <l gives some very good reasons for so doing. There is no doubt about the attractiveness to the average fair goer of bees in glassed hives atl( } honey in glass crates, A herd of eighteen cows in Vermont produced 163 pounds of butter per year for each cow. The amount is not a large one compared ‘ with the records of noted co ; bu t it ia excelleut {or a herd ’ and sbow what dairjmen ' can do by sin °r well . bred C0W3 a d ° ivi ° themprop r r care. A New York farmer raised an acre of sunflowers for seed, and found that the seed was an excellent addition to grain for the use of hogs and poultry, a small mill being used to grind it for hogs. The stalks made excellent kindling- wood and the heads and seeds were ground together. If you cannot grind or pulvarize the old bones you can reduce them by laying them in wood ashes, and keeping the mass damp, not wet. A small quantity of urine, poured over the bones and ashes occasionally, will hasten the decomposi¬ tion of the bones. If you cannot do this bury the bones around the fruit trees and grapevines.