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SURROUNDED BY WOLVES.
A MONTANA MAN’S TERRIBLE EX
PERIENCE BY NIGHT.
Lost In the Mountains —He is Be
seiffed by a Pack of Hungry
Wolves—Saved by Fire.
G. W. Jackson, the Helena music
dealer, had an experience last week
which now seems rather a frightful
nightmare than an actual occurrence.
He went out in the Thunder Mountains,
about sixty miles north of Townsend, to
visit a mine in which he is interested.
The mine is located in a secluded gulch
far up among the hills in the midst of
one of the wildest sections of mountain
land known in Montana. He and a com
panion, R. W. James, of Helena, arrived
at the mine about 3 o’clock one after
noon, and immediately started out with
their shotguns to get some grouse for
supper, the neighborhood abounding
with these birds. They walked up the
gulch a mile or two, and separated, Mr.
Jackson going over a ridge to follow a
bird that he had flushed. On returning
to the top of the ridge Mr. James was out'
of sight and Mr. .iackson hallooed to
him, but got no answer. Mr. James
in the meanwhile had gone back to j
camp, thinking his companion knew the j
country and would follow him in. Not 1
being able to find James, Jackson thought
it was about time to go back,and started
in the direction of camp, ashe supposed. ;
After walking about a mile he found ;
that he had missed his reckoning and
started to retrace his steps. It was now
growing dark, and at every step the
country grew more strange. Finally he
sat down to rest, oppressed witn the
consciousness that he was lost in the
mountains.
Just then a long, deep howl arose in
the woods to his right, and echoed with
fearful strains through the surrounding
hills. He roused himself as he rec
ognized the cry of the gray timber wolf,
one of the fiercest wild beasts that infest
our mountains. The echo had scarce
died away when another howl came in
answer from the other side of him, then
another, until the forest on all sides re
sounded with the dismal cry. Then a
new fear presented itself. The wolves
were evidently on his trail. Suppose
they should attack him in numbers?
His only means of defence was a shotgun
and a few shells of birdshot.
llis first thought was to climb a tree
and bid defiance to the beasts. Near
the top of the hill, about in the centre of
the open which he was in, he spied a lone
pine tree, a giant of its kind, whose ex
pansive boughs seemed to invite him to
their sweet embrace. Spurred on by the i
blood-curdling howls that now formed a
chorus of dismal, jangling, discordant
wails, Mr. Jackson ran with might and
main toward the tree, it was a race up
bill, and be sunk down at the roots of
the giant pine in an exhausted state.
He soon recovered his breath and tried
to climb the tree. Horror of horrors!
The nearest branch w r as twenty feet above
the ground, and the base of the trunk
was fully four feet in diameter. He
could not scab its smooth bark, and
after several ineffectual attempts sank
back upon the ground in despair.
But the howls again roused him from
his lethargy. They were so loud now
that he knew the wolves were near at
hand. Then the thought struck him to
build a fire. He knew this would keep
the beasts at bay, and accordingly set
about the task. The ground was strewn
with dry branches and cones that had
fallen from the tree, and soon he had a
heap gathered together. But now one
of those terrible lightning storms that
have given these heights the name of
Thunder Mountains arose in all its fury.
Pea! after peal of electric artillery rolled
out from the angry clouds, drowning the
howls of the wolves and illuminating the
weird scene by vivid flashes of lightning
that preceded the thunder. Then the
wind blew a perfect hurricane. Match
after match he struck, but the wind blew
them out.
Finally with some dry grass a tiny
flame was communicated and a welcome
blaze sprung up. Fanned by the wind,
it soon enveloped the pile of fagots and
illuminated the scene for yards around.
And it was just in time, for around the
ciicle of light cast by the flames Mr.
Jackson saw the gaunt and hungry forms
of at least a do;.eu wolves, great, big
gray beasts, with flashing eyes and snap
ping jaws. Their howling ceased for a
moment, but soon another pack arrived
and took to fighting with the first. It
wa , dog eat dog. The battle waged for
a few moments, the beasts snapping and
snarling at each other, jumping over
their fellows and all the time howling
A like a set of demons. Mr. Jackson could
W se ;‘ the fight, as the wolves encroached
r within the circle of light, and his blood
turned cold as he thought how he would
fare before those terrible jaws But the
battle soon ceased, and then all the
wolves, thirty or forty all told, begau
prowling about the fire-light, eyeing Mf.
•Jackson With their flaming orbs, whicn
looked like balls of fire.
About midnight the storm ceased, and
darkness impenetrable settled down on
the mountains, the fire illuminating the
space around the tree to a distance of
forty yards. All this time the gaunt
figures of the wolves kept playing around
the circle of light, not daring to approach
the fire. But their glaring eyes and ter
rorizing' howls procla rued their fearful
presence constantly.
Mr. Jackson busied himself watching
the wolves and feeding the tire, which,
until now, bad not lacked fuel. But
oh, horror! At about J o’clock in the
morning, the darkest part of the night,
he saw that the lire was growing low
and that the emboldened wolves were
passing closer and closer in upon him
as the circle of light grew smaller. He
had no more wood. Every twig and
cone within reach had been heaped upon
the fire.
Now there was almost nothing but
embers left, and he could see the hungry
wolves glaring at him not six yards
away. With gun in hand he stood to
fight and sell his life dearly as soon as
they attacked him. His heart beat like
a sledgehammer as he watched the near
est wolf, expecting every moment that
the huge gray monster would spring at
him.
Just as he thought the beast was about
to make the leap a column of flame shot
suddenly up into the air, sending its
sparks twenty feet high and scattering
the how ng wolves. They scampered
back in evident terror. A pitch-soaked
root near the base of the tree had ignited
from the fire, and soon the monster
trunk, which was coated with resin on
that side, was in a blaze. “.Saved!
saved!” thought Jackson, as he noted
the welcome blaze and saw the cowardly
wolves shrink away from the fire. The
imperiled man thanked Providence for
the timely interference, and felt now for
the first time absolutely secure as he
stood in the light of the blazing tree.
Soon daylight appeared, the wolves
slunk back 10 their dens, and just as the
sky was reddening with the dawn the
last pack of the foiled monsters dis
appeared over the hill. When the sun
rose Mr. Jackson refreshed himse f at a
neighboring spring and started for
camp. lie walked till about noon,
when he met a party sent out to search
for him, and was safely conducted back
to camp.
Fencing a Modern Mode of Defense.
The idea of using the sword as a pro
tection to the body—as a defensive as
offensive weapon—was undreamed of,de
clares the hi ew Orleans J imes JJemocr.it ,
for fifteen centuries or so after the time
of Spartacus. The ancient l.omans and
all the nations of antiquity, like the
knights and men-at-arms of the Middle
Ages, use 1 the sword only to cut and
thrust with, never to parry. For pro
tection they relied upon the shield and
upon body armor. The same is true at
the present day with Oriental nations
that still use the sword. An Afghan’s
sword cut will almost divide you in two
if you let it strike you. But if you can
parry or evade his cut. he will be utterly
unable to escape your return cut or thrust,
unless he carries a shield, as he some- j
.times does. The same was true, again, ]
of the famous swordsmen of the Scottish i
Highlands. They thought nothing of s
the claymore as a weapon of defense.
Everybody remembers Scott’s famous
lines:
“111 fared it then with Roderick Dhu
That on the field bis targe he threw,
Whose brazen studs and tough bull hide
Had death so often dashed aside.
For, trained abroad his arm to wield,
Fitz-James’ blade was sword and shield.”
The idea of making the blade both
sword and shield was, as lias been said, i
absolutely unknown to the Romans, and
was quite anew thing of Fitz-James. :
It originated on the European continent, \
in F rance or Italy.
The Roadsculler.
The “roadsculler,” which was the ma
chine used by the “land oarsmen” in
the recent race at Madison Square
Harden, New York City, is a tricycle
with a forward wheel £0 inches in
diameter aud two rear wheels twice as
large. The light iron frame is so curved
as to place the line of support below the
center of the wheels and is fitted with
foot rests and a J avis sliding seat. By
means of levers running from the toes of
the foot rests the rider or sculler, facing
forward, steers. At either end of the
frame are two small grooved pulleys,
one on each side. Inside each rear
wheel on the main axle is a larger pulley
revolving on an independent axle when
turned in the backward direction.
These latter pulleys act as friction
clutches. F’rom the sculler’s handles
1,-inch wire cables run over the forward
pulleys, back and twice around the fric
tion clutches and then up to and over
the rear pulleys to the handles again.
Such is the method by which the road
sculler is propelled. It is exactly like
sculling a boat, only that the sculler
faces forward. A single stroke carries
the machine (10 feet or more, and an
expert can easily make JO miles an hoar.
If properly conducted a race with UWse
machines ought to be very interesting as
a high-class contest between tiained
athletes. — Picayune.
Ex Bandit Frank James. *
The old town of Independence was
once a hot bed of war, and the principal
scene of the operations of the James boys,
the guerrilla Quantrell* and Jtheir ilk.
Frank and Jesse lived only a few miles
away, just across the way, in Clay
county, and they had many friends,
relatives and companions in outlawry in
and about Independence. Frank mar
ried the daughter of Colonel Satouel
Ralston, who lived, and is living yet,
about two miles west of Independence.
The old Colonel is visited annually by
F rank and his wife and little boy, who
live at Dallas, Tex. The ex-bandit as a
private and to some extent respected
citzen usually di esses in a suit ot gray
and wears no jewlry save a watch and
chain. His slouch hat is of grayish
color, his shoes neatly polished and his
white standing collar sets off an attractive
cravat. He has in no degree the appear
ance of the ideal bandit, although bis
eyes are still sharp, lie does not weigh
over 150 pounds, and is five feet eight
inches tall. His nose is long and his lips
thfn, and his features are so attenuated,
his temple and cheeks so sunkeb. that
he might readily be taken for a con
sumptive. He is very unpretentious
aud shuns notoriety.— St. Louis JJisjiatch.
Roasting Fish Then, “Rears” Now.
“He's too busy to do it now,” said a
member of the Chicago Board of Trade,
speaking of “Old Hutch,” the grain
speculator, “but when he first started
the Century Club he used occasionally
to do the cooking himself,” says the
Chicago Timex. “You could go in there
and see him turning over flapjacks and
broiling steak while singing the doxology
st the top of his voice. One morning
his real e-tate agent came in in great
glee to tell him that he had sold for
him a piece of property lor * - .'3t),OUU,
$50,000 more than he expected to get.
He found the man standing over 1110
grill intently watching a trout bake.
“Mr. Hutchinson, I’ve sold—” No
attention from the chief.
“Mr. Hutchinson.” Silence.
“Mr. Hutchinson, I’ve sold that prop
erty at a profit of—”
“I don’t cave what you've sold.
G’way! Don’t you see I’m busy baking
this fish?”
Youngest Wearer of Penal Stripes.
Probably the youngest convict in the
United States is now in the State prison
in Nashville, Tenn. His name is Dan
Jordan and he was sent from Memphis.
He is less than eleven years old and is
small for his age. He was convicted of
having stolen $5 and sentenced to three
years in the penitentiary. When the
first night of his incarceration came the
guard aid not lock him in a solitary cell,
but allowed him to lie on a blanket by
the stove, where he sobbed himself to
sleep. He has a widowed mo her iu
Memphis.
THE FRENCH EXECUTIONER
AN INTERESTING CHAT WITH THE
HEADSMAN OF FRANCE.
Living in Strict Retiremont— The
Ghastly Implements of His Pro
fession —How He Does His Work.
I'ew people have ever seen the public
executioner of F rance, says a Paris let
ter to the New York World, and it is no
easy matter to find him, for the police
refuse to give his address, and his name
is carefully omitted from the directory.
The dreaded “Monsieur de Paris,” as he
is called by the lower classes, is, how
ever, M. Diebler, and he rents a flat at
No. 3 Rue Vic d’Azur, a squalid little
street half an hour’s walk away from
Koquette Prison. This man, who con
ducts the ceremonies in which the
gullOtine plays the most prominent part,
is a very quiet person of a retiring dis
position, who dreads notoriety and avoids
contact with his neighbors as much as
possible. There is nothing in the
beadsman’s appearance nor in his home
to denote his ghastly office.
After some difficulty the World cor
respondent secured the address of M.
Deibler and found that the headsman
was not ind.sposed to tell the details of
his unenviable profession. lie couid
not, however, 1c induced to exhibit even
privately the gu llotine, which he re
ferred to as “ the machine.” He said:
“The machine is ready mounted foi
use, and I may be summoned off at any
moment. 1 usually get twenty-four
hours’ notice in Paris and more than
double that time for the departments,
but 1 hold myself eon-tantly in readiness
to start off at a moment’s notice. As a
rule I have to spend at La Koquette the
whole night preceding the execution. A
great deal has to be done in a very short
t.me. Soon as the two black vans arrive
—one containing the ‘woods of ju tice’
and the other destined to convey the
body of the culprit to lvry Cemetery—
I have to superintend the installation of
the machine, which takes upward of an
hour. The fixing of the knife and of
the apparatus itself is an intricate job.
There must be nohitch at the last. The
instrument is invariably placed on five
stones just outside the central door of
the Koquette Prison.
“While I am fixing the machine,”
continued the headsman, “The Abbe
Faure arrives. The Abbe Faure enters
La Roquette and gives spiritual comfort
to the doomed man. After being left
alone with the chaplain for a short time
the culprit is handed over to my assist
ant, who brings him from his cell down
the stone stairway which leads to the
Depot—the prisoner’s last station on
earth before reaching the machine—
where he is seated on a wooden stool,
and his toilet begins. This doesn’t take
iftuch time, for his nair and beard were
clipped on entering the prison. The
man is pinioned, his shirt stripped of its
collar, and he then goes forth to his
death by the central door, when he is
strapped to the fatal plank which, top
pling over, brings bis neck into tire half
circular portion of a ring that 1 secure be
fore springing the knife. Soon as I touch
a button in one of the upright posts the
knife falls aud the head is received in a tin
vessel containing sawdust. The body is
unstrapped, put into a coffin, with the
culprit’s bead between his legs, and the
remains are then driven off to lvry Ceme
tery, where they are buried.”
“Does life endure any time after the
head is severed'”
“No, i think not,” the execution re
plied, reflectively. “The great loss of
blood producer syncope. Besides ”
Here M. Deibler went out of the room
and brought in a Drge black leather
box, which he the table, On
raising the lid there appeared the bright
steel knife of oblique shape which is
fixed to the cross beam of the guillotine
at each execution, and which M. Deibler
carefully watches over and cleans at
home. He took it out of its soft red
lining the other afternoon, stroked it
with liis hand as if to brush the dust off
its highly-polished surface, and, turning
it over said:
“There; look at the back of this
knife. It is heavily weighted, you see,
to make it fall swiftly and with tremen
dous force when 1 touch the spring.
Now, this is the reason why I think that
all consciousness departs from the brain
of a man after the fall of the head. *At
the same instant that the neck is severed
by the blade, the weighty portion strikes
so fearful a blow on the occiput that the
cheek is often bruised from the fail of
the head into the tin vessel containing
the sawdust. Yet the head is only
raised a few inches above the tin vessel
which receives it. Such a blow is, in
my opinion, su ticient to drive out any
rav of memory, reflection or real sensi
bility that may linger, after the decapi
tation,in the brain of the most obdurate,
bull-headed criminal.”
The Gulf Stream.
The main Gulf Stream is said to end
on the south side of the Hanks of New
foundland ; at ail events, the stream di
vides there, the larger branch crossing
the At antic northward to the coast of
Northern Europe, passing the North
Cape and becoming und stinguishable
near Nova Zcinbla. The smaller branch
crosses eastward, curves southward be
tween the Azores and Portugal, sending
out smaller branches into the Irish and
Mediterranean seas, and joins the north
equatorial current, with which it returns
to the Gulf of Mexico, aud so completes
the cireu t. > Thus the most northern
point reached is near Nova Zembla, the
most southern near the equator. It
tou hes the United States, Newfound
land, the British 1.-les, Norway, Port
ugal and Morocco. The equatorial cur
rents touch the eastern coast of South
America and the western coast of Africa.
The Japan stream touches Japan and
Corea, Kamschatka and Alaska, and the
western corst of North America and the
Mexican coast, flowing almost as fat
south as the equator. —Philadelphia Call.
Petroleum for Harbor Defence.
A Philadelphia corporation thinks it
is smart enough to set the river on tire.
It is preparing to make experiments at
Fort Mi.riin, near Philadelphia, with a
new method of setting the river on fire.
It is proposed to sink perforated iron
pipes in the river bed and approaches to
the harbor, through which petroleum
can be forced to the surface of the water
by machinery. In this manner blazing
petroleum can be sent into the enemy’s
fleet and make it uncomfortably hot for
the proud invader.
FARM AM) GARDEN.
Making Cheese.
Since the establishment of so many
creameries and cheese factories through
out the country cheese making in fami
lies has almost become a lost art. The
night’s and morning’s milk may be put
together in a large kettle and brought
almost to blood heat, when rennet is put
in and stirred up with the milk. After
that it must not be disturbed again until
it has curdled and whey appears on the
top and sides of the kettle. Lip this oti'
carefully, so as not to break the curd
and cause a whitish whey. This whey
may be warmed and turned back to keep
up the temperature until the separation
of the whey from the curd is complete,
when it is all dipped off again and the
hardened curd is cut from time to time
into inch squares with a large knife to
still further aid m the separation of the
whey.
After this the who’e is dipped into a
coarse strainer cloth, spread in the cheese
basket and placed over a tub to drain.
It is then chopped in a chopping bowl
or rubbed into small pieces and salt, d
ready for the cheese hoops, when it is
gently pressed until the whey is all ex
pel,ed. A dried rennet is soaked in salt
and water in a stone jar and the amount
required will depend on its strength and
must be learned by experience. A table
spooniul to a gallon of milk is about the
usual quantity. When on the shelf to
dry the cheese must be rubbed daily
with greese made from heated butter
until it is cured. While a quite small
fruit or cider press might be used, it
would not be we 1 adapted to the purpose
and a cheap one made by a carpenter
would be better. —New York World .
Composting Hen Manure.
"We have always maintained that the
farmer or gardener who did not save and
make the most of the manure from his
hens did not. make poultry-keeping as
profitable as he might, or as profitable
as he ought. We have often used dry
dirt or ashes to mix with hen manure,
and u-ed the mixture as a top dressing
for timothy meadows. There"is one ob
jection to the use of ashes. If the mix
ture is not u-ed at once, much of the
ammonia of the manure is set free, and
its good results to the crop lost. We
know from experience that hen manure
is ti o strong for many kinds of seeds,
and should be composted with something.
That reliable journal, P. yul ir Hardening,
gives the following d rections for doing
the work:
Plaster and lime are the best sub
stances lor composting hen manure,since
the latter contains such an excels of am
monia it is liable to poison the plant
somewhat, or cause too rauk a growth of
stalk. The lime is of no value iu elimi
nating and holding the super-abundance
of ammonia, and its relation to the phos
phates is similar. The lime also rots the
manure quickly,.rendering it usable by
plants. The hen manure is excessively
rich and needs a dilutant. One part of
the manure to eight or ten parts of plas
ter is a good proportion for the mixture,
although this may be varied to adapt it
better lor different soils and different
crops. For a very limy soil use less lime
in the compost,and for a clay soil as much
as ten parts ol plaster to one of manure.
This preparation had better be applied
wet, or allowed to rot a week before
using. It is preferable to place it not in
contact w.th the weeds, but beneath
them, where their roots will find it, aud
after the p ants are ate up, if they seem
weak and sickly, it may be applied to
the surface of the ground above the bill.
The quantity used should vary accord
ing to the needs of each particular kind
of soil or crop, but generally a large
handful of this mixture may be used in
each hill.
Value or Sour Milk.
A writer in tlru New England Farmer
combats the strong prejudice in the
minds ot many pe. sons against the “sour”
milk as food for man or animals. A
■Western editor tells his readers that
“souring’’ milk destroys nearly half its
value. There can be no doulit that in
fants and very young animals as a rule
should have their milk as nearly in the
natural condition as is possible. Some
Jersey milk is too rich for feeding calves
or pigs, but then Jersey milk is in a
measure artificial, as the cow herself has
been made what she is by a long course
of artificial feeding and breeding. Be
cause lersey skimmed milk may be safer
to feed to young calves than the whole
milk does not effect the rule that new
sweet miik taken in the natural way is
the best food for young animals. But
how long after it is swallowed before it
becomes “sbur” in the stomach? The
gastric juice, which is an acid curdles it
as the first stage in digestion.
Many farmers have learned that “sour”
milk is an excellent and perfectly safe
food for animals, and that one half is
not lost by the mere coagulating process.
But the ‘‘souring” may be carried too
far. The < ontents of an old swill barrel
into which all the wasts of the kitchen
and dairy are thrown to ferment and rot,
are not always the best kind of food even
for a hog, which is supposed to be capa
ble of thriving on anything that is eat
able. There is a ditfereuce between milk
that is simply curdled and that which
has £one through ail the ferraentive
stages, and possibly some of the putri
factive. The experience of thousands
of farmers long ago proved that simply
curdled is not injured in the least as
food for hogs, and many believe that
curdling increases its value bv rendering
it more digestible. The prejudice against
sour miik is largely a \ ankee or Amer
ican prejudice, the large majority of the
world who use milk preferiug it slightly
sour.
Professor W. A. Henry of the Wis
consin Agricultural Experiment Station,
has recently been making experiments
in feeding calves, which show remark
ably well for the curdled milk, making
it worth twenty-eight cents per hundred
pounds, against twenty-five cents for
milk not curdled. The milk was soured
by the few drops of liquid rennet. Tne
trial was made to show farmers that tne
sour milk from the creameries is too
valuable a food to be wasted, as it often
is at the West, where a prejudice exists
against sour milk.
The Fattening of Swine.
Ae food is the basis of the life and
growth of an animal it follows that for
healthful life and growth the food should
be completely adapted to the require
ments of the vital functions of the ani
mal. If the food is not sufficient to pro
vide for all its necessities or is in excess
of its necessities the animal will be de
fective in some vital part or will be un
duly taxed to get rid of the excess,
which will be a source of injury. The
science of feeding is based upon this
simple law r and upon the maintenance of
the proper balance between food and
growth. Within certain limits this
balance may be strained for a time and
auimals will assimilate a certain excess
of food which is stored up in the form
of fat in the tissues as a resource in
times of scarcity when food cannot be
secured in sufficient quantity. But this
excess must not be carried beyond a safe
point or disease is produced and the
animal refuses to eat any more, because
the digestive organs become clogged and
paraly/ed. And on the other hand there
may be a ceitain scarcity of food for a
time, during which the stored up re
serve may be drawn upon and used to
maintain vitality, but, as in the other
case, this cannot be prolonged beyond a
certain point, or the vital functions
cease for want of support. But this lat
ter alternative is always injurious and un
profitable, because a large quantity of
food is required to replace the loss of
tissue and bring the animal back to the
condition it was in when the starving
process began. Hence it is a maxim
among feeders of live stock that animals
of ail kinds should be kept growing
constantly and no drawbacks permitted
in their condition, but the fullest feed
ing should be supplied consistent with a
perfectly healthful aud vigorous growth-
An animal consists of bone, flesh, and
fat, and certain vital organs which con
sist of glandular tissue and membranes.
Flesh is made up of a large proportion
(sixteen per cent.) of nitrogen. Fat is
made up chiefly of carbon or compound
of it with water. Food consists of
similar elements, but some foods are
rich in nitrogen and some are rich in
carbon. It is a well-known fact in the
practice of feeding animals thnt foods
rich in carbon will not produce tiesh,
while fcods rich in nitrogen will; also,
that the principal vital organs contain a
good deal of nitrogen, and for their full
development and the consequent full vi
tality of an animal, foods rich in nitro
gen must be supplied in sufficient quan
tity. A young growing animal fed upon
starch will soon die, but a full-grown
animal fed upon starch up to a certain
point will become very fat. It is a mat
ter of economy under present, conditions
that young animals should be fed as
quickly as possible and made as heavy
as possible in the shortest time. Hence
it is that in feeding animals, especially
swine, mistakes may easily be made iu
the choice of food, aud such food as
will not preserve the healthful balance
may be used in the effort to force a rapid
and great advance in the fattening pro
cess.
Corn is the principal food used for
fattening swine. It is also used to too
great an excess for general feeding.
Consequently there is a generally defec
tive constitution as a result of unhea th
ful feeding where this system prevails,
and the prevalent hog cholera is a proof
of the error made in the excessive use of
this too carbonaceous food. Some of the
experiment stations have been given at
tention to this subject, and have shown
some remarkable results, which have been
previously referred to in the Tin.es. The
method of feeding adopted has been to
supply such a proportion of nitrogenotis
food with the corn as would render the
feeding fully nutritious and healthful.
The effects of such feeding were that
the growth of bone was larger, the vital
organs —the heart, lungs, liver and
spleen—were heavier aud more vigorous;
while, as might be expected from this
better development of these organs, the
carcass was heavier and the proportion
of lean meat to fat wa a larger than on
exclusive corn-feeding. It may be suf
ficient ouly to point out these facts men
tioned to lead feeders of swine to make
use of such nitrogenous foods as bran,
milk and linseed cake meal, along with
corn, so as to avoid disease and to secure
more and better meat, greater prolit in
feeding, and exemption from losses by
disease. —New York Tunes.
Farm anti Garden Notes.
Cleanliness on the farm does more for
its excellence than the expenditure of
money.
Farmers who must have hired men to
help them in their farm work ought not
to forget their overworked wive-. There
is as much need of extra workers in the
kitchen as on the farm.
The farmer who thinks that to make
money he must go where land is cheaper,
should consider well whether he would
not make more money by making the
land he has deeper and richer.
Wheat bran, being light, apparently
lias but little value, yet a ton of it con
tains forty-seven pounds of nitrogen and
over sixty pounds of phosphoric acid,
with a large proportion of potash.
Pon’t pasture the young clover. It is
the dearest of all feeds. If closely
cropped its growth will be checked so
that it may winter out, or at least will
not make a vigorous start next spring.
Hogs on clover wid thrive splendidly,
says the Live block Indicator , but they
should not be turned on till nearly time
for it to bloom. But it is well to re
member that they will do much better if
they are in good condition when turned
in the clover fields.
Great care should be taken to raise an
orchard. The soil should be thoroughly
cultivated and fertilized and the young
trees protected. Mr. Moore adds: “Un
less the fruit-grower lias time properly
to take care of his orchard, it is useless
to spend money for apple trees.”,
Breeders should go on carefully im
proving their Hocks by judicious crossing
and a rigid selection of the best. The
supply is not equal to the demand. So
long as any man raises better cattle and
horses than the average of his neighbors,
so long will there be a profitable demand
for his stock.
Mosses and lichens injure trees, not
by depriving them of nourishment, but
by affording a hiding place for insects,
as well as by shutting out light and air.
Whitewash made from fre>h lime will
remove them, or they can be taken off
with a tree scraper. After a rain it can
be done most easily.
A pig that has the snuffles should be
removed Irom the herd and cared for, as
tne disease is contagious. Put pine tar
in the slops and smear both the nose and
face with it. A free use of carbolic acid,
both externally and internally, should
also be made. So advises an experienced
Western stockman.
Here is the Arab test of a good horse,
which every farmer can apply. J t tJ
i simply to observe your horse when he ii
! drinking out of a brook. If, i n brino-.
I irig down his head, he remains square
without bending his limbs, he possesses
sterling qualities, and all narts of his
body are built symmetrically".
No variety of potato, however good in
quality, or excelling in production, will
long remain popular if it has deen
sunken eyes. The best part of the potato
lies next the 3kin, so that the deep par-
IPS that sunken eves necessitates is
doubly wasteful. The deep eye is de
ceptive in planting, as the farmer cannot
know whether it will grow or not. Un
der different circumstances he may have
a much greater or less stand of plants
from a similar seeding. Where the po
tato eye stands out prominently on the
surface nearly all w*U grow.
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL.
Electricity is now used to eradicate
dirt.
Glycerine does not agree with a very
dry skin. J
It is not yet known why the shell ot
the lobster turns red on being boiled.
It is claimed that eigarmakers and
tobacco strippers are never attacked bj
yellow fever or smallpox.
The northern ice barrier is broken uji
by the increasing power of the sun’s rays
as he travels northward along the elip
tic.
A \ ionna theatre has an electric or
gan, which is placed at the back of the
stage and connected by a cable with a
key-board in the orchestra.
Bees become restless and irritable be
fore a storm, and in eight or nine in
stances within three years their indica
tions have proven correct when the baro
meter has failed.
M. Pasteur thinks bi-sulphate of car
bon will become the most elficacious ol
all antiseptics, as it is also the cheapest,
costing but a fraction of a penny per
pound in large quantity.
A large meteor passed over Minden,
La., recently, lighting up the sky for
several minutes so brightly that one
could see to read. It exploded with a
report like that of a cannon.
1 A celebrated pliysican has described
fever as a disease of the nervous system
chiefly, resulting in increased chemical
change in the bodily tissues, with conse
i queut elevation of temperature.
French physicians are reporting great
1 success with the prompt internal use of
antiseptics in cases of typhoid fever.
After disinfection of the intestines, ac
cording to this method, the disease runs
a short course.
There is talk of applying telephones
to the infectious wards of the French
ho pitals, so as to enable the sick people
isolated in their contagious sufferings ta
have the comfort of hearing their rela
tives’ voices without any risk of convey
ing infection by an interview.
From the Salt Lake of Utah vast quan
tities of sulphate of soda are secured,
blown on shore at certain temperatures
by the winds, where hundreds of tons
are often piled up in a single night, that
can be utilized in the cheap production
of sal soda and carbonate of §oda.
A recent examination has shown that
the teredo has quite destroyed some huge
; yellow pine piles put down in Charles
town (S. C.) harbor less than two years
ago, and by consequence experts in
marine architecture counsel the Govern
ment to erect all boathouses in low lati
tudes upon iron supports instead of tim
ber ones.
A Pittsburgh man has invented a glass
conduit which he thinks solves the
problem of underground electric wires.
Plates of glass are grooved on the upper
surface, and the wires are laid in the
grooves and cemented there with pitch.
Then other plates of glass are laid over
the first, and wires put upon thehi in the
same way. When all the wires are laid
i the whole is inclosed in a wooden boi
, aud imbedded in cement.
According to the statement of oc
ulists short sightedness is more preva
lent among the residents of cities than
of the country. They account for
this defect of the cyo|by the fact that
town people have less opportunity and
necessity lor looking at objects in the
distance, and their occupations as a gen
eral thing do not require the develop
ment of long sightedness. The German,*
as a nation are considered among the
worst for weak eyes.
A Hero in Leather Legging.
There are many kinds of cowboys in
the great West— some of them brave and
others the biggest f iauds on earth. The
“ grow-up-with-the-counfrv ” reporter
of the Detroit Free Prexx thus describes
a real hero in leather leggins:
He is an odd genius. When he was
about seven years of age he became aware
somehow that he was with a roving baud!
of Sioux Inaiunsand that for some rea
son or other he was one of them. So ha
ran away. He fell in witli a band of
cowboys at the Junction of the Alkali and
Stinking Water rivers and joined them
on their march to Texas. There he was
adopted by a Jewish family and he re
mained with them for some years, finally
going buck to what he styles “the cow
boy profession.” lie went back to Da
kota by tue “Chism” trail, the oldest
cattle trail in the West, and there oined
the Sioux tribes again, becoming their
interpreter. He married Sitting Bull's
niece by buying her for eight ponies of
a sub chief, Black Tomahawk by name,
who w T as afterward crippled while en
gaged in the Custer massacre.
Babe also had a hand in this massacre,
but how actively be does not state. Last
winter, during the great Dakota blizzard,
he was the hero of the expedition which
found Miss Lou Jennings and five chil
dren in a school house, thirteen and one
half miles east of Lapid City, and saved
them. Then some Western museum
manager got hold of him and started him
around the circuit of the country. Like
a true child of the We9t, he travels with
out any idea of where he is or where he
is going. Managers put him on trains
and conductors tell him to get off. Ho
goes through the ordeal with never a
care, thought of the future or where ha
is going to bring up.
“Who are you? Where were you
born?” asked the reporter.
“Don’t know. The Indians said I waft
a member of the Aztee tribe, now almost
extinct.” He laughed and shook hi!
long, black hair carelessly. He is here,
and that’s enough for him. He doesn t
care where he came from.
