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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.