I jam, that yep should object. «let me help you to cream. 7 girl could look 1111 \V 1’1 .. - #1“. -. ~ ": , _ Fix-2'. :" --- 1 . .4' ‘V ’41 h 1‘. L l - j) l\ - \ ' A A 5' 1 A i . . ‘ _ m ' ‘ _'_'—‘b“—‘W ' fl 1 . . -r v . ~ ‘ I GA ' AR _w x " “ :81 .4 A '” _"—-' _. 17:1: MORNING BREAKS. 1... 3-11-3fh'15 was; but, of coursent, “GHT A JAG” ”l“ W UP 3;} FASHION 1. rANClEa. __ g , - A C1 ntral Ame1ican Boiled the Syrup and Jackets Popular for Limm- am" The morning breaks, and withit brings The firs tfaint bic: 1th of Spring. And hear t,s like hub; 1v birds on wings, For joy are carolingl Athrill runs through the frozen earth, A trill pervades the air; Presaging banishment of dearth, Foretelling all things fairh Each shivering bough enwreathed shall gins With wealth of summer bloom, Unmindful of the blasts that blow, Forgetful of the glooml And he rts bowed down by weight of woe Souls shivering in Life‘ 8 blast Beneath God’s smile shall radiant grow In Summer-land at last! ~—Grace Appleton. BOTH HAD VVHEELS Rose Giaham laid the morning m p as1de11nd looked across the table atn ‘ ni: - wife. “1 dou' t like the idea, Dora,’ he 1 aid, :1 faintly discernible air of aut‘nmity coloring the words with yet stronger disapproval. His wife’s face flushed a little as she toyed with her coffee spoon. She was one of the few women who can look charming at 8 a. 1n. It is awfully hard to refuse your wife anything when she is distracting pretty and you have been married only three short months. “All the girls have them,” she pro- tested. "I'm surprised, Ross, really I Every- body rides, and it is so awfully fasci; hating." ‘-'It doesn’t make any difference what other girls do,” responded her husband. emphatically. "they may fly to the. moon if somebody patents airships, for all I care. But I hate to see you on 11 bicycle—mot ._that there is any actual harm in them, but a man doesn’t care to have his wife prancing around the coun- try, staied at by all the fellow You may have anything else in reason that you want, Dot, but I draw the line at bloomers and a wheel.” Dora’s eyebrows puckered ominouslv. She rose with injured dignity and look ed down at her husband as impressive 1y as a woman may from a height of five feet one. “Do I understand you to Say that you forbid me to ride a ,bicycle‘!” she asked slowly. Her cheeks were glowing now and a small, slippered foot beat a tatoo upon the carpet. Her husband looked up in surprise. It is always surprising to a newly made benedict to discover that his adoring =pouse has any wishes apart from his )VVD. “Well," said he, with the mild (lee ' peration of a peaceable man who finds. himself cornered. "If you insist on putting it in such an unpleasant way. yes.” "Then," ref." "‘1 his wife, moving lragically toward the door, even the tortoise shell aquiver with indignation, "all I have to say is that you are a per feet—tyrant !" Everything went wrong at the office that day. It is not easy to wrestle with business when one emerges 11' m the gloom of a domestic thundercloud, and Ross was relieved when the afternoon 11 ore on. "After all," he soliequized, as he rode homeward 071 a California street car. “perhap: I was rather hard on the bicy cle proposition. But it wouldn’t do to give in to her now—Ll must be firm." It takes a married man some time to acquaint himself with the apparent in ' :onsistency of the feminine mind. Dora had allowed him to go down' town without as much as a farewell glance. Approaching his cozy home with some inward apprehension he was naturally astounded when she met him at the door, radiantly smiling. Some friends dropped in later, and the evening passed delightfully. Dora devoted herself to her husband‘s com fort with an eager solicitude that he at- tributed to Mcere repentance. As she poured coffee for him the next morning he observed with horror an immense and unsightly bruise upon her arm—a bruise that included all the col- ors of a. well developed rainbow. “For heaven’s sake, Dot, how did you do it?” he inhuired anxiously. His wife blushed furiously. ' “Oh, I fell—that'is, I—oh, it‘s noth ing, Ross, dear, nothing whatever—do By the by, I forget to tell vou that——" Here she branched off to a dissertation an music. A week later Mr. Ross Graham made his way homeward on a new safety "I. really need the exercise, ’he ex- plained rather awkwardly to his wife. who was watching as‘usual for his fa- miliar figure. ' "Of course you do, dear,” she re sponded cheerfully,where.1s he breathed a sigh of relief “Some women would have kicked up a dickens of a row, ” he ruminated. “Dora Is an angel.” Ross iound cycling such an agreeable p istime that he caught him self thinking 11' Dora one morning and half Wishing sne was beside him. He was not so 51116. after all about the impropriety of it. A confoundedly fetching on a. wheel. . Of late he had observed one in partic- u'.ar, a natty little figure ina b1ue sun: 1'. jauntyic 1p atop of her head, who ap peared every morning in the distance but he had never yet over taken her as she avoided the main pat1.~ skimming, gracefully along and a1way- alone. ' One morning be obeyed a sudden i -. pulse to pass the fair unknown. .3 it- evidently devined his intention, for she doubled her speed. .. So it was to‘. 1. race between them—what a saucy 1111i: thing she must bel Mentally resolved to buya d11 ggei pin that very day for Dora, as :1 p' ace efflu- ing to his conscience—pom little D0111 slumbering innocently at home while he basely pursued strange p hunt): :5— he gained steadily upon the 111111; ahead, in spite of her ert'o1ts to clad him. ' U1l'lelh1117‘ in the 5-1.11 hair ".1 him as oddly f': 22in. was 1. 1111' toise shell com 1 at. . ., . ,1, was not There was a little hill ahead and the I hicculine muscle showed its supei 101‘ ty. The tirl in blue was doing her '~..1est but d :Spite her efforts the man' gained and was soon close behind her. ' The-.1 something happened which sur prised the pursuing wheelman very much. When she could disguise her identity no longer, M13. Ross Graham leaped lightly fr om her wheel, "and turn~ ing to her husband said, half pleadin r. half defiantly. ‘ Forgive 1113, Ross, couldn t help doing it." For an answer, GROSS, who had dis- mounted, took his wife in his arms and kissed her. And the wheel question was settled. HE DID NOT LEAVE. Rose Forest and Alec Beaten had been engaged six years. and both had only inst reached their majority. It had been one of those family airanged affairs that are always intended so kindly and often, alas! end so disas— trously.. They had been brought up side by side, and when one summer vacation they were told they must eventually marrv one another they could not see any objection nor any particular reason 'for such an arrangement. In the six years that passed they saw very little of one another, and now Alec was at a theological college, and Ruse was enjoying a round of gayety in 'London. Among the many who sought her so- ciety was 1A1ec‘s elder brother, David, a soldier by profession, and a soldier of the truest worth. People had often wondered why he had never married. But his whole at- tention had been devoted to his profes- sion. and now at the age of forty he was recognizedas a staid old bachelor- "How often do you and Alec write to one another?” he asked Rose one day. “Oh, we have, no regular time. I write to him when I think I have any- thing to say that interests him. But that isn‘t very often, you know!” she smiled roguishly. “He wouldn’t care to hear of Our ceaseless round of frivv olity. ' ” "But you read and v 011 write. Nay. dont blush; I have seen some of your stories, and they are charming. Don’t you tell him about those interests?” "No. You see, David. he lives such a different life altogether; he only cares for theological books.” “What will you do wlnn you are married?” he asked. She started slightIV. . "I never think about it! It always seems to me so far off. But when the day comes I think I shall be ready.” “But you should think about it,” he said gently.‘ Surely the joys of wife- hood are worthy of some consideiation. Have y on no picture of what y our home will be?" . She had risen while he spoke, and came close to him, with startled, parted lips. “Oh Dav id, I wish you wouldn t talk like this. You—y ou frighten me.” “Poor little girl! I did not mean to do that. I am a meddlesome old fel- low, but the happiness of those I care for is very near my heart. Goodby." And Rose. trying to forget his words. found she could not forget him—found that for many a. week she had worn her prettiest dresses to please him; that she had welcomed him and looked for his coming as she had waited for no other. ' She began to realize when he touched her hand, when he stood by her side as she sang, when he sat next to her at dinner and talked to no one else, that she dismissed the thought of then fu- ture relationship, that she dreamed in- stead of the home he had pictured and all she longed to do for him. It was the last day of the year, and they were returning from a midnight service, and Rose was walking by Col- onel Beaton’s side. They were silent for some time, and then he made up his mind to tell her of the step he had de- termined to take. “Do you know, little sister”—how un- naturally the word camel but he said it—“do you know this may be the last time I shall spend a New Year‘s eve with you for many a long year?" She stumbled and clutched his arm. He pressed her hand close to his breast, and the gas lamp showed him her face was white and drawn with sudden pain. “I must go away,” he "I dare not stay, Rose. very much, my child? ’ “It will kil. me !" she cried. Alec a1'11x'ed the next day. and David was to leave in the afternoon. W hen he called in 111s morning he was shown by request into the room where the e11 gaged couple awaited him. " 'My dear brother,‘ ’Alec began "y on come just at the right moment to give us your counsel. Rose .1as told me that she has discovered she has» no dc sire to marry inc—that, in fact. she is in love with some one else, 1111.1 I am on :he point of throwing up my calling, I 310i 1 no priest shou1d marry. 1 beli' 11cc 011-1191101111. W said, hoarsely. Do you ca1e ”scan-‘0 11nd becmse was insoluole. Davin slid not go away tl London News. at, day.— lVIusk flats for Food. In nearly every part or Berks County, 1711., musk rats nowadays are used for feed, and are pronounced a first class 11.1711. Ten years ago the idea of eating them would have been scorned in near- ly every section of Berks. The musk- rat is always a great dealcleaner in 118 food than most other animals that have for years been used 011 the table. It is claimed that musk rat meat is a great deal finer to the taste than that off a rabbit. “Well, I’ll have to tell you geod-by.” "Oh, not now, George. ' Mother says we mustn’t make any noise until father gets to sleep.”——Lite. ' l but I simply‘ " squealed. '- soaked for a day to dissolve the mo- lasses. of his neighbors. . scarcely warm. and the Animal Did the best. A story comes from Central Amer : ica that-a juguar came to a native's] sugar bush one day and upset the pan of boiling hot syrup while jumping over it at the native's dog. It was a sad mishap for the jaguar, but a joy- ful one for the native, who sat in a nearby tree hugging it hard lest 11: slide down in the jaguar‘s open mouth. The boiling syrup got on the jaguar's paws It made the jaguar rear with pain, and over and over the brute rolled, trying to shake elf the hot, sticky stuff. It rolled into the stream of sugar, and was plastered from head to foot. Even its eyes were closed. Monkeys and birds from the neighbor- tl1ickcts came around and ing The molasses stuck the fur into wads and clumps, and the leaves and twigs lying about stuck fast to the hair. \thn the big cat rolled up against :1 tree trunk it would seize the trunk with its teeth and claws, tearing through the bark. For over two hours the beast ripped things up with undi- minishcd vigor, then it slowly ceased struggling. Then the native. Juan Cos- tcrizc, slid down the tree, picked up, his machete, sneaked 11p to the beast cautiously, and, using the big knife as an axe, brought the heavy blade down on the brute’s skull, knocking out the last vestige of life. “r'ith the assist- ance of neighbors he dragged the car cass to .1 11 .11'bv 5110:1111, where it wu: The beast was then skinned, and now Costcrize poses as a mighty bulimia—New York Sun. He Made a hiistake. _ It was the judge doing the talking. “One of my most peculiar experiences was while I was on the bench down in Pennsylvania. Hunk \Voddcrs was brought down from the mountains charged with stealing a shout from one I asked him if he wanted a jury trial. “ ‘Don't want no trial ’tall.‘ he re- plicd doggedly. ‘l’ll jist plead guilty ’ “ ‘But did you steal it, IIunk?’ “‘Didn‘t steal nuthin‘. But I kin take my mediciuc.’ “ ‘I’ll enter a plea of not guilty and appoint a lawyer to defend you.’ " ‘I 11:1in‘t u goin’ ter foolin’ ’ro-und with no lawyer. I, bought that shoot from .1 fellcr, an’ that's all there are to it.’ ""Il1on I called him to me and whis pcrcd: ‘Now, honest, IIunk, between man and 1111111. did you steal the pig?’ “ ‘Jist aiwccn you and me, jcdge ?’ “ ‘1\'o mic else shall know 1‘1 word about it ‘ " ‘Co1r"sclldi(l. That there measly Bill Sims owed me $3 fur two years 11.11 I jisl liltcd th shoal: ter get even. "The case. went to trial. The testi- mony against Ilunk was strong and I charged the jury as fairly as I ever did in my life. but they acquitted him. "Then Hunk came up to me with flushed face and hanging head. ‘ Tell my soul, jedge, I din‘t mean ter tell you no lie. I thought I stole that shoot, but it ’pears I didn’t.’ ”—‘Dctroit Free Press. A Blufl‘ that “7011. The Earl of March, who was known as “old (1).,” on one occasion was chal‘ lenged to, fight a duel by an Irish sportsman. Lord March appeared on the ground accompanied by a second, surgeon and other witnesses. Great was his surprise to see his opponent appear with a like retinue to his own, but increased by a third person who staggered under the weight of a pol- ished oak coffin, which he deposited on the ground end up, with its cover fac- ing Lord March and his party. Sur- prise gave place to terror when his lordship read the inscription plate en- graved with his own name and title, and the date and year of demise, which was the actual day as yet The earl at once ap- proached his facetious antagonist and uplraided him with so unseemly a joke. to which the Irishman replied: ""..'hy. my dear fellow, you are of 1': 11.1% aware that I never miss my 11:.- :11‘1‘. vs I found myself in 011001- 111 i . 1- sport this morning, I 111-11 - L .1 11 shadow of doubt upon my mind that this open box will shortly be better calculated for you than your present dress.” Lord March was so impressed by his antagonist's confident manner that a peace was patched up between them. In the Industries. , An old colored “uncle” applied to a druggist in Buffalo for some whiskey. not because he needed ii. but because he wanted it. “\\"e can’t let you have it uncle. 011 ept for medicinal or me- chanital purpose. You are not sick, are you?’ It was .1 powerful temptation, but the old man overcame it. “No, sah." he said weakly. “And you don’t need it. for mechanical purposes?” "What‘s dcm. sah?” “Oh, well, for 111am:!';1-:11:rhig or other industries!” "hats it, sah—dat’s it!" exclaimed the old fellow. his face brightening. “De boss done tol‘ me I had to be 1110’ in- duschious or he wa'ut gwinter liab'me roun‘ no longer, sah, an’ I Spec' you better lemme hab, a lcctle liquor. to kinder lub‘icate my j’ints. ’B-out er tablesxmonful. sah, tocach j’int‘ll. do fer to—day, sah!" ' Insane Patients as Artists. In France the inmates of lunatic asylums are encouraged to produce works of art, if. they have any incli- nation in that direction. The plan has been so successful that it has been possible to hold a, salon of works of art, of the insane. Every grade of mental disease was- represented,\f1'o-n1 the mere melancholic or dipsomaniac, to the completely demented—New York ‘ Journal. \ HOW TO BE HAPPY THOUGH WED. 1‘1: rs. Henry Ward Beecher Gives Excellen’l Advice to Young Couples. Years ago I laid aside :1 Scrap cul from a paper. A short time ago I came across it. It was entitled “Re spcct Due to W'ivcs,” and among its paragraphs were the following: “Do not jest with your wife on any subject where there is danger of wounding her feelings. “Never speak of some prominent vir. tue in another’s wife, just to remind your own of a fault. . ' “Never be inattentive to your wife in company. Nothing wounds a wo- man's pride more keenly 01' tends so much to weaken her respect and love for you. “If you would have a pleasant home and a cheerful wife, pass your even- ings under your own roof with your own wife, 01' take her to share social enjoyment with you. » “Do not be stem or silent in your own house and remarkable for your social gifts elsewhere." This is certainly excellent advice, and too often is greatly needed. But in reading it now the question comes to me: Do not wives need such can- tions equally with their husbands? What about the respect due to hus- bands? Perhaps it is the perversity said to he often found in woman‘s na‘ ture, but I acknowledge being some: what behind the age and plead guilty to some little sympathy for husbands. Read these sentences again. good wives, and allow me to whisper a. for questions to you. Did you never tell your husband of some great excellence or. virtue in your friend’s husband, purposely to rc- mind him of some shortcoming or fault which you had seen in his own habits 01' character? _ Do you ever treat your husband, when in'Company, with inattcntion 01' impatience, while you politely and cor- dially accept the attentions of other and less noble men? Do you ever impatiently blame him in the presence of a third party? What woman is more sensitive to blame in the presence of others than .‘1 bus- band, when the censure comes from his wife's lips? ’ Are you ever cross and silent in your own home, with no one to enter- lain but your husband. yet full of life, wit and amiability in company? “'hilc it is just that husbandsshould listen and receive this counsel, and by the lesson it teaches endeavor to augment the joys of home, should not wives also take its truth into their own hearts? Are we not equally li- able to trespass in the same way? Aye, more so. Far home is our kingdom, where we may reign supreme if we have wisdom to hold the sceptre with a judicious hand. New Fads in Entertaining. The button sewing party is one of the newest things in entertaining; 'la- dies and gentlemen both participate, and the person who sews the buttons most quickly and satisfactorily re— ceives a prize, while for the worst work a consolation prize is offered. At a late function it was a charming bachelor to whom the first prize was awarded, the task of sewing five por- celain buttons on a bit of muslin being accomplished in the neatest manner possible and in an incredibly short time. A but trimming contest is another and ,still more interesting form of amusement, and gives both sexes an opportunity to show their ability in the role of modiste. An untrimmed hat is provided for each guest with an assortment of gray- colored ribbons. flowers. velvet, etc., and they are permitted to choose the trimmings which best accord with their ideas of taste. It must be con- fcssed that someof the hats are fear- fully and wonderfully made. but a few are always pretty and artistic. Strange to say, at a recent trial of Skill, a man’s creation was adjudged the most tasteful, while it is declared that the hat manufactured by the nim- ble fingers of a certain man about town would not have disgraced Virot herself. On the same occasion :1 we- man received the censolntion prize. for making the worst hat of the lot—New York Tribune. About 11 Pleasant Voi‘w. “My aunt was always so). ing to me, ‘Don‘t talk so lord; your voice gets shriller every day," said a contributor to Harper's Bazar. “I became so ner- vous and irritated under this chronic rebuke that my voice was more uneven and harsh than ever. and I hardly da‘rcd speak at home. ' “At last I visited 1r‘y cousins in L— (thcy are noted for their sweet voices, you know), and then suddenly" I no- ticed the wide difference, which I had. never understood before, between a rough voice and a well-modulated one. and set. myself. so to. speak, to cats-11 the trick of their intonations and their tones. In a month's time, really, I talked like a different girl. And when I came home my aunt said, ‘Well I am glad to see that at last my rcproofs have made an impression upon you. Clara!’ But they hadn’ t,' you know. The only impression she made was to make me unhappy and nervous. “I have never forgotten the lesson. and when I want my children to im- prove innny- way I give them an op- portunity to see and hear the rich! thing before‘ I remove them for 111‘ following it.” 1 . , . \‘Satun Pique Gowns. by Special Airangement w1th th- .Y. Sn . The modes in bodice decomton _'fll' legion. and, whatever the later 1 1'1- 11c: models may bring forth, the little b1. lcro will hold its own throughout th summer with all sorts of wide collar. effects, which may be put on as a yoln or loose at the~ edge like a collar. Th1- bodice which blouses a little in from is still very popular, and some of the latest gowns are fitted very close and plain at the waist, where they are fin- ished in two points. neatly corded af- ter the manner in favor. Surplice ef- fects, too, will be much in favor. Va- rious trimmings of embroidery afford a favorite way of producing the de4 sired shape, but there will be a va- riety of Eton and zouave jackets among the cloth gowns for spring wear which will have sleeves like the more pretentious spring coats. Eton jackets will be the most popular style all the purposes of waists when worn with fancy vests 01' false fronts. Transparent materials of all kinds will prevail this sermon for dressy gowns, but. they are shown in greater variety than ever before in all sorts of mixtures of silk and wool, cotton and linens, and fabrics not transparent ' are made to appear so by being woven to look like one material over another." This kind of dress stuff is called moire grenadine. and has the appearance of a thin, open-meshed, fine black wool canvas over a colored silk. It comes in green, plum red, and brown, and is certainly a very charming novelty, giving. the fashionable effect.1vithout the expense of a silk lining. Grena- dines in both silk and wool are dis- played in very attractive patterns, and the old-fashioned barege has come up in a new guise with a silk warp in the daintiest sort of textures and colors. Tucked bodices are very popular in silk and thin‘matcrials, and a pret- ty example of this is shown in a linen batiste with narrow crosswise tucks for the yoke, which is outlined with cream lace insertion. The fullness be- low is tucked in groups three inches down from the yoke and the insertion is set in between. The sleeves have 1‘ ~'~' wo small puma. with insertion be- vecn and up and down the close part, 'hich wri: mics slightlv between the ows. The skirt is gathered on to .‘1 lainer part around the hips. which is 'immed with three 1'01 's of insertion. , .notber model for batiste or muslin 1. as two lace-edged ruffles at the head f a Spanish flounce, full bodice with ruffle of lace down the side where opens, and a frill of material and ne of lace over the sleeves. A pretty iodel for gauze, net, or thin silk gre- adlneshows bands of beaded galoon ' own the-skirt and on the bodice, and - arrow lace edges all the frills. “Gregso-n, I’m getting oldish now, or] I tell you, seriously, that I don't emember ever to have told a lie in all 1y life.” “Well (l‘you know, Burnett, ’m. getting a little forgetful myself." . for linen and pique- gowns. and serve ‘ , bushel to canning factory; 'Zzi-F/r‘. COLD STORAGE FRUIT HOUSE._ \‘Fiili a Description of How It Should be Constructed. To pr iserve'fruit or retard its ripcre ing. it has to be stored in pure, dry, cold air. These conditions can be me duced in various ways. But the sim~ plest and least expensive method for farm use is to build a two-story ice house, the ground floor of Which is for the storage of fruit and the upper for ice. The most important part of such a house is the proper construction of the; dividing floor upon which the ice rests. The timbers; the size of which depends on the quantity of ice to be support- ed by thcm, are so arranged as to have narrow openings between one another to admit the cold air from the ice chamber proper to descend to the storage room, and also to facilitate the dripping of the water from the melt- ing ice. To prevent the water from falling on the fruit, an additional floor or roof has to be constructed under the divid- ing floor. The best material for this purpose is galvanized, corrugated sheet iron, arranged so that all the water which falls upon it flows into a gut- ter connected with a leader through which it is carried into the main drain. Dryness in the storage room being of prime importance, the floor. should be cemented whenever existing conditions permit. Of course ample provision has to be made for thorough drainage, ven- tilation and circulation of air. The general construction of the walls. roof, ventilation, etc. of such :1 storage house does not differ materially from that of ordinary ice houses. A Corner that \\’ill Stay. The corners are the trial of the wire- fcncc proprietor's life. Ilc ilcss of weighting, anchoring, bra and guy- ing, two-thirds of them are in a state of partial collapse within a few weeks or months after the fence is construct- ed, if, indeed, they withstand the strain of the original stretching. But it is neither difficult nor expensive to. put in corners that will stay, and that will prove satisfactory. Here is how it may' be done: Select a large, straight, sound post for the corner and set it thirty inches deep. Six or eight feet from the corner, along each line of the fence. set an ordinary post to the regular depth. Fix .‘1 piece of 2x4 between the top of the corner post and the tops of each of be other two posts. and run a guy w 1 from the top of each brace post t the bottom of the corner post. Ma 0. the guy wires double so they may be twisted tight. A corner built this way will last as 1-1111}; as the fence. I have never known one to “heave.”-—P. S. Creager, Kansas. Good Roads in \Vestcrn Michigan. The farmers around Grand Haven are much interested in the good read problem. Sometime ago they donated $175 with which to purchase four scow loads of gravel. They also donated all the labor connected with applying it to one-half mile of country road. The gravel part was ten feet wide. The road was first graded and left higher in the middle than atthe sides. This was overlaid with marl to the depth of 11. foot. Upon this, six inches of gravel was placed. Road experts say that this method of construction will result in the finest gravel road .possible. The gravel is in the middle, with sufficient space on each side for an earthen track. The township now has about two miles of marl and half a mile of gravel read without one cent being added to the farmer's tax. —George C. Borck. Care of the Lawn. If every farmer would spend a little time on his lawn, it would pay. Not one farmer in a hundred takes any pains whatever fixing up around his house. In almost every instance his grounds are uneven. with now and then a stone or stump a foot above the surface. Grade your yard, make your driveways and walks. and before you finish, set out a few choice ornamental trees best adapted to your soils and tastes. Then look at your work and you will say, never was the time put it when it seemed to pay so well. One who thus, takes pains always gets a. good price for his place, providing he wishes to sell. A few days’ werk soon adds one hundred dollars in value to the old' farn1.—An1erican Agriculturist. “'hite Tomatoes. Four years ago I began raising toma- toes for canning. contracted 10 acres. At harvest discovered one vine which bore white tomatoes; clearly trans- parent whcn ripe. I planted seed from them the following year.,took five to fair, secured first premium; last year had a large yield. Hauled 200 they will average :200 can 5 to the bushel. They are never given; white from bloom,' keep four to six weeks latter being picked; are crimson a few weeks be-‘ fore ripening. are very solid and unex- zelled in flavor.——I'-J. J. S., Franklin 00., D. ‘ A Moldy Corn for Horses. “'11ch com is fed underground to horses, care should be used not to let them have it in a mouldy condition'A few years ago, at Poughkeepsie, N. Y., eighteen. horses in one stable were fed damp corn, which was invaded by white mould. All‘the horses were at- tackcd with violent symptoms and fight of them died. Many other simi~ nr cases are reported. —A1nerican Ag- .lriculturist. _,,, _ ,, ....1 l ' - " -
Norwalk Chronicler