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:ceeeeee'egeeeeeeeeeecee Would '° The Strike At Little’s. ‘l S9 -- '50 Auhefifififira -&rf\ 6'0 bv33$vv$$vvvvvvv$vvvv$ There was a bad strike up at Lit- tle's, and the locked-out; iron work- ers were desperately resolute. Just as determined were the Messrs. Little & Son. faces of the men were wont. to be with the grime of toil, now they were blacker still with the passion of hatred for the two rich men who were as obstinate as themselves and stronger. The strike fund was gone; credit there wvas none. Every mans family were hungry, hollowâ€"checked and hoarse. Every day fresh famil- ies were thrust from their homes inâ€" to the. streets, snowâ€"clad or frost- bOlmd, or sodden with rain-thrust out. bodily, scant goods and all. Lit- tle. & Son were behind the landlords: Little & Son wure W‘althy, and knew the power of gold. livery day the men gathered together. five hun- dred of them, and vowed that day should end the strike, for Littie. & Son should give in; but noon came, dragged on to evening. evening to night, and still the strike went on, and the. men slouched to their homes, Whatever kind of places they were, growling threats against Litt,e &. Son such as might have turned white the full red wine Little & Son drank at their dinner. Of all the desperate strikers per- haps the most desperate was James Cassell. There was more than his own hunger to think aboutâ€"there was his wife and child. Other of Little’s men had wives and childrenâ€"l in fact, most; of them hadâ€"but to none. of them was their family’s hunâ€" ger the same as in Cassell’s case. for no man in the town of Grimly loved his wife and child as he loved his. Cassell was big and brawny, with a heart full of tenderness. lle wore a board which grew up almost. to his blue eyes, but, which was not so .thick that. one could not see his firmâ€" .set mouth when he smiled. Morning after morning Cassell left. his home, his wife, and boy. to see how the strike was going; night af- ter night: he went back with no news to tell, no food to give, no money to spend, with his waistâ€" strap pulled a hole tighter and a darker look than ever on his face. One. night he did not return until very much later than usual, and Mary Cassell was growing very anxâ€" ‘ ions for him, for in such grim times no one knew what might happen next, when he pushed the door open and entered. He kissed her as he had not done since the early days of the strike, with almost boyish ex- citement. and glanced joyfully in the corner of the dingy room, where lit- tle Jimmy, sleeping, lay. Than he began to empty his pockets of things that filled his Mary with speechless wonderment. There were butter and cheese. tea and a knuckle of bacon, and sugar and rice. "I’ve sold meself, he said, emnly regarding the provisions. “an I don’t know who's got. the best of the businessâ€"them or me.” Mary sprang up and seized his big arm. “Sold yerself for claimed. "An’ to do?” "There’s no tellin’,” “I’m goin’ out again.” "Jim, what. d’yer mean? If the lock-outs ’ave bought yer I know we’ll rue the day; and if L‘iiiles ’ave bought yer, I’m almost a widdy WQ- man now. Take 'em back. Jim: take 'em back where they come. I'd rather starve to death than die of sorrow on your grave, or ’ave a prisâ€" on wail between my man and me!" " ‘Ow yer talk, Mary!” he replied, with an effort to command a. reasâ€" suring manner, "there's no prison nor grave in this job, so far as I know, but. there’s food.” "I couldn’t touch a. morsel." she said, looking at the bacon with hungry eyes, “if I thought it was paid for you, my man." "You eat the food my wages bought. an’ the wages was paid for me.” he argued. “Danger there ain't n n solâ€" ‘u them she ex- what are yer goin’ he muttered. none. that I can see. ‘_"]‘ell me who gave yer the money?" she asked, looking him straight. in the eyes. ..NO_.. "Tell me!" “No. Mary no. See what it's bought, an’ take my word for it‘- nothin‘s wrong.” lie had not been gone again full twenty minutes when a knock fell on} the door. Before Mary could get to it the door opened and a. man looked In ing round the room. and his pale face darkening as his eyes fell on the provisions on the table. "No," said Mary shortly. She was not pleased to see Sam Stains, for at one time he was a suitor for her hand, and he and Cassell were bitter rivals. “Back soon?" he asked, as if it really did not matter. "I expect "e will.” Stains withdrew and closed the door. and she heard him muttering ontsule. This made her uneasy lieâ€"1 cause of the. look that. had sprung in- to the man's face when he laid seen the food upon the table, and because of what her husband had said regard ing: the way he had obtained it. Had ‘he sold himself to Littles as a spy on the men's designs. and did the neu suspect it? it seemed possible. Hairy understood that her husband $333333 masters, ‘ Black as the‘ she ' "The man 'em?" he inquired. look-1 not consider such conduct traitorous; he would argue. in his simplemindcd way that his first ‘duty was to provide for his wife and ‘child, and if he could do so by warn- ling the Littles of any illegal plots and plans that the strikers were thatching, there was nothing on earth, 'no duty to his fellowâ€"strikers, nor iloyalty worthy of the name to make lhim hesitate. But he would be runâ€" ,ning through the direst peril. if the ililf‘l‘l only half believed he was Litâ€" 'tle's spy his life would not be worth ‘,a fair day's wages. for the men were, fin a, desperate mood. as men must ibe to scheme the plots the men were ,scheming in hope of bringing Little's Ito their knees. And it. seemed to illary Casscll that there was some- lthing ominously significant in the :fact. that Stains had been the one lout of five hundred odd who had ;called to know if her husband was fin. lIad Stains been following her ‘ husband? Had he waited outside, lurking in some shadow, on the chance of disâ€" lcovering something more than what.â€" ever he had learnt; and had he watched Cassell leave the house again, and thought it a fair chance to see what evidence of (lassell's perâ€" fidy might be visible there? The idea fitted in with her knowledge of the man, whereas the notion that, he had actually called to speak with her husband did not. The two were rivals still; starvation’s bond had hound them in no sympathy. and Stain’s steely eyes still gleamed when ,lhf‘y fell upon the face of the woman ibe would have wed. I l “Thereâ€"s ill aâ€"growin'." was Mary’s filial conclusion, “an’ Sam is at the ’andle end of it. What'll I do?” She glanced hungrin at the knucâ€" kle of bacon again, and winced. "is that the price of my man?” she muttered. “Is that. and them"â€" modding at the other packagesâ€""to tempt my man to lay ’imself out? Not if my name is Mary, an’ my writs is as good as they was." She snatched up her shawl and pinned it over her head and should- iers. She blew out. the candle and iwent away, locking the door behind her. 1t was a rather hopeless mission, hers; she wanted to know the truth, and was going to Little's great house to learn it. Would the rich employers ever consent to see the poor striker’s rag-clad wife? She thought they would, for she intended lsending in a message to say the mat- ter was most urgent and concerned James Cassell, and she calculated that, if her husband were the Litâ€" tles’ spy. they would be too interâ€" ested by her message not to receive her. Her natural logic stood her in good stead. The only difficulty she encountered was’in getting the footâ€" man who opened the door to take her message in. She was too much wrapped up in her mission to feel embarrassed at standing amid such light and warmth and color before the two grave genâ€" tlemen. She plunged straight into what she had to say, and as she spoke the grave expression faded from the faces of her hearers. “It’s true your husband has been here, Mrs. Cassell," said the. white- haired Mr. Little. glancing at the son; “but he (lid not come. to reâ€" port to us the plots of the strikers, that is done’by the police, and that, I may say, alone has been the reason for our holding out: against the men's terms; but we could not. concede a point while the men threatened. and if any of the more serious threats had been carried outâ€"the West-mill blown up, for instanceâ€"we. should ,‘have shut down, never to open again. Cassell knows this. The po- lice rcported a week ago that the men had ceased to use throats against us. We were anxious to learn if this report were reliable, and sent for the striker whom we thought could and would tell us the truth, for we were. only waiting for the threats to cease to take the men back on the old terms, or for some threat to be carried out for us to shut down. We sent for your hus- band and explained the matter to him.” "Rather unwisely,” interposed the younger gentleman. “I do not think so. Your hus- band fully corroborated the police report, and in consequence the foun- dry will be re-opcned to-morrow.‘ Your husband was anxious to conâ€"‘ vey the news to the menâ€"extraorâ€" dinarily anxious, and, as I did not wish that, I gave him money to keep silent. That is all. my good woman. You have no reason to [think he has betrayed his fellow- strikers, or to fear that even if he had he would be in danger of vio-l lence. from them. Violence has gone! no farther than it could go in \\‘ords,i land even that has ceased. ' "I have explained all this to you.” the old gentleman concluded. "as I, want it to become generally knowni lafter tomorrow while we have held‘ out against. the men's demands while iadmitting they were reasonable] lwhcn trade was brisk, as it has since: becomeâ€"I want it. known that we” ,could not give way simply becausci the men threatened us with divers iiperils unless we (lid. But until toâ€" imorrow you and your husband will ‘keep the matter secret." , “We will. sir." said Mary breath-l lessly. “1 am only the wife of onei iof the strikers, but I say lleaveni gbless you, gentlemen. for givingr in.”i ‘ “You can call it that. if you like" | l l I perils menacing that prospect. If the night passed as the other nights had done, without. any violent acts on the part of the Strikers. and Lit- tle 8: Son remained in their belief that; the strikers had ceased to threaten them, the lockâ€"out would be raised at noon. But for the last few days the men had been threatening less in words but more in looks and ‘gestures, which was significant; and there was, Mary felt assured some desperate plot afoot. if that; plot. were fixed for execution that night, and carried out, the very worst would come of it. And what had the men to deter them? If the men knew what. she and her husband knew the. situation would be safe. But they did not! Was it: not her duty to tell them, bind them not. to be- tray that she had done so, and so arrest them in any evil designs they had conceived? She felt it was. But how was she to hunt up five hundred loafing men. or pick up just, those who might happen to have been ap- pointed to execute some threat that night? She quickened her steps and made, in the direction of the foundry. whose gaunt smokcstacks stretched up like appealing arms into the starry sky. She thought it probable she would find some of the strikers loitering around the foundry walls; the hour was late, but many of the strikers, having no homes, might still be. loi- ling outside the foun-dry’s bolted gates. She reached the gates but found no one there; the square before the gates was deserted. Wondering what she could do, she looked up at. the factory, and as She looked something like a small cloud passed across the sky. It was followed by another and a train of others, they seemed to rise from behind the Westâ€"mill stack, drifting away. “Oh.” she gasped. She could hardâ€" ly contain the, pleasure the sight gave her. The Westâ€"mill fires were being kindled. It was many weeks since she saw the smoke that had meant bread and meat to her and hers. But who could be kindling the fires? She could only think of one man, and he was her husband. To him Little & Son had confided their se- cret intention to reopen the works next, day, and he would naturally be the man they would appoint to light the fires. Mary tried the gates but they were locked, barred and bolted, as they had been for &eeks past. . Supposingâ€"l A terrible thought sprang into her mind. Supposing the oft-repeated threat to blow up the Westâ€"mill were to be carried out that night? Her husband, the man who ruled her life, the father of her bonnie brown~haired boyâ€"â€"â€"â€" Stains had called that evening. What had he called to learn? Supposing Stains had been ap- pointed, or had resolved of his own choice, to carry out the awful threat that nightâ€"had by some strange chance heard that her hus- band would be in the mill! She turned a sharp corner. and started back to avoid a man who was springing to the ground from a low part of the wall. As he. set off at a hard, noiseless run she recogâ€" nized him, and she felt full sure her awful fear was shadowed by the truth, for the man was none other than Sam Stains. “Stop!” she cried, when she had thrown off her amazement to some extent. But the man was already lost to her sight, It was useless to run after him, she could never catch him; and even if she could his capture would not save the situation if it were what she feared. Without allowing herself longer to wonder, she began to attempt to scale the wall. On her third at.â€" tempt she got her hands on the ledge, her foot in a chink, and was able to draw herself up. It; was an ugly drop on the other side, for the ladder which Stains had apparently used had been dropped back to the ground; but she did not hesitate. As her feet touched the ground her right ankle gave. way, and with a mean of pain she fell in a heap. For a moment or two the pain of the sprain blinded her and made her forget what she might have to do. Then she raised herself and looked across the yard towards the mill. What she saw chilled the mar- row in her bones. It was a small light, the size of a pea, perhaps, but. in the deep shadow of the West-mill it was clearly \isiblc to her. And it sputtered. She tried to rise on her feet. sank on her knees and began to Crawl towards the burning fuse. It was a race between the fuse and her- but self. Would she win‘.’ Yard by yard she drew nearer to it. She grew faint and sick with pain, fear, and 1 exdtement‘. "I can't do it,” she groaned. "It's going." As she said it she saw a figure suddenly dart out of a back doorâ€" way. The next instant the fuse spluttered vividly, as if it had been dashed to the ground and stamped upon. "Jim!" she cried, “Jim!” “Mary!” said the voice of her hus-‘ band. in great surprise, "what are you doin’ ’ere‘?" "I was after that,” she pantcd, as she fainted. is l- (- * Little‘s opened at noon next day.‘ and all the strikers returned to work except (me. [said Mr. Little. smiling, [To this day Little & Son do not Mary's heart was batik.” “,1. bvanow \\by.â€"London 'litâ€"Bits. [happiness and fear as she ion the! r â€"-â€"â€"+ irom‘oumhq-S' house and made her. (‘umulus or thunder-cloud rarely The prospect was! rises (Her two miles. Seven mill: way to the town. delightful, but the situation full of is the outside height for any c owl. Westâ€" r Sam Stains was absent.> no “15. @RRYDEH APPLYING BARNYARD MANURIC. As a general rule, barnyard man- ure is best applied as soon as it is available. Some farmers will not agree with this, but most of those who have tried it know that if the manure is applied to the land, there will be less waste than if held in piles until a more convenient season. Of course, if the manure is well taken care of in the barnyard or unâ€" der a shed. there is not. much loss. The difficulty comes, however, in giving it the proper care, to prevent fireâ€"fanging and loss of nitrogen, the most valuable element. As a general proposition then, disâ€" tribute the manure as it comes from the barn or feed lot. In winter time spread it over plowed fields when the ground is frozen and over meadows and pastures when the fields are not too soft to hold up a wagon or team. Do not place in piles, as is the common practice in many localiâ€" ties. There can be no possible adâ€" vantage from this. The soluble ele- ments are washed down into the soil. small patches over the field have an oversupply, while others are lacking in fertility. Distribute the manure evenly over the ground. it will be taken up and held by the soil until needed as plant food. There are circumstances under which it is preferable to hold the manure for seine time before putting on the ground. For example, where a. large amount of coarse material is used for bedding. In this case it. should be placed in heaps and worked over frequently until the whole MASS IS WELL RO'lTJ‘JD. The best; way to do this is to put it under a shed where rains cannot reach it. Fork it over frequently, or what is still better, allow hogs to root it over. If it becomes dry wet it down. It kept in this condiâ€" tion for several months it will then be ready for application. Arrange so that the manure be taken out of the barn and deâ€" posited in this shed without much work. This can be accomplished by the proper arrangement of tracks and traveling boxes. Of course this method of treatment requires more Work than hauling direct to the field, but under some circumstances it will pay. Then, too, there are periods, notâ€" ably during the growing season, when it is not possible to distribute €0.11 the manure, as the fields are occu~ pied with growing crops. In this case it should be heaped up and given proper attention until such a time. as it can be spread on the land. Where cattle or sheep are kept in a feed lot: during the winter, the man- ure is seldom in condition for spread- ing in time for the spring crops. If a great deal of bedding has been used, this will not be sufficiently rotted. It is the general rule to al- low this manure to remain untouch- ed until after the harvest; when it is spread during the comparatively leisurely interval between harvest time and the opening of THE FALL WORK SEASON. The manure can then be, applied to the stubble fields and plowed under at once. It is also desirable to spread manure on worn-out, meadows and pastures which need renewing. This is especially true where hay has been fed. The seed in the inan- ure will take root and result in a thickening of the sod. Nothing is better or more economâ€" ical for distributing manure than the modern manure spreader.- It will take care of any kind of fertilizer, whether fine or coarse, and will put it: on the ground evenly. The re. sults are much better than is distri‘ buted by hand, as perfect uniformity of distribution is not. possible withâ€" out; the employment of a spreader. The work can not; only be. done better but can be done much more quickly. The machine will last a life- time if it is well taken care of. It is then not necessary to get the wagon dirty and make cleaning imâ€" perative once a week or oftener. The machine will tear up great chunks of manure, will distribute. material from feed lots where corn fodder has been fed, will spread perfectly inan- ure from around a straw pile or will distribute any kind of fine fertilizer like lime, gypsum. etc. : LI en mi CATTLE. \Vhere cattle are housed there is a possibility of lice getting into the stable and on to the stock. When such occurs it is very important that the parasites be extermiimted as soon as possible, or they will not infest the cattle but the stable Occasionally we hear a reâ€" who had apparently about the time his only ‘as well. 3 port; of a farmer ,got rid of the lice Icattle go out to pasture and be flat- tcrs himself that he has got rid of |ithe pests. What is his surprise to 1find the following winter that his istnrk begins to show the appearâ€" ance of the louse again, and he is ‘at a loss to understand where they ‘camc from. lie does not. know that the pests will readily live through ithc summer and be ready to attack the cattle again at the opening of winter. Thus the importance of inf-akng a thorough effort to rid the stable as Well as the stock. We have seen sheep dip used to good ad- vantage. It may be applied to the backs of cattle with a. coarse brush, and if necessary about: the places iiieost infected. Sheep-dip is rather l an illâ€"smelling material. Eut it. has the faculty of doing good execution. T IIORO [Ti H MILKING. The richest portion (21' the milk is that drawu from tho udder at the _last. in experiments made to test itlic matter it was found that the ‘difl'erence was so great. that with 'some cows the strippings consisted almost entirely of butter fat. It is important, therefore, that milking the cows should be done in a thorough manner, leaving nothing in the udder. if this is done the cow will not be so liable. to become dry as soon as when the milk is not entirely removed at each milking. The practice of careful stripping alâ€" so serves as a check upon careless milkers, as the farmer can. and should, examine each cow after she is milked in order to observe if the milking has been done thoroughly. Where, there is no supervision the milking is sometimes performed care~ lessly and at. a loss to the farmer. ENGLISH EXPERI l‘lNCl‘]. The county of Essex has for some years past set an example to other counties in the way of scientific ag< ricultural experiments and its techniâ€" Cal committee has just concluded a. six years' experiment dealing with pasture land and the hay crop. These experiments have been conducted in nine different localities and on as many different soils, and the not. reâ€" sult shows that by judicious fertili- zation the hay crop can be enormous- ly increased. For instance, it has been proved that nitrogenous man- ures, nitrate. of soda and sulphate of ammonia, have a greater effect. on newly laid down pastures than on old. Thus 15 cwts per acre of nit- rate of soda produced on new grass land an average increase of 495 per cent.. Sulphate of ammonia has. with scarcely an exception, produced more hay than nitrate of soda in the first years of the experiment, but. latterly nitrate of soda. has produc- ed the better yield, showing that sulphate of soda is the more ex- hausting t0 the soil, and that the other in the long run is the more profitable. Phospliatic manures al- so produced a large increase, the average being :10} per cent. with the further advantage that when these manures are used the herbage imâ€"_ proves each year. It, is, however. when the nitrogen- ous and phosphatic manurcs are combined that the greatest results are shown. and the increase obtained from a combination of the two has amounted to as much as 102 Per cent. Experiments Were also made with ordinary barnyard manure, and the results show that while the in- crease obtained from each year's manuring was considerable. very lit- tle permanent. improvement is effect.‘ ed, and that the manuring of a. pre- vious year is only responsible for 10 per cent. increase in the hay crop. Another interesting experiment was the mowing of the hay and grazing of sheep in alternate years. For this purpose a field was divided, oneâ€" half being grazed by sheep fed on oil cake, and the other half by sheep not fed. The result of the hay crop next year was that on the part. where the sheep were fed oil cake the cut. was 1911: cwts per acre, and where the sheep were not fed oil cake, only 14: cwts. â€"â€"-â€"-â€"4 ms BEST GIRL. e hurried up to the office as soon as he entered the hotel, and in- quired eagerly : “Any letters for me '2" The. clerk sorted out. a. package with a negligent attention that. comes with practice, then flipped one â€"a. very small oneâ€"on the counter. The travelling man took it with a curious smile. He smiled more as he read it. Then, oblivious of the other travellers who jostled him, he laid it gently against his lips and actually kissed it. A loud laugh startled him. “Now, look here. old fellow,". said a loud voice, "that won’t, do, you -: :know. Too spooney for anything. Said the travelling man "The letter is from my best girl." The admission was So unexpected lthat everyone stared. "it's no use, you’ve got: to read it. to us,” said one of them. “We want. to know all about, your best girl." "So you shall,” said the one ad- dressed, with great coolness. “I'll give you the letter, and you can read it for yourselves." "No, you don't." said one who had been the loudest in demanding it : "we like to chaff a little, but; we hope we. are gentlemen." "But I insist upon it," was the. ,answer ; “there is nothing to be :ashanied of, except the spelling -, ;that’s a little shaky, I’ll admit ; but she Won’t care in the least. lead it man, and judge for your- self." 'l'bus urged, the other took the letâ€" Iter slmmef‘acedly enough and read .it. first he laughed, then coughed susâ€" :piciously, and as be finished threw lit upon the table, and again rub~ :bed the back of his hand against his ,cyes. as if troubled with thinness of vision. "PsliaW i if I had a love-letter 'like that.â€"â€"" and then was silent. ‘ “Fair play 3” cried one of' ihe .others, with an uneasy laugh. i “l'll read it to you, boys," said their friend, "and 1 think that tyou'll agrte with me that it's a. model loveâ€"lei ter l " ‘My Oween Dear I’apa,â€"I sa ml EPrairs every nite. and won I kiss your Picshure I ask God to mess '_\'(m, (food bi, Papal, yours. belt .e'url.’ " ‘D