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turnea, “1th :1 sort 0! surly grin, "Trust Sarow to find out. Burned if that 111‘ ooman caint zec better droo a stone wall and hround a earner then you and me zees what's straight avore our noses. Aye, she's a deep ~’un, is Szu‘ow.’1 .vLoger went. away with a hopeless "No, no. M "keep a. still ton your wife." Abraham paus< Roger took up a wooden shovel and .made the winnowed corn into a neat heap ready for a sack to the tune of the flail strokes, then he turned back through a cloud of float- ing chaff to Abraham, whose face was more viciously set and his strokes. then he. turned back throngh a cloud of floating chafi to Abraham whose face was more viciously set and his strokes fiercer than ever. “No. no. Ahmliam," he said. “keep a still tongue; don‘t even tell brow turno Thud, thud, thud went the flail. while Abraham’s face, the lips and chin of which bl'istlod with a Week's spiky growth, was drawn into such grim and vicious lines as would lead one to suppose that he was wreak- ing vengeance on the corn before him. "Let. her hide in Clecve long with school-missus, that’s the best plaace #ur she. A young nfa‘ld is like a heifer, zul'c to fall in trench, or go droo Vence, or zummnt, athout you looks pretty sharp after lmr. One heifer is more tannth than twenty wold cows." tell en to pen her up in garret. if she wunt bide at home nohow else.” "No, Abraham, ’t is best to keep a still tongue if you can. I know and you know, and between us we can keep her in sight whenever she goes out. If there’s anything more between them I expect he won’t have a whole bone left in his body. But she's going to Cleave toâ€"mon'ow for a week, so she’ll be out of harm’s way for a time." “Wish I had the Capen under this yer zwingel!” added Abraham, bring- ing his flail down with both hands. "Wish you'd a. told me first time you saw them,” said Roger. "You tell your vather, Mr. Roger; tell en to pen her up in garret. if she wunt bide at home nohmv olsn ” Roger growled an execmtion‘on unnamed. "\Vasn't'I mad!” continued Abra- ham. “Shouldn't a hen sa mad if it hadn’t a hen true." "You don't think it, Abraham?” groaned Roger. “Zeen ’em in copsc together, five or three times, never 1hought nothcn at the time. She’s always up Court. Out pain'ten long with Miss I‘onsdale, long With t’other one that’s laame. But a young maid din’t ought to be 011:. long with he." “Trust you for that. Why, you've known her mm a baby.” Roger returned, pitching the halfâ€"crown neatly between Abraham’s outspread legs. "But you’Ve no call to look so sure at a good half-crown. Chuck it away if you don’t want it. I shan’t hcv it. So you knacked en down?" “What he ye gwine at with he?" ' growled Abraham, glaring with min-j gled vindictiveness and longing at- the comfortable-looking coin. “Take it. Abram.” “You putt that there in yure packâ€" et, Mr. Roger,” he replied, growing more and more surly under the witcher of the shining silver and, the depressing consciousness that, Mr. Roger was a "near one," and! l might not offer him another half- crown that side of Christmas. "Anyâ€" body’s think I caint knack nobody down athout being paid Vnr ’f ” Thud, thud went the flail, and the chaff fluttered and whirled in the wind raised by the energetic strokes for a minute or "tw0. then Abraham paused again. "Iss," he repeated, “I knacked en down, zure enough." “You done bright, Abraham," said Roger, who had been standing scoWI- ing with his hands in his pockets, whence he withdrew one with half a croyn, which he offered to Abraham. no other work was to be found. "I knacl' (:1 en down," growled Abraham, bringing the flail music to an end. "Knocked who down?" asked Rog- er, “and why?" "Job Ash! A zaid summnnt about Missâ€"you knows what a laidâ€"Iss. I knackcd on down. Job he got up and a knacked me down. Then I gets up and 1 knacks en down ugin, and Job he ups and cuts and hruns. I lows he lurunned pretty smart. Aye, that's how’t was, I hreckon.” ’I‘hud, thud went the flail, and the “Wasn’t ’ I RQWBWWWWQQSQ$W8$SQC as; fl 7 . I! Wmommmwm 08660038 mamcwmazm CHAPTER XXIV. air. "Knack cm a“ down. Alu‘um.‘ A MENG PRWEE with ‘all de of Christmas. "Anyâ€" I caint knack nobody being paid Vor ’t.” for that. Why, you’ve ed and will to tell she," sort of surly OR, THE HISSHNG wipod his 0.” he re- the ben useful myself, cousin, and I should wish the little un to be ar- namental.’ I was always against it myself, but there was never anyâ€" body forerighter than your mother without ’twas your poor father. The times I warned poor Martha. against having him; but hev him she would and cartâ€"ropes Wouldn’t hold her. You'd 9. been easier to man- age if she'd a married a” more per- suadabler man, Jessie, though I don’t cast it up ageu you that your mother would marry Mat Meade. As for asking of you to spile your hands, I wouldn't do it to save hands, anybm Jessie hastened to reassure her cousin, while Mrs. Plummet, whose curls were in their full-dress condiâ€" tion and would not bear rough treat- ment from damp pocket-handkerchiefs very carefully wiped her round, plump, appleâ€"like cheeks. "Not. that I ever look to you to do anything, Jessie," continued Cousin Jane, with a mournful sigh from the depths of her broad and wholesome chest; “many a time your poor mother hev said to me. The a ‘ Jessie did not know how to refuse lthis small request; she suggested sending the young maidâ€"servant, or a. letter, and even broached the imâ€" mense heresy of her cousin’s faring forth with her. “It’s not much you’ll hev at my death, Jessie," moaned Mrs. Plumâ€" mer, in 'responso, "so I can’t think why you Want me to be gallied into my grave so quick, I'm sure. Not that ’twill be long, anyhow. And I’m the last to wantto live on, a burden to my own flesh and blood. Plummer’d find a difference in the housekeeping, not to speak of the dairy, and as for the poultry, I never was one to boast, but I should wish you to pint out finer broods of turkeys than what I’ve rared this summer. Night and day did I wait on them turkeys, I don’t know what more 1 could a done for them short of sleeping outside their coops and not closing an eye all night, I'm sure. If anybody’d tell me what I could a done more, trapezing through the archard grass wet» days, and wearing away to a shadow, I’d a done it and thankful." . In the afternoon 1 wanted to send a mess man, whose cottage mile and a half distant “Do you run over, my dear,” she said to Jessie, "the day’s fine, though dull, and ’tWill be a nice walk. Why, you haven’t been out this three days.” She had not left Redwoods since her visit to the Inglebys. It was evident to Jessie that Mrs. Plummer had heard nothing of that terrible gossipâ€"which was not surprising, since scandal usually reaches all ears but those most concerned in it. l She was crying in a way that, went Ito the honest fellow‘s heart, crying ‘quietly but sadly. ‘ "You.\\'el‘e always good to me, ‘Rogerfl’ she replied at last. "far better than 1 deserved. You used to let me pull your hair as a boy. But I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.” "It was only if you wanted anyâ€" thing done." he murmured. "I’d never ’a spoke else. If there'd been a chance, I wouldn’t have been so mean with poor Phil away.” “Forget me, Roger,” she said, drying her eyes, "but I will never forget you and your kindness.” She gave him her hand and left him, stabbed by his words and touched by his friendliness, and thinking of the way in which she had under- valued 'this sterling fellow because of his rough exterior and intolerable ways. And yet to be pitied and ex- tenuated by Roger! Well, it, would not be for long: "There‘s nothing I wou,dn’t do for ye," he went on, his blue eyes bril- liant. with earnestness. “I was al- ways set on 3'0, but I never said any- thingâ€"because of poor Phil. what’s away. If you hadn't been promised to him. But there, you never have looked at the likes of me, I’m hrough and dunch. Shouldn’t ha' named it, only I thought, as Phil Can't do nothingâ€"if you wanted any- thing done, no matter what, I’m your man. Oh! I say, Jessie, Jesâ€" sic!” “A friend, Roger?” asked Jessie, smiling and stopping by the low stone wall, on which she set her basâ€" k6t. “Why?” air. “Knack em all down was his final injunction 11 ed the farm yard. Sc coming in from the g'ardt basket of filberts. 1]] afternoon Mrs. Plummcr send a message to a WOâ€" 0 cottage was about a hc cried, "so you're Wish you'd wait till I could drive you in.” Roger," she returned. cart will really be It with my luggage." Jess,” continued Rog- ,heir coops and a all night, I’m tell me what I rapezing through wet-days, and shadow, I’d a. garden 111 sure rared this did I wait know what them short . you're wait till you in." returned. wit} \‘e 8. an , Swiftiy she sped over the soundless turf. She felt the hot glow from the lurid wall of purple storm advancing against, the wind before her, and quivered with the indescribable ner- vous trouble thunder always caused her. It did not exactly terrify her, it was simply intolerable to her nerves. Lightning and thunder, to- gether with the oppression of air overâ€"charged with electricity, dis- tressed and prostrated her; her only thought now was to get home, where she would throw herself into Sarah’s arms and bury her face. As a child she had passed through many storms with her head covered by Philip's jacket and her face pressed against him; her great horror was to be alone in these nervous crises, when the touch of some familiar and lov- ing hand alone soothed her. She plunged jnto the Woodland, the warning, “You’d better bide, you’d better bide,’1 of the hospitable cot- tager echoing in her ear. The sky was iron-hued Where it, was not lurid She left the cottage, and struck across a. piece of common toward the wood, scarcely turning her head when Mrs. Woodford called after her to oll‘er an umbrella. The heavens were new dark With gathering storm, the cottage fire glowed redly from the open door, lighting up the tall oak-cased clock and throwing into strong relief the figure of the cottaâ€" ger in the doorâ€"way crying, "You’d better bide, you’d better hide.” to thunder afore long. Wun’t M bide till the starm’s blowod ovgr?” “Thunder!” echoed Jessie. “Oh. I hope not. 1 must hurry home then. I'll run quick the short way, Mrs. Woodfol‘d; thank you.” "Pauline had 1y becoming hair, and she ing 10-day b “I really think the ingratitude of that class of people is beyond every- thing,’-’- Was Lady Gertrude’s com- ment upon Jessie's written excuse for refusing Ethel’s request, "and afâ€" ter the manner in which you took her up, Clara.” “I am not in the least surprised, Aunt: Gertrude,” her niece replied; “1 am too much accustomed to in- gratitude to expect anything else in a. world like this," she added, with a plaintive sigh which suggested acâ€" quaintance with infinitely superior worlds, "Youi' pets always round upon you, Clara, don't they?” interposed Claude, with an indifferent air. It was .Jessic who had given up going to Marwell Court. to Ethel’s great and freely expressed indigna- tion. “As bold as brass," murmured Miss Ingleby to herself; “I Should like William to have seen my lady sweep by with her princess! air. In- nocent child, indeed! Artful young minx! Well, I am glad they have given up having hex” with Ethel Med- way!" Her shortest, most, direct way lay straight across the Marwcll woods. but she chose to go the long way by the highroad and through the vilâ€" lage. There she encountered Miss Ingleby and Ellen Dale,‘respectively, and it was these ladics who blushed and seemed conscience of neglect, while the infinitesimal bow and utâ€" terly neutral expression with which Jessie passed on would have done credit to any woman of the world. late?” sh'o how I wish or else have BI w: wl‘ BL 0v tor out if it ( sooner done x and you ; yet she Walked v air and flow was 100k on her face. v, most direct way 5 the Mama] w0( to go the long way drop as .1 nm. \Voodford’s is no when anybody’s two’s nothing. going nrrow lero, what 1 girl that': ')(1 rod hom' tvh plain to] mean! well, I‘ that." udod heavily since 0 weather was ressix'o, though of had the Strong, “S of coming win- g; blood, and in- written excuse request, "and afâ€" which you took mybody's nothing. a week ( JFK that's neither herring? She in to k, that's 1 well, 1 will d 1'0. and s on my to Miss that. I mt llnuts -rrible going mat: won W h with lstorm, she felt herself drawn be- neath the dark wings of it, the hot breath of it lifted her hair and came in fitIul gusts through the creaking trees, whirlingr clouds of scan: leaves hither and thither. Suddenly, with a crack and a. crash and a long booming roar, the awful thing burst right above her head. How frail she was before this iron blast. and how futile her speed against the rapid stride of the tempos-t! Some large scattered drops fell on the dry yellow leaves she pressoi on, panting and shrinking. She Went ‘blindly, closing her eyes to the daz- ‘zle of the lightning. and saw nothing till the rustle of a quick step through the dead leav?s and the sound of a voice through the storm made her look up with an involuntary cry of joy into Claude Medway‘s face. “Claude!” she cried, knowing and remembering nothing but that she was safe and calm and happy after all the tumults and trouble. (To be Contlnned.) with swift-gathering iempest, the brooding expectancy of the gray still afternoon had changed to one (lisâ€" quiet of imminent trouble; the long grasses shuddered, the dry leaves rustled anxiously and complained up- on the trees which groaned‘as Lil'ore- boding pain; cows and sheep moved restlessly about the pastures. birng fluttered with anxious cries from the sore foliage, all the woods shivered before the impending terror. The day was like Jessie‘s life. She was too late to outrun the with swift-gathering 'tem brooding expectancy 9f the afternoon had changed to quiet of imminent trouble: The best tool that I have ever found to prepare corn ground for wheat is the common drag harrow, which levels and lines the surface, Very often two workings with it, once each Way, make an ideal seed- bod. I drill the same direction as 1 burrowed the last time. in order to obviate the trouble with the corn stubble clogging the drill. In drill- ing 1 twist in around the shocks as closely as possible. In finishing the field, we go once round for each shock row, the opposite direction, and drill the little spots by the shock that could not be covered dur- I check my corn and give it level culture both ways, which is all the while preparing a seedbed for the wheat. The corn is cut. the shocks being 12 hills square. Care is taken to have the shock rows straight both Ways. This enables me to work the ground both ways without being compelled to trust. the shock rows. I work up just as close to a shock row as possible, and then, by going the opposite direction. the small space left between the shocks is worked. which to drill the wheat. In pre- paring ground for wheat. it is a good plan to give it one extra Workâ€" ing after you think it is in the best possible condition. All things conâ€" sidered. I like the plan of seeding corn ground best. With this method one breaking of the ground gives a crop of corn, wheat and clover, which is quite an important point to be considered. During the last few years, rains have been very light about seeding time. We must. therefore. prepare for sufficient moisture to bring the wheat up and give it a good start by having a compact scedbed and cover with a blanket of fine earth in Upon my farm I practice mostly a threeâ€"year rotation of corn. wheat, and clover, with an occasional field plowed and put in wheat the second jtime, writes M. C. Thomas. When I plow a field it is done as Soon after harvest as possible, using a, jointer on the plow to turn all the stubble under, and my rule is to plow as near (5 inches deep as possible. As the ground is plowed it is rolled down, and at intervals of ten days or two weeks I go over it with a springâ€"tooth harrow. If the weathâ€" er is inclined to be dry this is folâ€" lowed with the roller. This is what the farmer knows: Nature in her sweetest guise, Beauty of the earth and skies Honest toil and calm repose. Secrets knows he ' Of the Soil; - Knows the sweets That come of toil; Knows the nod 0f rip’ning grain: Knows the harvest And its gain. Wealth that nature, coy. ( Balmy breath From spicy grove. Kiss of sunshine From above; Velvet turf Beneath his feet, All about These nY‘e thi This is what the farmer feels When he stretches forth his hand To wrest riches from his land, Wealth that nature, coy, conceals: This is what 1h When he sets , Laying tribuu PREPARING I Rosy beams Athwart the sky That with fields 0f bright bloom Vi Diamond dewdrop Vcrdant hills, Grussy meadow Sparkling; rill Réa'fiotém flwfléfim compelled to trust. the shock I work up just as close to a row as possible, and then, by the opposite direction. the Space left between the shocks ‘ARMER'S LO'I the farmer sees e farmer sees forth to his 1011 a on the soilâ€" 4A ND FOR MEAT Lte to outrun the herself drawn be- ncc sweet please prayer. and 1 them. Wheel fig ab< \VC ed. iron I centrc babili Van rctr own frec This s about an a in by a big tion, is who dlcd ter his fal'mhoug; van retro give your iowls healthy quarters and kill lice all at one time by Jwhitewashing. A whitewash needs to be well made to (lo the work, as it too of- ten falls off in flakes after the wood is dry. Slacken your lime in hot water, and make it as thick if pos- sible, as soft soap; then thin with kerosene oil. Now you have a. whitewash that will both stick to the houses and kill the lice. Apply the whitewash while hot and be sure that all cracks and corners get plenty of it. Do y0ur whitewashing in the morning so that by night the house will be dry and comfortable. England clusion : by anyo brother His or outer \V( night to pIeic-ly i inns, WI An Englishman Life of a. Fill an iron pot with shavings soaked in crude carbolic acid and after stopping all the cracks, set fire to the shavings. In about an hour’s time the house can be opened anfl aired. Remove all perches, nest boxes and everything else in the house and give them a. thorough soaking in kerosene oi], drying them in the sun. Clear all the dirt out of the houses and then you are now ready for disinfecting. Give the pigs as much liberty as possible, so that the muscle will be developed. Wean when about eight weeks old. If Ethey have been propâ€" erly fed, the weaning will not check their growth in any way, and they will be ready for the market when nine to ten months old. If you wish to succeed with your poultry do not let your poultry houses get in an unhealthy condiâ€" tion, but if they should get in this condition, remove the fowls to tem- porary quarters where they can have plenty of road dust, as this is a. necessity at all times of the year. Sifted coal ashes, not Wood ashes, will answer the purpose. At furrowing time, give her the very best of attention and see that the young pigs are promptly taken care of. Keep the sow and the pigs in a warm place, particularly if the weather is cool. Feed the sow spar- ingly for tw0 or three days on bran slop, to which a handful of middl- ‘ings has been added. Gradually in- crease this and by the time the pigs are three weeks old they should be given some feed in the Way of slop, made of milk and middlings. This may be gradually increased and coarse feed added, as the pigs are able to take care of it. This kind of feed develops strong bone and a thirfty constitution. ’l‘lie sow should have good length. depth, strong bone, but. should not be too high on the legs. She should be at least 13 months old before she raises her first litter of pigs, and must always be kept continuously in dry, comfortable quarters, convenient to a grass pasture, and should be given a variety of feed. 'A week beâ€" fore farrowing, she should receive nothing but bran and mash, but all she will eat. Course abilit} do not recommend indis haphazard brooding. If misc thoroughbrcds, but i cross between some of u breeds is very desirable, for the market. Next to the thoroughhrc breed is perhaps the best hog. The cross stimulntt not int: Then boa 0t mis FOR THIRTEEN YEARS small cks alwa} yone 31- for only World to a ; isolr 1h turn POULTRY HOUSES hold Jeclod in {my calls for sonu on the part, urance in both mdorstand meA 111 CFC 111 RAISING I elder 1m con ify your poultry houses fowls healthy quarters wt wit] own to 1n drill bod 3 grout Ipicd the hermit 1' son of z nd mo: nond are ( profit part Has Lived the 1Iermjfi. mtati th 1' aincd und )n hl( vd best, Dy must. provided 1101'. and This, of COVOI'S ques- IlCX‘ his COX‘II this 1f- .11] llc Do