Cl.OOa Year, In Advance. ' " FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH. " , Slof ! Copy Cent.
VOL. XVI. 'PLYMOUTH, NC. FRIDAY, MARCH 10. iDOG. NO. 51.'
THE LARAMIE TRAIL.'
T JOSEPH
Across the. crests of the naked hills,
Smooth-swept by tho winds of God,
It cleaves its way like a shaft of gray,
Close, bound by the prairie sod.
It wretches flat from the sluggish Platte
lo the lands of forest shade;
llie dean trail, the. lean, trail,
ine trail the troopers made.
Jt draws aside, with a wary curve
From the lurking, dark ravine,
" launches fair as a hiiice in air
, the raw-ribbed ridge between;
With never a wait till it plunges straight
through river or reed-arowu brook;
ih deep trail, the etetp 'trail,
Ike trail the squadrons took.
They carved It irell, those men of old,
otern lords of border war;
They wrought it out with their sabers stout
And marked it with their gore.
I hey mado it stand as an iron band
Along the wild frontier;
I -stroma: trail, the loiter trail,
flic trflil of force and "fear.
For the stirring note of the bugle's throat
xe may hark to-day in vain, ,
For the track is scarred "by the gang-plow 's
shard ' .
And gulfed in the growing grain!.
Kut trait. to-night for the moonrise white:
lerchnnee ye may-see them tread
ihe lost trail, the ghost trail.
The trail of the gallant dead. :
TBE':T0DD
By E, F. C.
2 2X52 $9? SS SS?
OW the next boy may give
me his 'name,' said the new
teacher, who was enrolling
- Ills pupils on the. first day
of school.
There was an expectant
hush over the room, followed .by a
genera 1 titter' as . the bey tlius called
upon answered: ...
"Ebenezer Pettingill Todd."
- Even tlfe teacher smiled, as .he said,
"That is certainly a good, substantial
- name. I suppose I may call you Eben
for short?" -
"I guess you had . better call me
Ebenezer," was the reply. Then every
body laughed again except the Todd
boy himself. It was no laughing mat
.. ter to him.
"xour name rather staggered the
teacher at first, didn't it?" one of his
"folates1 said' to him at noon. "I don't
' wonder at it. Gracious! I wouldn't
be caught with such a name as that
on rae for five thousand dollars."
To these thoughtless words- the Todd
boy made iio reply. Nevertheless, he
kept turning them over in his mind
tiutil .he reached the modest home
where, since the death of his father
and mother in his early childhood, he
Lad lived with his maiden aunt.
"Aunt Lucy," - lie asked suddenly,
ss the two; sat at dinner.- "how did I
ever come to be named Ebenezer Pet
tingill?" "Mercy on me, child!' said his aunt,
in great surprise. "You know about
. as well as I do. You've heard it
times enough.
m "Why, it was this way," she went
n, nothing loath . to repeat the story.
"At one time it began to look as if your
poor father and mother would 'never
succeed in getting you named for good.
First and last I believe they named
' and unnamed you four different times,
and then they were just as much at
sea as ever. But one day your father
came home,, and says he. 'I've got a
name for the. boy at last. It isn't
fancy,' he .said, 'but its substantial,
t and it will bo worth money to the little
'.Sap some day.
"Then he went straight to the fam
ily Bible and wrote, the name down in
good big letters Ebenezer Pettingill
Todd. t You have ".seen it, there, you
know, many a time. 'There," he said,
'that is going to stick' Itwas the
name of a' kind of -half -uncle of his,
you know, that lived over in Belham,
and does now,- for that matter. lie has
- property, and no near relatives,, but
plenty pf distant ones'. Your father
had fallen in with, him that day, and
I suppose they got to talking about you.
I never knew the particulars, but at
any rate, they came to an understand
ing that you were to be named for Mr.
rettingill, and "he was to remember
you in his will.
"Your mother didn't lake to the name
ct all; but your father said, It means j
Jive, thousand dollars to the boy when
Uncle Ebenezer goes.' ., : ;
"Dear, dear! Your father little
thought then that Mr. Pettingill would
: Outlive him; but he died within a year,
) arid the old gentleman is al ve yet.
I've heard that he is likely, to disap
point some of his relatives by leaving
most of his money to charity. But I
guess there will be no doubt about
- your live thousand uouars
'I would swap the five thousand dol-;
lars any time for a different name, '
said the hoy, gloomily. !
"Why, child, you ought not to speak
In that way. Your Uncle Pettingill is
a good. man, -and, Ebenezer is a veiry
respectable name." '
.5?.'l?(irComjoncii)0onn(Mi,0r-., . -
y1 w
MILLS H1SS0W.
'Twist cloud and flu4 o'er (he
moon
pallid
From the nether dark they glide.
And the grasses sigh as they rustle by.
Their phantom steeds astride,
By four and four an they rode of yore,
And well they know the way;
The dim trail, the grim trail,
The trail of toil and fray.
With tattered guidons spectral thia
Above their Bwaying ranks,
With' carbines slung and sabers swung
And the gray dust on their flanks,
They march again as they marched it then
When the red men dogged their track,
The gloom trail, the doom trail.
The trail they came not back.
They pass, like a flutter of drifting fog.
As the hostile tribes have passed,
And the vild-wing'd birds and the bison
herds
And tho tin fenced prairies vast.
And those who gain by their t-trife and
pnin
Forget, in the land they won,
The red trail, the dead trail,
The trail of duty done.
But to him who loves heroic deeds
The far-flung path .still bides. ,
Tho bullet sings and the war-whoop rings
And the stalwart trooper rides.
For they were the sort from Knelling fort
Who traveled fearlessiy
The bold trail, the old trail,
The trail to Laramie.
Youth's Companion.
BOY'S. NAME
ROBBINS.
"I suppose the iiafp
in old times," said thy
Assail right
jl r?t isn't
a good one for me.:IMic:uy-ibut of
fashion now. People always laugh the
first time they hear it. The new
teacher did to-day. The loys at school
won't even give me a nickname. They
always call me Ebenezer Pettingill
that ,is nickname enough for them.
And grown-up people don't call me by
any lirst name very oftettW-They just
call me the Todd boy."
"Oh, well," said his aunt, soothingly,
"you can afford a little trouble for
all that money. You know you want to
go to -college- "
"I don't know that I do with such
a name as mine," interrupted the boy.
"I should almost hate to see it on a
diploma. They write your name in
Latin, you know. Charles is Carolus,
and James Js Jacobus, and so on. How
do you suppose Ebenezer would look
turned into Latin?
"And it is just as bad whatever I
want to do. I'd like to be a political
man when I grow up, and perhaps run
for o5ce. But you couldn't get up any
enthusiasm for Ebenezer P. Todd.
"I tell you, Aunt Lucy, it is a bad
bargain for me, and for Uncle Pettin
gill, too,,' for that matter."
"Why so?'" asked his aunt, in sur
prise. ;
The boy did not-explain his last re
mark, but. when he left the table he
had iu-fais mind the germ of a purpose,
which soon developed into a full-grown
plan.
On his return from school at night
he found that his aunt was out making
calls, anjt he decided that the time was
ripe for action.
He went at once into the infrequent
ly used best room, opened the .large
Bible .that lay conspicuously on the
centre-table, and turned to the family
record. There stood his name in bold
black letters.
He next took from his pocket a cer
tain package which he had- bought at a
drug store on his way from school.
In this were two small bottles, each
containing a colorless liquid. By means
of a little glass tube, dipped first into
one bottle, then into the other, he care
fully traced twice over the words
Ebenezer Pettingill.
He yrasnot disappointed at the result.
The letters gradually faded from his
sight,' and he felt that he was at last
rid forever of the burden of that name.
But as he sat there, half-frightened
at what he bad done, yet wholly tri
umphant, he was suddenly confronted
by a -problem new to him, although
quite old in'human experience that of
naming a boy. '.
Unfortunately, concerning this mat
ter his mind was as much a blank as
the space in the family record on which
he had just been operating.
To be sure, he could think of names,
but none to suit.
He wished that he
WICtV DUlil'. -'L tUt I.U111 ill.-, jlttl-
cuts bad . given-hi in and then taken
away. One of those might do: The
paper was all dry where Ebenezer Pet
tingill had been, and something ought
to be written in.
But at the end of . a half-hour's
thought he had come to no decision,
lie heard his aunt's step on tho walk,
and hastily shutting the book, he
slipped out of the room, very ill at
lti.Li- f ,r-, 4 ! , ,v n.i.nc'4hnt V, ! . ......
case. It felt queer to be a boy with-
out a name. ; .
All his leisure moments for the next
twenty-four hours he spent in wrest
ling with his problem. Once, while in
school, lie named himself. Harold, out
hi English history book; and for
an hour or so bis mind was relieved.
Then he thought of the letters E. P. T.
that he had spent so much time in
cutting on. trees and desks and other
things. No," he must stand 'by those
initials, anyway, so the nameHJfoli
was given up. , -. '
Finally, when almost in despaSrVe
decided that Edward Percy would
have to do; and atlhc lirst opportunity
he opened the family record again and
wrote in the name. 'After "ih there
could be no backing ouf.K' ..
The boy now felt it to be his duty
to apprise his great-uncle of the
change. This he did by letter, as fol
lows: Mr. Ebenezer Pettingill:
Dear Sir I write to tell you that you
will not have to leave me that five thou
sand dollars, for I have gone and changed
my name. I hope thia will not hurt vour
feelings. Ebenezer Pettingill is all right
in its proper place. It looks good on the
monument that you have had put up in the
cemetery at Belham. I; was out there one
day and saw it. But I don't think it is
quite suitable for me. It; doesn't join on
well with Todd, and it causes remarks.
Some have said to me. "Why don't you
shorten it to Eben?" That would not be
so bad, but I don't think it would be a
square thing to do. If I am to earn five
thousand dollars by having your name. I
must be willing to take it just ns it is. and
I ought not to bp ashamed of it, either.
But I have been ashamed, and I couldu't
help it.
You must think considerable of the
name, and I don't believe you want it
made fun of, or carried round by a boy
that doesn't like it. So I thought it was
best for us both to change. I have washed
out Ebenezer Pettingill where it was in
our big Bible and have written Edward
Percy in its place. So it is all settled. I
have written this so that you can fix over
your will.
Y'our affectionate nephew.
EDWARD PERCY TODD,
formerly
EBENEZER PETTINGILL TODD.
On the whole, it was easier to write
this letter to his uncle than to an-.
nounce the change to his aunt, and to
other people who might bo interested.
He waited a little for a. favorable op
portunity, still answering to his old
name, but always saying although not
aloud "Edward, if you please." But
in a day or two he received thlt note
from Mr. Pettingill:
Master Edward Percy Todd:
Dear Nephew I do not blame you for
changing your name, if you do not like it.
I think, that you have been frank and
honest with me. I only wish I :ould say
as much for some others who are looking
to me. for a legacy. But I must set you
right on one point. I never agreed to leave
you live tnousana uotlars tor your name.
1 believe I did promise to remember you
in my will, and I find that I have done so
to the extent of fifty dollars. . I will
change that, and in place of the legacy I
enclose a check for twenty dollars, to show
my regard. Trulv vours,
EBENEZER PETTINGILL.
This letter gave the boy his oppor
tunity, and he at once showed it to his
aunt, at the same time, of course, ex
plaining what had been done.
The good lady, although considerably
shocked at first, soon became recon
ciled to the change, the more easil3 no
doubt, because it seemed to involve no
great financial loss. She admitted that
she liked the new name better than
the old, and she quickly became quite
fluent in its use.
But there, was still one trouble left
for the boy. "I wish I knew the "best
way to break the news to the boys and
girl's at school," he said, anxiously.
Presently another inspiration came to
him. "What kind of a party was it
that Aunt Helen gave Cousin Laura
last year?'' he asked his aunt,. after
some reflection.
"They called it a coming-out party,"
was the reply. .
"Well, why can't I have one?"
"You!" exclaimed his aunt. "Why,
they don't give coming-out parties for
boys; they arc only for young ladies."
But the boy was not convinced, and
eventually he caiTied his point. Soon
after, all his schoolmates and friends
received a neatly written note of Invi
tation: N Mis Lucy Emmons
requests the pleasure of your company at u
partv in honor of her nephew, .
Edward Percy Todd.
September the nineteenth, 8 to 10 p. m.
The party was a complete success,
and although it cost nearl3 the whole
of bis twenty dollars, Edward, thought
that the end justified the means. -- As
he had anticipated, his friends, after
having partaken of his ice cream, felt
in honor bound to recognize his new
name, and they never called him Eben
ezer Pettlugill, except perhaps now and
then for nickname purposes.
But the most surprising result of the
whole transaction was the increased
interest shown by Mr. Pettingill to
ward his nephew. He frequently in
vited the boy to visit him at Belham,
and occasionally manifested his good
will in more substantial ways.
And when, some years later, his will
was finally probated, one clause read
as follows:
To Edward Per cv Todd, son of my late
nephew,- Joseph' Toad, I give and bequeath
the sum oc live thousand uoliars. lea'-lii
Coinpan!..;. " .
No Ilopti Ifor Him There. .
The "old man" addressed the follow
ing letter to his son, who was about to
stand a civil-service examination for
a Government' position:
"Dear Bill: It ain't a. bit o' use o'
you goin' up agin .that civil-service
business, it's a onesided affair alto
gether. 'Why, they'll turn you down if
yon don't know 'r'thmetic, an' they'll
even rule you out If you're a leetle
short on g'ography an' speliin'! Take
my advice an' stick to yer. trade of
lawyer before a jury of yer peers, an
when that fails you kin go to tcachin'
school." Atlanta Constitution.
.HOUSEHOLD
AFFAIRS
A. PIN CUSHION HINT.
If you were to take apart an old pin
j cushion you would find an astonishing
number of needles in it. To prevent
this, when you stick a needle into the
cushion, stick it in slantwise, not
4 straight down, for if put in pin fashion
lit is sure to work its way into the cush-
riou and get lost.
CARE OP THE BROOM.
Keep a pailful of suds in the sink
every sweeping day, and as often as
tho broom becomes dusty take it to
the sink, dip it up, and down in the
pail, shake well and continue sweep
ing. Then, when all Is swept, wash it
once more before putting it away.
Not only will the broom wear longer,
the suds toughening the splinters, but
the carpet will look brighter.
THE GREASY SINK.
'A greasy sink is. not to be tolerated,
nnd the cleansing of It, if it be of
glazed ware, may be easily accom
plished with the aid of paraffin. Dip
a piece of flannel in a little of the oil
and then rub it over the sink. All
the grease and dirt -will quickly come
off, and the smell of the paraffin can
easily be removed by washing with
soap and hot water. This treatment
will have a cleansing effect on the
sink pipes. ,
L TO REPAIR A MIRROR.
-To repair a damaged mirror pour
upon a sheet of tinfoil about three
drams of quicksilver to the square
foot of foil. Rub smartly with a piece
of buckskin until the foil becomes bril
liant. Lay the glass upon a flat table
face downward. Place the foil upon
the damaged portion of the glass, lay
a sheet of paper over the foil and place
upon it a block of wood or a piece of
marble with a perfectly flat surface;
put upon it sufficient weight to press
it down tightly; let it remain in this
position a few hours. The foil will ad
"be!? to tho glass.
Foie de Veau n l'Anglalse Take
slices of calves' liver. Put '.those in
a pan with a large piece of butter, pep
per and salt. Mince fine a bunch, of
parsley and a small piece of onion to
gether, Add these to the liver. Cook
about twenty minutes. Serve imme
diately. Date .Telly Riuse a pint mould in
boiling water and then in cold; put a
little lemon jelly at the bottom 'and
then arrange some halved and stoned
dates in a pattern after dipping them
in a jelly; pour over sufficient jelly to
set the dates and then fill up the
mould in layers of jelly and dates;
put in a cold place until set,-and, when
ready, turn out into a glas3 dish.
Potato Flour Sponge Cake Beat the
yolks of eight eggs with one-half pound
of powdered sugar for, thirty minutes;
add the juice and zest of one lemon;
beat the whites 'to a stiff froth, add
them to the yolks, then fold in, with
out sitting, one-quarter pound potato
flour; bake on a rack placed about two
inches from the bottom of the oven in
a very light heat for forty-live to sixty
minutes, depeuding upon the thickness
of the cake.
Date or Fig Gems Beat the yolks of
two eggs and mix with one' cupful of
milk; sift a teaspoonful and a half of
baking powder with half a cupful of
white flour and mix with half a cupful
of finely chopped figs or dates;. add
flour and fruit to the milk and eggs;
stir in one cupful of whole wheat flour;
beat tho two whites of eggs stiff and
fold into the mixture; bake in well
greased gem pans in a moderate oven
on a rack midway of the oven.
Pepper Mangoes SeFeot firm, bull
nosed peppers, as the' milder Spanish
ones do not make good, pickles. They
must, however, bo . perfectly green.
Cut a slice from tho stem and remove
all the seeds, taking care not, to bruise
the peppers. Put the pepper cups and
covers into a stone jar and cover with
a strong brine. Lot them stand three
days, then drain and cover with clear,
cold water twenty-four hours. Put
into, each pepper some shredded cab
bage, a tiny white onion, a small string
bean, a'ghsrken and three or four nas
turtium seeds. Make a paste of half
a cup mustard seed, a tablespoon ful
of grated horseradish, a tablespoonful"
ground mustard, two , tablespoonfuls
sugar, two tablespoonfuls of olive oil
and , a teaspoonf ul each celei-y seed,
mace and allspice. ' Fill the peppers
with this paste, packing in firmly, then
replace the caps and tie or sew in
place. Pack the peppers in a stone jar
and cover with sea klin hot water.
Let them remain In this two days, then
pour off the vinegar, reheat and agjin
turn over the peppers. Cover close and
keep in a cool, dry place.
F '
SOUTHERN
. How to Destroy Wild Ontom.
The wild onion (or more properly
garlic) is now the. worst weed known
to farmers along the Middle Atlantic
Coast from Pennsylvania to South
Carolina. It is especially bad in moist,
thin pasture land. When this weed
is eaten by milch Cows the milk ac
quires a most offensive odor, which
odor is in turn communicated to' the
cream and butter. The weed, when it
occurs In wheat fields, ruins the' wheat
for flour.
The wild garlic is a fall and winter
growing plant. It aisually occurs in
bunches or patches In grass lands; but
in badly cultivated lands, aud in grain
fields, the plants are more commonly
scattered. ' ' : -
The plant is perennial. ' It propagates
by means of Underground off-sets or
"cloves," and also by small bulblets
borne in a. bunch at top of stem. In
this country the garlic, does not bear
true seeds.
The weed is usually introduced into
new localities with - wheat seed in
which it is a rather common adulter
ant. . The underground bulbs are also
often distributed along with straw
berry and other fruit plants.
The garlic is a very hardy and ag
gressive weed, and can-thrive, upon
any soil not too dry. It, however, is
more commonly found upon thin soils
which lack potash and lime.'"'
AVhen a pasture is badly infected
with garlic, it should be plowed up in
the fall aud harrowed with a spring
tooth harrow to bring as many of the
roots bulbs to the surface as possible,
Re-harrow tho land twice a month until
late -spring. Then fertilize the land
heavily with kainit and lime, and sow
thickly with one of the trailing varle
ties of cowpeas. The Conch pea is
best for this purpose. The "Unknown
pea is also good.- In September plow
under the growth of pea vines aud
apply tiOO to 1000 pounds of fresh
water-slaked lime. Sow .the limed
land in crimson clover, using twenty
pounds of cleaned seed, or forty-five
pounds of seed in hull. Cut the clover
for hay the following spring, as soon
as the. first flowers appear. Immedi
ately plow the 'laud and keep it clean
by means of the spring-tooth harrow
until it is planted in some hoed crop,
of which cotton' is the best. Corn or
drilled sorghum" may be used. Watch
the field carefully, and if any scatter
ing garlic plants come up in the rows
pull them out by hand. . If this system
is faithfully carried out the worst in
fested fields can be cleaned of garlic in
two years.
When the weed appears in a lawn
which cannot be treated at above men
tioned, the best plan is to buy one or
more gallons of commercial sulphuric
acid or crude carbolic acid .and apply
a half-teaspoonful of either, of these lo
the roots of each garlic plant. A table
spoonful applied near the centre Of a
patch or tuft will kill the whoie. These
chemicals are dangerous, and must not
be handled by children or irresponsible
persons. Gerald McCarthy, Biologist,
North Carolina Department of Agri
"ulture. .
Pace and Plenty.
Lot .well-filled corn cribs and smoke
houses be the great bulwarks of safety
between the farmers and the world of
trade with whom they have to, deal.
Rotate your crops, intensify your acre
age, fertilize liberallyy cultivate well,
produce plentifully on the acreage
planted and enjoy those l-ewards which
should be the fulsome portion of those
who till our Southern, soils. Study the
possibilities of .our soils iiud ciimate,
and learn to appreciate and develop
the wonderful resources at our com
mand in the field, garden and orchard
of Southern agriculture. Become de
positors in your banks rather than bor
rowers.. Get on a cash basis as rap
Idly as possible and break up the mia
ous credit system, which in the. past
has been so fatal to cotton growers.
As Southern farms become each year
more self-sustaining under the adop
tion of a diversified and intensive sys
tem of culture and proper rotation of
crops, the growers of the South'g great
staple can quickly regulate its market
ing to meet the legitimate demands of
consumption and maintain its prices at
such f.-y-'9s as wfii always give to the
producer a profit on its- production.
Build warehouses with your surplus
money, and secure , adequate storage
facilities for the proper handling of
your cotton in the markets of the coun
try. Let us reach out and broaden
the markets and uses for American
?otton. Let us bring about direct trade
between the producers and the spinners
of the world and in safeguarding our
magnificent and valuable staple from
the greed of speculative interests, en
Joy the blessings of its monopolyaud
through co-operation rapidly develop
our beloved Southland Into the richest
and most prosperous . section of the
entire Union. Pause, reflect ami make
no fatal mistake in entering upon the
new crop year for 1900. The sun of
Oeace and plenty is shining on the
fARM ' ffOTES.
loyal and patriotic heads of Southern
planters to-day. Providence has blessed
our country. The clouds may thicken
and darken our horizon In thtf spring
If wo grow heedless of our duty.
Harvie Jordan, President Southern
Cotton Association, Atlanta, Ga.
Beckon Up Yoor A-coaata
The farmer, to be successful,, must,
first of all, understand that business
principles, have as definite a relation
to financial success on the farm as
in any other vocation. He should,
therefore, study over his farm accounts
carefully during the year and see
which crops were the most profitable.
It is not a very difficult matter to keep
au account with each field. and it is
safe to say that if we realized more
frequently the cost of making a pound
of cotton or tobacco, that different
methods of culture would be pursued
and an entirely different system of
crop rotation and fertilization prac
ticed. There are some crops on the
farm that pay a larger profit than Oth
ers, and the farmer must keep books
in order to eliminate those which are
unprofitable and change his practice
so as to increase his profits from the
desirable ones. A study of profit and
loss is considered essential in every
business except that of farming. The
great business houses strike a trial
balance every once in a while to see
how they stand; yet farming is ad
mitted by all to be at best a complex
problem, and how can the farmer .hope
to succeed who keeps no record of his
various transactions? The fact that he
does not accounts for the large number
of men who barely make a living fron
the soil. ' In the long winter mouths
there is ample opportunity for' those
who are so minded to study to finan
cial problems Involved in their opera
tions carefully and learn wisdom from
the failures and successes of the year.
Progressive Farmer.,.
Outdoor Work For lYlnUr. .
In the winter time, especially in tb
South, where snow rarely falls, the
fences should be repaired and any nec
essary ditching and draining, can tx
done to advantage and the farm road
improved. The gullies in the old field
can be stopped up with trash and waet
material gathered from one source or
another. The woodlot should be cleaned
upand fenced to exclude cattle there
from so the young trees may have a
chance to grow. The woodlot is an
important feature of every farm, owiujf
to the high price of lumber, and the
time is rapidly approaching when th
farmer, must grow enough wood, not
only for home consumption, but for th
repair of his fences and buildings.
There are comparatively few woodlots
which receive any attention on. ur
farms at the present time, yet it sel
dom happens that there is not some
waste land on every, homestead better
adapted for the growth of trees, tlrait
for any other purpose. Reserve-this;
section, "plant suitable varieties' or
trees therein, give It . a resorttile
amount of care 'and attention, .'and "it
will' prove a profitable investment for
all future time. Progressive Farmer.
Don't IVji-fiet thn Silo. ,
The silo deserves a place on every
stock farm and it should be .situated
convenient to the feed mangers, as
silage is heavy stuff to handle. Au
overhead track hung above the man
gers on which ensilage can be run is
very convenient, and saves much labor
in Imudling this .feed. The .silage
should, of course,be forked direct from
the silo into the car, We, want no-
stanchions In a stable where beef cattle
are fed. Let those animals of a size
run together in paddocks. These pad
docks may be divided by gates that
can be swung back out of the way
when it becomes necessary to drive In
for. the purpose of getting out the
manure. Of course, cattle handled in
this manner must' be without horns;
and so the horned ones must be de-.
horned, or what is far better a polled
bull should be used and this trouble
some and for the animal painful op
eration dispensed with. We can see
no more need for a'horn on a cow than
ou a horse or a bog; can you? A. L.
French, Byrdville, Va. : "
To Drlre Away the ltawks.
In the corn fields of the South I
first saw used a novel "scare crow"
which is even more effective for hawku
than crows. It is made by setting a
tall slender pole in the earth slanted
at about a forty-five degree angle; a bit
of stout waxed twine is fastened to
the. top of the pole and attached t
the string hangs a triangular or dia
mond-shaped bit of bright tin. As the
pole is -slanted, this bit of 'tax hangs
freely in the air and on even breezcles
days is 'constantly'.-in motion, sending
flashes of light here and there about
the field that'hawks and crows never
seem lo become accustomed to. D. W.
Iiigersoll, In the Successful Poultry,
Journal.