THE CHRISTIAN SUN.
* . * 0
IN ESSENTIALS, UNITY ; IN NON-ESSENTIALS, LIBERTY; IN ALL THINGS, CHARITY.
Volume XXXIII. SUFFOLK, VA„ FRIDAY APRIL 3, 1880. Number 14.
THE HOURS OF NIGHT.
[From Father hyan'sPoems.\
Betimes, I seem to see in dreams
Wfyiat when awake l may not see;
Can night be God’s more than the day?
Do stars, not suns, best light his way ?
Who knoweth? blended lights and shades
Arch aisles down which he walks to me.
I hear him coming in the night
Afar, and yet 1 know not how ;
His steps make music low’ and sweet—
Sometimes the nails «re in his feet;
Does darkness give God better light
Than day—to find a weary brow ?
Does darkness give man brighter rays
To find the God in sunshine lost?
Must shadows wrap the try sting place
Where God meets hearts with gentlest grace?
Who knoweth it? God hath his ways
For every soul here sorrow-tossed.
The hours of day are like the waves
That fret agaiust the shores of sin,
They touch the human everywhere,
The bright-divine fades in their glare;
And God's sweet voice the spirit craves
Is heard too faintly in the din.
When all the senses are awake,
The mortal presses overmuch
Upon Ahe great immortal part—
^nd God seems farther from the heart.
Must souls, like skies, when° day-dawns break,
Lose star by star at sunlight’s touch ?
But when the sun kneels in the west,
And grand y sinks as great hearts sink,
And in his sinking flings adown
Bright blessings from his lading crown,
The stars begin their song of rest,
And shadows make the thoughtless think.
The human seems to fade away,
And down the starred and Shadowed skie9
The heavenly comes—as memories come
Of home, to hearts afar from home;
And through the darkuess after day
Many u wiug.d angel flies.
And somehow, though the eyes see less,
Our spirits seem to see the more,—
When we look through night’s shadow-bars
The soul Sees more than shining stars,
Yeu, sees the very loveliness
That rests upon the “golden shore.’’
Strange reveries Fteal o’er us then
Like keyless chords of instruments,
With music’s soul without the notes ;
And subtle, sad, and sweet there floats
A melody not made by men,
Nor ever heard by outer serise.
And “what has been,’’ and “what will be,”
Aud “what is not but%ight have been” —
The “dim to be”—the “-noumfulgone,”
The little thiugs life rested on
In “long ago’s,” give tone, not key,
To reveries beyond our ken.
HERE AND THERE.
—A chasm that often separates
friends—sarehasin.
—Judge not thy fellow till thou art
similarly situated.
—The man that attends to his own
business has a good steady employ
ment.
—Canon Farrar thinks that drunk
enness “stands almost alone among
human sius in being absolutely cura
ble and preventable,” and cites Mo
hammedanism as a proof.
—Christianity always suits us well
enough so long as we suit it. A mere
mental difficulty is not hard to deal
with. With most of us it is not rea
son that makes faith hard but life.
—There were “no pall bearers,” no
display, no public funeral; and yet
when James Lenox was buried one
Saturday, the grave closed over one
of the greatest public benefactors that
New York has ever seen.
—I sleep most sweetiy when I have
travelled in cold; frost and snow are
friends to the seed, though they are
enemies to the flower. Adversity is
indeed contrary to glory, but it be
friendeth grace.—Richard Baxter.
—To say that a miracle is impossi
ble because contrary to the facts of
my experience, is absurd, unless the
facts of my experience embrace all
the possible iacts of any experience;
to claim which would be au absurdity
still.
—Justification by faith was the
very essence of Apostolic preaching.
It is the whole burden of St. Paul’s
Epistles. Good works he insists on
indeed; but not as the cause, but as
the result and evidence of justifica
tion. Nothing can be plainer than
his declaration -“By the deeds of the
law, shall no flesh living bejustilied.’
To eliminate the doctrine of Justifica
tion by Faith from his Epistles would
be as fatal to their argument as to
take all allusion to the siege of Troy
irom the Iliad; to the wanderings of
OUR VIRGINIA VALLEY CONFERENCE.
Bro. Barrett:—In accordance with
your request to write Cor the Sun I
desire to send you n few lines. As
i,he name of Linville Church has been
proiniucutly before the readers of the
Sun for some years and as it is the
place appointed for the next meeting
of the Virginia Valley Conference, it
may not be uninteresting to give a
short history of its rise and progress.
Sometime previous to 1871 the la
mented Wellons visited tire sever
al churches composing this Confer
ence. 1 remember seeing and hear
ing him preach at Bethlehem, on an
annual Conference association, where
he made a line impression, not only
in the pulpit, but around the luuch
basket in the church yard; and, in
fact, wherever he moved, his de
rneauor was at all times so plainly
marked by devout earnestness, love
.and charity, that all with whom he
came in social contact loved him.
It was doubtless due to his infill
euce that the talented D. A, Long
came (o this locality about the year
1809 or 1870, where he preached for
a good while. Among his appoint
ments he preached regularly at Lin
ville school house, llere he held one
or more protracted meetings at which
there were seveia! conversions, w hich
being added to the very limited num
ber of persons of this locality gave
the members to form a church here.
Then the earnest and untiring Long
at once proceeded to organize a
church w hich numbered 119 uiembeis
before Bro. Long left us. At the
time of organizing, Bro. Long put a
movement on foot to build a house of
worship. lie constituted a building
committee composed of leading men
of the community, regardless of their
church connections. The effort suc
ceeded in giving us a comfortable
and neat house, after a good deal of
delay, and perhaps we never would
have succeeded fully, but for the de
cided actiou of a number of the An
tioch brethren. However, the house
was finished and freed from debt
some years ago. The lamented Wel
lons dedicated the house of worship
in February 1873, first holding a col
lection to free it of what indebted
ness yet remained. His appeals were
promptly'responded to and the neces
sary funds wTere raised by subscrip
tion and otherwise.
Auer the church was dedicated its
tirst regular pastor was liev. N. 13.
K-of Rockingham county, Va,
who was removed from the work by
death, liev. W. T. Walker next be
came its pastor. He labored zealous
ly and ably for four years, always
having good congregations at his
meetings, tie was much beloved by
all, not only by the brethren for his
works sake, but by all for his Chris
tian like deportment. After Bro.
Walker went to his present held, our
Conference was without a regular pas
tor from the fall of 78, to the fall of 79.
In the meantime, we bad the labois
of Rev. J. W. Wellous for a month or
two, and for the remainder of the
time much was done to sustain tiie
church by holding regular weekly
prayer meetings and by tbe labors of
liev. J. C. Williams, then a licentiate
but now an elder in the church.
Apart from the afoiesaid labors in
this Conference, the cause has been
much prospered or at least sustained
the visits of various elders from the
Eastern Virginia and from the Nort h
Carolina Conferences from time to
time in past years, among whom
were the lamented Wellons, Beale,
Barrett, Kitchen, lialston and per
haps others. I hope a goodly num
ber of the ministry will still find it
possible to come to our conference
this year, if they can not, do more
and stay longer
We now have liev. D. T. Heans in
charge of our Valley churches and of
course he is our pastor. He preaches
well and makes good impressions
wherever he goes.
The whole number of the member
ship of Liuville church siuce its or
guuizatidh has been ninety-nine per
sons. This number has been reduced
by death, transfer, expulsion and
otherwise to nearly half that number.
But if wo have a church to day or
even a half a seore of consistent mem
bers, such as the All-wise Judge
would pass as fit for the Master’s use,
I know Bro. Long would be glad to
know it, as his mind would revert to
it as the fruits of his labors, at least
in part, and so with all that have
worked for the same end, for it is the
knowledge of having done something
that enables ns to rejoice and abide
in the faith now. Ought we not to
feel encouraged to go forward in the
work of building up our churches and
of establishing new onesf There are
places all over the Valley where ear
nest and persistent labors would be
rewarded by success, and notwith
standing the numerous denomina
tions, and their constant labors, the
I ([notation, Lift np your eyes and look
' on the Helds; for they are white al
ready to harvest has not fitter appli
cation than with respect to the Val
ley. Work then should tie the
watchword. But can the ministers’ do
it all? By no means. They can pleach
leach and instruct—they can suggest
certain legitimate enterprises of the
church, such as Sunday schools, pray
er meetings, MoinC Mission Societies
building churches, &e. They have not
time to devote themselves to the
practical work of these. The church
es then must work, if it were possi
ble to get every individual to realize
the importance of entering into the
work zealously, performing their duty
faithfully, bow much good might be
accomplished. There is scarcely an
orgauized church in the land that
does not?possess the talent to till all
tlie requirements of the work. It too
often happens that they bring only
the talents given them, having added
nothing to them. Can they plead in
the end that they knew not their
Masters will and therefore ought to
he beaten with few stripes. I fear
not.
The first work of the church is to
make itself, as a body what it ought
lobe. If, there are members who
take no interest, only occasionally
coming, (Kimetimcs communing,
while really they nave no fellowship
for their brethren who are consis
teat members of the church, ought
not their names to he dropped? Do
they not render the eliuich power
less ? It may he some only have the
talent to attend regularly the ap
pointments, if so how much does it
argue for those who are faithful in
ibis? Many call not give much, but
to do what they can timely and cheer
fully U well—it proves much for the
Christian. Some can act as Sunday
school teachers, if they will, and it is
their duty to enter upon that werk.
Some of us can lead in public prayer
and it is oiu duty to do so. Some in
every church can exhort publicly,
and there are such occasions when
such corn yields great fruit. Some of
us can contribute of our means more
than others for the support of the
church, and we should do so. In
•short, every member ought to he
zealous workers. Whenever a mem
ber becomes obstinate and will not
do his work, ought we not to cut off
such a one f We all agree that the
line ought to he drawn sharply he
tween the true and the false or
worldly member, who is to do it t
All will say, the work of the church
of course? But that the church may
act is not necessary that some one
should move in the matter, eveu at
the certain cost of having someone
to say, you ate running or trying to
run the church, of being noted above
ones fellows who say nothing and do
nothing. They want nothing said or
done—they have not the Christian
courage to defy the worst enemies of
the church, or who will for the Lord’s
sake take up this, the heaviest of
crosses. The world is opposed to the
church assuring to be anything, ex
cept what it can be in common with
the world. The more earnest and
zealous we become the more Satan’s
tiery darts are .cast at us. John 1:3-13
says: Marvel not, my brethren, if
the world hate yon, &c. The 8a
viour says Matt. 10:34: Think not
that I am come to send peace on
earth, I came not to send peace, but
a sword. But with Paul we would
ask, Who shall separate us from
the love of Christ? Shall tribulation
or distress, or persecution or famine
or nakedness, or peril, or sword ?
E. Sife.
GOOD FrfIDAY.
BY JIBS. C. B. G.
“Heaven that hour let fall a tear,
Heaven wept that men might smile,
Heaven bled that man might never die.”
The fetters of darkness have bro
ken, and ushers in this memorable
day so full of sadness, and fraught
with sacred and divine interest. The
sun comes forth to gladden the earth,
as on that morn, when it rose in
beauty over the plains of Bethlehem
and vailed itself in gloom over the
cross of Alt. Calvary. The birds carol
forth their songs as gaily, and the
flowers bloom as sweetly, as on that
day, that witnessed the sufferings
and crucifixion of a Saviour, “who
hung the rainbow of redemption
round a lost and ruined world.”
In contemplating the life and char
acter of this glorious Being, what a
spirit of meekness, patience, and hu
mility, do we find in Him exemplified.
What an example of forgiveness is
here given us, when in the lust agony
of expiring nature, He raised His
I voice and the accents fell from His
Godlike lips, “My father forgive
them.”
What pen can picture the anguish
of that hour, the sighs, the death
groans, the insulting multitude who
thronged around to behold a scene so
appalling, that sombre darkness
spread like a midnight pall orer vast
creation.
Amid the melancholy gloom that
enshrouded the earth, the peals ol
thunder that in loud reverberation
shook the vaulted dome of heaven,
electric sparks from bursting rocks
dashing through the dreadtul dark
ness, the sentence seemed watted ot:
the sighing breeze, “Tis done, thy
ransom has been paid oh guilty man.
What further atonement can be
made f The son of God has died,
died on the ignominious cross to re
deem fallen man. The sepulchre
closes over Him, but soon He is seen
10 rise, and arrayed in all His divine
majesty and immortality, He bursts
the gloomy portals ot the tomb and
ascends to the eternal throne.
What dread and consternation
must have seized the beholders,
i bat crucified one, is no louger a ten
ant of the dreary grave, no longer
the scorned, the scoffed, the derided
but the imaculate sou of God, all pow
erful, incomprehensible, and equal
with the Father. Among the Angels
Archangels, and all the Hierarchy
of heaven He is now ethroned, there
to dwell until with flaming sword
and avenging power, “He shall come
to judge tlie quick and the dead.”
When the vast millions of earth
shall stand in graud array before the
lace of Him who sitteth upon the
throne, and deal alike rewards and
punishment to the just and the un
just. When that awful sentence
shall be pronounced which will doom
the soul to its filial state throughout
boundless eternity, what a heartren
ding and imposing spectacle is here
presented. “Even the good man will
turn pale and the righteous stand
with fear and trembling.”
Then shall our wrongs and injuries
be avenged for the “day of retribu
tiou is at hand.” Then will the poor
and destitute find a friend, the weary
and afflicted a place of eternal rest.
The homeless wanderer, bereft of his
earthly etlects, and driven here and
there, as circumstances may direct
over life’s tempestuous sea, will then
find a home free from all worldly care
and strife. “A Lethe to his sorrows.
When we reflect that this divine
Being in “whom there was no guile,”
is our only mediator, that by His
blood we are cleansed, and by His
death we are saved from the imper
ishable state of “dying perpetually
yet never dead,” the deepest emo
tions ot love and 'gratitude should be
awakened and kindled in the heart,
and the head bowed low in bumble
adoration.
Search Cor example the history of
nations the great aud the good, the
lives of the noble patriots and he
mes who fought aud fell for their
country’s rights. The lives ot those
who suffered martyrdom by order of
a despotic sovereign, and no such in
stance of self sacrifice, patience and
forbearance can be found, as was
manifested in the life of this glorious
character half humau and half di
vine. When beneath the lash of cru
elty and oppression, the contempt
and persecution of His enemies, no
anger stirred his bosom, no words of
bitterness or murmurs of complaint
were wrung from an agonized heart,
but bore with meekness the greatest
insults and injuries that could be in
flicted upon qjan.
Born so lowly and yet so great, so
high and elevated above the poten
tates of earth cradled in a manger,
and yet exalted to a throne. The son
of a carpenter, and yet the sou of
God, and this infinite One the same
yesterday, the same to-day and the
same tomorrow” is ever mindful of
our infirmities, and regards with ten
der compassion our many wants and
necessities, as Ho was a mau of sor
row and acquainted with grief.” Aud
as the years of time roll quickly on
each in its successive turn brings in
the anniversary of this day to be
kept in remembrauce of Him who
was once crucified, but who now
reigns Omnipotent, Omuicieut and
Omuipreseut upon the eternal throne.
Kiug Ockiya, of Brass, is dead. It
was he who, three years ago, gave
his idols to Bishop Crowther, who
sent them home to England. From
that time he attended the church ser
vices regularly, but he did uo give up
his numerous wives, nor was he bap
tized. Lately, however, ho had de
termined to be “the husband, of one
wife” only, aud had asked tor baptism.
Meanwhile, sickness struck him down
while on a visit to a neighboring
town, and he died on his way home.
' During his illness the idol pi’iests
| sought to induce him to recant, but
: he was kept steadfast through the in
fluence ot a Christian woman in his
I household, who atteuded him. He
I died “calling on Christ.”
Selection?;.
CUT IN THE RAIN.
There is a touching story of the fa
mous Dr. Samuel Johnson, which has
had au influence on many a boy who
has heard it. Samuel’s father, Mich
ael Johnson, was a poor bookseller in
Lichfield, Eng. On market days he
used to carry a package of books to !
the village of Fttoxeter, and sell!
them from a stall in the market-place.
One day the bookseller was sick, and
asked his son to go and sell the books
in his place. Samuel, from a silly
pride, refused to obey.
Fifty years afterward Johnson be
came the celebrated author, the com
piler of the “English Dictionary,”
and one of the most distinguished
scholars in England, but he never
forgot his act of unkindness to his
poor, hard-toiling father ; so when he
visited Uttoxeter he determined to
show his sorrow and repentance.
Ue went into the market-place at
the time of business, uncovered his
head, and stood there for an hour in
a pouring rain, on the very spot
where the bookstall used to stand.
“This,” lie says, “was an act of con
trition for my disobedience to my
kind father.”
The spectacle of the great Dr. j
JohnsoiFstmuling bareheaded in the!
storm, to atone for the wrong done by !
liim fifty years before, is a grand and
touching one. There is a represen
tation of it (in marble) outlie doc;
tor’s monument.
Many a man in after life lias felt1
something harder and heavier than a-!
storm of rain upon his heart, when .
he remembered his acts of unkiud
ness to a good father or mother now
in their graves.
Dr. John Ti)dd, of Pittsfield, the
emiuenf writer, never could forget
how, when his old father was very
sick, and sent him away for medicine
lie (a little lad) had been unwilling to
go, and had made tip a lie that “the
druggist had not got any sueli medi
cine.”
The old man was just dying when
little Johnny came in, and said to
him: “My bey s-voe father suffers
great pain for want of that medi
cine.” -
Johnny started in great distress
for the medicine, but it was too late
The father on bis return was almost
gone. lie could only say to the
weeping boy : '‘Love God, and al
ways speak the truth, for the eye ot
God is always upoi! ^ on. Mow kiss
me ouce more, and farewell."
Through all his after life l)r. Todd,
often had a heartache over that act
of falsehood and disobedience tohis
dying father. It takes more than a
shower of rain to wash away the
memory of such sins. Dr. Todd re
pented of that sin a thousand times.
The words, ‘-Honor thy father'and
thy mother,” mean four things—al
ways do what they bid you. always
tell them the truth, always treat them
lovingly, and take care of them when
they are sick or grown old. I never
yet knew a boy who trampled on the
wishes of his parents who turned out
well. God never blesses a willtully
disobedient son.
When Washington was sixteen
years old ho determined to leave
home, aud be a midshipman in the
Colonial navy. After he had seut off
his trunk, he went to bid bis mother
good-bye. She wept so bitterly be
cause he was going away that he said
to hig negro servant; “Briug back my
trunk ; I am not going to make my
mother suffer so by my leaving her.”
He remained |at home to please
his mother. This decision led tohis
becoming a surveyor, and afterward
a soldier. His whole glorious career
in life turned on this one simple
act of trying to make his mother
happy. And happy, too, will be the
child who never had occasion to shed
bitter tears for any act of unkind
ness to his parents. Let us not for
get that God has said, “Honor thy
father and thy mother.”—Youth'*
Companion.
There are persons in the church
who have scarcely learned the al
phabet of a true Christiau expeiieuce.
They have heard sermons, they have
attended the monthly communion,
they go to the prayer-meeting some
times, and their names are on the
church register. But talk to them ot
the witness of the Spirit, the rest of
faith, and the joy af the Holy Ghost,
and they .will stare at you as if you
spoke m au unknown tongue. And,
iudeed, it is an unknown tongue to
them, they have not mastered the A
B O of the lauguage of Zion. Put
them to school iu the class-meeting.
Subscribe for the Sc;
S
Jnrm and jfiresiJe.
HOW OUR COW IS MANAGED.
Our milch -cow is treated as if she
were a living, breathing, walking,
ami analytical laboratory—which she
really is. She eats hay, cornstalks,
cabbage-leaves, potatoes, bran and
meal, and drinks'water; and the pro-1
duct is, rich and excellent milk and j
cream, all smoking and fragrant. Let j
the water be withheld, or let her be {
supplied with no fodder, grass, or i
other feed, and she will yield no milk, i
“Well, who don’t know all that!”)
But who feeds his cow in cold weath !
er, as if it made any difference whetb-;
er the animal receives one feeding!
per day, or water when drink is great \
!y needed, or whether she gets a full ■
or half a supply at regular periods.
Our cow is attended to with more j
regularity than the meals of the lam- j
ily. About six o’clock, every morn- :
ing and evening, I take a twelve-quart I
pailful of bot water to the barn, p: ur
a pailful of cold water in her slop tub]
then tm# in about two quarts oi
corn-meal and eight quarts of wheat-!
bran, then add the hot water and stir j
the mixture and let the cow drink it
while it is warm, which she Will do I
quicker than a [lerson can drink a cup
of fragrant coffee. This makes over
ten gallons of slop every day, given
with the regularity of the opening
and closing of the day. A spoonful ]
of salt is usually put in the water i
After the cow has swallowed her stop, j
a pailful of cold water.is poured in j
her tub: and she will .sometimes drink
a pailful of cold water dming the day ;
and one during the night, which
amounts to over sixty quarts of water I
(or fifteen gallons) during twenty
four hours. These statements show]
how much a cow will drink when wa- i
ter is accessible.* If water were not i
needed, the cow would not drink >o
much. At morning and evening she
receives as much prime hay as she
will eat: At noon she is fed about
one sheaf (of medium size of corn
stalks after they have been run
through a fodder-cutter. Which cuts:
ttie pieces about two inches in length.
When roots of any sort are fed, they
are. given at noon. The cow has a
box-staii about nine feel st**-". -
i which is always kept well-littered
; with leaves.or the butts and larger
[joints of the cut corn stalks. She is
never kept tied in the .stable. I would
as soon have a hole to lit my reck
made in the he.ul-boanl of my bed
stead and sleep in such a
yoke, as to put the neck of the ciV?ihd1
stanchions or tie her to the manger.
A cow (and horse, also) needs liberty
to turn round, change position, and
scratch herself when she feels like it.
When a cow wants feed or water, she
needs a supply. To be brief— our
cow is in a plump and round condi
tion both summer anil winter : and
she rolls out the milk, which is milk i
that's milk ! She now yields about
nine quarts per day, and will proba
bly give seven to eight during the
entire winter. We sell to near neigh
bors, who come for the milk, more
than enough- to pay for all the feed
the cow consumes. The milk is not
as blue and thin as chalk and wafer,
but it is thick, of a rich yellowish eo
lor, like thin cream.
A great many people affirm that
“It don’t pay to keep a cow.’’ They
say the truth, as it will not pay to
keep a cow the way family hows are
usually managed. Hundreds and
hundreds of families manage then
cows as follows: The cow is fed
with surprising irregularity. Many
times she does not get half enough to
eat. John forgot to give her water
lust eveuiug. She was left out in
that cohl and pelting storm all uigkt.
She does not have a comfortable
place during cold and stormy weath
er. Sometimes she gets rough and
injurious treatment; and will not give
down her milk to the ill-natured boor
that feeds her. Besides these items
of bad management-, there are many
other tbiugs the operation of which
contribute toward diminishing a full
flow of rich milk.—Phrenological Jour
nal.
.Farm stock must always be regar
ded as the best capital a farmer can
h Aye, for it furnishes the manure by
which rich harvests are secured ; and
through these good husbandry crea
tes the capital which is needed upon
the farm.
Sister Mas's Care.—2J caps
powdered sugar, $ cup of butter, l
cup sweet tnilk, 3 cups dour, 4 eggs,
1 lemon, juice and rind, 1 small tea
spoonful soda. Bake in a square or
obloutg tiu, aud frost with whites ot
two ttfegs, beaten atiff with powdered
sugac.
F ABM L i f k.—From Scribnrr't
Monthly we get the following : “It
is a common complaint that the farm
and farm-life are not appointed by
nr people. We long for the more
elegant pursuits, or the ways and
fashions of lbe town. But the far
mer has the most sane and natural
occupation, and ought to fled life
sweeter, if less highly-seasoned, than
any other, lie alone strictly speak
ing, has a home. How can a man
take root and thrive, without landf
lie writes his history upon his field,
ilow many ties—how many resources
he has! His friendships with his
rattle, his team, his dog, his trees;
the satisfaction in his growing crops,
in his improved fields ; his intimacy
with Nani re, with bird and beast,
and with the quickening elemental
forces: his co-operations with the
cloud, the sun, the seasons, heat,
wind, rain, and frost. Nothing will
lake the various social distempers
which the city and artificial life breed
ou t of a man like farming—like di
rect and loving contact with tho soil*
It draws out the poison. It humbles
him, teaches him patience and rever
ence, and restores the proper tone to
his system.
“Fling to the farm, make much of
it, pat yourself into it, bestow your
heart and your brain upon it, so that
it shall savor of you and radiate your
virtue after your day’s work is done.”
Look (in foe Youe Hoeses
When They aee Sweaty.—Horses
found to be perspiring easily, espe
cially if they seem to be at all distur
b'd in their breathing, should not be
pushed. To hurry a horse in this
condition is quite likely to fasten
lung difficulty upon him. You will
observe this by the quickened breath
ing, after the horse is put into his
stall, especially if the weather is cool,
he is very likely to have a chill. This
is a congestive stage, the blood leav
ing the surface aud concentrating
upon the lungs, bronchial tubes or
throat, or upon all three at once.
This should be guarded against by
rubbing the surface dry as soon as
the horse conies oil’ iiis drive ; on no
account allowing him to stand for one
moment in a draught ofcold air. Rub
him dry and blanket him well, ob
serving carefully whether or not he
stands with his back humped up, aud
hether he eats his rations or not. It
he stands in the position named and
leaves liis Iced untouched, then you
have reason to anticipate —Reaction
w ill come oft', and you are liable to
have a case of acute inflammation of
the throat, bronchia or lungs, and to
determine which, being able at the
same time to institute a safe plau of
treatment, a competent veterinary
snrgcou should be called.
Speaking of Toast, comparative
ly tew know what really good toast
is. A hasty singe of one or both
sides does not_make toast; nor do
thin slices of bread dried through.
Cut slices of uniform thickness, a
plump half inch or oSths inch: move
around over a brisk fire, to have all
parts toasted alike : keep only so near
the coals that the pieces will be heat
ed through when both sides are well
browned. If the slightest poiut is
blackened or charred, scrape it off, or
it will spoil the flavor of the whole.
If covered with an earthen bowl, it
will keep both warm and moist. A
clean towel or napkin will answer if
it is to go at once to the table. But,
nobody can make good toast out of
poor bread. Stale bread may be used
for milk-toast; sour bread maybe
improved by toasting it through;
heavy bread makes poor toast. Sweet,
light biead, only a day old, or less,
makes the beast toast.
Catching Hawks.—A writer in
the Practical Farmer says: “Some
one recently asked Fanny Field, and
others, how to keep hawks from car
rying oft' chickens. JVIy plan is to
catch the hawks. Beiug much an
noyed by them, I set a steel trap on
top of a pole set'upfigkt in the ground
and have caught the last year seven
teen hawks and live owls. Set the
trap on a pole six or seven feet high
in the opeu held, one or two huudred
rods from the house. Xo bait needed,
traps I use cost thirty-five cents
apiece. I wish all farmers would try
this. I have no doubt that farmers
lose annually five dollars each from
hawks and owls,-to say nothing about
the destruction of quail and partridge
and other game. At first glance this
seems a sjnail matter, but in the ag
gregate it is thousands of dollars.”
Vermin.—The poultry house, if
closely examined, may be found to
swarm with lice. A gray mealy pow
der may be seen on the roosts, in cre
vices and in the cornets and points of
the building. Take a common squirt
j cau filled with kerosene oi! and inject
the oil into every crevice about the
house. .Repeat this process if it ia
touud necessary, and very soon the
| fowls will he free from these insect
I pests,
0