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 t^gmma^immfiF Meemed Is Promise. V J-ART I. "Franz, bow About' the Lyskaann ^- morrow The weather looks settlatt. " t^- " The weathei ia good, Herr, butâ€" â€" 'f- "But what, S^aail!" ' " I do no like Ae Lysktinin." "And why don't you like the Lyskamm, Franz?" " Herr, there ia a fearful cornice there this year." "Well take our chance of that. We can't tell what it's like till we try, and if we find it too bad we can always turn back. When must we start " " It will be time if we leave here at two. " " Good Then you'll call us about one. Guteu Abend, Franz." • ' Guten Abend, Herr schlaf en Sie wohL " The above conversation took place, one ex- auisite August evening outside the oldBiffel [oteL TMtle d'hote was over, and the usual assemblage of climbers, guides, and others was there, watching the declining light of a most glorious sunset fading slowly away from the mighty precipices of the Matter- horn, and from the other summit of that, to my mind, the grandest range in all the Alps. The season up to that time had not been a good one, and but little climbing had been done but) with the prospect of fine weather, of which that morning had given unmistak- able promise, every one took heart, and the number of expeditions that were at once planned for the following day was some- thing astonishing. Every available guide was "booked," and the courteous lady who at that time pre- sided over the Riflfel was at her wits' end to know where to accommodate all who asked that night for sleeping space. I myself was not a novice at climbing, having already spent several seasons in the Alps, and for some years I kad been a member of the Al- pine Club. I had been up most of the great peaks around Zermatt, but I had not yet ascended the Lyskamm, (14,888 feet,) and it was for the purpose of doing the Lyskamm that I had come up to th» RifFel. I was .accompanied by a fellow-member of the Alpine Club named Burns, an ad- mirable climber and a charming companion, and I had my guide Franz, who had been with me on most of my previous expedi- tions, and in whose steadiness and skill I had reason to have the greatest confidence. Franz was a man of forty or so, tall, and of splendid physique, with a good honest weatherbeaten countenance, to which a long mustache gave a somewhat military ap- pearance. In intelligence he was greatly superior to the ordinary run of guides, for he could talk well upon other subjects besides the one topic of mountains. Bums and I, being in some favor with the authorities at the Riflfel, were fortunate in getting a room to ourselves but a score or so of travelers, for whom no other space could be found, had to repose as best they could on the floor of the salon, and lucky ware they who could secure a mattress, for even mattresses gave out at last. We turned in early but as I can never sleep on the eve of an expedition, I was nob sorry when Franz's knock soon after one o'clock, warned us that it was time to be up. This getting up is, I" think, the most dis- agreeable part of an expedition. I have a particular objection to dressing in a bad light, feeling all the while only half awake, and â€" but low be it spoken â€" more than half disposed to envy those who are not leaving their beds at such an- unearthly hour. I dislike, too, the early breakfast â€" a mel- ancholy meal, to be got over as expeditious- ly as possible and on this point every one seems to be agreed, for at the RifiTel, at all events, I have observed that it is usually dispatched in solemn silence. The very look of the sleepy servant who brings in the coflee exercises a depressing influence, as well it may. Then there is that getting into boots (for I am not one of those inconsiderate individ- uals who puts his boots on up stairs and comes pounding down, to the detriment of sleep in those who do not happen to be getting up so early,) and boots, to begin with, feel hard, if not absolutely uncomiortable But, after all, what are these minor disa- greeables beside the extraordinary amount of pleasure that is to be got out of climbing? They perhaps make it all the'pleasanter if we did but know it. We were rather earlier than the ma- jority, but there were two or three sleepy- looking individuals in the br;eakfast-room, evidently novices bound for Monte Rosa, giving one the idea by their appearance that they were already beginning to think climb- ing a mistake rather than otherwise. It was close upon two o'clock â€" the hour Franz had namedâ€" when we got oflf, and we were soon on our way toward the Gromer Glacier. The date was August 13, 187 â€" Our party had received an addition in the shape of a porter whom Franz had engaged over night â€" a big, good-natured-looking fellow, and a very useful man to have on a rope, as we found subsequently. The morning was splendid, and the stars shone down upon us from a cloudless sky, but still Franz seemed dissatisfied, and complained more than once of its feeling close. The atmosphere was certainly heavy, but as we neaired the glacier there came toward us a breath of cold air deliciously refreshing and inspiriting. It was still dark when we reached the ice, but before we had crossed the glacier the day had commenced to break, and behind the giant mass of Monte Rosa and the Lvs- kanun there came over the heavens that pale unearthly hue which is seen at times when snow and sky intermingle. It was a superlatively fine morning, and save for a few safion-colored clouds floating above the Weissthor tiie sl^ was petf ecUy clear. We breaJcfasted near the well-known halt- ing-place for parties making the ascent of Monte Bosa, and soon aftnward we left that mountain on oar left to keep on xm the Grenz Glacier toward the summit of the Lysjoch. It seemed certun now that we sboidd have a fine day, but Franz was elearty 01 at ease, and grumbled constantly about the heat in the niaht, saying, that he fetured that we shonldfind the Lyakanun arete in bad condition. His spirits, though, recovered somewhat as we got highfit, and c^ilaiiihz. tbe'^e^or left little tobe dedied, forafloodirfffolden sunlight mpr^A ever rock and snow, till even the hollow of the riader in which we stood became bathed in uieglOTiooslij^t. Indeed we could not havedioaen a more perfect day for our expedition. We made rapid pr ogress, for we were what is known as a " fast" {Murty, and while it Wj^ still early we reached tiie foot oi the ^cataice, forty te«pUe arete, which rises strai|kt up froA '-*' --" ^^^^^ I liH^lacier till it culminates in tfie summit 1 the Lyakanim. _,'_, To my niind this asete cooistitntn on«1b( [the aastiest bit* of climbing m the Alps. iP I is nc^ di|3e9lt, hot itls lniff, uad almost^ j ^r|j([3e length daBgeroas. Its dajigerarinip^ I from the cornice, which in an immense mass hangs over on to the Italian side of the mountain. The actual ridge is so sharp, and on either side of :the face of the cliff taSh, away so steeply to the glader, that the greatest care is necessary in order to keep I on the ridge itself without trespassing upon j the cornice, which, being formed of frozen snow only, is liable to crumble away at the slightest touch. So deceptive is a cornice of this description that even good guides I are at a loss to distinguish sometimes be- tween what is safe and what is not, while to a novice what m\y appear to be one broad smooth surface of snow nuiy be safe to tread upon only to the width of a few inches. It is- this difficulty of telling where the firm ground ends and where the cornice be- gins that constitutes the danger of the Lysk- amm arete. More than once it has led to mistakes on the part of the guides, and it was such tiiat caused one of the jnost awful tragedies that ever occurred to mountain- eers â€" the fatal accident to Messrs. Lewis and Paterson's party in 1878. The Lysk- amm by this route is emphatically not an ascent to be recommendecL Franz was ever celebrated for his caution, and on this day he exercised even more than his ordinary care. Not a step did he take without first testing the snow in front with the point of his ice-axe, so as to make sure of what was ahead, and he never moved for- ward until quite convinced that it was safe to do so. Thus our progress was slow, and it was not tri nearly eleven o'clock that we topped the final ridge and stood together upon the summit of the Lyskamm, The vipw exquisitely bright andclear as the sky was that day, was a marvelously beautiful one, but it is not within my pro- vince to describe it here, and, indeed, were I to make the attempt, I should faifto con- vey an idea of the impression it made upon me at the time. Besides, it was not for long that we were permitted to enjoy it, for Franz was all eagerness to be down the arete before it got much later. We were soon on the rope again. Franz led, then I came, then Bums, and the porter â€" an admirable man for the purpose, on ac- count of his weight and strength â€" brought up the rear. It was in this order that we commenced the descent All went well at first. Each man was careful to use the rope as the rope ought to be used â€" that is, by keeping it taut be- tween himself and his man in front. Franz, moved downward carefully, and at each step sounded the snow with his axe as he had done on the way up. The position, in fact, was one which needed care. Upon our left the face of the mountain fell sharply away to the glacier below, a distance of over 3,000 feet, and we dared not leave the edge of the arete to pass on to it far upon this face there lay a quantity of fresh snow in a loose and dangerous con- dition. On our right lay the dreaded cor- nice. Suddenly Franz halted. Something seemed to trouble him, fer more than once he struck his axe into the snow in front of and beside him without moving forward. He called to me to pay out the full length of rope between myself and him, which I dill, and again he advanced a few steps. Then he stopped, and, turning round to me, in slow tones said, "Herr, be very care- ful how you tread here take care only to put your feet in the steps I make, for" â€" and this he added very impressively â€" " we are in great danger here." He had hardly spoken â€" in fact the words were still in his mouth â€" ^when I heard a loud crack. It was a sound such as I have never heard before or since, and I can only de- scribe it as being like the grate of a heavy wa£[on upon frozen snow. Then, without further warning, the side of the mountain abont the very thing he feared, the touch of his axe having started the great ^If feet or so of which do n w hn lip a^d bounded down the moontain mke,- caayiog Franz along with it A|i* matter UiXSAwaB a very narrow eaBU»«|or aU j^na^nr, had any other member^ the iiarty ||one through the snow, as mil «s f^n^ the others could not have|HB, and latnjt luwe been draped down too. I shuddered involuntarily as I gazed into the abyss ittto which we should have fallen, and thought that there would not have been left mach^ os-Iqr the time we readied the bottom No further incident occurred during the descent, but, from having to go slowly on Franz's account, it was not till late in the evening that we got back to the Riffel. Two days later I said good-bye to Franz, who seemed to be getting well over his ac- cident, and made my way back to England, leaving Bums to carry on -a career ot con- quest which the admirable weather up to the close of the season gave him every facil- ity for doing. When I took leave of Franz that time at the Rifiel I did not think that I should nevermore set eyes on him. Did I say nevermore Yes, nevermore, at- least in this life. It was in December of that same year that I heard of Franz's death. He fell a victim to his passion for chamois hunting. It appeared that he|had been out one day after a h«ivy fall of snow, and had perished in an avalanche, his body being swept away no one knew whither. Nothing but his hat and the shattered remains of his rifle, in- deed, were ever foimd of him again, and it was only by their recovery that it « as gues- sed what his fate had been. To lose Franz was like losing an old friend. Sadly I thought over his many admirable qualities so seldom combined in one of his class. His truth and honesty, his cheerful- ness and good nature, his skill, his courage in moments of danger, and then I called to mind that last expedition which we took together, (pity that it should have been the the last !) and how near the end had been that day. To what purpose had his life been spared but these few months longer And as I thought, of a sudden those words of his came back to me with a force positive- ly startling. "You will- one day be in difliculty, in danger, but fear not, Franz will be there, and he will have come to saye your life." Poor fell0w It was scarce worth while to think about it. Unless the grave gave up its dead, Franz could never now redeem his promise. PART n. seemed to break away, and with it Franz disappeared. For one second I felt paralyzed. The next, scarcely knowing what I did, but with the instinct of self-preservation strong within me, I sprang to the left over the precipice on the opposite side to that on which poor Franz had disappeared. The rope ran out to its full length, and then I found myself powerless to move, anchored tightly to the edge of the arete, and 'with a strain upon my chest from the pressure of the rope which was well-nigh intolerable. Bums and the porter had seen what was coming, and had thrown themselves flat, so that when the jerk caused by my leap had come they were well prepared to meet it. For a few seconds^, though, it was a dead- lock. Then I heard a faint voice, which seemed to come from Franz, calling for help. Somehow or other, but how I hardly know to this day. Bums so managed to slacken the rope that I waa enabled to scramble up on to the arete again, and then the three of us set to Work to haul up Franz. It was not an easy matter, but presently an ashen face appeared over the edge, and with some help from himself we succeeded in raising Franz to a position beside ns. He was badly shaken, and the horror ot the situation, as well it might, had clearly affected his nerves. Until rescued his life literally hung upon a thiead for he had remained suspended over an awful precipice many thousand feet in height, with nothing but the rope around his waist between him and certain destmctioiL ffis face was very white, and a small wound on his forehead, from which the blood was slowly trickling, gave him a ghastly appearance but there was a strange look in nis ^es as he grasped my hands, and exclaimed with all tba en- ergy of deep gratitude^ " Herr you have saved my life. Think not that I shall f oreet. Mark this. Too will one day be in difficulty, in danger bat fear not, Franz will be. there, and he will have come to save your Ufe. He was greatly ezcitKl, and it was to diis fact that I felt inclined to attoibate hii words but yet there was a Btranse earnest- ness in the manner he spiUce whidi impress- ed me de^y in !^te of myself and with an inward presentiment (I. can caH it no- tidnB dse) that smne day or otiier they TonUl inevitalify Come troe. From what we learned atdMeqianlly k ap^v peaiied that, in s^te ol Fram** precMitionB, onrnpward track had in one ^laoe passed ovM^aportion of Hba condce. nraz had be- come aware ol this, but in tryiiu; to avoid tiie danger in the deaoeat bad broi^t It had been snowing heavily all the morning. Matters were beginning to look serious. Midday among the glaciers in the most awful weather, and not one member of the party in the least conscious of our bearings, was a prospect, to say the least, not very reassuring A dense mist hang- ing over us, heavy snow in the sky, heavier snow underfoot, a wilderness of white on all sides and no prospect of any improve neut. Such was our position on Aug. 13, 188--. For five years subsequent to our adven- ture on the Lyskamm I had not been to the Alps. Increase of work and the dislike of having to get a strange guide in Franz's place had kept me away but with the old love of the mountains still strong within me, I had gra^•itated once more to my old campaigning ground. I had engaged no regular guide for the season, for my days for vigorous climbing were over, and I now felt that I must relegate myself to only passes, with perhaps an occasional peak. I was doing that delightful series of easy expeditions known as the " Tour of Monte Rosa." I had crossed the Weissthor with some friends to Macugnaga, and from there alone with one guide (not quite a wise proceeding, perhaps) I had made my way over the Colle delle Loccie to the little mountain inn in the Colle d'Olen, with the intention of returning again to Zermatt by the Lysjoch. I had thought it possible that I might be able to pick up a man at the Colle d'Olen to make a third on the rope, but on Eirriving there, to my disgust, I found that no one was available. I scarcely knew what to do for the best. To attempt to cross the Lysjoch alone with one man was an act of folly I had not the least intention of committing. Of other alternatives one was to send down the guide I had with me to the valley to bring up a companion, (which meant loss of time and expense,) or else to wait where I was, on the chance of some other party bound for Zermatt turning up, to whom I might ask leave to attach myself. I was sitting sunning myself in front of the inn, and thinking over matters, when a cheery voice hailed me, and who should ap- pear toiling up the stony path leading from the valley but my old friend Bums, whom I had not the smallest idea that I should meet on this side of the Alps. Bums was now a leading light of the legal profession he was even spoken of mysteri- ously as a future Judge, but anything more unjudicial than his manner in the Alps it was impossible to imagine, and to me he was ever the same admirable companion and friend that he had ever been. He had left a party of friends at the Ital- ian lakes, and had come " to do a walk," as he termed it, in the mountains, and he had brought with him temporarily a young Ital- ian guide named Antoine, and a porter, and he, too, I found to my great satisfac- tion, was bound for Zermatt by way of ^e Lysjoch. We dedded, as a matter of course, to join forces. Bum's porter was paid off, and sent home Antoine and my guide Josef were re- tained, and the following morning we had started on our expedition. The weatiier ImA become doubtful soon after we had left the inn; but we kept on notwithstanding nntawell on the glacier, and then, when too late, we had began to wish that we had had the moral ooonge to tarn back before. Ew tin goUea ]ia? kist themselves. Tbev were nei^erof them first rate, and now that difficulties bemn to tiudcen they proeeeded to loae tfa^lwads. ^faet, to sach a pass did mattetn »ni^that ^Ds and myself had to aaiuo* all votpm- The stonn^^Kas ra^. fario^y aw. not ^^St^^:^"^^ ' Winding mowJOitmB^^ersmilg. Toaddto^ trojMes, w^'tatoA^Mtimanminaum a^»m- pas|^;^nj!y«ert,^q|,thew»tty prtninseud oc tone bd^ Boms, and his^^STSSen oidy the day befool Wo^sKtM^ tdrâ„¢thedirwrtfcm in whieh iv« ought to hw^hewd of persoDslost {.the d«ert wandering for miles in • drde, so tint ibmy came back at last to the very point from which they started. j^' " To tiiosewho hai««iot|teeri0nced it it is impossible to coavity the f eelmg oj[. iM^r hopdsiiBMess in such a casa It was tet^ wi» shonldfeel it on that day for after mmy an hoar's weary tmdge kaee-deep ih.^e soft snow we found ^t oox labecs had Men in vafia, and we only returned 'again to the tracks we had made before. Still, aimless- ly as we might walk, it was necessary to keep moving, for to stand still, and for any length of time, meant to perish in that awful cold. We were white from head to foot with the snow which had frozen upon us, and, had the occasion been less serious, we could have laughed at the strange appearance we f resented. Burns had assumed the lead. t had been decided that he should go first on the rope and myself last,- Antoine and Josef between us but, as for knowing where we were, it did not matter much who acted as leader. On we went, and still on, till the monot- ony became well nigh unendura.bl^ 'JRp change, always the same white wast^ f^Cpt us, snow here, there, everywhere, andTHl- ing all around more heavily than ever. What was to become of us if it continued We could not go on walking indefinitely. Hour after hour went wearily by. The guides began to lose heart, and cried to each other about their wives and child- ren. I, too, began to feel not quite myself. But Bums, finmy as ever, kept plodding forward, forward, forward. I caught myseS thinking (as they say drowning men will do) of incidents in my past life, of things which I had failed to do, of things, which I had done but which it would have been better had I left undone and then I thought of a host of minor matters which at such a time seemed positively trivial. Then my thoughts ran on other Alpine expeditions, and of that last one which we had made five years ago. Strange The scene of it was close beside us now for, thought shut out from sight by impenetrable mist, we knew that the mightly form of the Lyskamm was towering somewhere above us, lost to sight among the clouds. Even the day â€" August 13 â€" was the same. It seemed as if by a strange irony of fate that that scene of our escape might witness the closing scene in the lives of all of us. Then Franz's words came back to me and, I caught myself saying half aloud " Franz 1 Franz Oh, for one hour of your guidance, and all would be well Oh, that you could come back to earth to redeem yoUr promise " And as I yet spoke there was wafted toward us across the glacier a voice clear and dis- tinct even amid the whirl and uproar of the storm, a voice that said, "Herr, I come " We had altered our course. Almoist in- sensibly I felt it, but I was equally certain that it was so. I looked ahead. Burns was still leading but no somehow the order had been changed. I thought that I did not see aright, for I could not remember any alteration being made in our positions on the rope, and yet it was quite certain that it was not Bums who now went first. I began to count. There was Josef, there Antoine, there Burns, and there â€" but no, it could not be â€" there was yet another I re- fused to believe it. Twice again I counted, twice with the same result. And,then came over me a feeling of dread, for I felt that he who was leading us was not of this life. I looked and the form seemed familiar â€" tall and broad-shouldered, and with a de- cision in its movements that I had never seen but in one guide. And yet, firmly though it trod, the figure seemed to glide over the snow rather than walk. Our pace increased. 'ATe seemed almost to be fiying across the glacier. Soon we began to mount, the slope grew steeper, then steeper still. We crossed what was clearly a ridge and then began to descend. Onward over the snow we went, till suddenly the clouds lift- ed, and there beneath us lay the familiar form of the great Gomer Glacier, all rosy with the light of a fiery sunset. We were saved. We raced down to a pateh of rocks on this side of the Gomer. Here the guides threw down their sacks and gave vent to their joy in shouts which woke the echoes of Monte Rosa as they had never been wakened before, while I turned to thank our unknown com- panion. But he was nowhere to be seen our party now consisted but of four. "Well, old fellow, what are you looking so ghim about I'm a better leader than some of us," (and he looked savagely at An- toine and Josef ;) " in fact, I'm thinking I'll come out as a guide when all else uiils. You'll take me, of course." It was Bums who spoke. Clearly he had not seen what I had. I said nothing, but I knew my eyes had not deceived me. I felt that those words of Franz's had come home that day; for had he not redeemed his promise The Elephant Moat. The happy life and untimely death of the elephant «Tumbo have made us feel a littie better acquainted with these great beasts. Jumbo hid twice escaped the perils of the sea, only to fall a victim of a railroad en- gine. ACalcutta paper thus describes how elephants go to sea The hoisting into the air, and lowering elephants into ibe hold of a ship, is not only an unusual sight to most men, but also a strange experience to most elephants. They were lashed ^th strong ropes, slnng^ as far as practicable in slings, hoisted np with cranes with threefold tackeU, and lowered into the steamers' hold like bales of cotton. When in the hold, tiiey were E laced in pens built of stnmg teak-timber sulks, bolted to the ship's side to prevent them from breaking loose. The fear the itnima]ff suffered was the only pain they underwent and by wateh- ing the eyes of the poor b^Mrte their terror inis vefy manifesft. Tears trickled down tlieir faces,, and they roared with dread, more espedally when b^ig lowered into the hold, tlie bottom of w^ih was sanded for them to stand upon. We are told that one timid female elephant aetaally fainted, and was brought to tHth Ik fan and maAy gallons of wMter. At sea it appears that tiie ^^wf^i" got into a earioas habit of occadbnallyâ€" evi- dently at a pceconoo^ted signals-petting to wotkrocking the dbi|) £lfom feid# to tide, by fpving themselves, iftmoltawwiiiay, a iniriiig- ngmotiop j(^ jai^gl9f4 atlfiMWt tke tiHip, .^' Horse Talk by anOMp •There are a greatT ^^«r- horses which could be ^^ *^»bles «»lty, if they were W^i' ^orinstance,'amanoutt fou^ l^yUy i^Tifinftais^way, «** In days gone tlioser^itrof geotlenian-uaher, to a1 ed. On Brand oocadoni COM by it was eustomary for the nolnUty, varticnlarly o attend barehead- oocadonicouchmen also drove HIF â- â- ^;i;Ca'U," ^«^ J Without »fter in ^li that his colt 'hi.rt;rse':?£io^:-., ears and they are erounW k°' "es on time. Noloubtffe^allJ mange or they may be i^/.'^^"iaK skm off, and then th^T« ^^' "»blS would keep them irrilSd °' "*^«^ The simple and sure ppn, a skin diseases, and 'pe ,» foraU,,J carbolic acid, or its e.mi^ i '"' mans, â-  Bheepdips, WrtrculS^wfo^nd^^-' mange the solution shouW K **"*^ ^• audit should be weU rJK;i"^*«stro) penetrate to the verv bntt« '"so as of the vermin at wS.^""" ^â- 'd reach There is .cure fi, some 8 wliicU â- Wei wou^^s and winlSl Xh mixed m it. The lard is hZ- salt is cleansing. When iT' '"^^ th. flesh," as fam^is iFgSaTji "^^' kerosene oil should be mSS '°^' Hw or carbolic acid, both 0^1-0^" " " same principle, creosote, and it i.Tif-^"' has the antiseptic effect, that if "' to counteract putresence or decay Ai, and wounds should be f-" ' " -^""f as soon as discovered to by blood-poisoning. Sores Oiln "' ed with castile soap or the dkl^ ""' teke the hair off and the in-i£"S^ ^^ Putting on salted grease Stel th?l healthy and the hair will gS,' '"" in natural, but if not it w ll^com?" "x and disfigure the aniLT. ' ^^^^' -W- has three spots of white hairontis' or back It is a sure sign that he hShi usage. He has been galled an.l r ' and it does not speaklellVhtoSr^' Warts and all such excresen^Bo uallvl be gotten rid ofby tST'"""' cord around them and so cutting off th^' culation into them. This is thrbLt Jfl and. the surest. When the bunch â-  " the wound may be greased over or if cessary touched with some sort 'ai J •" Itis better to let waris or any kkd 7^ ^^w vc^ivn ui horses often cause tW great deal of trouble, and I have no lubJ that the extra teeth called the "wolfZ' do sometimes affect the nerves of the 1 and lead to blindness or dimness of .u? It is the notion of some horsemen that^hv mg m horses is generally caused by defw tive eve-sight. In some cases shyiM hor^ have been cured of the habit by nmoZ the wolf teeth. It is worth looking after for a dodger is always dangerous. Dri% with bhnkers will sometimes keep a horsi from shying especially if he shys from side looks. Some horses always do thi- and they are the worst. When they see an oh- ject ahead which frightens them the driver has some warning, but a side shyer takes one unawares unless, knowing its habit, one is always prepared, and this is seldom the case. Blinds .or blinkers will do suot a horse good. The horse frightented from some object ahead will do as well and very likely better to have his eyes free. A man should study his horse's peculiarities and be prepared to meet them. Careless drirag never isa safe way, for the oldest and safest home will sometimes get scared. U)VE AND How Can We Make The Fann Pay? To the thoughtful farmer this is the qnes tion of the hour, and one of vital importance.' The past year has been one of exceedingly low prices for all farm products, and it has been only by the most careful management that farmers have held their own, much less realizing any profits from their labors. The new year will be much like the old, in this respect. AVise and observing farmers" in- stead of being unduly discouraged, will pro- fit by past experiences, and be the better prepared to win success where mistakes and failures have occurred. One way to make the farm pay is to have something to turn into money every day in the year, as nearly as possible. The farmer who grows special crops receives large sums of money when his crop hits well and he happens to find a good market for the same. His receipts necessarily come in periodically. But to the general farmer there must be a steady income to meet the constant demand made upon him. The farmer who makes it a point to sell more than he buys every time he goes to town, will at the end of the year find that he has accumulated quite a nice little sura of monev- Too many men think it beneath their d^" ty to grow or sell anything but the leading farm products. They would not be caugM taking any sort of garden truck or poultiy products to market, even if they were con- vinced that there was money bit To jnaKe the farm pay, thefarmer mustnot omWf^ and sow, reap and mow intelligently, »«' must m£.!-ket his surplus at the ngW 0â„¢*- Some farmers seem to hare a knack pi m^ ting the market when it reachest the iugo^ point, while a neighbor may have thessni ^ps and just as good, but byselhng «^ j j Xh M CHAPT fgtOaosg THAT Pa tQerald bad not kno the boat of the Sp J)OUtâ€" or, perhaps, 1 jitle from Beu Bowli ^triver of it. He Wteable to enter {i^a as to how far yi sle of self defense. But it was an imm le able to leave the di Ben hail released h put the handkerchief nbtn Gerald ceached Rift, as it was called, ed in the arnw of Ca while, he rubbed the exclaimed "Sacre, mon ami tal â€" what you say- Jackson. I do not lik " What box " said " Dis box," replied Gerald a feeble blow i " Oh I understand, dear Marie 7" " She sleep like one 1 â€" what you call him ?- " Where is he I w will have him " roared Dolan at this moment, fling noise at the hatcli " Dolan " said iJera " Sacre " said Capta " He shall yet come yet fire on the sohoonei " He comes '" said C other struggle with tha direct me. Ia he, iudc father " " Hold, Captain Dol; in the voice of Ben Bo believe it I' " 'ou â€" don't â€" belies Ben Bowline, what is it lieve " " That Gerald wrol miral." " Indeed " " Oh, that's all very Ian, but Martin and I d " Martin and you ar( cals and I will speak to time. I suppose, thou| ted to go into my own c " Well, as to thatâ€"" " Oh, much obliged much obliged "' The rapid sound of I scending footsteps cam ears of Gerald and o: The latter seized upon iug open the sliding-doo where Marie slept, he d him and abruptly closec It was at that 'mom reached the cabin. All was darkness. Coming out of the which, after all, is ever open air, and gleaming the sea â€" the darkness Rift was something verj profound to Captain Do on "the threshold as a the brink of a well. He had been very all down the forecastle were broken, he had m with such an accession rage about his heart an capable of any act of don. The crew of the Ri well knew, raise a first idea was to ma weight of his vengeance " Hilloa " he said There was no reply " Gerald, I say " No answer. "Skulking, eh? Oh ffld to that â€" oh, very inet, hilloa Captaii S( soon or holding too long, will not more than half as much money fropi same area under cultivation. The Ice Crop. store of ice f^- Do not neglect to lay m a "-: (hjg ficienttogivean abundant sopi«y cheap and indispensible luxuiy nex mer. The ice crop represents ^^J^^^^un. thi4 b'J* l-bor,.and labor is u«, ^j^ dant and cheap in winter. Thei ice just well buildmg or shed wiU keep ^^J^Ythe ice as a cortly stone or brick bu^Jf"«i?h s.w- is weU covered, top and «d««'„'^ge pile dust Nor does it require a v^u^J^JTh of ice to cany an ordinary fan^y ^i„Ss the summer. See that «»« "S^wnd-oif I and grange meetings ««* f^^winter i* nowlorthe winter cafP»^ Let the the season for ^f^'f^^^. harvest be a good one thu wmw» All was still. " So you won't speal ou are both agreed on 1 e won't find a way to] la, ha who knows ell enough that you â- y as well speakâ€" eh I the sound in the o£ his own words. Oh, very well, verj yea, only don't think It. Don't make a n -^ am armed " The idea that such the craven heart 1 ted a couple of st of the door, toy! alight here! one, but it is out. oe of the crew brou •^dlititonthesb ..^^'â- |yo«»'-e, sir.' maT® ^Pr»y. where i J*, she'sâ€" why, th « report of a gun ♦y answered the in twt the shet flew •V*^ on," said Dol *ad let her just ay, sir." Boatl be the la t into the cabi ^^on the table- «ft. No â- Ai more vo tound sui t will do Ha, ha! ^en r aroui state of on the lit German vi^otogr^V}^"' coone of photographing a projectUe^^ photor" its flisrht and a projectile Its flight" and some of these S)w the head of com] tiecedes every shot air which •J tn be tni« IfeU ^^f *?.:Kte«.oftbeArt^: We beUeve tto^t Major Peg«.g„t to Pj'g' lery School, Q^^'-^^tobe, and not the