The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

A“. , , 'A‘ "‘ H!» vs...“- 4’ .,. n i ~...,.s-,, U‘V \ “‘1’. ._..H,... ,e-km . l t 4 i l g i 4" mm le RICULTU RAL It has long been well known that, the so-called "holy district" of Mecca THE FARM DAIRY. in Arabia is the breeding place of ch01? 1 have been in this line of Mess “’3- The huddlins together there fit some "twenty-five years, writes F. C. stated intervals of hordes of filthy Curtis, in Ohio-Farmer. My first point Asiatics, under the most unsanitary was to pick up the best utensils pos« conditions conceivable, can hardly help sible to bring them to bear upon the but be productive of disease which may means that I had at hand. I soon got sweep a whole continent before they upon the deep setting process of setting are extinguished. And when it is borne milk. I found that it required cold wa- ln mind that the carcasses of the mul- ter and continuous cold for at least zitudes of animals morificed there are six hours, and I found that if the bulk thrown out to putref‘y in the neigh- of water was large, it kept cold. that borhood. under the hot rays of the putting more milk into it, did not af- blazing sun, the periodic origination of feet it; hence I adopted the system of cholera seems fairly well accounted for setting my cans into a. cistern of cold by this geographical lomlization. In- ' water. The windmill brought the cold deed, it might be said that supplies water into the cistern from a hundred of cholera are constantly kept on hand feet away. I applied a Windlass. I In Mecca, ready for distribution over . had about four cans of milk at a time, the world. According to another the-O- ; and I let them down at once, and the ry. however. which is perhaps the sup~j large amount of water that surrounded plement of this first, the original home - them keg“: them sufficiently cool for and breeding ground of choleraic in-lall purpOses and the results were good. fecu'on is India, and Mecca is but the , Ice would have been better, I improv- distributing centre for imported germs. 1 ed upon that simply by putting :1 Sort This "holy district." of Arabia is thus of refrigerator house over the cistern, the half-way house to which the infeo- and in that way I kept my water cold flow: of the far East are borne by pil- all summer, as cold as this well water. grimsand thence transmitted to Egypt, For the last four years I have used Turkey. and even to \Vestern Europe. I the separator, but I shall confine my- by other pilgrims returning, via the self to the other process, because many Suez canal or through Asia Minor. It who have but few cows. think they can- is certainly the case at. all events that , not afford to get a. separator. Mecca, is proving the open gate of chmâ€"I The milk is drawn from the cow at em for rm, wax-1d. 98 degrees. The milk is set immediate- _. 1y into water at 48 or 50 degrees. The advantage of this process is the sud- den cooling from 98 to 50 because it shrinks and continues to shrink down to 39 degrees which is the tempera- ture made by ice. After that it begins to expand. It is very important to get it into cold water as soon as possible and let it- be at rest with the contin- uous cold. If you have to depend on a. windmill to change the water, it some- If 30. Egypt is but the front yard. so to speak, of the infection; since out from Arabia pour streams of pestâ€"laden Immunity past the northern end of the Red sea to Damietta. Cairo, Alexandria and other points, which neither the quarantine established at the Red sea itself nor that at the northern station of Gobel cl Tor have proved sufficient to be“ bad" It appears that the Sani' times will fail you. . If you follow my “"3 lieg‘lmliomf Prescribed by the _In' suggestion the cream will rise between tornational Sanitary Conference have makings very well_ It may be a little not been thoroughly enforced. Owners more satisfactory to take out the cans and officers of steamsh’ips have in many and let them set in some cool .place 0359-" PGYSISIGDUY “dated t'h'ese rifles: another twelve hours, then the cream while the sanitary officers has also had is very easily taken off, and if you to contend with the fatalism and apathy have to add the different creang togeth- of‘thc Oriental authorities. The remedy er, you had better keep it in a cool “'OUld 890m *0 b8. “the stopping 0‘ the place until you have a sufficient quan- Europenn powers of the Mohammedan tity so as to keep the cream sweet. exodus from India until it is sih‘own If you have enough at. one or two milk- th‘at no pilgrim carrqu imrectious dis- lilgsmputt itthin maturing]: pldacefi wintere . . _ . 1 wx ge 188.01 or ripcne 0 arm: or 8359' “"11 11”“ “11118 the” POW“? ready for the churn. 1 think the best should CODII‘OI by means Of 8, ICSDODSI‘ “ray to deserihe is to say when ble commission. the sanitary ndminis- the cream begins to thicken, then it is frail, f t ., - properly ripened for. churning. That on 0 he “ 11016 Red sea trafflc' may not be a very nice pomt to make, 0f the "11013 Cliif‘S." “11d 0f 3‘11 the but I think it will .be easily understood. approaches to Mecca. both by sea and You want a revolving churn without 18nd. The fact that, in recent 9pmLn iégsige machinery, and a Utamperatture of ‘ - - - ' agrees is t e neares one emper- if 0‘ Asmhc cholera the mortal-fly him ature that I can tell you. Some will 9" [In‘wllillly large. amounting “'1 tell you a colder temperature, and some Japan in 1895 to 88,500 deaths, would 3 Warmer, dbul;l_I ldo vleé'y well at 62 warrant t. ' - .egrees, an a itt e co er in_ summer by the pgizlgp and energemc “non 1f.poss1ble, or a little warmer in Winter ' Will do very well. I churn till the granules appear A CITY WITH No SLUMS_ ilboilt fthc SlzedOf wheat fir-nels cir 11E. - - . itt o iner, an stop at t t poin . (“Ly , 0f Berlm' the “91981 Of you have followed the directions Ihave PrUbblav Where the [3001‘ are said to given you the butter and the butter- !)e better housed than in any other milktarfe distinctlland crime fligiht. PM - ‘ . - apar. I you ‘pu out 9 cot" an _ e City or an: “orld' .realiy it run. Now pour cold well water into “hh‘mr' Shunt “hem are dJSU‘JOtS m it until you can look into it and see the east and north of Berlin where that it percolates the whole mass. Make the poor live' though in nothing like a ftew rgvoluttions of chlugn,fd1'zuvt 11f . ‘-‘ , i . on an pu m ano .r o o wae 11]“ 11115.“? and squalm found .m mo“ and it will come out almost clear. By otht‘r cities. The streets. wah are this process you will see that the but- “H “Sl’llflllml. are kept remarkably termilk has all come out. If you had clean. and there are none of those nar- churned it; into a mass before trying WW. dark 11119315 not! ‘courts which to get it out, and then washed it out, formibe slum districts Ln other places. you might as well 1- water on a I‘lllt‘ ulilllllllU§F llGZLSl (hill. some of. their duck's back as to try 0 butter- "We" (“mam “0 Shmls- and POI-Ht, to milk out of the butter. Then comes luoto, for over 1,000 years the capital in the nice point and that is to get the of Japan, as a m‘odcl city, where slums butter out without destroying the grain. m"? unk’lwfn- _§el’93[00‘ll CPJOYS llw Many people, if they do even fairly well. umquc distinction in ltussm of _ not injure the grain and make a dry butâ€" llill'lllg fl Single pauper or mendlcan't ter which does not sell well on the \VlthI) llS walls. market. Now, when our granular but- ter has been washed and _dramed, if "â€" you turnlthc churn youhwxlllsee thnlt g: r ~ ~ , butler fa! around in t cre 0058. a - ’O.U.1\D DISTARCE‘S' . most like dry wheat, and there is no The whistle of a locomotive is heard reason why the salt won't mix in all 8.300 yards ‘lln'mtgh the air; the noise through. Sumo say an ounce to the . - - . ‘ 3' "h'u is no rule at all. of u .a i“. I _ 3 . S. i _ pound of sad. ! . x 1‘ a: ff“? '80“ "mm ' [ht re People have an idea that butter ab- port of :1 muskc. and the liark of a 5mm salt. but i.‘ (1005 nut; It stays m 002- 1.l5'(l0 yards; on orl-bt-SIm or the the butter in the form of brine. ’l‘bnt roll of a drum. 1,600 yards; the human butler )5 1:2 per cent. water, that 1:2 voice reaches to a (ijxmnce of 1.000 per cent. of water absorbs the salt and yards; the cronkiug of frogs, 900 yards; there \_\'lll be :1. great deal mm‘o_ water the chirping of crickets. 800 yards, Dis. m it. it will be more spongy. if It is tiuct speaking is heard in the air from maria ,H 3'0“ have (‘hm‘m‘il it 10? below to a disumm of 500 \.ards;fmm warm. the granules run together cm. above it is only understood to have milk“ 3 H1955» "1141 89.01111?“ 0f salt I“ a mug” of mu \‘nrils downward. :1 pound Will be sufficient in. that case. .._i--.' ,-...m.._...__.__ bu.r don't lm afraid ofhputtxnglinxtbn . . . . .. . . salt and mixing it int orougiy. ou (OMH‘AEAUU‘N' put on the cover and revolve the churn Dinerâ€"Isn't that a pretty small and workit into a mass; if your grouâ€" lstoaki ‘ ulcs are fine, you will hear your brmc 1 Attendantâ€"Yes; but you!” find it, swushmg. If you have twenty pounds will take vou a good while to em n_ of butter, your butter will be entitled ' to about one quarl of brine to makr- that 1‘3 per cent. Now you draw out , - ,‘ two or three quarts of brine. which FAPLUZ‘II-D- is just exactly as salt as the quart - . ~ - of brine that remains in:' hence you thy‘zgfi'o Izglthlif?:feegf have to put in three or four times too '- - f 1' 1" . ' ' ‘muvb in order to have enough to stay ammmg them cl . am triven to rig-L in Vow wth mu have worked vour . '9 Q _ r _: . i . . . . I. . ‘ mfm-lsm‘ 3'1)“ x see' \Ou $110050 . Ibulter liliOJl mass it is readv to park. “mums,” Simply hwause "ou do”: it is of the right temperature 1nd of . y l V . _ . _ l , z_ . hm“ any 0”” the T_lf.‘.‘lll coxmstency. and pack it sol- “_‘*‘ idly in the .tub. pack it 111 level and 4 NO CHOICE. nice. The difficulty, in a small churn- ‘ in*, is that it will not fill a ackngc Sni’lfhâ€"I see that a bullet from onelan‘a it is hard to get two dyfferpnt of those new rifles will kill six mendcbmrfings “moth. “like. Now Your standing one lehind another. Thompson: butter is ch,de and packed. I Jon», “Jon don’t say! In that case. n unanswflm m instruct you to make button. ml“ 3‘“: n“ “.“u g“ l" the "1"!" so well that you won't patronize the -â€"-â€" -crmmery. I tell you it is for your ad- (w (‘OXDITION_ vantage to patronize the creamery. but - the more perfect you can make butter She-ls it not true that two people u shame the mixer 93mm you win he can live as cheaply as one? Hcâ€"‘xes. m um creamer-v, and the better you If they are married. No! if they are will take care of your milk, engaged -_ " - v some HABIT. A wuoxc IMPnasson. EC 'mF_ 1:9th h “M” dam »,- 'l'. ~ ""1011ka ‘ - " ~ ' \\ 1.. .s lldi. “fusions: in “He. Many people. however. haw New Buy. Me. Didn‘t you know I wrong ideas as to the meaning of this we whistle; “minim word. Applied to financial :if- faira it is usually understood to m the saving or hoarding of money. With this narrow view of the question. many people deny themselves sufficient food for maintaining proper strength for their every-day duties. It is forgotten that the animal frame-work. directed by the spirit of life is similar to the ordin- ary metal engine. The power of its mechanism depends upon the supply and the right use of the steam generated by this fuel. Anyone observes that the machinery cannot do its work unless supplied at regular intervals with a fixed quantity of proper fuel. Many peo- ple wonder about three o'clock in the afternoon, when they have omitted the ordinary lunch. why it is that they are weak and weary. The health of many people is permanently impaired by a habitual neglect of sufficient food. It is often the practice of some indi- viduals to experiment with various sys- tems of dieting. They soon discover that their health is deranged, and too often they go on with various new bills of fare, continually wondering as to their difficulty. Such people have been surprised on returning to a regular sub- stantial, ordinary bill of fare, such‘ as their mothers provided for them in their youth, at the improvement in their health, and their early return to a normal condition and appetite. _ Many more people are.in the habit of experimenting severely in their methâ€" ods of feeding domestic animals. W'ith a view to saving food. there is con- stant effort to limit the stock to the very cheapest ration. The roughest straw and hay or aged, toughened grass is too frequently offered exclusively to the horses and cattle, and the poor sheep are often confined to a still more offensive diet. There is the single or.- cuse in the case of the latter that it destroy weeds and brush. . . In the case of all meat‘producing ani- mals. it must be urged that liberal feeding from early life to the finish is a. requisite to satisfactory gain In flesh and to economical use of food. The trite term of early maturity must be continually emphasized. The great mass of farmers must now pay takes on land of (high value, and to receive from this any interest for tho invest- ment every action in handling live stock must be governed by wisdom. The 'hap-huzard ,method of the past must be abandoned. They who are not wxll- ing to think and to work with energy and system must be content With the downward road to the poorhouse. .An active brain must direct the operations of all successful feeding. The feeder of former times who will not. move up- ward and adopt right methods must sooner or later be the hired man and do the bidding of the progresstve munâ€" ager who has trained his intellect to habits of vigorous thought. It is a. wellâ€"known fact: which cannot be too often repeated that the young animals must not be stintved if they are to make successful growth. A. nor- mal relish and appetite for ‘Iuod is m- herited, and this trait in the young- ster is of great value. Constant ef- fort must be employed to maintain in the breeding stock a vigorous liking for their food by administering to the am- mal the proper ration adapted to the various stages of life. By right meth- ods of feeding a tendency to economi- cal use of food and the best growth is thus encouraged. AN ENEMY’S SERVICE. flow a French Captain Saved the Life or a Young Russian Menu-mint. One of the stories of the Crimean \Var told by the novelist Turgenicff, and well authenticated by existing let- Sergius ters. is peculiarly touching. Ivanovitch. a. young Russian lieutenant, was one of an attacking party which was ordered out on a cold night to drive a body of French from a posi- tion in front of the Russian lines. In order to be as free as possible in his movements, the young lieutenant left his military cloak behind. The French were found well posted in the- edge of the wood. A desperate fight followed, at the end of which the Russians were compelled to withdraw. leaving their dead and wounded behind them. Among the grievously wounded was Sergius Ivanovitch, and all about him were French wounded. Sergius suffered worse oven from the cold than he did from his wound; and though a bullet had penetrated hlS log, he was sure that: the exposure of the night, rather than the . wound, would be the end of him. (iroaning and shivering, he was about to exam- ine as best he could the wound in his leg. when some one said in French: “You had best let your wound alone. Suffer, and disturb it as little as sible." The Russian found that the man who had spoken was a veteran French cap- eain, who even owrsc wounded than himself, lay close by. ‘ "No doubt you are right," sold Ser- glus, "but I shall perish of cold be- fore morning, anyway." . Then the Frenchman reprovcd him for coming out. in the snow without his cloak. "Experience has Iaughtmc," he said. “never to go out. without my capoto. But this time it is not likely to save me. I am mortally wounded." “Oh. they will come and get you." "No. my dear enemy. If is all up‘ with me. The shot has gone (loopâ€"l shall not last till help Comes. lloro, take my cloak and wrap yourself m it and sleep. At your ago one can sleep anywhere." Despite his protests. the young Rus- ian felt the Frenchman's cloak laid upon him. Exhausted, he fell asleep 'under its warming influence. Waking in the morning, he found the French captain dead at. his side. â€"â€"-.â€"â€"__â€"._ A NOTHER BARGAIN. Heâ€"I wonder what the meaning of that picture is? The youth and the maiden are in a tender attitude. Sheâ€"0h. don't you see? He has just asked her to marry him. and ahc___is Accepting him. . ' . lieâ€"Ab! how appropriate the title. Fli¢\__\\'by. that card at the bottom .~.'|\'< " :u‘tl." IS in such cases especially desirable to A LEABNllll TURKEY The oatfields were cropped bars as a convict's head. The corn was in the shock and there was a touch of winter In the winds which blew over the hill Pasture. The months had gone by since the thoughtful turkey had been brought 1n squawking from the lane. He had grown large and portly and carried himself with dignity. Fortune, which had appeared to him in the guise of Hilda, had been very kind to him. He had been permitted to share the lawn with an aged peacock of great personal beauty, from whom he had learned gentle manners and deportment. He had dined daily at the kitchen door. In theevenings he had stood near the doorstep, where Hilda Johnâ€"John ms the farm servantâ€"sat and talked. Their conversation was not instructive. They talked chiefly about themselves and a cottage and love and other fool- ish topics, but it afforded the turkey food for thought. He would stand som- berly on one leg as the shadows deep- ened and the stars came out and watch the working of their minds. "It is plain," he said one evening. “that they are thoughtlessly optimis- tic." He was watching them closely. John had taken one of Hilda's red hands in his brown hand and was looking par- ticularly and fatuously happy. "When the corn’s in, Hilda," John was saying, "I'll ask the old man if we can have the little wooden house." "He’ll be only too glad," said Hilda. “I guess he’s expecting it," said John. "It'll be big enough for us,” said Hilda. “For the present," said John, and looked 86 particularly, foolishly happy that the turkey turned away in disgust. He strolled across the lawn in deep thought. Like all those who are soli- tary or have the society only of infer- iors. he had fallen into the habit of talking to himself. "It. is evident," he said, speaking his thoughls aloud, "that these two people will marry. They will move into the little wooden house. They will live there. They are such poor, dull crea- tures they will not even know they are unhappy. They will have children and in their futuous way be happier still. Poor things! It is bad enough to be unhappy and know it. How much worse is the state of those who are unhappy and think they are happy! I’oor things 1" He stood on one leg and thought. The moonlight streamed down and made a. silhouette of him in black shad- ow on the whitening lawn. He stood there for an hour, immovable; only his brain kept turning, turning and evolv- ing thoughts. ’ "It is really very ridiculous,” he said, "but 1 can't think of any way of putting an end tolhis wretched state of affuim. 1” am not. at my best to- night." "\Vhat seems to be the matter 2" ask- ed the peacock, who came up, trailing a yard of rainbow plumage behind him. "I am thinking," said the turkey rather disdulnfully. "It is on operation which will not interest you, my friend.“ "Ah, perhaps not," said the peacock. "\Vhat were you thinking about? And why were you doing it?" "i was thinking.” the turkey replied, for he was always willing to talk. "l was thinking, or, to be more accurate, I was trying to think of some. way of stopping this silly habit people have of coming intothe world. cating'nnd go- ing out of the world again. lching beâ€" hmd a certain numbcr of 'undcrsl udics' â€"to use a phrase taken from the slung of the theatreâ€"to ropcut the ridiculous operation." "So you've begun to think about. I but, have you ll" said the peacock. laughing. "\Vcll. I should think you would." “\tht are you laughing at?” the thoughtful turkey nskcd sharply. "Ob, nothing," said the pcummk; "of course you're interested in the num- tion. I’m not. you see." "\Vcll, I don’t see." "You don't see? “’ell. you're partic- ularly .slow wilted, even for a turkey," said the peacock. "Perhaps you'll explain." the tur- key rejoined surmsticully. "Certainly." said the peacock, "why not ’f” “Go on,” said the turkey. "\Vell, they comc into the worllk don't: they?" "They do," said the thoughtful tur- key. "though I've never yet thought to think where they come from. I’ll do it toâ€"morrow. Go onâ€"pcople come in- to the world.” “\tht do they do?" asked the pod- cock. wuh growing triumph. - "\tht (in they do? Eat." said the philmophiml turkey. "Eat what ?" "0h. nll'sorls of"â€" "You!" screamed the peacock in a burst, of triumph, "you! They on! you. They pick your bones. They suck the marrow our of your this!) bones. Form» of 'em prefer white mnur, and home, of 'em dark. and some of 'cm any, ‘ll's immaterial. thank you.’ So it is to them. But it's not to you. Oh, no, it's you they are eating. anvl.”~â€" "Stop! stop!" cried the thoughtful turkey. "This is too horrible. It is some glnstly, grim and [enrful jest. ' Eat me 9" "Eat you." said the peacock more calmly. "they eat you. my learned friend, after you have been roasted to a beautiful brown." The thoughtful aloud. "You seem to be in earnest." he said after .1 pause. "i am." the peacock replied. "Why age you here? Have you thought of t at " "l have often pondered upon itâ€"why am I here, where did I come from.and why did I come I" "\Vcll, I'll tell you. You warr- brought here to be fattenml. 'l'hr- maid turkey groaned supplied the food. and your rec!” ‘ gluttony did the rest. lou are fan "I'm no fatter than you.” rotor-ted the turkey. "Ah, that‘s a different msttar."the peacock chuckled. "I am not food' I am twenty. No. my poor friend. We shall have to partâ€"you to the table and I shall remain here. It is your fate to be. done brown and eaten; I walk here fancy free. I have seen ten generations of you eaten. You are the eleventh my young fellow." “It is impomible." thoughtful .turkey. "Tune Wlll tell." said the peacock. For along time the turkey was plunged in ubought. 11c strode to and no. and at last paused in his walk in front of the mask. "It must fi done," he said grimly. “Listen. my friend 1 have no desirc to be eaten. I have an instinctive fee!â€" mg that it would be unpleasant. There- fore I refuse. But. 1 can see only one way to escape this late. 1 must. do nu you have done." "\V hot i" asked the peacock breat- lessly, for he had forgotten his own remark. k “I must be beautiful." said the turâ€" oy. The peacock looked dubious. "Yea" said the. turkey firmly. "I must be beautiful. very beautiful, far too beautiful to be eaten. Leave me! I wczuld think." O groaned the I Haggard and pale from his long ni ht Vigil the thoughtful turkey lifted fills oyos_to the east. Already a band of grayish light lay close against the earth and above it the darkness was thinning. .Slowly the sun pushed u a red and inflamed shoulder and $310 light spread. The birds began to twit- ter, for it was day. The turkey bathed his burning brow in the dew and shook himself once or twice. "Courage l" he ago!" He walked briskly across the harm yard. through the gate and on down the lane. At. first he met no one. Tears came to his eyes. He was very lonely, and his nervous system was shattered. The sun was higher by this time. and the light was dancing and shimmering on tho. fields and breaking in curious .refractinns of pale purple and pink among the poplar trees. Al- though he knew that the admiration of crude and natural nature was bour- geots. and even a trifle vulgar. he. could not he! being touched with a sense of satis action at. the beauty of the scene. It was, he felt, n. crude imitation of Monet. but, after all, there was in it. a hint of Monet’s genius. He was in a mood of aesthetic satisfaction: the moment; was one of' those which lay one open to new impremion. Then he saw her. She was young and slim and walked with grace and dignity. Her eyes were on the ground, and her wings trailed indolently' as she sauntcrcd to- ward him in the pale multicolored sunâ€" light. The thoughtful turkey had an impression of ucslhetic delight: in her Sensuous beauty. and then twofbougbls passed through his mind 'l‘lw first was. "How mueh more beautiful she is than the peacock!" and the second was, "I hope she is not my sister l" He went up to her boldly and gave her the solute of the morning. She storied as though she; had not seen himâ€"perhaps she had no:. "You are very lwnnliflll,” he said. Rho held down her hand. "I have board so much about you." she said, when the ice was broken. "You live up at the house and are very learned." "Yes, I think a great deal," ho sold. "I am your cousin twice remover." she explained later in the conversation. "You are very beautiful," he replied. They walked on. Much later in the morning she said, "You, too, are. beau- tiful, (lertr one. very, very beautiful !" She sighed. The. thoughtful turkey started. as though for a. moment be bad hardly taken the measure of her words. "I am beautiful !” "Very beautiful, my own," she whis- pored. Hc cried aloud in his joy and flopped his wings and pztwcd the turf. “ll is imcnuso 1 low- ynu," .she added. He became thoughtful. 8 O O U C O The snow was on the ground. the snow hung on the trees, tlm snow sift- ed through the air and fell softly (-v- crywhcre. The thoughtful turkey. with a firm trend and a look of resolution on his intclligont foulurcs wnlknd rup- idly down a narrow turning that lcd to it little wooden hnnsn set in nun (-orâ€" nor of the form. As he come near flu- door be {rinsed llc crcpt. closer and listened. lll- could hour them talking. "I’ve always said." one of them was remarking (that was John). ."llmt there's nothing better for :1 Thanks- giving dinner”â€" "ln your own house," put. in llildu. "In your own house," said John, "nothing lM'llfPr than a. cut, of nice pork out of the side"â€" "Cookcd by your own wife," mid llildu. "Of course," said John, "with the crackling on and apple sauce." “Nf‘Vl your," said l'lilda, "\vn'll hunt a turkly. l‘!! [cot tho eggs under the spl‘l‘klml hnn.” "Yes, next year,” said John, "but muttered, "cour- rm: ill? I :lun‘l. like pork." "0!; «but: no!" said Ilildzi, “The. idea of w-i liking pork!" ()lllhllll‘ tho snow the thoughtful tur- key smin sadly. "I’mn‘ fools" he said, “even now, i don"- suy. they imagine they are happy -â€":ind tinny have lwcn married a month. l’onr things!" And when illl' dnurwmu opt-nod be shllkml in and stood inthe middlu- of tho floor. "flood gracious "E cried Ilildo. "lt‘a lmy xurkoy." "Tim on» the (armor gave you?" asked John. "Yes. the ono that ran away." "We'll have him for dinner to-mcr row." "Of com-Sc." said Hilda. “Isn't it. lucky?" "()f ('nuryl.” mid John. "\Vbocvor harm! of rating pork for a Thanksgiv- my: dinner?" "It’s ridiculous." said Hilda. "And won't h- be beautiful when he's browned 7" "He‘s rather thin.‘ said John. "but he'll be lwnutiful when he's. ranked." The. thoughtful turkey nnilctl sadly; he knew so much better. He won only beautiful whiln she loved him. ASSOCIATION. I wonder why Mrs. Linmzwy prevun- caH-s w. outramumsiy lately! lion-11': y--u heard that 59;; .(mr‘r as»: of fa’ul- tenth?