text: (’ﬁ‘%‘;’ SR e —f: “’,'A-" o ip 55, s et o, .‘—— e . '.;éﬁw‘-i-i’ 3 Li‘;**:' 0B S ey D Ane ~8 _— _i""t:»'-'z-:"‘. S = e p PR Y D v"" \“\ R 5 e _ SE o : ; o = == To & L TR A ' A WD, M, Jaa | P Sk R 8 Eype : < Ve | N (u ~ T A\ 29] R=IR") ———— e e “\ : HOG XKILLING ON THE FARM. e ————— I [y order to do neuF and rap.itl work at hog-killing time eis necessary to B e 2 '.."-‘,:{..] scraper, sticking knife, a hog hook and »- place that is convenient or WOrKing. | " for <calding a barrel is commoniy used, and it is all that is needed unless e pogs are very large. I very large hogs are killed, a scalding tub will R ver the purpose for scalding much better than a barrel. I have one-which } i made of tx\'()-'m('p planks for the sides and ends and sheet iron for the B tom. It Is BIX feet long and three and one-half feet wide, with a depth ? of two and upglmlii feetf.i Two h‘ooks are fastened near the top on one side, gith & pair “T trace chains to run under the hog to facilitate the turning ] withdrawing from the tub. It is placed over g furnace, which is made | . qizging @ trench in the ground, and when in use I place pieces of \wood | s the bottom, in order to keep the hog from coming in contact with the | on bottom and getting too hot. | find that the proper temperature for good scalding is from 180 to 190 & jorrees. and it a barrel is to be used the water should be boiling when gipped out of the kettle, as the barrel will cool it some. If a scalding tub i used the water should be cocled by adding a bucket of cold water before E o e. - ey Sl Y M | 3-FLvE R R > -o g e~ E ) . W W A ‘\\ 5 Uy = wr sV¥ s e | Ly : “i('lit eatly ?’E o g 5 i“ 5 > ,M!, ™ W 4 i o il o o b | AT C T=\ ‘?‘»e,;?_ R RS g S L B L | e S e %’ %’k r N Ykl i e hog is put in. To insure a correct heat of the water use a thermometer. 3! small quantities of lye, ashes or lime will have no effect in removing the pir, but will cause the scurf to come loose more readily. Keep the hog in | @ustant motion while being scalded, and draw it out to air occasionally. fhen the hair and scurf slip easily from the body the scalding is com peted. In scraping and cleaning the hog, I clean the feet and head first, % then the legs, and last, but not least, the body. . I hang the hog with a rope and pulley, as it is more easily hung in this ng}' than any other. But it may be hung with the ordinary gambrel, a w sick which is sharpened at each end and inserted under the tendon strings of the hind legs. A short singletree will be found to answer for a gambrel sick. If there is sufficient heip at hand the hog may be hung on a pole jt up for the purpose. After the hog is hung up, rinse it down with scald @z water. remove the entrails by running a sharp knife lightly down, mark % ing the belly straight, cutting to the bone between the thighs and in front of * e ribs, which bones I split with an ax, being careful not to cut beyond £ liem [ usually salt down on a bench or in a box as soon as it has cocoled - wough to trim. The amoant of salt T use is ten pounds to every 100 pounds of meat. In addition to the salt I also use two pounds of granulated sugar -l two ounces of saltpeter mixed. Rub the meat once every three days with * oethird of the mixture. While it is curing pack it in a box in a cool room, - where it will neither become warm nor freeze. .e: Two barrels may be used, changing the meat from one to the other each t fwe it is rubbed. After the last rubbing let the meat lie in a box for a = ek or ten days, then take it out to smoke. - When taken out of the box Iy each piece in a kettle of boiling water and let it remain half a minute, r iier which sprinkle with a little powdered borax on the meat side and hang. Moke it four or five days with hickory chips of corn cobs, then dip and . wrikle it with borax again and put it down in clean hay. Meat treated in = Bsmanner may be left hanging all summer and will remain in the best con i dton—W. Hanson. % Filling the Silo. f How did you fill your silo last fall? ? lle government people declare that ~ tlile the blower, as shown in the pic % requires more power to operate &hn does the flat earvrier, very few E LN L /:if P . i | | ! l B mimni i*‘i‘-‘;:i --;!f N | n (i lGd _."' LT T e N | ‘ i “ ,’ ;8 " ;“?"_ ! I'\‘" ) "'- ! RB i 1 1/ L i i = L T TR T e & /ETHOL OF FILLING THE SILO. £ ~ e &'S require more than a twelve !:\RE"?”"““F engine. It costs less per ”‘. W elevate silage with the blower : .m‘. e work is done more satisfac rln - every way. The greastest B " i the use of the blower. is = by uving the blower pipe stand & ' away from the silo at the bot & It should stand as nearly per -9 Midiculay g possible.—Exchange. ‘ z-}:,dn"““‘ the Boys and Giris. ,:"‘f"“‘i'\' should assist and encour . Study of nature in our coun & 00 It will encourage the boys B . “US 10 love their home and farm & U the city will have less attrac & T them. They will be educated = . TOSperons and higher plane and "»;ﬁw\f"“’.‘ able to keep in step with ;;“_“"Q"'L‘M and change in civilization & . letter prepared to undertake &, USness awong the professions. & YIS past when the term “clod- B, ' “hayseed” should be ap & 0 the successful farmer. B Maturer, e 8 ™ otation in India. £, ecessity of the rotation of . Vel recognized among modern qu and now it appears that in - Nature g seen practicing the same thing in the forests. The soil be coming exhausted after a long period of one kind of forest, seedlings of an other species gradually replace the old trees as they die out. On the Indian soil the deodar tree has been observed taking the place of the blue pine, pine and oak slowly exchange places and spruce and silver fir have been noted gradually extending into a forest of falling oaks. Sheep Experiments, An experiment which will be watch. ed with much interest by all New En gland, and which may be the means of revolutionizing the present method ot farming here, is about to be tried by the Maplecrest Stock and Poultry Farm Association, Springtield, Mass. The association is planning to bring 1.000 sheep from the western part of the country and put them on farms ip and around Middlefield and Becket. The sheep are merinos and will Dbe mated with dorset rams of local ex: traction. Some of the reasons which prompted the association to bring the sheep are the decreasing ratio of the meat sup ply and the constantly increasing popu lation of the country. ; Scotch herders will be brought here with the sheep and will be used in stead of dogs or fences to keep them from straying, as it is claimed that more care can be given by professiona! herders. storms Affeet Cows. Ever know that a cow is a pretty good parometer? Well, she is. Cows always check up on their milk flow just before a decided change from fine weather to storms. They also become nervous just before a storm, and by watching them closely one can tell ev ery time when bad weather is coming. As soon as the storm breaks the cows again become normal, their nervous ness disappears and the milk flow re turns. Mules Mean Money. Some people have the idea that 8 mule will not respond to kind treat ment. This is a sad mistake. A good mule is just about as good as cash ir tho bank any season in the year. A thoroughbred jack generally proves 3 than a stallion. First better investment s class jacks are very scarce an = :} g one reason why mule breeding o 'Vh DI REWARDS. By Henry F. Cope. “Establish thou the work of our hands.”—Ps. xc., 17. In hours of discouragement we are likely to remember that many great ones reviewing life have expressed lit tle but disappointment, and have de clared its rewards only illusory phan toms. We are likely to agree, for the success on which we set our hearts of ten, when attained. turns to bitterness. Does life hold any trustworthy prom ise of worthy reward? Is jt worth the strife? If it be true that at the end of every stage there waits for us only an empty, mocking prize, if happiness be ever a receding rainbow, where when the motive of rewards is gone can we find that which will hold life true to things high and nerve it for the best?. May it not be that we are making a great mistake in looking for our re wards at the end of our work; in thinking of life’s rewards as if they were wages? The best rewards are not in the things to be attained; they are in the attaining. Joy is not a distant mountain peak; joy is the light and warmth within the breast of every man who climbs upward. We wear our lives away in fretful seeking after things afar, in ambitious strivings after fame, power, and wealth. So life comes to its end with the heart still hungry for the eternal bread and the waters of life. We have fought for baubles along a way where that water ever flows and that bread is to be had for the asking. Not in our wages, not in our prizes, but in our work lie our true rewards. The greatest happiness for any true man is to have something worth while to do, some part to play in the world’s business, some task that calls out the deepest in him and nerves all his pow ers; something high and great; here is the real joy of living and its true satis faction, just to be working worthily. The expenditure of cnergy brings its own reward in increased vigor and in disciplined powers. No matter what else he makes the worker is making himself. In the great workshops of the eternal, of which all our factories and miils are but tiny corners, no man has to wait for his wage nor can any get more or less than his due. Only minds that drivel into twaddle tell us, when we are weary with the work of to-day: ‘“Never mind, you’ll get your reward in heaven.” Eternal justice does not so defer the pay day ; all worthy work here is rewarded in the joy of doing, in the glory of the work, in the great happiness o service, in sharing in the work of the most high. Heaven opens to labor now. Of course this does not eliminate the pay envelope; but it does subordinate it, making it a means only for further living and working, and not an end. It is a sad sight, prophetic only of a dis appointed life, whenever you see a man regarding his trading, his business, or Lis toil as something only to be en dured for what he can make out of it. This marks the difference between the artist and the artisan; the one finds hls joy in his work, the other his pleasure only in his pay. You cannot hire mothers; no wage ever could be worthy ; but love transforms drudgery into delight; the service and sacrifice bring their own satisfaction. Greed and low aim would spoil an angel’s task: love and a sense of high service will make the lowliest lofty in spirit and reward. Any man may take life in this way; he may take the artist’s relation to the work of his hands though he be a team ster or a bookkeeper, doing the work for its own sake. Then no matter how the back may be bent the free heart cannot be bowed down; mno matter what the tasks the man is not a slave driven to them, he is a man using them. Life only becomes worth living as one has & sense of entering into the higher values of its service, a sense of doing part of the work of God and man through all eternity. We mortals are making the worlds. That spirit gives quality and permanency to any task or product. The wall you build may crumble to dust, but the honor, and truth, and idealism you put into it re main forever, and are built into that city whose maker and builder is God. WAY OF UNGODLY DEFINED. p By Rev. Cyrus Townsend Brady. Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.— Psalm 1:1. The book of Psalms begins appro priate enough with a description of the wicked set before us by a method of exclusions. We read the first verse and are struck by its wisdom and its rhythm. But pot until we investigate it a little more critically do we see its interesting force and observe at the same time the literary skill with which the conditlons against which all that follows in the Psalter declaims is presented. The man who is not blessed is de picted first of all as the ungocdly man. There are many men who are or pro fess to be ungodly—that is, men who have left the divine out of the reckon ing, who persistently deny God and shape their lives upon some ethic sys tem, which they fail to recognize as distinetly traceable to, and in so far as it is good, derived from Christianity. Some men in this category are upright. honorable—l had almost said God-fear ing—-citizens. Most men who thus de ny God, who put Him outside of their calculations, are not. The next step downward is easily taken. The man who is not blessed is next deMyibed by the Psalmist as a sinner. The transmission is natural and easy. To deny God is usually to disobey His laws, and that is to com mit sin. The third characteristic of the man who is not blessed is that he is scorn ful. There are many sinners who are ashamed of their sin, but when a man descends to such a depth that he glo ries in his wickedness and becomes a mocker and blasphemer, outwardly con temptuous of religion, he has almost reached the unpardonable nadir of de generation. The insight, therefore, of the Psalmist is seen in this descending scale of moral depravity—ungodliness, wickedness, contempt. But that 1s not all that is remark able in the verse. Quite wonderful is the skill of the writer, for he has par alleled the personal scale with one of habit. The ungodly man is one who walketh ; the sinner is one who stand eth ; the scorner is one who sits down. IHow many people when they are strong come in touch with temptation, walk by it, pass it, repass it, are fas cinated by it. Presently they stand still by it, and the touch becomes longer and more continuous, until final ly they take the abiding attitude and sit down with it, live with it, become a part of it. How amazing is this verse. The man who denies God walks in the way of moral failure. When his denial plunges him into sin he stands in close touch with it, and when he has stood long enough he sits down and becomes a mocker and a scorner. He adds the potent power of his tongue to the subtle influence of his life in debauching his fellow men. May God give to each one of us the answer to the Psalmist’'s prayer by blessing us because we are none of these things. SERMONETTES. There is no loyalty without love. A soft answer never has a sting in it. Self-esteem does not develop self-re liance. Courage is simply the conquest of our fears. Professional spectators get least fun out of life. Knowledge is power only so far as it is practiced. Kicking ceases to help when it be comes a habit. Love's sacrifices are life’s most sat isfying luxuries. Self-depreciation soon ceases if it be not contradicted. You can complete a good work, but you can never end it. No man bears his burden better by adding your blame to it, Conscience is simply our sense of moral soclal responsibility. If you do not know how to let up you do not know how to live. The far off vision comes half way to those who follow it faithfully. New thought is like new coin, the hrass seems as good as the gold. Life is pretty sure to be tragedy to those who take it only as a play. The greatest sins are the ongs com mitted against the least of the children. Many a man thinks he is a great foice because he creates so much fric tion. It’s a poor kind of faith that never feels its need of a father until it gets dark. The proof of an education lles in a mind so tilled that prejudices gain nc root. The man who thinks he is generous to a fault is often generous only to his own, It takes more than “Keep off the grass” signs to mark the path of right eousness. The greatest wonder in the character of the angels is that they endure all the saints. All men would try to be meek if they were dead sure of the promise tc the meek. It's often our failings that hold our friends, but we do not need to multiply such anchors. Some folks always sing, “O to be nothing” before they sing, “Here, Lord, I give myself away.” A Few Facts About Fur. “This is cat fur,” said a furrier. “We use it for linings. An excellent lining cat fur makes, too. Dogs, calves, coits coons, opossuins, bats, rats, any ani mal that wears fur, in fact, 1s salable in the fur market. Bat hair is felted up with other stuff into an imitation skin. It is also used, I believe, in rope plait ing. The dog. the coon, and the opos sum yield a fur that, properly treated, makes a very handsome lining. Rat skins are employed in certain delicate repairs, and they also serve to form the thumbs of cheap gloves. A queer thing about the fur business is that the furs must be taken in the dead of win ter : the trapper must work under the cruelist cllmatic conditions: only thus is the fur at its best. The dresser, or tbe other hand, who could work best inn cold weather, must do all nis work ;i the heat of summer, or otherwise he would not be able to keep up with the changing fashions.” Civil War Stories How a Great Battle Was Fought. One of the splendid battles of the war was that of Chattanooga. In the Century Gen. Fullerton tells the story of the firing of the signal guns to take the rifle pits at the base of the ridge occupied by Bragg, and the rush of 20,000 men. The General says: “The enemy were thrown into confusion, and took precipitate flight up the ridge.” He adds: “Many prisoners and a large number of small arms were captured.” And now follows a clear statement of what the soldiers did for themselves —a most instructive and brilliant pas sage: *“The order of the comunanding Gen eral had now been fully and most suc cessfully carried out. But it did not go far enough to satisfy these brave men, who thought the time had come to finish the battle of Chickamaugua. There was a halt of but a few minutes, to take breath and to reform lines; then, with a sudden impulse, all start ed up the side of the ridge. Not a commanding officer had given the or der to advance. The men who car ried the muskets had taken the mat ter into their own hands, had moved of their own accord. Officers, catching their spirit, first followed, then led. There was no thought of protecting flanks, though the enemy’s line could be seen stretching beyond on either side; there was no thought of support or reserves. “As soon as this movement was Seen from Orchard Knob Grant quickly turned to Thomas, who stood by his side, and I heard him angrily say: ‘Thomas, who ordered those men up the ridge? 'Thomas replied in his usual slow, quiet manner: ‘I don’t know; I did not.” Then, addressing Gen. Gor don Granger, he said: ‘Did you order them up, Granger?’ ‘No,’ said Granger : ‘they started up without orders. When those fellows get started all hell can't stop them.” Gen. Grant said something to the effect that somebody would suf fer if it did not turn out well, and then, turning round, stoically watched the ridge. He gave no further orders. “As soon as Granger had replied to Thomas he turned to me, his chief-of staff, and said: ‘Ride at once to Wood and then to Sheridan and ask them if they ordered their men up the ridge, and tell them, if they can take it, to push ahead.’ As I was mounting Granger added: ‘lt is hot over there, and you may not get through. I shall send Capt. Avery to Sheridan, and other officers after both of you.” As fast as my horse could carry me I rode first to Gen. Wood and delivered the message. ‘I didn’t order them up, said Wood ; ‘they started up on their own account, and they are going up, too? Tell Granger, if we are support ed, we will take and hold the ridge! As soon as I reached Gen. Wood, Tapt. Avery got to Gen. Sheridan and deliv ered his message. ‘I didn’t order them up,” said Sheridan; ‘but we are going to take the ridge’ He then asked Avery for his flask and waved it at a group of Confederate officers stand ing just in front of Bragg's headquar ters with the salutation, ‘Here's at you!" At once two guns—the Lady Breckinridge and the Lady Buckner— in front of Bragg’s headquarters were fired at Sheridan and the group of officers about him. Ome shell struck so near as to throw dirt over Sheridan and Avery. ‘Ah!” said the General, ‘that is ungenerous; I shall take those guns for that,’” and he did, and a good many more.” Comparing Grant and Lee. The American Historical Associa tion, meeting in Richmond, Va., dur ing the holidays, discussed the Wil derness campaign in the Civil War and the genius of Grant. General Al exander of the Confederate Army spoke on “Grant’s Conduct of the Wil derness Campaign,” and Colonel Liv ermore of the Federal Army’ spoke on Lee’s conduct of the same campaign, while Major Eben Swift of the gener al staff of the United States Army clogsed the discussion. It is to be remarked that the Con federate was rather more impressed by Grant’s ability for war, while the Federal officer was disposed to award the palm to Lee. The member of the general staff, however, Major Swift, although giving the Virginian due credit, regarded Grant as the most dangerous opponent that a great sol dier ever encountered. “Lee made five campaigns in a sin gle year,” said Major Swift, “no other man and no other army ever did that much.” But in Grant Lee, under the circumstances of the moment, met his match. Grant “was the modern em bodiment of force in war,” said Major Swift. “He cared not for ruse or strategy in its accepted form. Strat egy was reduced by him to a study of objectives, and objectives were re duced to one—the hostile army.” The more distant the perspective becomes. the clearer the truth stands out that Grant was the man for the work. He had numbers and resources at his command, and of those advan tages he was the first Union command er in the east fully to avail himself. He perceived that his objective was not the capital of the Confederacy, but the army of Lee in the field, and accordingly he attacked Lee on all oc casions, knowing that his own losses could be repaired, but that those of his opponent could not. Grant was great because he esti mated his advantage to the full and employed them, because he perceived exactly what the nature of his task was. President Roosevelt in a recent ad dress denominatéd Lee as the great est commander of any age. That is egregious exaggeration. Lee was a consummate master of defense. With limited resources and inferior numbers he held the armies of the north off from Richmond for four long years. However, it is to be considered that until Grant appeared, Lee was matched against -such cap tains as MeClellan, who, when Rich mond was in his grasp, decided that his peninsula eampaign was a fail ure: as Burnside, who might have turned Antietam into Confederate rout, but he refrained, and who was capa ble of assaulting the impregnable heights of . Tlredericksburg directly ; as Hooker, a capable corps command er, capable, when placed in supreme command, of the muddle of Chancel lorville. Whatever Tee was as a captain of defense, he assuredly was no genius in offense, as the {(ruly great com manders all have been, as was the first Duke of Marlborough, and Gusta vus, the Swedish king, and Frederic of Prussia, and Napeoleon Bonaparte, who are the four original geniuses of modern war. Whenever Lee assumed the offensive. his deficiencies became at once appar ent. At Antietam he allowed himself to be caught with his back to the Po tomac, into which a Grant would have pushed him. At Gettysburg he order ed the charge on Cemetery Hllil, al though Longstreet with tears in his eyves endeavored to dissuade him. The truth is that “Stonewall” Jack son was the Confederate man of gen ius. To Jackson he owed the victory of Chancellorsville. lee listened to Jackson, a 8 he would not to Longstreet. Had Jackson lived, Gettysburg might not have been won, but it would not have been fought upon Lee's impossible plan.—Minneapolis Journal. A Brilliant Northern Soldier. The war career of Capt. Henry A. Barnum of Company 1, of the 12th New York Veolunteers, afterwards colonel of the 149th New York Volunteers, furn ishes a story that is weird. At the bat tle of Malvern Ilill, while leading on his men he was shot and it was sup posed mortally wounded. In the even ing, when a retreat was decided upon, Gen. Griffin, who was a warm personal friend of the major, sent an ambulance to bring the major along, dead or alive. The surgeons pointed out an uncon scious major to the detall as Major Barnum, and, placing him on a stretch er they put him in the ambulance and started away. On the road to Harrl son’s Landing the wounded man died, and was buried as Major Barnum. A crude wooden monument was placed at the head of hls grave, giving his name and rank. When the report of hig death reached Syracuse, N. Y., his na tive place, the friends of Major Bar num were greatly grieved. Memorial services were held and Robert McCar thy, a friend of the major, delivered an eloquent eulogy. But the real Major Barnum not only recovered, but was yet to perform most briliant service. Shortly after the retreat of the Union troops the wounded man recovered con gciousness. The rebels coming up took him prisoner. He succeeded in getting exchanged and rejoined his regiment in time for the battle of Gettysburg. After that engagement he was transfer red with Gen. Hooker's army to Ten nessee, and at Lookout Mountain he covered himself with glory. In a fierce charge by his vegiment a bullet went clear through his uplifted sword arm, and split the visor of his cap. but he and his gallant troops dashed boldly on and five of the eleven flags taken in the battle were captured by them. For his vigorous conduct on this occa sion he and Major M. E. Bordsley, who also distinguished himself, were after ward selected to deliver to the Adju tant General all the flags captured by the Army of the Cumberland at Look out Mountain, Chattanooga and Mis sionary Ridge. Major Barnum was wounded again at Peach Tree Creek. When the Union troops had bombarded the rebels out of Atlanta Major Bar num and his men were the first to en ter the city. They scaled the parapets of the outside rebel line and passed to the fortifications. The camp fires were still burning, but no soldiers were to be seen. They erept from earthwork to earthwork and finally entered the city just as the sun rose and by its light revealed to them the forms of the Confederates, who were retreating acrosy the marshes on the opposite side of the river. Honors Hqual. When Gen. George Sheridan was camping on the lower Mississippi his negro boy, Harry, was one day asked by a friend whether the general was not terribly annoyed by the mosquitoes, “No, sah!” said Harry: “in the evenin’ Mars® George is so “toxicated he don’t mind the skeeters and in the mornin’ the skeeters is so "toxicated that they don’t mind Mars’ George.”—Buffalo News. Sand blown from the Sahara desert, 100 miles away, painted a steel steamer which recently arrived at Philadelphia a dull red, the particles adhering so tightly to the metal that they were re moved only by the hardest work. T eiiiot e e One-fifth of our sugar consumption is produced at home, one-fifth is brought from our own islands and the remaining three-fifths from foreign countries. The world’s production of sugar has practically doubled in the past twenty years, having grown from 17 billion pounds in 1887 to 32 billlons in 1807.. 