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' the spur of the inquiries addressed her,

 

 

 

THE

 

THE FARMER’S WIFE.

 

0h! glw me the life of a farmer’s wife,
In the fields and woods so bright,

'Mong the singing birds and the lowing herds,
And the clover blossoms white.

The note of the morning’s heavenward lark,
Is the music sweet to me;

And the dewy flowers in the early hours,
The gems I love to see.

Oh! give me the breeze from the waving trees,
The murmur of summer leaves ;

And the swallow’s song as he skims along,
0r twitters beneath the eaves!

The plowman’s shout as he’s turning out
His team, at set of sun,

0: his merry “good night” by the fire-fly‘s light,
When his daily work is done.

—Farmer’3 Advocate.
-. - ___._._.~__._.

SILKWORM AG A IN.

Several letters of inquiry respecting the
profits and practicability of silk culture in
Michigan, have been received by the
Household Editor since the furor over
this “easy and profitable business for
women ” commenced. Part of these in
quiries have been answered through the
FARMER, a part by private letters. And
still the inquiries come, the last being
fromayoung lady of Decatur, who Wishes
to engage in the work if “ all they say of
it is true.” The Household Editor, under

THE

has read everything on silk culture that
has come in her way, and is obliged to
confess that so far as the promises of
large returns and little work are concern-
ed, the highly colored statements so
freely circulated must be taken cum
gramo salts. The parties who make the
money are those who furnish the eggs at
$5 per ounce.

To our latest questioner we would say:
Silkworms will prove a “white elephant ”
on your hands unless you have plenty of
material to feed them upon. They will
eat mulberry and osage-orange leaves, or
the tender green of lettuce. But they
have most voracious appetites, and the
supply of food must be constant, and in-
crease in a geometrical ratio from the
time they are hatched until they are pre-
pared to spin their Winding sheets. A
room must be given up to them, the
temperature regulated to a certain point,
and in rainy weather the leaves fed them
must be free from moisture. The circular
sent out with the eggs advises on most
such points. But the two most important
items to be considered before venturing
into the business are: Have you an ample
supply of food for them? and secondly,

 

have you the disposal of your time so
you can spend your whole time in attend-

ing to their wants? Unless you are thus
prepared you had better not undertake it.

There have been several letters pub-
lished in our exchanges, detailing the
results of such attempts; nearly every one
declares the returns, after the necessary
expenses are deducted, are not commen-
surate to the work and care required.
Even those who have succeeded in market-
ing the cocoons at a fair price, say it
“don’t pay.” And in slate issue of the
Chicago Inter-Ocean, an Arkansas cor-
respondent alleges crookedness on the
part of the New York Silk Exchange, to
which he sent his cocoons, saying that
though he consigned the crop to them in
September last, and the receipt was
acknowledged, he has as yet received no
returns in the way of money. "

Our advice to our Decatur friend, if
she has the silk fever bad, is to send for a
dollar’s worth of eggs at first, see for her-
self What the work is, and decide whether
she can make it pay. The experiment
will involve but a small money outlay,
and will settle all vexed questions. If
she concludes to do so, we would be
pleased to have her report her experience
in the Household.

W

HEN RY IRVING.

 

This eminent English actor, who has
been starring in the United States this
season, played a two nights’ engagement
in this city last week. I had the pleasure
of being present at one of the perfor'
mances, and cannot resist the tempta-
tion to briefly describe both actor and
acting for the amusement of Household-
ers. First, perhaps a bit of personal
description of an individual so much
talked of may not be out of place. It is
said Mr. Irving resembles Oscar Wilde,
but as I did not see the “sunflower poet”
when he lectured on high art in Detroit, I
cannot say as to the actual resemblance,
yet certainly the actor bears a shadowy
likeness to the poet-lecturer’s pictures.
He is tall, slightly round—shouldered,
stoops somewhat, and is thin, so thin
thatacourt costume worn in course of the
evening, looks as if made for a fatter
man. His face is long and thin, expres
sive, wonderfully mobile, and brightened
by a pair of brilliant eyes, to whose color
I decline to bear witness.

The play was “Louis XI,” and Irving’s
part was that of the weak, cowardly,
superstitious, treacherous king, perhaps
the most imbecile who ever were royal
ermine; the king who, having mounted to

 

H©U§IBDI {GLID mar-Sum) plememitc

the throne by conspiring to the death of
father and brother, distrusted all men,
even his own son, of Whom he said “I
was a Dauphin once,” and believed all
men had their price “if you only bid
high enoug .” Iwas forcibly reminded
of Scott’s delineation of this royal in-
grate’s character and person, as Irving
came upon the stage, a wizened, decrepit.
paralytic old man, shambling along
among his attending courtiers, who
seemed to pay him deference only when
he demanded it, with his chain of saintly
relics about his neck, and the row of little
leaden images of saints decorating his
cap. The art of the actor shows how the
kingis jealous of his imperial dignity, yet
lacking its very essence, impatient of
advice, yet too weak to stand alone, never
thoroughly trusting any one, and marr-
ing plot With counterplot. In the first
act Louis receives the Duke de Nemours,
whose father had died on the scaffold at
his decree, as ambassador from the Duke
of Burgundy, demanding certain con-
cessions he does not wish to grant. He
therefore temporizes and equivocates,
but Nemours, who thrills with passion at
sight of his father’s murderer, flings down
his glove as a gage of battle, and it is
lifted by Louis’ son, the Dauphin. Louis,
pleased at this filial act, embraces his son
affectionately, but almost at the same in-
stant his suspicious nature makes him
spurn the kneeling heir apparent with an
impatient " There, there,get up, get up!”
He restores the glove to Nemours, prom-
ises to sign the treaty as Burgundy de-
mands, and dismisses the deputation.
Then, as the real Louis made confidents of
his servants, rather than his ministers of
state, so this mock king calls Toison d’Or,
one of his men-at—arms, and plots with
him to murder Nemours and his band
while pretending to escort them to the
French frontier. In the midst of their
talk the Angelus rings, and the king pulls
off his cap and mutters an “ Ave Mary,"
after which he complacently continues to
instruct Toison in the details of the mas)»
sacre. Lest this plot miscarry, he plans.
a private interview with Nemours in his
bedchamber, planning a pretext to arrest
him. Philip de Comines warns the in
tended victim, gives him the key to the
postern gate and his own dagger, and
bids him fly. Nemours, mad with ade-
sire to avenge the murder of his father.
seems to obey, but returns after Comines
has left the apartment, and secretes him-
self in the ante—chamber, meaningto mur-
der the king when he is left alone. The

 


 

2 ‘ THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

king, on entering, demands the presence
of Nemours, and is told by Comines that
he has escaped. And at this point Irving
showed his wonderful art as actor. He
is speechless with rage, he strives to
speak but cannot, he lifts an impotent
hand to strike, but it shakes with rage as
with the palsy, it is pitiful but frightful
to witness; he gasps a few incoherent
words and falls back breathless, he rallies,
still trembling as do the weak and aged
under intense excitement. In the scene
which follows, he gradually gains control
of himself, and since it is not “policy”
to quarrel openly with Comines, he dis-
misses him with a blessing, only to shake
his clinched fists impotently at him
through the door he has just closed, and
call him “Traitor, traitor.”

Louis, who besought the saints in rota-
tion and spent fortunes for a nail-paring
of St. Peter’s, had caused to wait upon
him a monk of great sanctity, who was
reputed to be able to work miracles, and
whose ghostly aid he meant to invoke to
restore him to youthful health and vigor.
To this spiritual counselor he will also
make confession of his sins, hoping abso-
lution at the hands of so good aman.
The venerable father, in his robe of coarse
brown serge, is received in the king’s
private apartment. and the royal inmate
prostrates himself before him, and prom-

»ises him wealth, treasures, power, all he
can ask, for ten years more of life. The
father’s astonishment at this extraordin-
ary request is misinterpreted to mean
acquiescience, the king renews his prom-
ises, but this time “for twenty years
more.” He grovels in abject humility
and self-abasement at the monk’s feet.
but rises quickly and walks away, mut-
tering “I’ve had enough of that stuff,”
when he is told that if he repents his mis-
deeds, he may yet “ live many years—but
not on earth.” His confession of his
crimes to the father vividly portrayed
the torture of a mind haunted by re-
morse as he described how the blood of
his victims seemed to surround himlike a
sea from which there was no escape, and
their ghastly heads encircled his couch;
waking he saw them, asleep he dreamed
‘of them, till his nights were filled with
horror and his life accursed, yet he dared
not think of death. The monk, overcome
by the agony of this mind accused of
itself, leaves him, exhorting him to re-
pent, and so far as he may, make repara-
tion, and is followed to the door, by the
king, who promises repentance and
amendment. But with What alook of
cunning and craft does he dellberately
say as he turns from the door “But I
won’t repent,” as if he thought to cheat
the God he feared, by professions of
repentance to His disciples, while cherish-
ing his sins in his secret heart! And he
sits down in front of the fire, and places
his image-laden cap before him, and
clasping his hands, prays Our Lady to

, grant him sbsolution for the sins he has
committed, “and especially for this one,
this one little one, that I mean to commit
to-night,” meaning the assassination of

Nemours, whom he supposes his faithfu1

Villain, Toison d’Or, will escort to death
that night. At this moment Nemours ap-

 

pears before him, and it is impossible to
describe the face of the actor at this mo-
ment. It is at first as if he had seen a
spirit; horror and awe are succeeded by
deadly fear as he realizes that it is em-
bodied vengeance, armed with a shining
dagger, before him, and that he is alone
and helpless. He begs abjectedly for
mercy; Nemours forces him to read his
(Nemours) father’s last letter, beseeching
clemency and reminding him of old
friendships, on his knees, the dagger
pointing the words. Finally the duke
flings off the suppliant king, still begging
for his life, and bids him live, declaring
that as he heard the confession to the
monk he asks no better revenge than to
know what mental tortures assail his
guilty soul, and wishing him many years
of life to suffer. The castle bell rings an
alarm as Nemours escapes, attendants
rush in with torches and search the apart-
ment, and the curtain falls on the faint-
ing king as he discovers the dagger
Nemours had left, to be that of Philip de
Comines.

The closing act represented the death
of Louis XI, which I shall not attempt to
describe, because I cannot. It was a
wonderfully realistic scene, from the mo-
ment he appeared, clad in regal robes,
sparkling with jewels, and crowned with
the tiara of France, but with aface on
which Death had set its seal, and upheld
by two courtiers. His crown is too heavy,
and is laid aside, but where his glazing
eye can still discern it. He swoons, and
is thought to be dead, and the Dauphin,
new king, takes up the diadem, which he
holds in his hand until he discovers his
father has revived, and is standing behind
him, looking at him with awful eyes.
Then he lays it down, in response to the
unuttered command of the dying owner.
A moment more and all is done; one says
“The king is dead !” and in a breath the
courtiers. cry “ Long live the king!”

This English actor, coming among us
well crowned with laurels won at home,
has justified our expectations of him. The
essence of true acting is to make us for-
get that it is acting; it is only the great
actor who does not obtrude his own
personality upon. us. In Louis XI of
France, Irving shows us that monarch’s
character as historians have portrayed it,
the craftiness and cunning which -would
cheat alike Heaven and men, the utter
heartlessness which plotted murders as if
pastimes, the hypocritical piety which
muttered prayers in the midst of the
scheming; and it is Louis himself who is
before us, and the stage the court of the
fifteenth century, when all these lived
and moved and had their being.

BEATRIX.

ONE of our Household friends sends us
the following anecdote: Little four-year—
old Harry was trying to harness a chair
for a horse, but was so annoyed by his
little sister, who was only seventeen
months old, that after repeated cries of
“ Don’t, Emma! Stop, Emma;” he sat
down, with such a discouraged look, and
exclaimed, “Dear me, Emma, I wish you
was big enough to pray to God every day
to make you better.”

 

HOUSE snors.

 

“What shall we do with the house
slops?” This was the question which at—
tracted my attention one day, as I took
up a paper for a five minutes’ read. The
writer was a mourning mother who had
just laid all that was mortal of her eleven .
year-01d daughter away; and she further
added, “We are satisfied that her. death
was caused by a leak in the drain from
the house.”

The voice of my own ten-year-old girl,
reading aloud in an adjoining room,
sounded in my ears as I put the paper
down, and I thought,'how glad I am that
we live in the country! “Living in the
country!” There is the delusion that
leads us too often astray. Dame Nature
does so much for us, with her warm
sunshine to evaporate, her strong breezes
to waft away, and her purifying rains to
wash and carry off so much filth and im-
purities. Her shoulders are broad, but
we put too heavy a responsibilty on-them,
when we expect her to make amends for
all of our short-sightedness.

I am not writing of those in the city,
who are blessed with all the modern con-
veniencies of sinks, drains and sewers,
but leave them to Beatrix, knowing by
the way she shook out our beds and bed
ding, and opened the doors and windows
to aregular “north-caster” a few months
ago, that she is more capable of doing it.
But it is to us country folks that the
temptation is so great, to jurst open the
door and throw out the pan of dish~water,
the pail of suds or mop water, the tea or
coffee grounds.
this once—n ext time we will carry it
farther off, but not now. And so it goes;
we ease our conscience with a future
premise, and the oecasionals become
fixed habits. In the winter time, the
practice is still worse; it is cold, or paths
have not been swept; and then Nature
coaxes us on, she quickly freezes up all
of our uncleanliness, rendering it less
harmful for the time, and covers it with a
mantle of purity. But the inevitable
“January thaw ” comes, and reveals it. in
all its collected disagreeableness.

I have taken a great fancy to crema-
tion, not so particularly of our poor mor~
tal bodies, as for all refuse from the table
that is not eatable for pigs or chickens,
such as bones, potato and onion peelings,
poor coffee, beans or dried fruit, and
many other things. Most anything can
be burned, and then if it is not gone for-
ever, it is at least reduced to a smaller
compass. I still thank a lady friend who
made this suggestion to me a few months
ago; 2'. e. to brush the coarse crumbs
from the table into a tray, and then shake
the cloth over the dust pan on the floor.
As to the slops, carry them away from the
house; do not throw them out. And if
the path to the back door is interrupted by
traces of dish-water, or the Monday’s
wash water, potato parings and coffee
grounds, do not be disappointed if the
doctor’s horse is often hitched at the front

gate. 0.
LITTLE PRAIRIE RONDE, Feb. 20th.

Take Hood’s Sarsaparilla for the blood.

 

 

We are in a hurry, just.


‘ .... a» ,» ,rq, ‘. ’.‘ .
«4.1.x; §h1:.19‘r'¥&5"‘0 ' 1’ ‘-‘ "‘ ' '

THE .HOUSEHOLD. 3

 

SCRAPS.

 

Tlnl minuet, says an exchange, is a
French national dance, introduced at the
French court in 1653. The name is de-
rived from menu, meanin small, and
referring to the short steps. It is said it
was introduced because one of the court

’ dadies whose presence at court entertain-

ments was essential, was in delicate
health and could not bear the fatigue of
the usual dances. I saw the minuet
danced by the ”Jersey Lily ” and her
company at the time of her Detroit en-
gagement, and was more than charmed
with the grace and beauty, the gentle,
undulating movement, every motion a
“line of beauty,” of the figures. The
antique costumes, the court trains, rich
brocades, the powder and patches of the
:court dames, the full wigs, satin coats
heavy with embroidery, the silk stock-
ings and knee buckles of the gentlemen
of the play, made the stage like an old
picture. But what would Young America
do with its abundant spirits if compelled
to relinquish the mad galop, the wild
.rush of the waltz, the “kicking” and
stamping of schottische and polka, for the
slow, dignified, high-bred, courteous
.minuet, which well deserve its adjective
——stately? It is the poetry of motion in
its graceful, easy undulations, and can be
characterized as a dance fit for ladies. It
would be a good thing if its stately
measures could be the fashion again, in-
stead of the romping and rushing about
which we have called dancing so long.
.And whether Mrs. Langtry can act or not,
certainly she can dance divinely. So
beautifully was ~the movement executed
that a rapturous encore followed, and the
Lily’s brocades rustled and plumed fan
waved again in time to the subdued
orchestral music.

 

MATINEE performances at the theatres
here are principally attended by ladies,
the afternoon entertainment enabling
many to enjoy theatre~going who cannot
,get out evenings. It was rather surpris-
ing therefore to see so many boys and
lads flocking into Whitney’s at tWo o’clock
vof aSaturday afternoon, recently, instead
of the usual bevies of gaily dressed
women. They were the youthful heirs of
“our best society,” with watch-chains
parted in the middle and “the latest” in
neckties. the sons of the respectable
citizen, freshly washed and clean collar-
ed for the occasion, and the dirty but
sharp newsboy, with his pennies clutched
in a grimy hand, all intent on securing
seats to witness the performance of
“Peck’s Bad Boy.” There was the staid
citizen himself, who had snatched a
couple of hours from business to give his
chubby, round-checked boys an afternoon
holiday, and who seemed scarcely less
eager than the lads themselves. But the
larger part of the audience that was

,flocking in, were boys from eight to

eighteen, the most impressionable age.
Well, the play “took” immensely, the
papers told us. The “ Bad Boy” ran .the
whole business, father, mother, the
famous groceryman, the minister and
the policeman. The audience shrieked

 

with delight at his impertinences,and the
jokes he played on his victims; he was
“the life 0’ the wake,” so to speak. But
I could not help thinking we had enough
“bad boys ” of the Peck order, without
educating them in any additional deviltry.
The average Young American is up to
“that sort of thing” quite as much as is
good for him or those in authority over
him, without supplementing his inventive

I genius by lessons from the stage. The

Lord have mercy on us if we are to have
a generation of “Peck’s bad boys!”
Seriously, while no one can read the egg-
fessions of the “ Bad Boy ” to his friend
the groceryman without laughing, both at
the naive humor of the boyish recital,
and the ingenuity of the young sinner.
I seriously question the efiect uponmtlie
young, Who are so strongly imitative and
imaginative. It is owned on all sides
that the so called “Jesse James” litera-
ture, that is, the stories of daring crimes
in which the authors pose as heroes, has
done incalculable damage to the boys of
this decade. They have attempted to im-
itate these exploits, set forth with the
utmost skill to fascinate their young
minds, to their own perdition. And this
“Bad Boy” stufi seems a milder form of
the same mental pabulum. It incites the
natural love of mischief, that thoughtless
mischief which must have “ fun” at the
expense of others; it teaches disrespect to
parents, and holds them up as handy
subjects for practical jokes; it inculcates
irreverence toward those for whose'call-
ing we should at least have respectfdifdd
disregard for legitimate authority. Of
good it gives absolutely nothing; it is silly
and tiresome, its sole object is to provoke
laughter, and to do this nothing is too
sacred. On the whole I should class it as
hardly less pernicious than the “dime
literature ” of the day, and by no me‘a‘h‘;
include “Peck’s Bad Boy ” in the family
library, nor its stage representation

-among the family amusements, unless I

had muscle to correct its influence by“;
brisk application of shingle whenever it
bore fruit in a practical joke.

 

I was somewhat impressed by a new
educational scheme, which has been tried
in a Massachusetts township, and was
recently mentioned in one of our eastern
exchanges, the New England Farmer, if
my memory does not deceive me, In this
township there are nine school districts.
The State law provides that every child
shall attend school twenty—four weeks in
the year, until fifteen years of age. The
school terms are arranged for spring and
fall, leaving a vacation during the heated
term and also during the severest winter
weather, when Massachusetts country
roads are frequently blocked by snow.
The best of teachers are employed, and
the terms in each district begin and
end at the same time. During the winter
vacation in these schools a twelve weeks
session is held in the most central district,
for the benefit of the larger and more ad-
vanced pupils, for whose instruction a
more extended course of study, including
several of the sciences, is provided. The
little ones are thus safely housed during

 

inclement weather, the larger children
are enabled to give assistance in farm
work when it is most required, without
depriving them of school privileges, while
the teacher of the winter term is enabled
to give them careful and painstaking drill,
not having so many classes to attend.
Moreover, the children are kept under
home influence and restraint, instead of
being left to themselves in some village.
where they are nominally “attending
school.” Then too, since all the districts
unite in paying for the extra session, a
better teacher can be secured than if each
district secured its own. Certainly our
Michigan district schools need to be made
more efficient; very few of them serve the
purpose for which they are supported.
It seems as if in our older counties,
where population is more dense, some
plan akin to this Massachusetts scheme
might work beneficially. Generally
speaking, I think our school districrs are
not too large, but too small; so small that
the pupils are few in number, and the
school officers feel themselves justified in
ofli'ering that old excuse for employing a
poor teacher: “Oh, our school is small;
anybody can teach it." Farmers them~
selves are responsible for the inefficiency
of our ordinary district schools; queerly
enough, while taxed to support a school
in their midst, which they will not pro-
perly support and look after, they Send
their children away from home to be
educated in those common branches,
which ought to be taught in the home
school, often at an expense they can ill
afford; as if education, like imported
Wines, is more to be prized if it comes
from a distance. BEATRIX.

.,_._....-- ...__._.._ -. _.__.__

A VOTE 0F APPROVAL.

 

I have long wished to become a mem
ber of the FARMER Household, but have
been prevented by various reasons, the
principal one being my dread of essays,
which I have possessed ever since I was a
school-girl.

But when I took up the FARMER of
Feb. 5th, and read the article from the
pen of A. H. J., on the subject of “tak-
ing something," I thought I could no
longer hold my peace, but exclaim in the

, language of Carleton’s ” school-committee

man,” “Them’s my sentiments tew.” A
reform is certainly needed in this direc-
tion and why not begin in the FARMER
Household? There have been many sub-
jects discussed, from rag carpets to
woman’s rights, that are not of as much
importance to us as our own health and
that of our little ones.

Kindly thanking the members of the
Household for many useful hints on va-
rious subjects, I give space for the next to

speak. HOPE.
HILLsDALn, Feb. 16211.

Contributed Recipes.

WE are indebted to Mrs. J. W. Perkins, of
this city, for the following recipes. As J. W.
insists that the pudding is “boss,” we advise
a trial:

GINGERBREAD PUDDING.—TWO cups sour
milk, one cup molasses; half cup butter; two

 

 


 

4: THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

teaspoonfuls soda; two teasponfuls ginger; a
pinch of salt; sufficient flour to make a cup-
cake; put in a pail, cover closely, and steam in
a kettle with boiling water three hours. To be
served with sauce.

Bucannu JOHNNY Cum—One quart
sour milk, one quart buckwheat flour, two tea-
spoonfuls soda, pinch of salt; put the soda in
the milk, and stir in the buckwheat flour, bake
in square tins, cut in squares, and serve as hot
as possible.

@132 finality garb.

Turkey Raising.

A noted English authority gives some
information in reference to the raising of
turkeys as practiced in Norfolk, England,
where the business is carried on exten-
sively:

“The time when turkeys require the
greatest care is until they are six weeks
old, when the young cocks begin to show
a little red on their heads. Dryness is of
the first importance; large, roomy coops,
with covered runs, are desirable, that the
young birds be not allowed to roam about
in wet weather, or when the dew is on
the grass.

“ The food for the newly hatched birds
should be principally hard-boiled egg,
with dandelion, lettuce, onions, or nettles
chopped up, with a little bread crumbs;
to this may be added a little rice boiled
in skim milk (if quite sweet), 8. little suet
or greaves, and in wet and cold weather a
little cayenne pepper, with grain of all
sorts as the birds grow older. A fresh
site for the coop every morning is a sine
qua non, and a little exercise if the mother
is a turkey, but not if she is a fussy old
hen, is also advantageous as the chicks
get on. A good sign is to see the young
turkeys catching flies. In order to get
fresh, untainted ground, it is a good plan
to hurdle off a part of a field, a new ley,
if handy, for the coops, and the grass
should be kept mown closely to the
ground.

“Turkeys will take to any young tur-
keys, whether hatched by themselves or
not; so when our young birds get fairly
strong, we generally transfer those
hatched under hens to the turkeys. One
has to be careful that the chicks do not
perch on the rails of the hurdles or the
tops of the coops; crooked breasts would
be the inevitable result; they should be
induced to sit on the ground as long as
possible, and then taught to perch in low
bushes and trees, and until they are shut
up for fattening they are better never to
have entered the fowl house. Having
reached the age of two or three months,
June has arrived, and the birds are per-
fectly hardy, requiring little care, but
generous feeding. A more economical
food is now desirable, and barley meal,
with, perhaps, a little scrapcake, maize,
barley, and small wheat is the usual food.

“ Turkeys for Christmas should be shut
up in alight, dry, roomy house the first
week in November; troughs with as much
maize and good barley as they can eat
should be always by them, with two good
meals a day of just as much barley meal,

 

 

 

 

mixed with flat milk, as they can eat, and
milk to drink. Sliced mange], turnips
and swedes, and cabbage are useful and
necessary, and plenty of sand, lime, ashes
and brick-dust should be in the corners
of their houses. Let the troughs be well
cleaned every morning, all surplus food
removed; on a farm there are plenty of
other fowls glad to clean up after tur-
keys."

 

Profits of Duck-Raising.

C. B., the poultry correspondent of the
Country Gentleman, gives the following
instructions as to the way to raise these
fowls:

"Ducks can ‘be kept and raised quite
as profitably as chickens, with only water
sufficient for drinking phrposes. Indeed
they become a greater source of profit if
limited in their runs. They consume a
large amount of food if allowed access to
it, but after a certain amount the surplus
food is rather a disadvantage, and should
be kept from them, for it is consumed at
a waste. Ducks should be kept separate
from the other fowls, as they are apt to
create a disturbance. Ducks are great
foragers, and will live largely on insects,
like other fowls, if kept from the neigh~
borhood of running streams. When
once given access to a running stream,
they become difficult to control. If kept
like other fowls, they give no more
trouble.

“There are many varieties of ducks,
but the common gray duck is about as
profitable as any. They are good layers,
and the young mature early, and are fit
for market by mid-summer, when they
bring good prices. A duck will lay from
14 to 16 eggs, when she will sit. The
period of incubation varies from 26 to 28
days, according to the weather and the
steadiness of the sitter. Ducklings are
not hardy; indeed, I think they are more
delicate than our common chickens, until
fully feathered. The growth of young
ducks is very rapid where well fed, in
which case they are quiet, and are little
trouble if given a place of resort where
they can do no mischief. They are mis-
chievous if allowed access to the garden,
as they will destroy the young vegetables.
If given a place by themselves, with a
shallow trough of water to bathe in, re~
newed daily, they will give no trouble
when well fed. The mother will lay two,
and where well kept, three clutches of
eggs, which may be put under hens, if it
be desired to keep the ducks in laying,
which they will do if well fed, and also
mother the ducks of the first hatching.
Ducklings that are raised by the natural
mother are the more profitable, as she
leads them in ways agreeable to the in-
stincts of their nature. Ducks do not
pine in confinement, but take to their
quarters naturally, providing they are
kept furnished .with food and water regu—
larly. The feathers of ducks are worth
more than those of the turkey or fowl.”

NV”.-- .p..--.. -

Leg-Weakness in Fowls.

A correspondent of the Country Gentle-
man gives the following account of this
disease and its remedy:

“Leg-weakness rarely attacks robust

 

fowls. but sometimes appears when in the
spent condition, at the moulting period, a
little after the bird has its new plumage,
seldom before, and on the approach of
cold weather. It is a rheumatic or spas-
modic affection, brought on by the action
of cold on the victim when in a weakened
or low condition consequent on moulting,
and the previous drain of egg-production.
This low condition may be occasioned by
the presence of vermin that continually
sap 'the strength from the infested fowl.
Fowls that are bristling with pin-feathers
seldom wallow, therefore have no method
of ridding themselves of these pests
With leg-weakness the fowls do not lose
the appetite, and in every other respect
may appear to be well. I have had them
entirely helpless, and so dependent as not
to move an inch without assistance, yet
they were warm and hearty. The fowls
were young hens, and good layers, that
had become reduced throngh the winter
from cold and laying. They were close
bred in order to preserve a particular
strain. Of twelve large pullets evcry one
was affected—some more than others. All
survived with good care, and came out
strong in the spring.

“ The remedy is cleanliness, generous
feeding on strengthening diet, and
warmth. The fowls may be infested

with minute roost lice, almost invisible to ‘

the naked eye, as they secrete themselves
in the hollow places and cavities beneath
each feather. A warm ash bath is quite
beneficial as well as strengthening. Give
the fowls a good and careful dusting. Re»
move them from the flock, place them by
themselves in a warm room, and put food
within reach. With strict attention all
will recover. In a day or two the patient
will walk off as if nothing had been the
matter. The difficulty requires good care
and nursing, together with strengthening
food. It should be taken in hand as soon
as discovered, as if long continued there
is no help.”

 

Thirteen Years’ Dyspepsia.

“ I have suifered with dyspepsia for thirteen
years,” writes John Albright, Esq., of Colum-
bus, Ohio. “ Samaritan Nervinc cured me.“
As it always cures such disorders. At drug.
gists.

 

 

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