HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1896-1-23, Page 6Th
eflatiSt
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And she led him on from point to
point, so that he seldom left the house
without a sense of having betrayed the
trust which his chief reposed in him, of
having yielded up State seorets uuder
the sorcery of a woman's smile.
And Dennis Donovan, harking within
earshot of their conversation, took note
of many a thoughtless word that was
spoken by Chester without suspicion that
it reached any ears but those so white
and excel/lately sculptured which peeped
frone a veil of Titian hair.
Chester clever encountered the Irish-
man. Muriel was always found alone,
and their eoaversatien grew m earnest -
nese with rep etition. At first Muriel
threw herself without salmis into the
task of drawng fron this susceptibeI
repository of 3tats secrets all she could
gain for the a4lvantage of a cause dear to
her heart an approved of by her con -
acumen but 4s their intimaoy iucreaeed,
and she beauie aware of Chester's real
love and trust, she perceived that she
was playing an unworthy' and treacher-
ous pare, and revelted from it. The first
sign of tilis? was an opposition to the
eavesdroppnig of Dennis Donovan. Bat
this the latter overruled. He compen-
sated himself for his powerlessness over
her affeotions by an absolute tyranny
, Aver her mind, and after a laeer inter-
' view with the politician, when she had. I
Suppressed or turned aside froiu all poli-
tical references, he drove her back to
her repugnant comae with a short but
all-powerful reminder of what she bad
to do, its Illative and its object.
But Dennis Donovan, hearing part,
heard all, and while the growth of Ches-
ter's passion filled him with malice, the
perceptible increase in the warmth of
Muriel O'Conuor's response to that pas-
sim brought upon him the torture of a
bitter jealousy, which led him to strain
to the verge of endurance the coercive
power he held over her., And Muriel,
growing in, regard for her trusting and
devoted visitor, and writhing under the
insolent dictation and fatoiliarity of the
revolutionist, for whom, as the assassin
-of a man she heel once loved, she had
'conceived a desperate abhorrence, turned
suddenly to Chester for protection, and
Isought from him by direct petition that
which shelled hitherto exclusively relied
upon Donovan toevin for her by intrigue.
It was in the soft summer eveningtune,
when Chester called upon his way to the
House, ostensiblyto bring her some rare
orchids for the conservatory. but in truth
impelled by destiny to declare his love
and ask her to be his wife. On that
evening. of all others he had no right to
be there; his duty called him emphati-
cally to the House, where an important
debate was to take peace, at which his
presen0 with certain precious State
documents WaSindispensable to his chief.
But behold him rushing into Muriel's
drawing-room,to steal half -au -hour from
his service at a national crisis for the
purpdse of deciding the most momen-
tous issue of his life. - His private cab
was waiting at the gate ia the garden -
wall, but he did not dare to trust his
albiraportant despatch -box there. He
brought it, with an apology, into the
drawing -room and plated it by the side
of his chair, explaining the nature of its
'contents. This was not lost upon Don- ,
ovan, who, as usual, was in conceahnent
where he couldhear every word.
Chester was pressed for time, his mind
was made up, his brain confounded by
the new charas of it pale, suffering, mei.
ancholy look upon 'Muriel's winning face.
He spoke out his 14)ve frankly, passion- I
ately, madly. He pleaged to this woman,
whom he had knowu but a little while,
and whose life was a sealed book to him
his name, his loyalty, his faith.
He knelt at her feet in the delirium of ,
his passion, and implored her to take all
he had to give, and return him only the '
promise of her love. His sincerity was
so palpable, and she had seen so clearly
to what his coustaut visits tended, that
she felt neither surprise nor distrust.
She caught the ardour of his feelings,
and, though calmer than he, she under-
went &bane moments of deep agitation.
Did she love him? No, not yet. Her
heart could not so soon be divorced from
the unworthy dead. But in time, in
brief time, she must respond to the in-
-tensity a his devotion, and. love as he
loved. She realised this. she believed in
her soul, and her impulse was t� take
thiAgO0aly gift from the hand of Heaven.
But she paused. and thoughts came to
ber tsf things concerning her which he
should know.
She rose, and, going to her secretaire,
took from a drawer a petition praying
for the release from prison of Thomas
liurdoch, then undergoing a terra of
penal servitude for treason -felony.
"I am the daughter of Thomas Mur-
doch," she said as She placed the petition
in Chester's hands. "If you love me so
truly, save my father from this living
death. Give him back to me, and, if
you still desire it, I. will give myself to
you.,,
She told a sad story of the "distress-
ful country ;" she told of her inherited
sympathy with the down-troddeu pea -
saute, and exalted her Fenian father into
patriot as meritorious as Garibaldi,
Kossuth, or William Tell; she told how
her life was dedicated to the liberation
of her martyred parent, and how her
mission in that house was to advance
the cause Of her oppressed. countrymen.
And Chester, delighted to have the
mystery cleared up with an explanatiou
consistent with the lofty estimate of her
'character which he had. fornaed, thing
away from him all political preeudice,
and -undertook the forwarding of the
petition for her father's release.
The petition was voluminous tuicl num-
erously signed, and seemed at first too
;balky to go into his despatch -box. She
left him for a few mornentS to get it
bound up in a, convenient pore -el. While
-engaged in this somewhat difficult task
she was joined by Donovan.
She knew that he laad overheard, 'all,
and expected seine tifbraiding1 but he
remained grimly silent, merely offering
to prepare the parcel for her. She sur-
rendered her table to film, and returned.
b) the clrawing-room, eager to have ,a
lievr words with Chester alone, '
And there again they pledged their
lives to eac11 other, the oondition of the
bond being her lather s release. upon
*which she wotild atm/idon to hlin the
present object s)f her existence, and be-
,corne a simple, domeSties loVing English
'
A servant brought the pa,cliage to• the
'00 11. it was remarkably
'weighty, but admirably compressed.
Chester got it easily into his despatch -
box, and turned the key upon it and its
preeioas compauious. He then took a
tenderly passionate leave of his betroth-
ed, and stated in haste for the House.
Muriel wandered bacle thoughtfully to
the drawing -room.
This step which she had so impulsively
taken was a breach of the covenant she
had entered beto with the brotherhood,
and the confession of her mission to
a politicel opponent might—probably
would—entail upon her smile serious
consequences. Donovan was there as the
representative of her masters. He had
not protested against her action. He
had even assisted it. From that it
might be hoped that he—and through
him the society—might not disapprove.
But his manner had been strange, and
she felt it desirable to discus the ques-
tion .without delay.
With this intention she passed into the
library, where, as she had expected, she
found the couspirator immersed in poli-
tical affairs.
He affected to be excessively occupied.
and returned but short responses to the
remarks with which she endeavoured to
start the conversation. He would ex-
press no opinion upon her conduct. She
knew the nature of her pledges to the
brotherhood. They might see fit to strip
her of home and means, or they might
not. It was in their power to do so. HE
must make his report. His tone was 6(
quietly sinister that she grew heart -sick
and rose to leave him. As she did st
her eye fell upon some folios of signa
tures lying by the side of his desk. Hi
would have prevented her from taking
them up, but she was too quick for him.
A glance told her that these folios were
a part of the petition she had confided to
Cecil Chester's care.
A quick question, and from Donovan
an evasive reply, accompanied by a pe-
culiarly fiendish smile, arid her dark mis-
giving was confirmed. Like a whirl-
wind she rushed from the room and
from the house, and was soon speeding
towards Westminster, to save her lover's
life.
CRAPTER MEM
TIM DESPATOH-BOX.
Cecil Chester bowled along towards
Westminister in his private hansom at
a "spanking" pace, and arrived in good
time at the members' entrance. His
thoughts had been occupied so exclusive-
ly with Muriel O'Connor that it gave
him no surprise, as he stepped out upoa
the pavement, to see a veiled and cloak-
ed woman's figure that bore a strong re
semblance to her in form and bearing.
It seemed only a continuance of his
dream that every object should, to his
fancy, bear some suggestion of her.
But he stared in amazement when the
cloaked figure approached him suddenly,
and disclosed itself as Muriel.
I She greeted him with h, kind of forced
gaiety that ill concealed an excitement
whieh seemed to have deprived her of
self-possession—almost of reason.
I His astonishment at finding her there
• was surpassed by the bewildering im-
pression made by her strange manner,
. so utterly different from, that of the
t calm, frank Irish girl froni whom he
had so recently parted.
, His first impulse was to conceal her
' from the public, eye, and the readiest
! asylum was presented by tho open door
of his private cab. He simply banded
: her in, closed the door, and begged her
1 to excuse him while he went Into the.
House. He then instructed the driver
to drive into Palace Yard andawait him
there; then plunged hurriedly ,into the
' corridor that led to the lobby, intent
4 upon ascertaining how many moments
he could spare to his betrothed.
Muriel O'Connor found herself driven
away in the cab, alone with the despatch -
box that contained the object which
: Dennis Donovan had substituted for the
petition in favor of Thomas Murdoch.
Presently the cab drew up in Palace
Yard, here was an opportunity. Scarce-
ly pausing to think, conscious only of a
spurring eagerness to shun questioning
and explanation, she took the despatch -
box beneath the folds of her cloak,
alighted from the cab, and, making some
explanation to the man, walked rapidly
across the road to Westminster Station,
and fled home with her prize by the first
train that came along.
Meanwhile Chester had encountered
his chief in the lobby, ready for the mo-
ixteritous debate that was to take place
that night. The Right Honourable
Thomas Cruikshank was highly primed
upon the ensuing question, and proposed
to lead the debate with a speech of
startling importance. He anxiously in-
quired of Chester whether certain notes
which had been prepared were ready to
hand. Chester replied that they were
safe in his despatch -box. He was re-
quested to produce them without loss of
tini e.
IRemembering that he had left the box
in his cab, Chester rushed through the
hall to Palace Yard, his mind torn be-
tween anxiety about the debate and
solicitude for the woman he loved.
1 There stood the cab according to orders,
the high mottled gray impatiently paw-
ing the stones. With an apology for de-
lay upon his lips, and his mind hastily
preparing explanations and excuses for
the inevitable postponement of an in-
terview, Chester looked into the cab.
IIt was empty.
Muriel O'Connor was gone, and a
second glance told him that the despatch -
box was gone also.
He paused th understruck ; then turned
to the coachman and made breathless
inquiries. The man was startled by his
master'spallor and extreme discomfiture,
and gave quickly and concisely an ac-
count of the cloaked lady's proceedings.
"0, it's all right I" cried Chesteravith a
sickness of misgiving at his heart. He
darted off in pursuit of the fair robber.
Rushing like a madman from point to
point, he traced 1VIuriel to the Westmin-
ster Station, and returned, staggering
in his distress, like a drunken man, to,
the -presence of his chief.
111h. Cruikshank neara with feelings of
the utmost dismay and indignation that
the doctunents npon which he relied for
the opening of the debate had been mis-
laid, lost, stolen by some unknown hand.
The absence of these papers was a eerious
matter; to their aid he looked for souse
of the chief points in bis speech, and,
knowing the opposition to be encounter-
ed, he trenibl sciforthe fate of the Bill if
it wore badly Introduced.
With calm severity: he refstiested
Chester to seek for and recover the
papers at all coste, hinting. as Chester
knew full -well, that if they fell into the
liands of the Oppbsition it would be a
very serious matter to the Ministry.
Chester professed, to ltave a elue ; let Inin
follow it witliont a moment's delay.
!,pruslied and mortifisld, the young,
secretary left the House, and was borne
at a furious pace back do the vill-a at Re-
-gents Park.
Mtn el had got the start of him by
some five -and -twenty minutes, , and her
• 1101140 Was an iron one, its breath of Steam.
Bat the tram rumbled tediously- from
station to station, and as she sat -con-
templating the fast -looked despatch -box,
a new horror took possession of her.
A young mother and several sweet little
children got iato the compartment. One
little baby -girl toyed waywardly with
the horrilile thing With a shuddering
impulse Muriel thrust the child away,
and its mother drew it to her bosom in
reseutmenb of the seenling unkindness
of their fellow passenger Witli staring
eyes aand a soul shaking with apprehen-
sion, Muriel journeyed on, watching
with a terrified fascination this simple
structure of leather and metal.
It grew before her gaze into hideous
proportions.' it seemed to her a veritable
thunderboltof doom, threatening a, des-
perate death to herself and many, many
eoyous and innocent creatures; and of
those who entered and who departed
from the carriage, not it few thought her
insane as they watched her drawn and
ghastly features.
That boxi that hex! Her heart beat
furiously; her tongue clave to the roof of
her mouth; her eyes seemed starting
from their sockets. Should she leave it
and flee? No: for its contents, Chester
had told her, were priceless.
For this reason she dared not hurl it
from the window, as she rose in desper-
ation more than once to do; and she was
further deterred from this extreme
measure by a fear of preeipiteting
calamity which she believed to be immi-
tient.
No, she must get it home, this terrible
thing, and there break open the lock
and extracr the contents. A, few min-
utes more and she would be at her
journey's end. God grant she might
not reach her home too late! It was only
a question of time, but the actual hour
of pexil was unknown to her, and she
was conscious only that death drew
nearer and. nearer as the moments ded
away.
CHAPTER Mall.
ON SUSPICIoN OF wILFUL ethltprea.
With a heart full of heaviness and
dread, but withal greatly relieved by the
departure of her sister to another land,
Laura Kingdon closed the house at Wap-
ping and set out for Muriel O'Connor's.
Clutched fast beneath the folds of a
cloak she had borrowed from Dorothy,
She carried the Oriental dagger which
she knew had hung upon the wall of
Muriel's drawingroone. It must be in-
stantly and secretly restored. She did
not reason about this, or weigh any
measures of precaution; but, goaded by
an impulse blind and fateful, rushed
forward to the accomplishment of her
purpose.
Alighting from the end of the train
near the spot where Ralph Kestrel had
been struck down, she paused a moment
to piece together in her mind what she
had heard from Dorothy and read in the
papers into a possible picture of the
tragedy. She succeeded only too well in
realising the incidents as they might
have occurred, with this vital difference,
however—that she saw no vengeful
figure of Dennis Donovan, but only the
frenzied, despairing aspect of her sister
in the act of turning the assassin's knife
against himself. That Ralph Kestrel
had been the intendiug assassin, or that
he at least had threathened Dorothy with
this weapon in order tosubdue her more
utterly to his will. Laura had not a
doubt. How else should Muriel O'Con-
nor's dagger come into concealment
among the sunflowers of the garden on
the Wapping shore?
It had hung in Muriel's drawing -room
upon the evening of the murder. Laura
was positive she had seen it there when
dusting among the nicknacks during the
morning. Ralph Kestrel must have
taken it with him to frighten Dorothy,
and in it moment of madness, in a strug-
gle perhaps, Dorothy had gained pos-
session of the weapon and plunged it in-
to her persecutor's heart; then fled with
it, all reeking with blood, to her home—
Heaven only knew howl—and had pro-
bable: hurled it in horror from her win-
dow into the garden below.
And as Laura pictured to herself her
unhappy sister's agony that might, the
shame of abandoning her home strong
upon her, the remorse for the wrong to
her husband, the anxious waiting for
her tardy lover, the bitter words which
had doubtless passed between them—
Dorothy pleading for release from the
unholy spell he had cast about her. Kes-
trel perhaps upbraiding her with caprice,
and urging her to the consummation of
her sin—the desperation of that awfal
blow in the midnight shadows, the fear-
ful consciousness of the irreparable
deed, the long, long flight back to the
forsaken home, and the devil -haunted
oblivion of the subsequent Stupor of
TEE ARREST.—"I AleansT YOU oN SUS-
PICION OF KURDEPING RALIne KESTREL.'
Sleep in which Laura had found her—as
Laura Kingdon pictured all this, her
soul was filled with a great yearning
pity for the sister, more sinned against
than sinning, from whom she had part-
ed,perha,ps forever, so coldly and so tear-
lessly. Wrapt in the saddest thoughts,
Laura mode her way to the exit -gate of
the station.
She was the last person to pass through,
and the official who guarded the barrier
scanned her with an eager and startled
eye. For a Moment he hesitated; then,
as she passed up the stairs, he beckoned
energetically 10 311 individual of common-
place appearance wh o was lounging close
at hand. The lounger instently became
alert, and sttuted to his feet with sudden
alacrity; he was at the collector's side
in a moment. *
''Seen some one like?" he asked.
"I'm blessed it it ain't her I" answered.
the railwayman, quivering like a jelly
with excitement.
"*W here? Which?"
''\onder-I-top o' the staiss. Her with
the'cloak down to her licele. I'd swear
to that cloak anywhere, it caught in
this 'ere 11ail as she was nerushingthrough
that night, and a piece was torn clean
out. It's the piece what I took to the
perlice-statien. Andthe hole's in the
Cloak still—she ain't even tried to sew it
up. I saw it plain just now—as plain
as—"
"Did you recognize her face?" ,
"She looked me straight in the eye, as
bold as brass. Yes, I'd swear to the face
too."
"Goo41 after her,"
And away sped the detective on the
heels of Laura Kingdon.
(TO BM CONTINUED.)
STYLISH GOWNS.
some Suggestions From eslew yserie—The
Value or Chiffon.
For dressy veear, fashionable modistes
ave making
up very rich -looking fanoy
vvaists withfilled back and plaited fronts,
the eneterialS composed, of riot Dresden
silks, or rare and lovely shades of cerise
red, damask rose, or deep crimson corded
silk or Liberty satin, plain or shot.
These are to be worn with skirts a black
moiro satin or velvet striped faille, Some
of the rose-colored or cherry waists are
trimmed with black velvet :ribbon over-
linedewith jet, ruby and gold. spangles.
Again, there are shown models with
garnitures of °team guipure lace and in-
sertions dotted thickly with beads and
spangles in mixed Persian colorings.
Stylie.h toilettes of peau. de sole in chamel-
eon effects aro considered very chic, and
elegant. Nota few of these are made in
Colonial style with reelon-shaped sleeves,
graceful ftehus over the front and shoul-
ders end trimmings of iridescent passe-
meitlihfftierien was never mere popular than
at the present time, and although this
gauzy materiel would appear to be more
appropriate for summer use and to decor-
ate diaphanous gowns, it nevertheless
appears among the fall and winter gowns
of both American and French designing.
In Mao accordion pleatings it forms a
round waist—over silk or satin, with full
draperies of the chiffon over large puffed
sleeves. Again it appears as a shirred Or
pleated plastron with lade insertiOns,
straps of jet or velvet riboon handing it,
and on evening gowns it appears as fall
waist, sleeves, puffed and pointed yoke,
Marie Antoinetipe flohu, or as a gown
entire over creamy satin, In black it is
especially favored, and is used variously
with silk,velvet or exquisitely fine Woolen
fabrics. Like lace or velvet, chitlon has
a softening and refining effect that renders
it becoming to women of any age, and it
comes in many different qualities and
colors.dr
essy au d inexpensive way of mak-
ing over a black silk orsatin gown is the
addition of melon or mutton -leg sleeves,
vest and collar of Some of the faney taffeta
silks, or shot, plaided or chameleon
satinstrahs, which are sold in qualities
from 85 cants to $1.25 a yard. The silk
or dotted satin additions may be confined
to the bodice parts alone, or touches of
the material may appear upon the skirt,
Black and white checked or striped
taffeta silk makes a lady -like addition to
a black silk dress for a matron,with white
silk gimp laid over black velvet ribbon
as a finish,
HER UMBRELLA.
Xt Must Be or Silk and Have a Zino Banelle.
With it woman the handle of an UM-
brella is the most important pare and
this season the favorite mateelal in
handles is burnt or plain ivory with de-
posited or applied silver, says tho New
York Commercial Advertiser. The
handle to be stylish, no snattor whether
it is plain or natural wood or the finest
ivory that ever canie from elephant,
muss be without hook or crook. it must
be absolutely straight. Pearl aud silver
are also it fashionable combination, but
are not couidered so well as the burn;
ivory, evhich takes a very rich golden
brown when submitted to heaL Wean
the silk used with such a handle is a
golden brown taffeta the combination is
irresistible, judging from the number
carried by the swagger -looking women.
Umbrellas with such handles soil ab $15
retail.
Dresden handles, that canto so high
and were suoh a rage two years ago, We
away down in price,and all because they
are no Longer the correct thing. 7,they
are pretty, however, and many •people
who do not try to keep up with the
styles in such things buy them. For
those who wear mourning, the shell
handle is the thing, and is very band
-
some, both plain and Carved. The aver-
age price of a shell handled umbrella iS
$20, and if a melancholy lady wishes to
brighten the handle a little with her
monogram; lii small sterling silver or
gold, she must give up several dollars
more. The natural wood handles aee
always in great demand, for they are al-
ways good form. ,
Shirt waieted Femininity.
Next season will witness a shirt waist-
ed world of femininity So steady has
been the popular growth of the shirb waist
that leading exclusive manufacturers of
tm's furnishing goods are entering, large-
ly this season on the fabrication of
women's shirt waists, Manufaotheers on
all sides report at this early period un-
precedented orders from all parts of the
country. Three years ago there was little
or no competition, and the houses interest-
ed made large fortunes. This year large
capital is invested and competition prom-
ises to be very close. The demand for ex-
pert designers, exalusive styles and su-
perior workmanship has been quickened
among all grades of manufacturers. The.
wash material that foreign and domestio
mills are already pouring upon the
market rival intexture, color and design
the finest weaves of silk. Never has
Dame 'Fashion combined beauty and tin,
ity with greater art or economy than in
the fabrication of next season's shirt
waists., The superior cut and finish of
tne inen's collars and cuffs escapes not
tho up-to-date woman. It is her appreci-
ation that enhourages mon furnishers to
embark upon the manufacture of shirt
waists The departur.• opens up a new
field of employment for women. The
haberdasher who handles women's shirt
waists must have' wonieu clerks.A 'Broad-
way firm egan last seqson With two
1101011) clerks; before the close it employ-
ed eight,
Trvasnve Veand in a Cave.
Abolit forty years ego 0 wagon train
loaded with velueble geode and about
$s0,000 in 001(1 and silVOT coin en route
frcem thu Ci,y of el ex:ice to the United
'eta -les, woe olthotoct mar Rincon, Mex.,
by a band of bei gends and ale elle mein -
bees of tho wagon train were killed and
ihe booty (11 11, says a correspondent
115 1 Joi Globe -Democrats Tbe
rebbere ware OVortaken a few days later
by a d0t:P.0113100) of so!!! iere end all were'
Melee. To (fleecy ane stone; had been
seereted by the outlaws and cortid not be
found. Yesterday Rafael Vi togas was
prospecting 120 3/1 3ral te,On Milos south
of MD C0n, 3110l 011 0)1)111 eleoe Iio ce -
(ranee to eineceve. 1u 111)1000 5130 eave
eut foiled, s,jvoi 1 sacks with the
money taken ' by the o xtermi nate Li basic
robbers.
CONSTRUCTING CELLAR WALLS.
• The firmness of a house depends upon
the haimovable character of the founda-
tion upon whioh it rests. A great amount
ef labor is frequently expended in con-
structing collar walls by laying them very
wide and heavy and using immense.
stones, Where soil is heavy and contains
oonsiderable clay it retains a great deal of
moiseure, and the lifting effect of deep
freezing of the ground Is likely to throW
even • homy walls out of place. Fig 1
shows a section of a wall affected in this
was. The irregular ends of the stonehe-
ing deeply imbedded in the earth back of
the wall, when the ground, freezes it takes
hold of thorn and by expansion lifts that
portion alreatlx frozen to the wall, throw-
ing it oub of the perpendicular. There
is a way of overcoming this diffieulty,and
of building a cellar wall which 'will not i
only rentatiu firm for all time, but which
requires less material and less labor in
Its construction, and which is shown in
Fig. 2. After making the excavation for
the cellar, prepare for the wall by tret
setting scantlings, a, about six feet apart
around the outside. For an ordinary
house the lower ends of these stakes
should be set in the ground two feet back
of where it is intended the front of the
:e-7-e-20-0Rest
7-7-7CON-
STRUCTE.0
wall shall be, the top being slanted se
that at eight foot from the bottom of the
cellar it shall be 16 inohes further in than
the lower end, This will give a width to
the Wall of eight inches at the top, where
the sill rests. The tops of all these scant-
lings must be securely stay -lathed to
stakes in the ground. Board up the Inside
with cheap lumber, fastening the board
slightly with small nails. In laying the
walls use good blocky stones, but not larger
than can be handled readily by one num.
The wall should not be laid quite bault to
the boards, but a little space should be
left which, as the work proceeds, must be
filled. For this purpose uso cement mix-
ed with line, sharp sand at the rate of one
part cement to throe parts sand. Mix
this pretty thin, shovel it into the space
and fill with small stones well pounded
in. The 00350118 will run into the wall
somewhat and give it great nrmnees and
solidity. As a matter of convenience it
is best to keep the wall itself one or two
courses higher all the time than the till- '
ing back of it. no front may be pointed
up, after the wall is completed, with lime ,
mortar in wItioh cement has been mixed I
to make It bard and waterproof. When
tho wall is completed the frame may be
taken out and the boards used in the
building, for sheathing or other purposes.
The space behind the wall should then be
filled with earth, evhloh is to he well
tamped. As will be seen, the earth now ,
rests against a smooth, sloping, -water- I
proof surface, on eobleh the frozen soil
can have no effoot, and no amount of ,
earth lifting by deep freezing will have
tho leasb effort; on IL Not only that, but
tho whole wall being so joined together
in one piece, the building will be literally
founded on a rock.—Oharles B. Benton.
Convenient Poultry House Door.
Our sketch shows a divided door for a
poultry house, that is a combination. for ,
both summer and winter use. The lower
half has laths nailed to the inside and
covering the space filled by the upper half
of the door. The latter may be opened in
summer for ventilation. When shut
and secured by the button on the lower
half, the whole becomes a eolicl door.
The same arrangement will also be found
useful in ventanting the poultry quart-
ers upon warm days in winter, Such
ventilation with plenty of sunlight to
keop the place dry, an0 litter in welch the
fowls must scratch for food so ae th get'
exorcise, are prime requisites to success
with poultry in winter. The hods° must
k opt free from vermin, and provided
wStli free:ea:Duly renewed and plenty of
dry earth or ashes for a dust bath.
The Birchen Fowl.
The Birchen fowl, if of a strain that
has boon recently produced,- would bo
likely to be one of the best, of the Gan10A
for pracenal puepoees, for the crosses of
Brown leetl and Dueevving required to
produee it would tend to "overeoine the
weakness that Is supposed to bo the result
of inlproecling in some strains of Ganies.
The siee, too, would be illtely to be qnite
as great, for 1105 0' between two varieties
of tee same heeed ireenently xesult in in-
creasee size, tlio progeny being larger
Clan either pavent. Witimut exactly rec-
ommending the Birchen Game as a
praetieal fowl, it is safe to say that, it, has
groat beauty, and is as peactical In its
eberacteristies as way variety of the ex-
hibition Game.—el, S. 13abeeek.
DRAINAGE.
The practicability of drainage of land for
agricultural and other purposes has for
it long time ceased to be a question. As
the population a the country bowlike*
the more dense,the necessity for drainage
of the more unfavored portions bas be-
come apparent, and as “uoceesity is the
mother of inveroion," tele good work
was begun, Although their notions of
drainage were, crude at first, our ances-
tors' efforts were rewarded more or less.
Ai:irked improvements have been made
(rem time to time. The system of dykes
and drains in liolland has produced one
of the most fertile and populous districts
of Europe. But the Romans were prob-
ably the tiro to employ covered drains.
They were formed of wood or other sub-
stence, and were highly preised by Ro-
men agriuultural Writers. The progrese
of covered drains has beep very slow un-,
tit about the Initiate of this century,
when it was yedueed to a system. From
that time to the present rapid strides
have been ntade in WM use of under -
drains. These were not at first con-
structed with earthenware, but with
wood, brush, street or stone.
The tendency in drainage has been, for
the last quarter of a century, towards
peensariency, and, so far as the smaller
drains are concerned, the object bas been
pretty well attained. The ciraivage of
small areas is well understood in many
localities in this conutry, but could be
greenly improved if at least the smaller
outlet ditches were constructed in a
more permanent manner. It is our ob-
ject to treat chiefly of these smaller
outlet drains, varying in length from
one to three or four miles, or of still
greater length, owing to circumstance&
These natty be placed under two classes;
First, those which empty into streams
or outlets,which do nst afford sufficient
outlet without improvement. Second,
• these which empty into stretuns which
naff1000r8.dsufficient outlet without imProvte
With tho first class nothing a a Per-
manent nature can be done until a good
outlet is seourad. This must be had at
almost any cost, unlos we aro still con-
tented in the good old way of digging
out the fall in the upper coulee of the
stream every three or four years. But
with a view to permanency and econ-
omy, this main outlet must be made
0710 good Impruyemout. In doing this
• we must consider the faotoroof straight-
ness, depth. width, slope of banks and
the removal of excavated earth as well
ae such portions of banks likely to slide
Into the ditch 83 such distance as to se-
cere the best results. Each of these
teeters and others entering into tho bet-
• terment of the outlet must be duly
studied with a view to permaneney, for
this outlet will cest something, and
• most not require improvement every
few years. It must and should stand
for many years if properly constrinted
and cared for. Having secured it good
outlet for dra'ns of the first class, and
nature having provitled us outlets for
those of the second class, -we sboule now
devise ecru° means to construet those
shorter ditches in such a manner as to
• be rid of the constant cleaning nut of
these direct outlets for farm &eine.
The latter shotild flow freely through-
out their entire length all the time.
The mouths of tile drains sbould not
be obstructed by back water cir by sedi-
ment allowed to accumulate in tee out-
let. This backing of water in drains for
even a few hears may seriously injure,
if not entirely destroy, n growing crop.
Evidently to avoid this calamity the out-
lets tnust be deep enough and have suffic-
ient full to convey the water as fast ns
it reaches them to the larger outlet
mentioned above.
The construction of these smaller
ditches so as to secure the proper Cepah
and fall will require often deep outting,
as the natural fall is often greatest at
or near the outler, and as deep open
drains are expensive and require con-
stant attention to keep them free from
obstructions too numerous to mention,
we muse overoome these obstacles in
anotber ray. The use of tile or sewer
pipe would certainly overcome many of
tbese objections to open dralea. Tho
depth would be always the Sallle. U.'ho
capacity, when properly cons,ructed,
would he a constant quantity. no sed-
iment would be reduced to a minimum. '
But there are SWIM ajfetionS YO tiling
or sewer -piping these drains. The first
and greatest of all is the coat of tile.
The capacity to carry all the water ab
certain times and other smallest objeot-
ions will be raised. The expense af tile
• will vary, of enurse, with the Sin, not
exactly in proportion to the squares of
their diameters, the larger being the
cheaper, according to capaciey, as may
readily be seen by examining pric3-lists.
But would it not be bettor to increase the
cost of improvement considerably than
te be constantly overhauling the old,
sluggish water -course and running the
risk of losing a crop every • few years?
By increasing the depth vve will increase
the capacity, so that tlio pipe need not
be so large as if laid at the usual depth
of these open drains, thereby allowing
the farm drains to flow fteely an the
time. In case of an unusually heavy
rainfall the water might possioly gather
In faster than the pipe could discharge
it, forming a head of it foot or more
wa'tar for a short time. • But the pressure
created by this head will increase the °
flow of water and bath a tendency to re-
move all slat that may be deposited,
leaving the drain in as good or even bet-
ter condition than before such flooll.
Thete can usually be to advantage a
shallow open drain loft over or near the
filo drain. This can be formed, as the
ease may require, as to depth and slope
of banks, but usually should be from
ono to three) feet in depth, With banket
sloping so as to be easily crossed with
wagon, mower oz plow.
Chaecoae as 17ood.
It is not alone nor chiefly as food that
hogs eat charcoal. It, has considerable
nutritive valu.,, as it is mainly cerbon 111
a form that is rather loss digestible than
the carbon in ceen. Yet ibis doubtless a
good plan to burn a few ears of oorn so tte
to turn it -to charcoal when feeding corn
in large quantitiee, The corn is herd to
digest and when new it often forneents in '
the stomach, causing gases et which char-
coal in any form is an expellent absorbent.
'Elie potash wlsieh burned Cern cobs
abundantly supply iS an excellent 'cor-
ree,tive of 1,110 acidity which Tormerreation
always produces, 011 60101 is also good
to feed the hogs which lative LIcliet got -1r
Milk ana other decaying 6111. This'
often aggravates the evil results of over-.
feeding, with corn. A little chart:oat
ong,ht, therefore al svays to 130 71010 to toga
that aro fattening. 'Those kept as brootl-
ers will es et 00110 11 so lu uole as they ought
uot to he overfed, blur, it can do no harm
to plats, chareoal where all hogs can feet
it. '1111s is something that they will
neves' 0151n excess
!