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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1896-7-2, Page 2LIFTED BY LOVE • Or, How the Wharf Waif Became a Princess. PITELISITED BY SPECIAL ARSANOEMENT. (00err1Ntnen) "lie shall not even suspect it, and for that reason you. must avoid seeing Tares." "Yes," I said, after a struggle, "I will promise that" "I have a friend in Berlin—an artist —whose skill in disguising the face and. gure has saved more than one of us from the police. You shall have a letter to him, and he will help you to conceal ur • lentity. We shall have to go into . to -morrow." He was silent for a moment, then drawing a deep breath and smiling for the first time he added: "I think we may hope now." “Hope I" exclaimed Gordon, "why, I have been choking with it this last quarter of an hour I If I had only a pipe of tobacco now" --- "I thought you were a smoker," said Ivan Dontrernernber, drawing a bag of tobacco from his pocket and putting it in Gordon's hand. "God bless yon, old fellow! You for- get nothing." CHAPTER XXXV1IL I RETURN TO LONDON. After raising innumerable objections and creating delays with the view to exciting higher terms, Schemyl at length accepted Ivan Dontremember's offer, but the agreement being made he lost no time in preparing for ray flight. He had a daughter who had. been for some time ill with a skin complaint common to the Russian peasantry, and it was arranged that he should take me to St. Petersburg under the pretense that I was this daughter going there for medical treatment, and so, early one morning, in a peasant's dress the lower part of my face caked with paste, stain- ed fit part with saffron and cochineal, I took my place in Scherayrs sledge and bade "Goodby" to Gordon and Ivan Dontremeznber. Schemyl tucked me in the wraps suitable to an invalid, and having given another touch to the paste on my face declared gleefully that I could not look better if I were dying of the pest. "If that don't satisfy the police. I don't know what will," said he, looking back at me as he took his seat, with great satisfaction. "One glance at that face will be enough for them. They 'won't dare to open her papers for fear of infection." "You have your daughter's paper, of course," said Ivan. • Schemyl winked, nodded and patted his breast. "And you yours?" Ivan added, ad- dressing me. These papers were Gor- don's order for 800 pounds, a letter from Schemyl to his correspondent in Lon- don, and a note from Ivan to his friend in Berlin, all carefully imbedded in a box of ointment which, I carried in my hand. I nodded assent "Then God speed your he exclaimed. "Farewell, dear little woman," cried Gordon.' "Farewell," I answered as stoutly as I could, and the next minute I lost sight of them. 'Schemyl successfully overcame all the difficulties that beset us and left me at the first station in Germany, whence I proceeded to Berlin without further question. At Berlin I found Ivan Dont- remember's friend, Carl Hoffman, and delivered the letter addressed to him. He introduced me to his wife, a bright, intelligent woman, and. they held. a long consultation on the subject. • 'The great thing," said he, going to the window, "is itD choose a disguise that is the least likely to attract notice. Come here, mademoiselle, and tell me what people passing along t r the way seem to you most remarkable—most un - English." I pointed out six or eight of the per. ;sons. Presently he said: "You have not noticed the thin, tall 0 old lady waiting at the corner for a, tram. She is walkug this way now. DD you see neople like that in a Lon- don street?" • "Yes, many," I repled. "Now see if you can walk across the 'room with her gait," I imitated the walk and poeture of a woman bent with age as well as 'could. "Famous!" exclaimed Mrs. Hoffman. ; "Yes, I think that will do," said her husband. * They hunted up a dress of dingy black, .an old bonnet and mantle trimmed with dull jet and a pair of shabby gloves. Mr. Hoffman would have cut may hair and given me a wig, but his wife would not suffer this; so they gathered it close on the top of my head and concealed it with a false front and a knot of grey hair behind. My face was carefully painted and my teeth stained. My new friends laughed heartily as they made these alterations in my appearance, and still more heartily when, a spotted veil completing the make up, I walked across the room, my hands folded, and carrying a rusty leather reticule, with the step of an elderly person, to look at myself: in the glass. For a moment or two stood gaping before the mirror in amazement, for it is no exaggeration to say I did not know myself. I looked like a woman of advanced age who "has seen 'trouble," and this general effect was heightened by the appearance of faded gentility in my dress. Time disguised, I arrived in London on the •.uorning of Fob. 6—three months within la few days from the date of my captria.„ "Kele mum?" asked a porter, touch- ing his cap as I stepped out of the train, noCtl al I assent. "Fc;r wheeler," he called, without hesitation. No better compliment than that could ba•ve been paid to -the friends 'who had disguised me. "Where to, lady?" asked the cabman when T was seated. "Carter street, Houndsditch," said I in the falsetto of old age. At the corner of Carter street I dis- charged the cab. A few doors clown I saw on a shop facia the name I sought —"M. Lazarus, furrier." I entered and told. the shopinan I wished to see Mr. Lazarus himself. "What name?" he asked. "Tell him I have come from Peter Schemyl," I replied. I wee shewn into a private office, where a stout, dark eyed man with a black beard received. me. He .eyed moe curiously as I took from the inside of my dress the purse which now contained my precious Rapers. i was not the first mysterious visitor perhaps svho had brought hint a message from the heart of Russia. lie took the minute sheet of closely folded thin paper, carefully opened it, and having read the few lines it con - tabled said: "You are to give me an order for 2800, madam." • "Here it is," I replied, giving up the last of the napers with a, feeling of re- lief. - "There may be some difficulty in cashing this," he observed, raising his eyebrows as he looked at the grease stained order, "Have you any objection to going with me to the bank?" I agreed to this proposal, and he sent fora cab, in which we went together to Lombard street. „ “You had better come in with me." said Mr. Lazarus. "An explanation is sure to be wanted." We entered the bank, and he present- ed the strange order. The clerk exam- ined it and then took it into the man- ager's office. After an interval of five or ten minutes he returned, and hand. tug the paper back to Mr. Lazarus said: "I am sorry to tell you that we can- not cash this order, sir? "Can I see the manager? The irregu- larity can be explained." "Ibis not a question of irregularity. We have examined Mn Gordon's ac- count and find that there are no assets. Mr. Gordon drew the whole of his de- posit the day he left—that is," the clerk said, correcting himself as if he had said more than lie should have said, "on the 12th of November last year." Mx. Lazarus turned to me and raised his eyebrows in silent interrogation. "He drew all his _money out the day he went away!" I Asped. "The 12th of November," theclerk replied. Mr. Lazarus handed me the order with a bow of mock civility, shrugged his shoulders as he nodded. to the clerk and turned on his heel, evidently wish - beg it to be understood that he washed his hands of the affair and had nothing more to do with me, I followed him to the door thunderstruck, unable to reason under this terrible blow. "What am I to do?" I asked, over- taking him, on the pavement as he was about to step into the cab. "Well, I advise you to be more care- ful in the future. It's a lucky thing for you that the manager did not think it worth while to put the matter in the baud s of the police." In speechless dismay I watched the cab drive off, feeling that with it all hope was going beyond recall, and then, bewildered and helpless, I yielded to the stream of hurrying city men, and some- how drifted into a quiet turning, where it was possible for a poor creature to collect her scattered wits. Stupidly, in my d sparation, I looked round as if I might find guidance at hand. There was not a soul in the court but a man in a white blouse, painting some- thing on a doorpost. My heart sickened as I realized my folly. Then, apatheti. cally, my eyes rested on the painter's hand. He was writing a name on the doorpost, I spelled out what he had written, "E. Pelham, solicitor, second A ray of hope flashed upon my dark- ened mind. I had heard Texas speak of getting a solicitor's advice upon some question of business. Might not this solicitor advise me? I had money to pay him—the rest of the English notes Gordon gave me. There could be no harm in trying if I kept up my assumed character and took proper precautions. I went up to the second floor, and after pausing for a minute outside the freshly painted door on which I read the name of the solicitor I entered the office with every sense on the alert. I remember that the newly varnished door creaked as I pushed it open; that there was a strong smell of paint; that everything was painfully new. Even Mr. Pelham himself seemed new, he was so attentive, so anxious to get me into his inner office as soon as be learned. that I wished to have his advice upon an important ques- tion. He was a thin, eager, little man, with a clean shaven face and a pleasant, birdlike expression in his sharp, twink- ling eyes. He reminded me of a sparrow with a large brood on the lookout for the smallest crumbs. "Do you know any one named Kava- nagh?" I asked when we were seated face to face at his writing table, with the spotless blotting pad and the new stationery case and writing materials between us. "Well, madam, I can't say that I do," he answered reluctantly. "Any one named Gordon?" "Gordon, Gordon, now," reflectively. "No, madam. You see, madam, my practice has up to now been in another • part of the metropolis." * "Perhaps you know Prince Bor- gensky?" "I have heard of him of course but I have not the pleasure of knowing him," "Can I rely upon your not repeating a word of what I tell you to any living creature?" "Absolutely, madam. You must understand that neee professional repu- tation would be ruined if I betrayed, even by want of care, anything confided to me by a client." After a few m.oments' reflection I said, going without circumlocution straight to my subject: "George Gordon and I were kidnapped last November," I began. "Kidnapped; yes, madam," he said in the most matter-of-fact voice, though the fall in his countenance expressed disappointment, and. his penetrating glance betrayed a doubt as to whether his new client was quite in her sound senses. "We were transported to St. Peters- burg and thence to Siberia." "Siberia," he said, making a note of it as though he might possibly confuse it with Cheapside. "After traveling four weeks -we es- caped. from the police and — "Pardon me—may I ask why you were in the hands of the police?" "George Gordon was supposed to be Prince ,Borgensky, the nihilist, whom he resembles, and I was taken as his accomplice. We were both being sent to Siberia as exiles by administrative order." Mr. Pelham's face brightened up again as if with the dawning hope that I might be sane after all. "We found a man who undertook to get us out of Riissi t for about 3,000 rubles. George Gordon had only 1,200. It was agreed. that I should be sent alone to' London with an order on George Gordon's bankers to pay 4300 to aanan named. Lazarus in Houndsclitche On receipt of the money Lazarus was to tglegeaph to the man in Siberia, who would then get George Gordon out of Russia. You understand me?" “Pereectly madam. The explanation is most lucid; the case most interesting. Pray, proceed." "I arrived in London this morning and presented the order to Mr. Lazarus. We took it to the bank, but they de- clined to pay the money." "Has Mr. Lazarus returned the order to you?" "Yes; here it is." He examined the paper with redoubled interest." "Messrs. Duncan & Duncan—why, this house is just round the corner." ayes," "What reasons do they give for refus- ing moment?" 'They say they have no money of George Gordon's.. ' "Is Mr. Gordon a man of capital?" "He is very rich, I believe." "Surely he would know when he wrote this important order wlaether,he had a balance there or not?" "His life depended on it" "If you have no objection, I will go at once and see what the manager has to say. I shall not keep you waiting many minutes." "You will not mention the names of Kavanagh or Prince Borgensky." "You can rely implicitely on ray prudence, madam," he said, taking up his hat. After an absence of some minutes he returned with a piece of paper in his hand. "The fact is clear, madam," said he. "The whole of the deposit, 25,423 178. was drawn out on the 12th, of last November. Messrs, Duncan could not make a mistake. On the other hand, it seems incredible that Mr. Gordon, in a case of such importance could overlook the fact of drawing out so large a sum, especially as the odd figures prove that he was taking every available penny. Then you say he had only 1,200 rubles with him—a ruble, I believe, is worth about 2 shillings or half a crown?" "Yes." "Do you know whether he spent much money after leaving England?" "He could not." "And what day did you leave Eng- land?" "The day he drew the money," I replied, misguided by the statement of the clerk. "Is it possible that he drew the money knowing that he might need it?" "He had no suspicion that be was to be taken away." "Now, madam," he pursued after a few moments' reflection, "can you tell rue if any one besides yourself knew of Mr. Gordon's being taken away?" "Yes, one person." "Only one?" "Only one." "Can you tell me his name?" After a little consideration, I ans wert ; "His name i Kavanagh." "An! Do you know in what relation they stand to each other?" "George Gordon was Kavanagh's friend; Kavanagh was George Gordon's enemy.. he it was who had us taken away." "Most interesting—a complete chain! Did Kavanagh visit Mr. Gordon often?" "Frequently before our arrest. He was at George Gordon's chambers in the afternoon of that day." "I do not know whether your suspic- ions take the same directions as mine; but it looks to me as if Kavanagh had got access to your friend's rooms after the kidnapping and made use of his checkbook. Has that occurred to you?" "Not till now. But it was pointed out that some strong motive was needed to explain Kavanagh.'s action." "A stronger still may yet be found. It is not likely that all Mr. Gordon's property was in the bank. Do you wish me to make inquiries?" "No. • It will be time enough tobring him to account when George Gordon returns." "Then, hemi—may I ask you what you wish me to dor "I want you to tell me how I can get money to bring /gni home." Evidently the poor little man found it difficult to conceal his disappointment at this dull turn to an inspiriting case. However, putting the best face he could on the affair, he eaid: "Do you know anything of Mn Gor- don's private affairs—the name of his solicitor, or any friend who can be ap- pealed to for help?" "No. I know of nobody who can be appealed to." "You yourself have not the means?" "I have barely e0 pounds," He sighed, andafter reflection said: "Well. madam, the only thing I can think of is to see this Mr. Lazarus and represent the case to him, of course avoiding the names you have mentioned. He may be disposed to advance the sum required upon that order if we convince him that Mr. Gordon is a man of honor. With your permission I will call on him this afternoon, and you shall know the result to morrow morning." After some discussion I agreed to this proposal and left Mr. Pelham, who de- clined to take any fee at the present stage of th- case. CHAPTER XXXIX. THE MADNESS OF FEAR. I couldn't help it. It was stronger than I, as the French say—that yearn. ing to be near Tares, to pass the house in which he lived—the house with which the dearest, the happiest associations of my life were connected, and after resist- ing the temptation as long as I could, wandering about the city with the en- deavor to distract my thoughts by look- ing in the shops, I took a turning down to the river, and at the first station step- ped on board a Chelsea steamer. "Is it likely," I asked myself, "that I shall be seen by any one I know?" Nevertheless it was the hope of seeing Tams, if but afar off, that led me into this imprudence, for, despite my dis- guise, I knewthat I was doing wrong— that I was jeopardizing the escape of Gordon, the safety of Tares himself—by exposing myself even to the remote chance of discovery. Most of the people on boat d looked like Lambeth folk. A gentleman was waiting on the Temple pier who, in the distance, looked like Kavanagh. I shivered with suppreesed excitement as we drew nearer and nearer to the spot in which my fondest hopes were centred. My heart beat wildly as I ,• caught sight of the kilns beyond West- minster, my head swam, and every ob- ject, grew dim and indistinct before my eyes as the boat crossed. toward. Lam beth pier. Prudence told me that here at least I ought to go below or screen myself, for every man cm the pier knew me well by sight. But I was deaf to every voice, blind. to every danger. I even raised my veil that I might better scan the faces ox the passengers upon the pier we were nearing. Oh, if Tares might only be among them I If he would come on board, where I might feel his presence t There were three or four familiar faces close to me when we ran alongside, but not his. I stood up and strained may eyes as the late passengers, ran down the footbridge. He was not among them, and that vain hope was gone. But there was still the chance of seeing him at the window when the bridge was passed and I could get an unobstructed view of the house. (To 1311 CONTINUED) MEXICO'S RACE OF PIGMIES. Known Only by Tradition. Their Locality is aIll'stem-y. • Somewhere hidden in the heart of that land of marvels, Mexico, there is witliout doubt a nation of pigmies. Few they are, but fierce; short of stature, but long of life. Science, which in this latter day goes out into highways and hedges and compels all sorts of curiosities to come in, has not been able yet to put its positive finger on these people. But the Aztec tradi- tions, old before the beginning. of his- tory, have said that they existed. There is echo of the story in the early histories of that land full of wonders. Prescott only told of a small part of the strange things to be found in Mexico. It was in the belief that we had the clue to almost the precise location of these tiny folk that I started to journey into the wilds of Mexico. So definite was the information upon which the expedition was based that I thought we might go directly to the home of the dwarfs. I knew there were mountains to climb and rivers to cross, hundreds of hard miles to travel, untold hardships to face, but to find the pigmy Aztecs was a great enough accomplishment to tempt any scientific man to make all physical discomforts seem trivial. I went, I invaded the remotest and most uncivilized districts of the great country to the south. Of men and customs I have seen many, and. studied them from the ^United States border to the Isthmus. I have seen strange peoples and gathered relics of a bygone civilization, but the race of pigmies we could not find. I do not say that they do not exist, but merely that I did, not find them. They may st.11 be hidden somewhere among those mountains, where some day some lucky man will find them and bring them to light. At any rate, I have come back to the haunts of every -day, modern people and the duties of every day, wiser and happier than when I started on my mission. The story of 'those wander- ings in Mexico will be a wonder story to tell by and, by' and a rich memory for old age.— Frederick Starr in San Francisco Examiner. A Druggist's Lesson in Poisons. It seems scarcely wise for a man in the state of Kentucky to declare that whisky is poison. But there is a reckless individual in Nichola,sville, Ky., who has done it, and done it in a bolsi, disagreeable sort Of way, too. This person's name, which is apt to be an anathema in Kentucky hence- forth, is James W. Gordon. He is in the drug business in Nicholasville. Just how long his neighbors and fellow -townsmen will encourage him in the pursuit of trade is very difficult to say. Mr. Gordon has gratuitously "rubbed it in" to his compatriots on the some-, what dangerous sem% of whisky. He has fitted up in. the front of his drug store what he calls a poison window, and a bottle of the corn juice dear to the Kentucky heart is there. The window is a grewsome thing. It is a whole course of lessons to the man who wants to commit suicide. In the middle, white and grinning, is a skull, Clutched in its teeth is the deadly cigarette, an ash clinging at its tip. At the right of the skull is the bottle filled with the good corn juice of the Ken- tuckian's daddies. At its left is a bottle of port wine. Scattered about in the foreground are cards, dice and poker chips. The rest of the window is filled. with small jars containing liquid poisons and papers upon which are heaped powders enough of various sorts to end the troubles of a regiment, Every article is labelled, from the cigarette to the prussic acid, and. to prevent any possible misunderstanding of his mean- ing Mr. Gordon has fronted the whole deadly collection with a startling sign which reads: "Every article in this window is poison." What makes the druggist's venture more inexplicable is that he is a voter - in Kentucky and, carries no life insur- ance. His pharmacy may be perfectly correct, but his lack of policy is pitiful. To Meet the Demands. Some day' we are to go forth in our spiritual responsibility, and to meet the demands of our spiritual existence. The soul, buried under the cares of life, thrills when it hears such tidings as that. It is ready—it is in any way getting ready—for such reeurrection? See how the whole evangelical experi- ence starts with such an intelligence. The soul brought face to face with its destiny feels its titter unfitness for it. Sin and stains are on its garments. It must have some deliverer. It must find its deliverer thee whither it is going, in that spiritual world for which it feels its unfitness, for which it must be fit. It cries out for Christ. Chrigt comes. and the mysterious work of pardon and regeneration passes between him and the soul.; and then the soul, with a spiritual immortality now set clearly before it goes to work to struggle with itself, to conquer down its yet remaining sin, to win Christ perfectly, to be good, pure and holy —Bishop Brooks. In 188., according to the ."Lictionary of Statistics," the United States manu- factured 3,500,000 pounds of silk into V arious kin ds of fabrics FEEDING WORK -HORSES. Too Much Hay Takes A.way Strength—. Feed Grain and oats. A farmer writes to the American Onl- tivator, deprecating the too common practice of overfeeding horses. The effectiveness of working horses, and es- pecially on forms, is often impaired by injudicious feeding. This subject is bet- ter understood than it used to be, but there are yet far too many instances of horses being put to work with stem- aohs overloaded, and yet not providing the nutriment needed to give the inns- cular strength which hard work always •requires. Hence the horse is always glow in his gait and soon tires out. Thiso ver - loading the stomach with innutritious food is mainly due to the average farm- er's dependence on hay as the staple and cheapest food for horses, Really, so far as effectiveness goes, grain, and espe- cially oats, are always cheaper than hay. Liverymen, and those in cities who keep horses, soon discover this fact. They have to buy all that their horses eat, and learn to discriminate. When they feed hay exclusively, they find that the horse is incapacitated for fast or long driving on the road. Farm work differs from that on the road in not requiring so rapid motion. Farm horses can, there- fore, be fed more hay, but enough grain or meal should go with it, so that the proper amount of nutrition can be se- cured without too great distention of the digestive organs. While the livery- man depends mainly on oats, and usu- ally feeds them whole, the farmer will find his most effective ration in ground corn and oats, mixed with out clover or timothy hay and fed slightly wet, so that the meal and wet hay will adhere. The best proportion is half weight each of the hay and meal. This will, of course, make the hay more bulky. The ration for a 1,200 -pound horse will usu- ally be about 16 pounds of corn and oat- meal per day, and the same weight of out hay, divided into three messes, morn- ing, noon and night. If the horse con Un- ties to be hungry after this feed, it will be well to increase it until fully satis- fied. There are individual peculiarities in horses, as in men and women, about eating, and it is not always those who eat the most who keep the fattest or will do the most work. ABOUT BARN DOORS, Those Hung by Weights Are the Beet for Many Reasons. Where the structure of the barn—or, PerhaPS we should say, the position therein—will permit, the most conveni- ent door, the one least in the way, is a door hung by weights, to slip up and down, instead of swinging back on hinges or sliding sideways on guides or rollers. This style is especially desirable for partition doors, as it occupies so lit- tle room, and never comes in the way. The only practical difficulty in its con- struction is that of getting the weights adjusted to the weight of the door, but this may easily be obviated. Have the weight cast somewhere about half the average weight of the doors (a little less rather than more) and insist on having them slightly smaller at the upper end, as shown in the accompanying cut; and on this smaller upper end get your trines to fit a loose cap made of galvan- ized iron, say six inches deep. Put any heavy article that may come handy, as sand, shot, etc., into this cap, in quan- tit's, sufficient to just ,balance the door, and you will have an arrangement that works like a charm. —G. W. Waters, in St, Louis Journal of Agriculture. Farm Notes. A greater variety of crops can be grown and we are surer of a good catch ot clover on a well -drained soil, and it is not so apt to be thrown out with the frost in winter and spring. In selecting seed potatoes for the com- ing planting, choose the varieties for the several plantings which you know to have given good results. Don't be too anxious to run after what you have only heard about. New varieties have generally been produced under very favorable, and sometimes special circumstances, which you cannot afford to repeat, Regarding the tanning of skins with- out removing the, hair, a good way is to stretch the skin tightly upon a board with hair side down. Scrape off loose flesh and fat with a dull knife and ap- ply chalk freely, rubbing it In thor- oughly. When chalk begins to powder and fall off, remove skin from boned and rub in plenty of powdered alum. Wrap It up closely and keep in a dry place for a few days. It will be found nice and pliable. Another method is to mix salt- peter and alum two parts of.the former to one of the later, and sprinkle it uni- formly over the flesh side of the skin. Then roll up. and lay away in a cool place for a few days. Then spread it out to dry and sdrape off the fat. It will have to be rubbed vigorously to render it pliable. Farmers usually have a plentiful sup- ply of fresh meat in winter when the weather is cold, and by freezing the meat can be kept sometimes for weeks without being injured. But in summer It is different, and the ration of salted pork or corned beef is apt to become tiresome. It is a surprise that some of the fresh meat butchered in winter is not canned,as it may easily be. Cut it in small pieces without any bone, and cook so thoroughly as to expel all air. Then place it quickly in glass jars that have been slowly heated until they are nearly as hot as the cooked food. If this is done and the cans are immersed ex- cept their tops in hot water, the glass will not break. Pack the meat as closely as possible in the can, and when filled cover the top with melted lard and seal , the can. The lard will protect the meat beneath it from any air that may be un- der the lid of the can and which may have ferment germs. A few cans of fresh meat for use in summer will be quite as convenient as the cans of fruit and veg- etables which all good housewives now put up every summer and fall in great- est abundance, Fresh fruit in the sum- mer is more easy to get in the country than is fresh meat of any kind. chiefly ribbon. y on. • USEFUL IMPLEMENT. How to Construct a Handy Carrier for the Orchard. A useful implement, Which should bel on tile premises of every rural home, is shown in accompanying illustration. It comes handy in a good many ways, and, is especially servieeable for carrying arti- cles that are too bulky or too heavy to be moved, easily by one person. Its con- struotiou requires no unusual skill or Ingenuity. Anybody who has saw, ham. mer, nails, and a few pieces of nine or basswood boards, can make or" t is a c7/971M711' good thing to have in the berry patch for carrying crates, etc., in a convenient manner. Too much care cannot be ex- ercieed to keep the freshly gathered berries out of the boiling sun, All berries to stand up and keep well, should be gath- ered -while dry and cool, and set in a cold place, under the shack of trees or buildings, etc., until remdred out of the patch to storage -room or station. The two -men carrier will be found a great conveniente for moving the crates about. —American Gardening. At Lamle; lig Time. " The following advice, originally ap- pearing in the Mark Lane Express, is taken from an American contem- porary:— "A rule which cannot be too implic- itly observed is that ewes should not be interfered with except in cases of actual necessity when in labor. The 'watching itself, therefore, should be done stealth- ily, as the animals appear very much to dislike over -looking and will creep away to any secret place they can find to avoid it. If occupying a well constructed fold, they have no choice, but the shep- herd has ho occasion to prolong his in- spection beyond a few moments if he perceives that all is going on all right or to go to it frequently unless there is really difficult labor, and he believes he ought soon to render help. When fully convinced that the time for interference has come, he should approach the animal with the utmost gentleness, and causing her to lie on her side, feel if the birth Is coming right, with the two fore feet and tie nose obtruding from the womb, Shouldthe latter not. be thoroughly unlocked he would do wrong to render immediate assistance before giving the ewe a cordial, to enable her to sustain her strength, or some medicine, such as homeopathic pulsatilla, which has been known to be efficacious in bringing about unlocking. If he can feel the toes of the fore feet and the unlocking is cleared sufficiently, there can be little harm in endeavoring to get these legs out, but he should draw them down- wards instead of out straight in doing so, as thereby he will lighten the strain the head makes on the upper part,'Some- times when there are twins inside, the hind foot of one will be found forced f or- svatd so as to prevent easy egress of the lamb that is coming properly, in which case the hind foot should be forced back Into time womb to allow the lamb which ought to be born first more easy pro- gress. "There are other still more difficult cases of parturition causing it to be necessary for the shepherd to insert his fingers inside the womb to feel what part of the lamb is advancing, which he should do cautiously, taking care not only that his hands be washed first and his finger nails pared down close, but that his lingers shall, if possible, be dipped in oil. Occasionally, too, instru- ments have to be employed, and a dead lamb to be out out piecemeal; but al- though we have met with shepherds ex- pert even in this, a veterinarian should, if possible, do it. After difficult parturi- tion there is nothing like arnica lotion injected into the womb to prevent puer- peral fever or inflammation. Some recommend carbolic acid lotion injected into the womb, but there can be no bet- ter antidote to inflammation than ar- nica." Clover Meadows. The Ohio Experiment Station is now planning some experiments in attempt- ing to get a stand of clover on fields sown last spring, but which failed. to make a perfect stand, owina•cto the drought. The bare spots in these fields will first be gone over with a sharp spike harrow, or with a disk harrow; crimson clover and common clover will then be sown side by side, and lightly covered in with smoothing harrow. A light seed- ing of oats as a nurse crop may be added on part of the land, for comparison, but we expect the best results from seeding the clever alone. Last season's expFienee demonstrated that the nurse crop may prove a robber instead of a nurse, by taking all the water from the soil and leaving none of the clover. Care of rass Lands. Almost anything spread thinly over *grass lands will help them. Even mater- ial not very rich and which itself will not grow a good Crop will" make the grass grow better, because it acts as a mulch for the grass roots beneath. The washings of poor uplands will fertilize the richer soil of the valleys below. But except where top dressings can be thus done naturally by irrigation it will not pay to top dress 'with poor material. The labor will be too great, and it will trample and cut up the grass too much unlesethe fertilizing material is put on during the winter. A Clock Made of Bread. Bread is the most curious material out of which a clock has ever been con- structed. Tiiere was, and may still be, in Milan, a clock made of bread. The maker was a native of Milan, who de. voted three years of his time to the task. He was very poor, and being without means to purchase the necessary metal for the making of a clock'he set apart regularly a portion of his bread each clay, eating the crust and saving the soft part. To solidify this he made use of a certain salt, and when the various pieces were dry they Immune perfectly hard and insoluble in water. The clock was of good size, and kept fair time. con fi 'lenient and Feather Fulling. When fowls are kept up and have no exercise, they begin after awhile to pull feathers from each other, soon becoming naked. They aleo cease to lay, and are of no value except for the pot. Feather pulling is the result of idleness and heavy feeding. The remedy to prevent the vice is to keep them busy. After they learn the habit it is a waste of time to attempt to cure them and it will be cheaper to get rid of them and procure 1 others than to ose remedies.