HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1896-8-27, Page 6-74
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LIFTED BY LOVE away unix arternoon and won't be back
till Monday."
''Cau yon tell me where I might find
him?"
"You'll ' have to go to Betterford—
that's beyond Woking—to find him."
"Woking that's a long way. Are you
sure he is there?" r
"Certain 'cause I had to post the let-
ters to him there as they came in by the
last post,"
Or, Row the Wharf Wail
Became a Princess.
PRIMMER EY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.
(CONTIN Ulm)
"Turas—J udithe Why; this is a
surprise for me, and I suppose niy com-
ing is for you? I •thought .1 plight steal
a few hours to satisfy my anxiety:"
It was Kavanagh. His voice had
dropped: from a tone of cheerful aston-
ishment to uneasy perplexity, and he
added:
"Has anything happened?"
"Come on," muttered Gordon, catch-
ing my hand in his, "we'll show the vil-
lain what has happened. And he shook
that fine new stick of his.
I heard Taros speaking in a terrible
tone as we hurried out, but I Could not
catch his words. Then we came up and
stood before Kavanagh, near enough for
him to distinguish our faces in the pale
starlight.
"I understand now," he said, with
Aimed composure. "You have come
back."
"Yes, come Nick to call you to ac•
count," thuudeid Gordon. "What
have you to say for y-ourse, you con-
founded villain?"
"Nothing„ if you take that tone," Ka-
vanagh replied. tapping the palm of his
left hand lightly with the cane he held
in his right, ••When you can listen to
reason, I shall be able to justify every
act that may seem inscrutable to you
now."
"You'll have plenty of scope for your
ingenuity iu that way when you are in the
dock; the lawyers will fight you there;
here you have to settle matters with
me."
There was no mistaking what he
meant as he threw off his Inverness.
"Take this warning," said Kavanagh,
closing his left hand tightlyion his cane
and stepping back a pace. "If you at-
tempt to offer violence, the result may
be fatal—to you. I am not unprepared
to protect myself."
As he spoke he gave the head of his
cane a twist, whipped out the rapier to
which it was a handle, and throwing
aside the stick placed himself in an atti-
tude of defence.
With a cry of terror Judith attempted
to throw herself between Gordon and
Kavanagh, but Tara,., who had caught
the sound of steel, forcibly restrained
her,
For my own part, I could neither
move nor utter a sound. The long,
thin sword was scarcely visible in the
dim light. I heard that Kavanagh was
an expert swordsman. It was impossi-
ble fur Gordon to face hien with a stick,
and it was impossible that he should
close with his adversary without expos-
ing himself te the thrust of that almost
unseen weapon.
CHAPTER L.
THE END OF KAVANAGH.
Without a moment's hesitation Gor-
don threw himself upon his antagonist,
striking at his sword arse. The blow
fell and was followed by a howl of pain
from Kavanagh. I thought Gordon had
escaped injury by some happy accident,
but the next moment, as he stepped
back, I saw the rapier hanging down
from his side under the left arm. Shift-
ing his stick for au instant, he drew the
bent weapon out and flung it aside. In
that brief space Kavanagh turned and
took to his heels, but Gordon pursued
and overtook him before he had gone a
dozen yards, and a struggle ensued, Ka-
vanagh grappling close to give Gordon's
stick less play. But he was no match
for Gordon at wrestling, and presently
he went over Gordon's shoulder, falling
in the road with a thud. He would
have been content to lie there, but Gor-
•pon dragged hini on to his feet, and run-
ning him along at arm's length, thrash-
ed him without mercy until the misera-
ble wretch threw himself down in the
road again and shammed unconscious-
ness.
Gordon declared he was unhurt, spoke
scornfully of Kavanagh's rapier and
w ordered how an old hand could rely
on a twopenny-halfpenny sword stick
for defense. But when we returned to
the house he helped himself to a liberal
dose of whisky and said he thought he
would "just go up stairs and pat him-
self straight obit," He was in his room
some time and came down in another
suit of clothes.
"I've helped myself to a suit of yours,"
I heard him say to Taros. That beastly
spit pricked me under the arm and made
my togs in a bit of a mess. I couldn't
make out how it was I felt wet a.l down
that side."
"We can't afford to let you trifle with
yourself," said Taros. If the wound is
serious" --
"Wound? Hang it—its only a scratch,
man ! I've stuch a lump of wadding
out of your dress coat on the place—the
muscle under the arm, don't you know
—and I shall be as right as rain after
supper."
About the same time the gardener,
who had been sent to look after Kavan-
agh, returned andinformed us that the
"gent" was getting on pretty nicely—
seemed a little upsetlike—kind of knock-
ed up, in a manner of speaking, but he
had found his hat and could manage to
limp along pretty lively, if we under-
stood what he meant.
What happened to Kavanagh after
this was witnessed by William Wright,
one of the kiln hands at the pottery at
Lambeth.
At five o'clock on that Friday the of-
fice was closed as usual. Old Mr. Bell
was the last to leave. Before going he
went through the works and stopped to
.chat with William Wright, who was
coaling up the brown ware kiln; talked
about the quantity of fuel used and ask-
ed Wright whether he didn't think a,
cheaper coal would answer the same
purpose as that they were burning, aid
so on, Always on the lookout for
means of economizing, Mr. Bell. Never-
theless he gave Wright twopence for a
pint of ale when he bade him "Good
night" in his friendly way. Wonder-
fully nice old gentleman. At 6 o'clock
the bell rang. and all hands went away
from the pottery except Wright, ,whose
turn it was to keep the fires up till Ste-
vens came at 2 to relieve him.
About 7, Wright having coaled up,
went to the side door in Ferry street to
get a breath of fresh air. While he was
standing there smoking half a pipe an
odd looking little e fellow came up tohim
and passed the time of, day. He had a
neer, monke i
shsore of face, wi
th a
short, bristly red beard, and he wore a
fur cap.
"Is Mr. Kavanagh in the works?" he
asked.
"Not'' answered Wright "He went
"Zhu is very awkward. I'm apotter,
and I counted on getting a bit of work."
"You're a Russian, ain't you?"
"Yes. How do you know?"
"Because you talk like the parties
who come to ask after Mr. Taros." ° I
"You work late here?" said the little
man after a pause.
"We knock off at 6, I'm here to fire
up. Friday's salting day with us " •
He had to explain the process of salt
glazing before the foreigner understood
this.'._
"We don't glaze like that in our coup -
try. I expect your kilns are quite un-
like ours, Have you any objection to
uiy looking at thein?" •
• "Well," said Wright, after a little ;
hesitation, it's against the rules to let
strangers in. but as your going to be a :.
hand in the work§ I don't mind."
Wright took hini round the kiln and
showed him the fire holes; the foreigner
looking about, taking notice of every-
thing with his round. deep sunk eves:
then he led him up to the throwing
floor, where the foreigner was interested
in the potter's wheels and the boards of
clay jars set round the body of the kiln ,
to dry: thence Wright took him up the
steps on to the salting floor, which is
level with the dome of the kilns. The
huge kiln here begins to taper into a fun •
-
nel passing up through the roof. In
one side is an opening about the height
of a man and 3 or 4 feet wide, and
through this one sees, on a level with
the floor, the dome covering thatpart of •
the kiln in which the pottery is exposed
to the flames. In the .middle of the
dome is an opening through which the
flame rises in a compact body. William
Wright took his visitor to the opening
in the side of the kiln and pointed out
the holes through which the salt is pour-
ed to glaze the earthenware, but not
content with this the little foreigner
went inside, right on the dome of the
kiln, and looked down into the inside.
Wright says he looked like a demon in a
paatoniime as he stood. ahnost within
singeing distance of the flame, grinning
down into the fiery pit below.
"Here, come on, mate, you've seen
enough," said Wright, who by this time
began to suspect that he had not done
well to infringe the rules.
At this remark the foreigner followed
Wright to the ground floor, and there
again the spirit of inquiry was strong
upon him. He would go round to look
at the fire holes again, and Wright fol-
lowing, with sulky slowness, no doubt,
lost sight of him on the other side of the;
coals. Couldn't inake out where he'd
got to, looked for him high and low, lit.
a lantern and went right out into the
yard behind Mr. Tarns' house. Wasn't
anywhere. Finally he concluded that
being a foreigner (and consequently
mean) the little man had sneaked out
into Ferry street and gone orf in that
unceremonious fashion in order to avoid
standing a drop of beer for the trouble
Wright had taken to explain things
nicely to him.
Nothing occurred until just about
midnight, when Wright had another
suprise as he was breathing the cool air
of Ferry street. Mr. Kavanagh cause
down Ferry street from the front office.
He was limping; his coat was torn, his
hat broken. his hand thrust into the
breast of his frock coat. Never saw
him look anything likeit before, Wil-
liam Wright hadn't—wouldn't have
known hini if he hadn't spoken.
"What the deuce is the *matter with
the front door?" he asked angrily. "I
can't open it with my key."
"I expect Mr. Bell double locked it.
inside. He did come out through the
works, and he's so wonderful parti-
cular."
"Cursed old idiot!" growled Kavan
agh, passing him. "Bring a light. I
must go down through the ware-
house."
Wright lit a lantern and lighted the
way through the throwing room, the
warehouse and the passage leading to
the shop and office. There Kavanagh
tried to open the front door with the
key, but found that something fouled
the wards of the lock and prevented the
key turning. He swore again at Mr.
Bell for a muddling, meddling old fool,
and giving up the attempt said to
Wright:
"You can go. Leave the lantern
there. I will come back by the ware-
house."
Wright went back and fired up his
kiln, wondering how the governor, al-
ways so spick and span, had fallen into
that battered condition, and what on
earth he had come to the office for at
that hour. Whatever did he want
there?
He had just banked up the last fire
hole when he thought he heard a voice
calling faintly in the distance, "'Wright 1
Wright!" He stood quite still to listen,
and heard beyond doubt the cry repeat-
ed—"Wright! Wright!"—in a shriek of
supplication and terror, and it was the
governor's voice.
He answered and ran up stairs.
As he was crossing the throwing room
Kavanagh rushed out of the darkness
from the warehouse and came to his
side panting for breath. He had a stone
jar in his hand which he had caught up
for defense, and he looked back into the
darkness -and round him with wild ter-
ror, his face white as a sheet of paper.
"Do you see him?" he gasped.
"Who, sir?" asked Wright.
"A man with a red beard and a bald
head."
"No, sir."
"Lay hold of that jar. If you see him,
brain him.,He's a madman."
Wright amed himself with a jar from
an instinct of self defense, but not being
a strong roan he determined to bolt if he.
found himself in danger and got the
chance.
"You must ' have passed him in
the warehouse," whispered Kavanagh.
hoarsely. "I heard a bottle knocked
over soon after you went. I:thought it
was you prying about. When I went
up and turned round, I found him just
behind sue. He knocked- the lantern
out of my hand. I don't know where
he went He was behind me :one mo-
ment—in front of me the next. What's
that?", he exclaimed, sudclen)y dropping
the jar and catching Wright's arse.
Then, gaping with' fear, he shrank
back, nodding and glaring at the hop-
per through which Wright had come
u.
P
Wright looked that way, too, but saw
nothing. He thought the governor
must be "gone off," or seized with -"the
jumps," or something. It. made ]rim.
feel shaky and queer to see a man
usuauy so self composed so completely
unnerved and panic stricken.
"Go down andlook if he's there,"
whispered Kavanagh, laying his hand
on the rail of the -tipper stairs, ready to
fly at a moment's warning. "You shall .
have ,£10 if you stun him with that jar.
If he's not there run to the door and
scream for help. 1 left a cab rouud the
corner -the mon will hear you—but
come back here quick."
Reluctantly and with care Wright
proceeded to obey these orders.. He
descended three stairs, and then, crouch-
ing down, look'dd round the stocking
floor. lit only in patches by the light
from the fire holes. Right in . the far -
tiler corner there were two twinkling
points of light; probably it was nothing
but a piece of coal reflecting a flichering
ray from the kiln, but it looked like a
pair of fiendish eyes, and that was
enough for Wright. He ran back to the
governor. .
"He's down there," said he, only less
apprehensive than the shaking, wretch
he spoke to.
"Where?"
"At the back of the kil', 'twixt the
steps and the door."
Without a word Kavanah crept
swiftly up the stairs to the floor irbove
Wright was about to follow, niton
some one brushed past hini and ran up
the stairs like a cat. It was the impish
foreigner who had gone over the works
earlier in the night, only now he wore
neither boots nor hat, and his head was
bald and shining,
Wright stoodthere breathless, at a
loss to know what to do between duty
to his master and duty to himself. He
would have been glad to get out into
Ferry street and leave the governor to
settle his own affairs as he best could,
but the dread of an accomplice, of the
foreigner starting out from beyond the
coal and knifing him, fore'ienerlike,
withheld him. Presently. gaining con-
fidence by the perfect silence above, he
stole up the stairs till his head rose just
over the level of the floor and he could
see right along the salting room. In
front was the cone of the kiln; with the
opening of the "archway" directly fac-
ing him, filled with a glare of yellow
light. On each side was deep, impene-
trable shadow, thrown by the walls of
the cpne. Wrigkt saw neither Kava-
nagh nor the foreigner; both were
somewhere in that deep shade.
Suddenly there rose a scream of terror
from the darkness, and Kavanagh rush-
ed out into the light. He was snaking
for the steps when, catching sight of a
head before him and not recognizing
that it was Wright in that instant, he
stopped as if he had run against a wall.
In that moment the foreigner leaped
out of the obscurity and sprang upon
"Mercy! mercy 1" cried Kavanagh, "I
can explain about Vera."
But the foreigner made no answer,
and there was only a rattle in the gov•
ernor's throat as he tried to speak again.
They struggled furiously in the light
that streamed through the archway.
but Kavanagh could make but poor re-
sistance, for his right arm was power-
less and his adversary had the agility
and muscular vitality of a panther.
Wright did not know what to do—he
hadn't tinie, he says, to think of any-
thing—besides that, he could not tell
what the foreigner was after. He
only saw that the little span was
dragging and shoving the governor
nearer and nearer to the archway. Kav-
anagh must have known,Ithough, for
his struggles grew more and more fran-
tic as they approached the opening in
the kiln. Wright perceived the purpose
of the foreigner when Kavanagh, with a
wild scream, made a desperate effort to
cling to the side of the archway. Then
Wright found strength to run to his as-
sistance, but it was too late. The for-
eigner had torn Kavanagh away from
the wall and got him right on to the
dome, and they were swaying to and fro
in the death struggle within a foot of
the hole in the middle of the dome. For
a moment they swayed there right over
the steady flame. Then Kavanagh's
foot slipped, and locked in each other's
arms they both fell and toppled down
into the body of the kiln Then, Wil-
liam Wright says. the yellow flame turn-
ed a red brown for a minute or two
with the thick smoke that streamed up.
•
„r w,,tc•a.:n
CHAPTER LI.
I BECOME A PRINCESS.
When Mr. Pelham brought the news
of Cavanagh's death to us, he exclaimed
in accents of horror:
"What a shocking event! What an
awful tragedy !" And he added with
still greater pathos, "What a beautiful
case we have lost!"
"There is plenty left for you to do."
said Gordon. "Affairs at Lambeth
must be in a very complicated condi
tion."
"Terribly:complicated, I should say,
tis. The heirs.of the late Mr. Kavanagh
will naturally put in a claim upon the
estate."
"You will settle what is due to them,
and if they claim more fight 'em."
"Fight them, sir?—yes, with pleasure.
Then there's Mr. Bell's claim as part-
ner."
"Well, I beg you to do the very best
you can for him."
"Certainly, but there's your own soli-
citor. He may raise objections in your
behalf."
"So much the batter for yon. You
can fight him. Make a good job of it,
you know. Don't hurry it."
"You can depend upon that. I allude,
of course, to making a good job of it."
The next great event was the marriage
of George Gurdon and Judith Bell. That
WAS a very grand' affair, for George
would have it so. There were eight
bridesmaids, and I was one of them. The
Grange was full of visitors at that time,
every room was occupied, and the place
rang with the pleasant sound of laugter
and young voices from morning till
night, and indeed from night till morn-
ing sometimes when there was dancing.
Mere Lucas consented to have a cook
under her, and the whole management
of the house was given tome and a bevy
of new servants
All this was very strange to isle. That
perhaps is why I find it so difficult to
describe. It was delightful to find my •
self surrounded by cultivated girls wlio
led eventless lives, tolisten to their eag-
er talk about dross and trifles and to feel
that I also was free from care and
anxiety. I shared their pleasures to the,
full and joined with excitement in all
their amusements. I was light hearted
and happy through the whole round of
innocent dissipation, and yet–,well, T
was happier still when it was all over
and w aleft,T r I to renew
werea as and
our quiet life.
Taros seemed to regret the absence of
his friends more than I: He was un-
usually grave the morning after Gordon
and his wife went away.
x ore iniss the hula of voices?" I said
'' II
as we were walkiug in the Garden. G (? I G U Li E
day."
It cannot always be day," said I
gently to console him, "and, after all,
evening is the most beautiful time."
"1)o you think so?" he asked quickly:
"1 cul afraid I do. 1 love ealw too
much perhaps; I can think of nothing
mora beautiful than a quiet life, such' as
we lived in the old days, 'You see I am.
unused to society; but," I added hope-
fully, ••in time 1 shall fall iu with the
ways of other people and like t been more.
I must like all that you lige."
"Would you never want anything
more than I could give yon—nothing
more than a share in the jog s of a mau
like me?"
"There is no other roan like you. If
I share all that befalls you—joys and
griefs—and be always your colupauion,
your little friend"—
"You must be more to me than that,"
he said, stopping' and speaking with
passionate fervor as he took me into his
arms. "You must be guy wife!"
We were married quietly before Gor-
don and his wife returned from their
honeymoon, and thus Tares gave me a
second name—snore than teat indeed,
for those who like the sound of titles
call me the Princess Borgens.cy. •
TH1C ETD. j
Washing Lace Curtains.
A good housekeeper will never put
away liar lace ourtalns in a soiled con-
dition, as the dirt left in them` for sever-
al months is harder to wash out, and re-
quires a much severer rubbing of the
delicate fabric. It ono has a curtain
frame, it is a very simple matter to do
them up at home, but it is by no means
impossible to manage without one, The
curtains should be left to soak in warm,
soapy water, so that they will require as
little rubbing as possible to get them
clean, and this should be done with the
hands, as a board is simply ruinous.
Make a thin boiled starch, slightly blue,
and dip the curtains in, wringing them
out gently. Then take clean bed sheets
and pin the urtains on the sheets to dry,
being careful to pin 'them exactly in
shape, so that they will be perfectly
square and even when dry. Some people
dampen and iron the curtains, but it is
very bad for the fabric, and they never
hang properly afterward,
FASHIONED FOR THE NECK.
All in the Force oP Vests and Are Neees•
sarr With Tailor Gowns.
Almost any woman who has ingen-
uity at her fingertips, and even a moder-
ate amount of spare time, prefers to fash-
ion her own dainty neok lingerie, if
only she can seouro the ideas. For those
who care to try, the following descriptions
willbe of benefit. -The designs are all in
the form of vests, and what is more ne-
cessary with the and
gown than some
form of fanny vest, to be worn when one
wishes to be a little inure finely dressed
than one feels she is in a shirt waist
front. Women have taken so kindly to
"linens," in the way of gowns, that our
first choice may safely be a front to ao-
oompany a linen gown, that shall
brighten it,
The flat vest shape may be cut from
a piece of thin white crinoline for a
foundation; over this shdtlld be placed
a covering of navy blue linen, the coarse
sort, showing big pebbles on its surface.
A straight band down the front is of
batiste embroidery in tan and dark blue,
laid on Andy, with folds of the batiste
either side as a finish. To top it all off is
FASHIONED FOR TAE NECK.
a finish of the batiste embroidery set on
in narrow frills.
A high stock of the blue linen is ar-
ranged so as to fasten in the back, and
is edged with narrow batiste embroidery.
This front may be attached by hooks to
the front of the jacket.
The second design is a trifle more
dressy, and may be worn either with a
suit of linen or of white pique. It is made
up of white chine silk, in blousy effect,
with a center band of brown -tinted
white lace, laid on flatly. The high,
turned -over Dollar of stiffened white silk,
under which is run a broad ribbon of
white taffeta, fastened in a huge bow at
the back, to rest on the outside of the
jacket.
Still another pretty front is made of
frills of white mousseline de soie, set on
as full as possible from the throat to
the belt. Each frill is edged simply with
a tiny ribbon of white satin, set the
width of the hem from the edge.
At Home Days.
It is in excessively bad taste not „to
remain at home on the day noticed on
one's cards. Nothing but absolute neces-
sity should induce a lady to absent her-
self on such an occasion. .
Tea, which promotes sociability, is
always offered on an' "at home" day.• In
the country it is correct to offer it to all.
callers, no matter how early they arrive,
as the distances are great, and it is
looked upon as a great breach of hos-
pitality not to offer this welcome refresh-
ment to a guest who may have had a
long walk or drive. In town it is seldom
served before four or half -past four. When
the hostess' visiting list is large and she
may reasonably expect a number of call-
ers, it is generally found convenient to
serve tea in an adjoining room, other-
wise it may be bought into the drawing-
sroom and poured out by the hostess.
There are certain paints for visitors to.
observe as well as hostesses upon these
occasions: Callers on an "at home". day
stay from ten minutes' to an hour, ac-
cordingto the degree of their :
R intimacy
at the house. Those whose first' call it is
come early and only remain the ceremon-
ial ten minutes; more intimate friends
drop in about tea hour with intent to
stay.
Portable Gates.
A portable fence is one of the useful
things on the farm, especially where por-
tinus of a field are to be pastured in
suonession, or where only part of a field
is used as pasturage for stock. As
ordinarily constructed, the portable fence
is heavy, nuwieldy, hard to move frown
place to place, and still harder to set.
up again; or tf made .light to avoid this
objectionable feature, itlacks the strength
necessary for a fence that will etiectus
ally turn stook, and it is also very easily
overturned by the wind.
Toe bast portable fence in use in this
part of the country is shown in the
figures. It is unpatented. the invention
of a practical farmer, and appears to
he about as near perfection as any we
are likely to find. It is strong, yet light
and easily handled, can be easily set up
or taken down, and is not overturned
by ordinary storms.
The panels are made of pine scant-
ling, two by three inches. The rails,
ahovo and below, are 16 feet long, with
clear space of 2% fent between then.
They are connected by an upright post
ab each end, leaving four inches of the
rail projecting beyond the post to lie in
the notches of the support when set up.
The upright posts are 4% feet long, ex-
tending six inches below the lower rail
and a foot above the upper. The braces
at the center are each seven feet long,
and are placed upon the frame, making
o right angle above, and, like the posts,
reaching six mosses below the lower rail.
Wherever these pieces cross they are
bolted together with a quarter -inch bolt.
Barbed wires are stretched from post to
post, fastened also to the braces.
In making those panels, a barn floor
is the bust workshop. After one has been
made to measure, it is laid flat upon the
floor, the pieces of the next are arranged
in place just above those of the first, a
nail is driven into each crossing to pre-
vent displacement while putting in the
bolts, and the work is finished by put-
ting on the wires before it is taken up.
In this way a largo number of panels
can be made in a comparatively short
time. The supports are made of oak
scantlings, two inches square. The legs
are 4 % feet long, bolted together without
notching or framing of any kind, and
spread to a width of four feet at the base.
In the fork above, a triangular notch an
inch deep is out on the outside of each
piece, a place where the opposite sides of
these notches are four inches apart, or
just wide enough to receive the ends of
the two panels. Tsvo feet eight inches
below this, an oak board six inches wide
is nailed across the legs. At the touter
of ha upper edge, a notch four innhes
wide and one inch deep is out, snaking
two feet nine inches between the notches
that are to holdthe upper and lower
panel rails.
The points of superiority claimed for
this fence are lightness, combined with
strength and durability, small area of
surface presented to the wind, ease of
construction, and comparatively small
cost. On level ground, the panels come
solidly together, yet as they may be two
inches apart above or below, it will cross
a hill or valley at considerable curvature.
That it is easy to handle is proved by
the fact that two men can take down,
move half a mile, and set up a hundred
rods in half a day.—Country Gentleman.
Preserving Eggs in Sumner.
There are a great many processes for
preserving eggs in summer so as to keep
them for, higher prices. Some resort to
packing in lime or lime solutions, or
coat the eggs with some substance that
renders them impervious to air. .A11 the
processes will usually serve the purpose,
but when the eggs reach the market they
are not "fresh" in the strict interpreta-
tion of the term, and do not sell at
prides which inake it profitable to pro-
duce them. The best and cheapest mode
is to remove the males, as infertile eggs
will keep three times as lung as those
used for hatching. Place them on ranks
or shelves, and turn them three times a
week. Keep them in a cool plane, the
cooler the better. Eggs kept in this man-
ner (especially if the shales have been re-
moved) should be in excellent condition
at the end of three months, which is long
enough to secure better prices. They
will keep for six months in a tempera-
ture of 50 degrees. it will not be profit-
able to buy eggs to preserve, as there is
too much risk of bad ones, and one stale
egg will spoil all.
Late Chicks.
Late chicks never seem to thrive as
well as those hatched early, but that is
due to line. In fact the late chick has
every advantage over the early one, as
the warmer weather is in its favor, and
there is a greater variety of food; yet
the late chicks do not grow as rapidly
from the start as early hatched ones.
Look for the large lice on their heads, as
they are generally at fault. The mites
are also annoying, but they can be seen,
while the large lice require a dareful
search for their discovery.
INEXPENSIVE SHRUBBERY.
It Weald Add to the Beauty and Value of
Every Farm.
Many farmers are deterred from plant- i#';,
ing ornamental shrubs and trees by the
• snpposed necessary expense. They have.
a variety of large and small fruit, but
these are part of the economy of the
farm, and represent money well invested.
Fruit trees and plants are longer in com-
ing to maturity than annual crops, but
are just as sure in the end; and the wise
farmer is' fully aware that apple orchards •
and strawberry beds pay better interest
than county banks.
But with shrubbery it is different.
The farmer niay realize that ornamenta-
tionhas something to do with determin-
ing the value of his place, but it does
not opine home to him so forcibly as the
apple orchard and vineyard, and he puts
it off from year to year, until money is
more plentiful, or he has more time, and
the bare surroundings of his house are
left to the charity of the small annuals
which his wife and daughters raise from
seed or are able to parry over from year
to year by means of slips, and perhaps
to the occasional sweet -briar or peony
root,prooured from a flower -loving neigh-
bor. It is not that the farmer dislikes
shrubbery or is niggardly with hi sl•
money. He is rarely naught up with his VP-,
work, and there are always important
things waiting bis attention—things that
take money and time, and are of prime
importance to the prosperity of the farm.'"?
And, then, ready money is undeniably
scarce even to the average farmer, who is
getting ahead; new horses or tools or
buildings are needed, and the small an-
onniulations go to provide thein; and
the shrubbery is put off and off, and fin-
ally is lost sight of.
If the farmer knew how cheaply his
grounds could be ornamented, I am con-
vinced there would' be fewer unsightly
yards in the country. Even the boys and
girls, with a little trouble, could sur-
round the house with beautiful trees and
shrubs and ciasnbering vines, and the cost
would be only a few days' work each
year. There is scarcely a tree or shrub that
will not propagate readily from cut-
tings in a moist piece of ground in the
spring,and give thorn one or two hoeings.
By the second year they will be large
enough to transplant to permanent quart-
ers. Herbaceous plants, like lillies,
phloxes, peonies, irises, yuccas, anemones
and hundreds of others, can have their
roots divided and subdivided, and the
plants will be all the more thrifty for
the division.
Pruning is the seoret of successful
shrub -growing, and in nearly every lo-
cality can be found a fair assortment of
shrubs and pints whose owners would
bo perfectly willing to give away the
cuttings of each pruning; and nuttings
of suoh desirable shrubs as might not be
found in the neighborhood could easily
be procured from a nursery for • a few
cents. I know a young man who bas
several acres of fine shrubbery, nearly
all of which be raised from cuttings pro -
mired in the neighborhood. What would
have cost him several hundred dollars at
a nursery only cost hims a few days' la-
bor and some years of waiting. There
are dozens of handsome California privet
hedges in this vicinity, all raised from
cuttings furnished by a gentleman a few
miles nwny, who prunes his hedge three
or four times each summer,I have prop-
agated
rop-agated thousands of willows, poplars,
hydrangeas, altheas, roses, spireas and
other trees and shrubs and lost less bsian
5 per cent. of the cutting. Outside of
the saving, there is a fascination in rale -
lug one's own shrubbery; and, if desir-
able, one can easily make it a source of
uo inconsiderable profit. I know small
farmers who odd a hundred dollars or
more each year to their income by grow-
ing a small assortment of plants for lo-
cal trade.—Now York Ledger. ,
Annoyance From Insects.
When the comb of a fowl is torn or the
legs injured, insects will take advantage.
of the opportunity to annoy the bird.
Get a pint of linseed oil and add a table-
spoonful of oil of tar and the sante of
kerosene Use a few drops of the mixture
on the injured place and it will keep
insects off and act as a curing' liniment.
Itis the best substance that can be used
for the large lice on the heads and for
scabby legs. '
`.17111 Clean Straining Cloths.
s Jelly bags and straining nloths should
not be washed with soap, but soaked in
very hot water and squeezed dry before
finally rinsing in tepid water,
Ozone Apparatus.
Ozone is now frequently employed by
electrotherapists for the treatment of tu-
berculosis, anaemia, and affections of
the throat and nose. It is an admirable
purifier of bad air, and is used in the
library of the British Museum, in Lon-
don, and other places of public resort
where ventilation is inadequate to the
renewal of the air vitiated by the con-
tinued presence of a large number of vis-
itors. In hospitals, ozone is manufac-
tured by large static machines, and then
dissipated through the wards by means
of electric fans. One of the latest novel-
ties in electrical instruments Is an ozone
Inhaler for domestic use, by which a
patient can carry out at home the treat-
ment prescribed by his physician. It con -
sits of several tubes a few inches long,
surrounded by an aluminum armature,
with electric connections. One terlmnal
of the secondary coil is 'connected to a
copper wire running the length of a
vacuum tube, the other to the aluminum
covering, which has numerous points di-
rectly toward it. From these points,
when the current is turned on, is sent
out a stream of sparks of purple and
magenta tint, and the oxygen of the air
is converted into ozone. The operation of
this instrument has a most refreshing
and beneficial effect on the patient,
Oriental Dislike of Black.
If there is anything that an Oriental
dislikes it is somber garments, and it
said that the only reason why Queen Vii
toria's Munshi, her Hindustani teacher
and interpreter, has asked for leave of
absence ' was to go to India and be cheer-
ful while the Court of St. James is in
half -mourning. To be sure he said he
was ill and must needs go home to In-
dia to recruit his health. But as the
Queen's Indian domestics who remain
are in intense and melancholic sulks be-
cause they are obliged to go about in
unbecoming brown and white instead of
their usual splendor of color, it is be-
lieved that the Munshi's determination
to absent himself until after the period
of mourning for Prince Henry MOW&
origin in the same dislike of seriousness.
Brown is considered good enough black
for East Indians to wear, and it certainly
harmonizes with their complexions. The
Queen's desire to see her ladies' of the
lied -chamber and her maids of honor in
half -mourning or serious apparel when
they are in attendance upon her is inure
ensily met, for there is nothing that can
be made more gay in effect • than black
and white if arranged in dashing stripes
or spots or dots, as every wonion knows
Well.
A Girl's Composition on Boys.
Tho boy is not an animal, yet they
cnn be heard to a considerable distance.
When a boy hollers be opens his big
mouth likefrogs, but girls hold their
tongue till they are spoke to, and then
they answer 'respectable and tell just
how it was. A boy thinks himself clever
because he can wade where it is deep,
but God. made the dry land
for every
y
living thing and rested on the seventh
day. When the boy grows up he is called
a husband, and then he stops wading and
strays out nights, but the grew up girl is
a widow and keeps house.
s.