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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1901-8-1, Page 3eeeeire.'ede ++++++++,++++++++++++,,,,_++++++++++++42,+,+„ + The 'Gift of +++++++-+++++44++ +++++++++++++++-++++44++++++; "Only with your ,consent," he, add- ed, to relieve nie ol my cars. "With - Out it I 'should probably be power-. .• - "I: am glad to hear it,"I replied. "Did; what makes you think 1 shall give that, consent ?" . "Oily the, curiosity, Or the desire of gain or of power, that is innate in every man," he said. ",And now," he added, rising.•from 'his chair, "1 am going , In twenty nights hence at, the same time, I . will -be here again. By then you will have decided, no doubt, what scone, or whatever it may be, in the futuee you desire to see, and that •very, same evening your wish hall be gratified." , "Have 1 to go into any particular training for the:event ?" I asked, more than half in joke. ' "Only be Moderately sober, that is all I have to stipulate," he re- plied, iu the same- vein, If you were not I. might have a trouble in putting you into the trance." "I'll do, thy best, to keep. sober , - then ;". and with that and a laugh I ' wished •hha good -night. ' I -le was gene ,and I had to ask myself . what: it all meant. I had not been dreaming—the Smell of. his. , Indian tobacco still, clung abont the • rocim. , Perhaps- he was mad, . per- ' ' haps he Was 'hoaxing me ; but his manner , had not. favored either Of these alternatives. , ,In. any case I • was sufficiently interested to be will- ing to homer his madness, or ,to ac- quiesce in his hoax, and, that point settled, begat to whip up my intaga ination to Suggest for inc the gift or revelation -that 1 should ,demand of this strange ,fairy godmother. It 'oc- curred to me. that I should like to see maiself a few year's hence, but I dreaded to ask that.. The , portrait Might not be fiatttering. Beside, one does not know what a, few years may • do ; there might be no me to poctray, no livieg me ; and though this might, perhaps, present no tiff.- ficulties to the marl from Lhasa, still I did not care to put that ques- tion. Then I, thought of a' glimpse at the next, great naval battle, or. . the ' first feasible flying -machine ,to, be dayeated. Neither of these seem. - ed outside the coatract, each was only a matter of arrangement of par- ticles ;' and it, was wonderful '• how • simple.' the process seemed as If it ought to .be, if only one knew how it, was done, A little' familiarity with the' scheme, and 'thinking; it over, ,seemed to make that which at '• first appeared extravagantly absurd, -and impossible a simple enough af- fair. It was only to control the - soul that inhered iri the particles, . and the thing was done. ' But ell these visions seemed ta•me too reniete, toe vast, perhaps—not ,practical enough. Surely, I thought I could think of something more use- ful, More profitable than that,. Sup- pose I were to ask to see tlie finish of the next year's Derby --there would be money in that if I could be sure , of the names of the horses—or a Stock Exchange, list . of 'a month • ahead; or—suddenly the idea struck me ! • It .was not a new idea. It was an idea .even that Dunstan and I had often -talked over together in the ' old 'Oxford days. It would armise idea to Mad that old idea taking shape again,: and coming up in tangible, Or at least visible, form. -During the next two days I amused myself with thinking what 1 should 'do, when , I had My desire and had seen my vision. I grew feverishly' , impatient, poseessed by the one idea alone, and lived only for the.mom- ent. when Dithstan should come, ac- cording -t� 'hie promise, to my room. If he had failed inehis promise I think my heart would have broken, SO 'keen - ]37" was I Se.t upon -the idea; but i-hfiew -that lie Would not fail. Punctual to the appointed moment he arrived, and I cried, . almost before I had got hiiii into :the room': ••-e , . "I Want you to shOw me a file of next year's 'Time.." He smiled', with, ,a lack: of emotion that was in strange contrast with m3r own excited state. , "I thought you would be able to think of something that woold inter- est you," he said. • +fella', "But can you do it ?" That is ,d•-•!, what I want to, knoW." ' Ile did 'not anseyeaeioaea moment. told you, .,,psde thing," he 'said then. "Well, saa it is one thing,' I re- plied inmatiefitly. "I only ask for one file—one '0.-„sar's file.— Surely that is not . much If you come to hair - dee., splfeeing lilacklia.t, you might tell. me :that you /would only show' me one aeesord. • • • „ erehe said, evidently deliberatL eif'd 'ale case, in his mind. "Yes," I •"--"••-•"'''is„Uppose that is quite fair.. I think can do that foy•you.'', • , l•f you would only ,show it 'to Inc , • for, the' first •half, of the ye,ar, that would carry it over :Derby Day ;. that wotild do," I said,* trying to meet hire half way. ,, • , “Oh, no," he answered, with a smite ; "you hall have it all. I can, give you that without exceeding , my instructions. "And what have I got to do ? Do let Us' begin," I Said impatiently., "You , have got to do nothing, ab- solutely nothing. You have only to leave it all to niee Sit down onthat sofa, Now, look into my eyes a moinent, and try to resign your will, as you would phrase it, to mine. Thank you, that will do—that--" His voice seemed. to grew fainter, fainter, farther and farther away. I relapsed,. T. must presume, into tliat trance state of which he had. told roe. I know, by the time of his arrival,' that, it must have been about 11,15 pane when. 1 passed .into this Uncon- scious condition, The 11.6Xt thing that I remember, was.rising,froin the .1,•••••' sofa wbere I fancied I had been asleep, and glancing at, the clock, to find it close on nail -past twelve. Before me on the dom. I was aston- ished for a moment to see ao enor- mous Pile of newspapers, in an stant the recollection of Dunstan's visit recurred to me. I fell eagerly upon, the heap of papers. Tette, to my intensely ardeot hope, "the top one bore the date of the first clay of the 'following year, A file of next yeat's "Times'" may before inc. One doenot perhaps realize, with- out, a little reflection, what an e00r7 mous power and enormous' wealth such a possession as this means to man. •For my own part, during the two preceding days my mind had been occupied with little ele,e, and I had formed my plan of campaign. The remainder of the present year I intended to devote realizing all the ready money that I could lay my hands on, in, order to be able to be- gin speoulative operations as soon as the period of .my pre-seience corn- menced.-and if possible to obtain' a seat' in Parliament, in order to sat- isfy my ambitions. • Ambitious, I was not, in the ordinary senee of the word. The. cares and responsibili- ties of a prime minister had no at- tractions for me ; but the normal hu- man being could scarcely be expect- ed to resist the temptation thus pre- sented me of proving,myself sage be- yond all my fellows, And in no place could this wisdom be put in brighter evidence or more usefully employed than from a seat in Par- liament, The opening action of my campaign would be the purchase of as much stock as I could raise sufficient "cover" for, in the Stock Exchange phrase, of some undertak- ing that I perceived would rise in course of the fiyst weeks of the year.. From this nticletrs of a fortune I would go on to operations, necessar- ily always successful, of greater and greater dimensions throughout, the year. Incidentally I would pur- chase the horse that I perceived would Win the Derby—it really did not matter at what figure, for I could recoup myself on the Turf or on the Stock Exchange almost at will. My outlook was not altogeth- er selfish ; for I proposed to dis- tinguish myself as a philanthropist on the most extended scale. I also Proposed purchasing a house in Cala- ton House Terrace, oveviooking .the :Mall, for that -has always appeared to me, the most enviable site in Ifni. - don. The wealth of Monte Cristo, ,in -fact, was mine in that pile of papers that lay before me and' a greater renown than the most fabu- lous riches could bring. For with this pre -science, that I coulcl • thus make myself master of at will, it is evident that by the most simple ex- pedients, such as writing to the Press. I could quickly obtain that credit of possessing greater wisdom - and foresight than had ever before fallen to the lot of man, even if I trailed, as was conceivable, to reack that most favorable standpoint, whence to give my wiSclom to the world, • which would be mine if I could win a seat in Parliament. It was very obvious that with a judicious use of only a little of the knowledge that may ready to my hand I could not fail to become in a very short time an interesting per- son. to the public and the Press. There was no doubt that I should read in the "Times" that was before me some reference -to myself .to my charities, my enterprises, probably to my speeches, had' determined as.1 have mentioned, to make myself. possessed, at whatever cost, of the horse' that should Win the _Derby, .and my first thought in turning 'up the ille before me was- to see whether my own name was given as the own- er of the classic race's' winner. Rather' to my surprise I found a name -almost as familiar to me as my own recorded as that of the winning horse ; *but no mention 01 my own name as owner of a horse 'taking part in the race at all, • • . ,"The• best -laid _schemes, of mice and men." I said to myself, rather disappointed as I turned the big pages over, "gang aft agley." But of course I knew the name of the Derby winner, and incidentally noticed, in the same issue of the paper, that a certain stack in which I even then held a small interest had ,appreciated enormously. Even in these fats, if I learned nothing -Was the means of a vast for- tune. .But, I proposed a far more systematic study of the file. As I turned back to its commencement I felt a .strange lassitude and indiffer- ence to the whole' affair stealing °vei- n -ie. It increased, although I struggled ,against it, until it over- powered me, and therewith it ap- peara to me that I fell asleep again. for in my next Conscious moment heard Ralph Dunstan's familiar voice,' and saw his gentle, dark -vis- aged face as, he bent over me, 'ask- ing "Do you feel tired ?" It took mea minute or so to shake myself fully awake. em Lii5d,' 1 said, ''yes, tired. But 1 run much Worse than tired, I am disappointed -1 had almost said, am 'defrauded. What wag the use in giving' me the file for a moment, just like that, and not giving me time to look through it ? You have done nothing for me.'' 'But you had time Surely to See ,something.'' "Something, yes. 13ut can you ex- plain it, Dunstan ? We ahnost set- tled, Ton know, that the first thing we would do if we had such a chance as this, weeild be to buy the Derby winner. Well the ace,ount of the -Derby is given, of eoUrse, but I was not the owner. By the way," I eked, glancing around the roone, where has the, file gone ?" "You forget," he said ; "the par- ticles are dissolved. Without' the informing power of your soul they are gone. In your normal state you cannot see them." "But what was the good ?" I said. "Why did you treat Inc so ? Why not give me longer, more time? lt is tod bad," "You forget,": he said gently. "You shall have plenty of time. To- morrow oight you shall have all the night -long hours. Then you can, make your re-searches—your notes, if you will— to your neart's content. But you must do all that you have to clo She, On the day folloWing I have to be on in way back to In- dia, and so to Lhasa again." "But why don't you yourself," I said, "why don't you make use of this wonderful gift you have, eind turn it to account, to meney, to power ?" • Ire smiled thht, long-euffering smile of his that my gross \Vesture non - comprehension so often 'You do not understand,' he said ; "if we use these powersto gain material ends they would quick - 1r be denied to us. But to you, for your friendship and kindness to 'me, 1 have been allowed to give, this once, your heart's desire. Oh, I will not give it gru.dgingly. I will not defraud -you. It has ever been the reproach east by your foolish West- ern science at our 'Eastern specula- tion that it gives ho roeults of ma- terial value. !'our instance may dispyove it once for all. Only it -is an instance that is exceptional,' Its repotition, save this once, is not per- mitted. To -morrow night, at the same hour, :I willcome to yon again. You may repeat your experience; and orou shall have all the small hours of the morning—until six o'clock if it pleases you—for 'your • re.sea.rches.o The greater part of the day that followed I pa.ssel in a, kind of fever- ish repose. • At night, at the same hour, Dunstan reappeared. During my waking hours of the ,day I had prepared a kind of catechism or scheme of questions that I wished to put to my miraculous file of "Times." I had jotted the questions on a sheet of foolscap and held the sheet in my hand as Dunstan threw me into the trance. When he entered the room that evening- I noticed that he car- ried a cumbrous box. On inquiry he told me that it contained a cam- era and a flash -light, for .the pur- pose of taking my portrait as I studied the files, by way of assur- ance to Inc later that all that took place was sober reality and not a dream.. Often, looking at that photograph since, it has been the one thing that has given me faith in all that happened. Otharwise I had merely believed in it, as Dun- stan had foreseen, a dream—an evil ,dream. I fell, as before, into unconscious- ness. With my waking moment I found myself with the now familiar file of future '"Iimes" before nie ; and with my foolscap catechism attacked it energetically and to a purpose, eliciting answers, and jot- ting them down. A not inconsider- able European war, arising from the eternal problems presented by the Bulgarian and Servia.n States, was among the items of interest that I recorded. Each week I noted changes in important stocks, some- times of a violent cha,racter—which suited my purpose best, for their of- fered opportunity of much successful speculation. •The winnersof the chief races of the•year also found place in my record, and I was pleas- ed to find Oxford triumphing • over Cambridge at 'Lord's,' But that which surprised me and, I have to confess, chagrined me not a little was the lea that in no issue or par- agraph of the great paper could I see the remotest reference to my own name, no schemes of great philan- thropy, no mention, as I had fondly imagined, of a prophet of marvellous foresight. • It was not hard to con- ceive that, even with the powers I 'should possess, - I might be unable to ,secuye a seat. in Parliament, at least • during the early part of the year. But still I had 'expected to rnake the: power of nay -wealth and my fore- knowledge felt. a • Yet, though no reference to myself was to be found, I had a yich feast of enjoyment in rea,ding of the fu- ture of . the world during the year that was- to come. I Ispew' na sense Of -weariness, and though I had my questions answered a full two hours or so before the time at which Dun- stan had told Inc he must recall me to my eormal self and draw. 'down forever the curtain on the future, I sat and read, entranced by the hist tory. which I only --of all Western men, at least—could yet know. At length the clock told me that the time for me to return to the ma- terial world was near. I had but a quarter of an hour left me, and arranged the papers in their order, leaning back when I had, done so, to think whether there was a last ques- tion , that I had overlooked. The prospect of my fortunes in the year that wae to come dazzled my imag- ination by its splendor. My brain was wearied, and I could_ conceive no more that I could wish to ask. 'Vacantly my eyes wandered over the front sheet of the advertisements— of shipe that were to sail, -of all kinds of enterprises yet nborn ; thence to the births, the marriages— interesting topics, these ; finally the .obituary notices, And there a sad curiosity possessed me to see if there were, perchance, any of my acquaint- ances who would pay the debt to Nature with • the beginning of the new year, Carelessly , my eye wan- dered downthe column, till .15 was arrested by a line, most similar to all seeming, to every other there,' yet Written, to my vision, in lette.rs of crimson blood. "At Staplehuret, suddenly, of failure of the heart's action, Jarnes Standish, M.A. in the forty-seventh year of his age." , I, James Standish, who pen these lines, sat in nay rooms, not a stone's throw froth Piccadilly, and read in the "Times" of January 1 of the tYiecaert to come raY 711 °Mtlial7 n°- It lino happerual to inert before, when they have been supposed dead in battle or of shipwreck, to read the aecount of their own death. ; but these could laugh as they read, for they Were living men, and Ole death that was assigeed to them they had evaded. But how could 1, James Standish, evade that death that was Pronounced for nee --that impended on nie the first day of the , coming 3rear ? Then I understood, I understood •the irony,' 1, James Standish, who had looeed to see iny name as owner of the Derby winner, dispenser of vast slims in charity, the nation's prophet -1 saw myself a dead man when, all these things—prophecies, philanthropies, horse races—should come to pees, I sat as one stun- ned by that he has seen ; and how I passed from that 'state of apathy into the waking mood to which Dunstan called me I cannot say. You have had a long seance, old man," he told me, "and. I had a trouble in calling you back, Have you found out all you want to know ? Yes,"" I answered him, raechaal-, cally, have found out all I•-oant to know—all," I think he was surprised by the lack Of enthusiasm Nith whien 111 *Y6' 0u are tired," lie said. `.9•Ve' prolonged wlonigletdivilvtheplenty thing too far ; biit y of time to i.est. I must say geod-bye'to you now. It is time that I was off to see about m3r. departure.. Good-bye to You, and Woes yoe." euppose I ought to thank you I 'tried to stammer.. no ; don't trouble to, do that," -he said., "Good-bye, goed- bye." • - With that he was off. When he was half way down t,he stairs I called after him intending to ask him whether he knew the fact that I had- discovered on the "Times' " first sheet ; but he had gone too far and did not hear me. e This is my experience. Two days later I received from a photographer in the Strand a copy of a portrait of myself which Dunstan hall taken of me, as he said he would, by his flash -light with the, kodak while I was studying the accursed file of the "Times" that, he had conjured up. for me. I enclose it with this re- cord ; and the strange fact will • be noted that the paper does not ap- pear, though obviously I stand in the pose of a ,man holding a sheet of a big paper, reading it. The absence of the paper is signifi- cant. I write these things not knowing well ,what the future has in Store for me—whether in truth I, James Stan- digh, shall die on January 1 of the next year, as I have read in the "Times," according to my descrip- tion, or whether the whole thing has -been. a. juggle of Eastern hypied- tism and conjuring. • That- is the record that I found in my deceased relative's papers. It is an extraordinary coincidence, if noth- ing more, that he actually did die, suddenly, of failure of the heart, at Staplehurst, whicii is a little village on the coast; on January, 1 of the year following 'that in which these things happened. It appears to me that he was endeavoring to fly from the fate foretold for him, for he was one of ' the few survivors of the wreck of the Mohawk, that ran aground in December of last year. He was conveyed, suffering from, a broken leg, to the inn of this little' fishing village, and -there died Of failure of the heart's action follow- ing exhatistion from the shock of the amputation of the limb. It is singu- lar that I have not been able to find, the catechism of question and ans- wer to which he refers in his record; but there the photograph is, show- ing my deceased friend in the atti- tude of aman apparently reading, and holding in his hands before him .a newspaper of which there is no yis- ible sign on the phOtogra,phic print. ---Horace G. Hutchinson. (The End.) , . BATHE ;YOUR GLA-SSES. Simply Wiping- Them' Will -Not Keep Them Clean. - ' "You don't need new glasses, but your glasses do need a bath," said an optician to a customer, who seemed greatly surprised at the re- mark, "I know you wipe them frequent-- ly," continued the optician, "but that doesn't answer the purpose. They need a path as ofteri as you do, and they•jdon't get it. I can see that froin.an examination. They have been wiped and wiped, ancl the clinging dirt has been partly remov- ed, while eome of it has been simply moved about and piled on ofder•de- poeits. Give' thema gentle bath once in 0 while''erah :wai.m water and a little soap, scrubbing them with a brush and afterwards rinsing and drying' them. Then you won't think you are losing Your sight , so rapidly. Your glasses show a' fine film of dirt two or three layers thick, that no amount of simple rubbing, will remove. • Nothing will take this off so well as clear warm water. Don't be satisfied because yott think they are clean, but put them through a bath and make sure ° •sv Persons realise the import - =CO of keeping their spectacles' and eyeglasses perfectly clean, and in their ignorance think there is some- thing the matter with the glasses cie with their vision." RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CHARGE Willie—"Pa, paree,i iald t lii.ees—i'n'P;a:m(wt ,te)rarcolier tootelw ldeii e to h abet p meter the 'Charge of the Light Bri- gdPa—"That's easy. Gas -meter, of course." The average Etiglishman marries at 27 years 8 months; " the average Norwegian at 31 years 5, months, I course of a few Years and makes the soil all of a litgh standard, Now a rotation of crops in which' clover conies for its share may iiot necessarily ke,t) the Soil in a. high , state of efficiency, 0101 be seen in soils that have become Q10Vel' Sid.< and show every sigo of degeneraey, The development by our forefath- ers of the agricultural resources of She country was comparatively • speaking, an easy task. The princi- ples \villch governed their labors, and at least a crude understanding of whieh WaS necessary to secure bountiful harvests, were like , the principles of a rudimentary English education ; three in number, Soil, seed, contact; Nature saw to it that the man who understood the proper relationship of seed to soil was ab- undantly rewarded. Soil --Rich, virgin, just waiting the action of the crudest sort of agricul- tural implements, it crumbled away from the 'mould board ready for the dropping of the seed without har- rowing. Sometimes, but not always, a rude drag, made by felling two or three small trees, and tying their buts together, was drawn over the ground not so much to pulverize the soil as to level it. Humus and -all necessary foods Were there in abun- dance. Nature fed her plants, as the cow foci her calf, in a natural man- ner. So easy was it to grow crops of even enormous size that the am- ount harvested depended solely up- on the planted .acreage. The habit of acquisition grew until farmers of Old England were land poor under the new: conditions with which they had to deal in later -years. Compe- tition thrived 'until it was the pride and the boast of each that "he cul- tivated acres." Seeds.—Many of our forefathers brought with them their seeds from the Old World, i.e., of many varie- ties, and, saving their own seed from year to year, gradually made improvements by hybridization and selection. Several -varieties of cere- als and vegetables they found al- ready here awaiting development. -Contact.—Only in a general way did they understand that seed and soil were to be brought together. No such fineness of tilth and pulver- ization as; is found to -day on the farm of the successful farmer or market gardener. No, indeed ! To scratch the soil, to cover the seed, was enough, Nature did the rest. For years Nature expended her forc- es in this lavish manner. For years the soil gavb up its nutriment to the seedling, so abundantly that it did not have to strive to live; gave it became worn out, and barren, and lifeless; spent itself in giving to others. It is with this exhausted condition of the • soil and with the new principles of agriculture result- ant that the farmer of to -day has to deal. • Very few farmers but realize the exhausted condition of their land and beraoari. it, yet they foolishly go on from year to year cultivating more and more of it, With the hope that by so doing they can keep up to the minimuth crops necessary to th.ake a comfortable living. By this course nothing is gained, but much is lost. The farmer of to -day should realize that the first ' principles of success in farming is in a thorough understanding- of his soil; its con- dition, its needs. • Let him. restore to it the elements of plant food which centuries of harvests have so largely overdrawn. Let him deal 'with it as a hung-ry man, as with a thin, emaciated invalid who is not Sick but in need of strong, nourish- ing food and tonics. Ile wouldn't expect to improve the working pow- er of a tramp by compelling him to saw wood, neithershould he expect to increase the productive capacity of his soil by asking it to hear in- creased harvests. Humus, when needed, can best be supplied in Nature's way, by restor- ing to the earth that which came from it, ie., by green manuring. Nitrogen, phosphoric acid and pot- a_sli can be easily and cheaply sup- plied, and abundantly enough to produce crops and re -enrich his im- poverished -sell, in. the raw materi- als or in; the form of commercial fertilizers: ,,, Then let, the farmer secure the yery hest of seeds (and the beat only are good enough) from some reliable dealer rather than try to save his 0 Wn. Let him now buy and use in 11 com- mon-sense way the very best of farm implements, pert the soil into the very test- physical condition; see that soil . and seed are brought into close and vital contact. By ,contact we do not Mean that he is ,to dig a hale or plow a furrow, drop his seed in; and then 'Cover it up with. a lump of clay, or even loosely, cover it up with a half -worked 'soil, but by contact we mean that every par- ticle of seed surface is touched and held in close embrace by a finely pulverized and thoroughly enriehed earth. - He , will still hati'e enough to con- tend with to make eternal vigilance the price of an abondant harvest. He'll have pests to fight, and fungus growths to kill or prevent that his graodfathey knew nothing about when he was engaged in 'fanning. He must learn to deal with • these new cooditions, butomost of all .he must learn not to expect from his soil, yearafter year, more than he gives it in the shape of plant food, erti icor . • , • IME'ROVING POOR GROUNDS. Every season attempts should be made to linproVe some portions of the farm so that the soil Will show the, highest standard. of producti-vi- tea There are crops which nutet be raised on every farm which leave the eon much poorer in fertility when they ere harvested. Systems of :et:ellen may tend to Counteract this evil, and keep the general average of the fertility good but in spite of this there will be a gradual decline. unless plenclid ef- forts are directed toward the int-. provement of the soil. This can best be done by selecting certain fields or field each year and making 0 point to raise the standard of fertility of that eection, B,y thus cluenginfe oft one goes over the Whole farm in the snail) y )ecause the sell is clogged wiSli undi gest ed. p 1 an t, green man- ure. Now it i impossible for 5110 soil to improve when eueli' a condi- Lion prevails. 'Pile soil is fed to ov- • erfloeving, but it requires 'Something that will help it to digest what it contains. To do 51115 the land needs regular • treatment once in a few years, much as a I)hySiCiall ivouid trOa t a pa- tient. lie examines a sick maxi's pulse, looks at his tongue, studies Ids complexion and tries to find ' .sorne organ out of order. '['hen he applies the remedy accordingly. Once every feW years we can exam- ine a section of the farni in the same way. 1Vliat is the niatter with the soil ? Has it been fed plant food in the shape of green manure too steddily and too contin- uously ? Then it may require the phosphates, lime and other mineral elemeats, to counteract this condi-, tion. It may be it has been stimu- lated too continuously With minera•I fertilizers, and is in need of green food. Again, it may be sour„ and require rectifying with lime or salt., There are a dozen and one coodi- tions that the soil may be in Wince' can be rem:ailed only by a carelul study. The farmer with a fe,ir intel- ligence of farming 'can do this. It does not require expert knowledge, nor technical skill, but simple, or- dinary comnion sense, and then the disposition to remedy the trouble. ' ,FEED FOR PIGS. We cannot urge too strongly upon farmers the need of having . some succulent or green food for their hogs if they are to make the most out of them. „The hog is an ornniv- orous animal and can use a lot: of grass as well as grain and flesh: foods. They will have better health,' make better growth and leave more . 'profit if they have a run on pasture,1 or even if the green food is carried to them. Growing hogs confined space and on grain alone will not prove satisfactory and for this reaa son neaner farmers have decided that hog raising does not pay. WOMEN EXECUTIONERS. Belgium Had One Recently, and America Had One Years Ago. What do you think of a woman who voluntarily offered herself to the Government as the public execti- tioner ? A few years ago the official public executioner Let Brussels died, and a substitute Was temporarily appoint- ed. On one occasion this person was ill and unable to attend. But at the appointed hour a stout, mid- dle-aged woman bresented herself at -the central poliee-station and,- quiet= tirie lyioti•aemaark:ed to the assembled func- "I've come for the execution. My, husband is not Very well this morn- ing and has asked me to take his place. Please /et us get to busi- ness." • The general stupefaction may be more easily ineeg,ined than described, which, being noticed by the lady executioner, she added in a reassur- ing ,tone : " 1 "Oh, this is not by any Means the first tine." .--' • It afterwards transpired that the Woman, whose„name was Marie Rege, had officiated o11 several occasions • in lieu, of her, husband. Dressed up in his clothes, and her face masked, she had been the public executioner at several .executions, and never had the proceedings been interrupted by a single hitch. It is needless ta add that the police authorities were 'unable to avail thmnSelves of her, offer on this ,occasion, however. , Just before theAmerican •Revolte. tion *Oman e'vets sentenced to, death for a murder she had 'cOmmit- as "Lady Betty," she" performed mask or disguise, and flogged crim- siastic vigor. ted in. Virgini_ai`The_de_a_th sentence ficiated on the scaffold without any inals through the streets with entlni- come public- exeeutionerr, and, known, these duties for many years. She of - was' respited on her offering to be - COSI' OF A 130 -TON GUN. • Perhaps the most expe,nsive na• tional amusement in the world is. , the frivolity of owning 130 -ton guns. It is a worse rnania, than paying i5 few thousands for a rare., stamp. Not only does each one of Nrupp's 130 -ton steel guns cost 8195,000 to construct, but it can be fired only between fifty and sixty times, after which 11 becomes worn. 'out and useless. Two shots 0 min- ute pan be discharged, so that if it were fired ,continuously it would be- come valueless in considera,bly less than an hour. Each. projectile costs, 84,750, and welted's 2,600 pounds, while the gun hoe a ra,hge of ,fifteen miles.. The primitive .bovu and Or-. rows of the olden clays -were clui.te effective enough, and on he score of 'etionomy possess undeniable advan- tages. Why not hoed a new Geneva, Conference with a view to procuring their revival ? "I say," said the business 01011 SAN the detective, "some fellow has been representing himself as a collector of ours. hos 'bowl taking in more nomay than any two of the men we have, -and I event him collared as quickly as you can,'" ''All right;, I'll have hien in gaol in leas than a; week." "Great Scot, man 1 don't' want 1.0 put him in gaol ; 1 want to engage him." ' • ' The British soldier is in the liespie tal ktn average of 18 ciaees a year, the Austrian only 13, but the Russian , 28 days. I The Ch iioese Imperial canal, 2,100 miles long, is henget. than eiti3r other in the world.