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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1898-6-24, Page 2THE BR1;7'SOELB POST. a`tna 24,1898 r bf, SeteSTSVeMSeenttafeeenWMSIMSetette A NIGHT IN AUSTIN FIIIA BY T. S. E. HAKE. teneeeetnegggeSrenSentietineffeaSSeleeneffetentSineneitieneelit$S$SSeeeteSel CHAPTER IV. had not heard bis daughter come in. Some days went by.SbattleworU "What is it t" What keys f" had started off poshaste for Cairo; i "Mr. Grinoid's keys—the keys of and no tidings of him or of Gilbert Austin Friars. Pion; give them to Bingham had sines reached Charter- ma at once." house Square of which Helen had been 'Warmer shook hie head with em - nude acquainted. It might be, the eltasis. "I promised. ehuttleworth not girl repeatedly thought, that her Fath to let them out of my Inside." er knew more about the Purloining oe Helen's eyes flashed angrily. "Do the foreign bonds than be was ready you mistrust me?" to admit. Her father and Ralph "Noe but Shuttleworth---" 6huttleworth had sat late into the "Don't try my patience, father! You night debating. There had been no must know," said the girl, "that I apparent inclination to include leer in shouldn't ask for the keys unless I had their cenference, and her pride deter- a strong motive." ,red her from exhibiting a sign of the "What is it?" almost overpowering curiosity which "I can't stop to discuss that wow," the situation had aroused. It was was Helen's reply. "You should have. clear that neither herfathernot Shut- taken me into your confidence—you tlew Orth shared Mr. Grinold's belief and Mr. Shuttleworth—before he went that she had a head for affairs. She off to Cairo. I might. perhaps, bave was deeply pained. Not because she saved him the journey." had been ignored; Helen Warrenerwas "What do you mean r not sensitive on that snore; she could "I've learnt everything about Mr. afford to Laugh at their narrow -mind- , Hingham's flight, as you call it. I've ed attitude; but what troubled her—' read the tetter which be wrote to the had troubled her ever since Shuttle- bank explaining how he had been rob- w•orth had left London—was the dread bed—" lest Bingham should be too hastily "Ah, 001316 nowt" Warrener ejacu- judged. She had felt more drawn to- laced. "Was ever a more ridiculous wards him than she would have will- letter written then that?" ingly confessed. An intuitive sense i "There's nothing ridiculous about of trust in him had been awakened. it." The report that he had absconded had "What?" naturally perplexed her, but it had not 1 "I believe in Mr. Bingham," Helen shaken her confidence in the mun. He insisted undauntedly. bad occupied her thoughts almost no-, Warrener looked up. "Shuttle- eeusingly ever since. worth was right. He said you'd side Sha had crossed over into tbe garden with the man. .And now you can mi - one afternoon. She wished to think— derstand why we didn't confide in you. away from her father, whose despond But how came the letter to get into enoy about the lost fortune deeply your hands?" oppressed her—think in peace and; "Give me the keys. I may tell you quietness for a brief half-hour. Shethen," walked to and fro under the limes, i Warrener slowly rose from his chair. pondering the situation for the hun- Something in Helen's look and manner dredtll time. The trees were nearly had at last impelled him to yield. He bared of their foliage now; the dead crossed to his desk, unlocked the draw - leaves were ohasing each other along en and took out a heavy bunch of the pathway and dancing pirouettes keys. about her when an occasional gust of 'Now"—and he placed them reluct- wind swept round the square. Of a antly in her hand—"who showed. that Budden Helen became aware of a tall, , letter to you?" broad -shouldered man in a fur coat ; "Mr. Ringham. He has returned to standing at the gate. I London," said Helen. "I left him only "Mr. Bingham!" She stepped a few ; a minute ago." Penes from the railings and stared at' "Where—where is be?" him with unfeigned surprise. "You, His hand wan on the door; but his —you in London 1" daughter stopped him and said in a ]May I come In? I must speak with tone of irresistible appeal: "Father, you et once. You can spare me a Mr. Grinold trusted me; can't you?" moment 1" ; When Helen rejoined him, Bingham She unhesitatingly opened the gate; obserred that her cheeks were flushed and for a, while they walked to and fro ; and her eyes glinted with suppressed in solemn silence. Glancing up fur- i excitement. .Each time he had had tively into his face, she noticed an anx- looked into her face she appeared to ions, tired look; and she began to fear him more beautiful. lest he had come to appeal to bar—even I "Now. Mr. Bingham, will you come to plead her intercession for mercy. ; with mer But she felt reassured by the first I They walked for a while in silence, words he spoke. threading their way through narrow "I bave returned to London—I have t streets and winding alleys. travelled night and day,' he said, "to "Where are you taking me, Mise ask you one question. Your answer Warrener?" is of the most vital importance to me." "Didn't 1 tell you? To Mr. Grin - "What is it?" old's house," "I've teen told, Miss Warrener, that "Where is that 1" Mr. Shuttleworth and your father have "In Austin Friars," said Helen. utterly condemned my explanation," "Austin friars?" said Ringham, "about the robbery of They came abruptly upon the old the foreign bonds. They regard it as square. Ringham's eye at once sought a trumped-up, ridiculous story. My the mansion with the twin -doors and question is simply this: do you share double flight of steps under the shell - their opinion?" ahaped canopy. The doors were clos- ed. and upon most of the windows of both houses he read the words "To Let" —"To Let,' in fresh white paint, Helen led the way up the steps, and unfast- ened a padlocked door on the left-hand side—the Moor upon which there was Helen looked bewilderingly at Ring - ham. "I've not been given the thence, I was led to believe that—that you had absconded," she said; "had carried off the bonds. I knew nothing. I've been kept in ignorance of the whole affair." na name or number. "As I thought ;" and Ringham took au oblong envelope from his pooket. "Ls it Possible?' said Bingham, in "Will you read this? It's a copy oe blank surprise. "Did Mr, Grinold live the letter which I despatched to Cairo here 9' on the morning upon which the cation- "Yes, all his life," said Helen; "and ity happened.'I left a duplicate of his father and grandfather before this at the 'Two Swans,' in a sealed him." packet addressed to Mr. Shuttleworth, "if I had only known 1" before quitting the hotel." Helen stepped into the hall, and Helen tools the latter. She was Ringham followed. He looked cud - about to read it, when a thought came ouny about him. This hall and the into her head, and she looked up. "Why staircase resembled the hall and stair - did you quit the hotel so suddenly 1" ease in the other house in every detail. "I waited until the last moment," Helen, interpreting his look, remark - said he. "I had hardly time left to ed: catch the mail -train.' "About a hundred years ago this "To Cairo 1" house and the house next door formed "Yes. I determined to return," said um big mansion. It was split into two, Hingham, "and put myself in the hands as you see it, by Mr. Grinold's father. of my directors. 1 was so worried and His object, I believe, was to sell this perptexed. bliss Warrener, that I could' portion. The idea was conceived at a not rest in London. In e. moment of • moment of financial embarrassment; desperation—I can't tell you what but the firm of Grinold struggled sue mental agony I suffered—it did enter eessfutly out of its plight, as many into my head to take to flight. mya firm has done before, and the idea instant return to Cairo seemed my only I was abandoned. Will yon come up- safeguar'd. I left the matter in Mr. stairs?" Siruttleworth'a hands, as Mr. Grinold'sWhen they reached the first -floor lawyer, end 1 looked far fair -play atIlending Helen unlocked a door, and east." they found themselves in a large and She now hastened to read the letter, I lofty room with three great windows Hingham had lucidly set forth how her looking out upon Austin ;Friars. The had come to be locked in the house in room was a library, and the massive Auston Friars; how he bad found ie oaken furniture matched well with the lodging in a room on the top floor ; and dark panelled walls. Helen drew back how, upon waking at daybreak, the! the heavy folds of ourtain from one bundle of foreign bonds had disappear- of the windows, and the deepening ed. There was an intensely Colleen- twilight looked in upon them, treted look upon her face while she "Before going it step farther," said read. Helen. with her band al,on a high - She folded the letter presently, and ! backed arm -chair, "let me tell you stood for some moments in deep ab- i what gave me the impulse to bring you straotlon, "About what hour," ehe here. The truth is, your letter has said, glancing at last into Ringham's put a strange nation into my head, face --"about what hour did you reach and I Want to hear what you think of Austin Friars?" it. It may seem ludicrous to you, and "Shortly after six o'clock." perhaps it may prove so. We shall "After six? Then it was I who lock- see." ed you in I" Hingham, who had commenced to "Yes. I saw you from the staircase pace restlessly up and dawn the room, window," he said --"saw you standing' stopped and looted eagerly towards ubeen file temp. But—but.—.' -e her. bir. Ringham, Helen suddenly in- PThat will yon think 01 me, Mr. terposed, "I think I've got a clue," Ringham,' she said, "it I venture to "A clue to this mystery?" "Yes! Wait for me only five min- t d h t min- utes " an she as sued towards the gate "I'll net be longer." g g iia stood speechless, In a little arbour; known to elan too amazed to p Id "father's study" ever slice she wan cemment upon her hold surmise. Would you credit it?" she went on, "Can you conceive how such a thing could come about?' Not And yet to me it seems almost as plata as though ggest thiol the man who took from your valise those foreign bonds was none other than Anthony Grinold him- sell?" im-sell?" as a child, John Warrener sat brooding elver th,e lire. He hod (teased to take elver in a hopeful light. His cheery manner was gone. He was dressed in I had been nn eye an ill-fitting suit of black, which-tviLiesa to it, ] creased his appearance of gloom. His knew 1tir, Orbiteds oharaotor so well, I am going ee surprise you. Until the night upon which he woke me out of my sleep in the tem room with the ocbwebbed doors he was a wretched hoarder of gold. hey Unlooked-for presence there—my discovery of his secret. -•seemed to abemge the man's very nature, .i'll not attempt to ex- plain the foot. He hada distinct per- sonelity, a will -power that was never surp6ssed. He received me in thle very room a day or two later—greet- ea me as though we had been friends for years, It was a memorable meet- iieg. He related natty interesting face had already lost some of its round - tees, and the wrinkles haddeepened about his forehead and at the corners d/ his eyes, etc had stood beside An- thony Grinold's grave as sole mourner a few days duce; and thea he had re- turned home to wonder what would become of himself—how it would now be possible to keep a roof over their heads; and this problem had been haunting his thoughts incessantly ever sines. "Father, where have you put the keys 11" Warrener looked ronnd startled, 80 -- � u.... west' enee et eefeeer . f -„ts s, 3 L€1$t' eirt1 M eWeee et V tit� by `S ,i., `�-a .t-^-'-�- Wi;. ..,. `'e _ � r -t-, -c-��-..• - :L.-"} -� -...''..=",•' --.l ,A- -r�"�",'"i - oi� -c,.. -�"-^`;_._�µ4 3-,_,: ` est - -,3 .. -_ entem7,--. -.. <.--n temem THE AMERICAN ARMORED CRUISER BROOKLYN, THE FLAGSHIP OF THE FLYING SQUADRON She is an armored cruiser, 9,2,5 tons, 400.6 lest Tong, 64 feet beam, 24 feet draft ; speed` 2e,9 knots; complement 514, armor, belt 3 in., deck 3 to 6 ie.-; barbettes, 8 in.; turrets, 5 1-2 in. ; guns, main battery, eight 8 in. twelve 5 in. rapid fire; secondary battery, twelve six -pounders, four one.pounders; four Colts, two field guns; four torpedo tubes, things about the old house of Grinold gave me my first lesson in finance, and then incidentally mentioned that all his money was lying idle at the bank. His meaning was only too olear to me. He wished me to understand that a ruling passion had been conquered, and the subject was never again hinted at between us as long as he lived." Bingham listened as if spell -bound. By her beautiful presence, her ad- mirable wit and sympathy, she had directed Anthony Grinold's avaricious thoughts into a healthier channel. A human Interest bad sprung up to in- spire and sustain a nobler impulse. It was with breathless suspense that he waited to learn more from her of thin strange being; for his imagination was already whirling him a dozen different ways in search of a solution of mys- tery that Helen eVarrener was slowly unfolding before his mind's eye. "You oan now understand, perhaps." she said, "what mental torture Mr. Grinold must have suffered at times. He was like a confirmed drunkard who Ina resolutely turned his face against drink. It often pained me to look at him. He seemed to be wrestling with some unseen force. He never knew how Intently I observed him—never knew how much I pitied his weakness and wondered at his strength. Re thought me deeply absorbed at such moments in his financial schemes. And so the day came round—that unlucky day of the, fog—upon which he look- ed for you. That was the most ter- rible day of all—a day of real torment, I almost think. But you will present- ly be able to judge for yourself and draw your own conclusions." , long steel bolt. Helen pulled back this bolt, gave the panelling a push with her band, and a large door swung noiselessly open. She stepped forward, Leckaning to Hingham over her should- er to follow with the lamp. Be hast- ened to obey, and the next moment he found bimaelf standing in the garret in which be had been robbed. The door had closed behind them with a dull thud "It's a very simple matter," said Helen, "when you know the secret ; is- n't it t This cobwebbed door, as you ree, opens with its entire framework into hlr. Grinold's bedroom when the bolt is unfastened. And who could have unfastened it on tbe night upon which he died but he t" Kingham readily acquiesced. "Bute' he said—"but where are the bonds ?" "We than find them," she predicted "in the safe." Her prediction proved correct. Hav- ing discovered the safe -keys inn secret drawer Ln the old bureau. the safe -door was quickly opened. The bundle of foreign bonds Iay snugly tied up in a deep recess. As Helen drew them forth a letter addressed to "Mr. Gilbert Bingham" dropped upon the floor. It contained a business document signed by Anthony Grinold, acknowledging his receipt of the bonds from Cairo, dated upon the foggy day on which the courier had reached Austin Friars. "Miss Warrener," said Ringham fer- vently, "I wish I could express my gratitude I But is that possible ? I cannot find words."' She was stooping to replace the bonds, and, possibly from the exertion of bending down. the color suddenly mounted to ber cheeks. Presently she Looked up, "There's nothing to thank me for. I'm so glad to think that he held them in his hands after all," said Helen, "before be died." Ringham was a welcome guest that evening at Charterhouse Square; and it was unanimously agreed that be should remain in London until Shuttle - worth's return, One day—the day up- on which the lawyer's arrival from Cairo was hourly expected—Ringham had stepped over with Helen to the old heath in Austin Friars to restore some books which they had borrowed from the shelves of Mr. Grinold's lib- rary. While descending the stairs the larnp-lighter ligbted the old lamp at the entrance, and Hingham stopped at the window and looked down. "It was there that I first saw you.— do you remember?—on the foggy night upon which ,you locked me in." "Haven't you' forgiven me yet ?" "Forgiven .you? Helen, I bave lov- ed you ever since.;" and he held out. his hands to her in appeal. "Can you ever care for me ?" She gave him her hand, and they went lingeringly o'uti into the twi- light of Austin Friars. (The end.) The twilight was fading fast from this sombre room; some parts of it lay already in deep shadow, and the pictures on the wells bad become al- most blotted out. And now Ring - ham perceived that a low arm -chair that stood beside the fireless bearth— upon which Helen frequently hent her eyes while speaking—must be the chair in which the financier had habitually sat. It wrought so strong an im- press on his mind that he conjured up a scene in which the old ma.o and this young girl were seated together, up- on that foggy day, waiting the deliv- ery of the foreign bonds. That night after I left him, as it seems to me," Helen went on, "he thought that his wealth was there? that he counted his heap of gold in the days gone by. Is it not probable that in a clouded moment, through force of habit, he was possessed by the htouhgt that his wealth was there? Creeping steatthily into that room in the dead of night, screening his band - lamp with his trembling hand, the light could not fail to fall upon your valise. Why should be wake you? why run the risk of your opposition ? The bonds were what he desired. The rul- ing passion over -mastered him—his greed for gold. And then—and then She had moved towards the mantel- piece. and had taken from it a small silver lamp while still speaking. She now paused and looked round. "And then ?" said Hingham eagerly, "He took the bonds," she said, "and went stealthily out.' "But you haven't told me," urged Ringham—"how he got in." • "Mon shall see." She lighted the lamp, and then beck- oning to him to follow her, Helen led the we,y upstairs. When they reached the top fligbt she handed him the lamp, and selecting a key from the bunch which she carried Helen unlooked a door, and upon enter- ing the room Ringham was instantly struck with the marked similarity in its shape. as well as in its window and doors to the garret in which he had found shelter upon that memorable night in the other house, I'his was Mr. GrinoId's bedroom," said Helen, seeing Ringham raise the lamp to glance about him—"the room he occupied nearly all bis life—the them in wbiah he died It was scantily furnished ; a little wooden bedstead in one corner, a deal table under the window, a rickety-look- ingr air'but Rin h am's eye wasprin- cipally attracted towards two cupboard doors, one on each side of the fireplace. They reminded him of the cupboards with the cobwebbed locks. "Let us took inside," acid the girl an- ticipatively. "Shall we ?" Without waiting for a reply, she unladen' the onboard nearest the door. A great iron safe filled up the space wititrn, "That's where Mr. Grinold kept his gold. --before I knew him—in the old Miserly days 1 No one knows where the key to this safe is tc be found; not even Mr, Shuttleworth—no one, ex- cept myself" Leaving the cupboard unlocked, Hel- en turned to the ether entiboard, and Ringham observed that she aeleeted a different key for opening the door. This cupboard contained three empty shelves. She drew out these shelves; something now glittered upon the panelling Which the woodwork of the Middle shelf tad aaanentied, I1 was a THE YOUNGSTER CUTS HIS FINGER rte., Ano toes 'Throng:i the same Stentnee Taal TIu01 ever attends ibly Boyish Experience "Weil," said Mr, Goslingtou, "tis youngster has cut his finger; the only surprising thing is ghee he didn't do it the first day he geegthe knits. How he did it he doesn't know himself, ex- cept that the knife slipped and the first thing he knew his finger was bleeding. Then he ran to his mother. His face was white, bat he didn't cry, !which 'f. thought was very brave, and I 1 think so still. His mother washed.the finger gently and then bound le up with a strip of suit, worn, white cot- ton cloth, tied around not with a piece of common cord, but with a narrow strip torn off the edge of the cloth I itself. 1 beard her tearing it, and I thought it auunded familiar, and then I remembered that was the way my mother used to do ilp ray finger, "Then the boy went around with that finger held out straight from the rest: of the handn and, with a solemn n look on les face • but he couldn't gay solemn long and it was surprising how w quickly his finger healed, too. Then his mother put e 0bt over it, a finger cut from en old kid glove, just what my mother used t0 do, too, and Iwon- der if ell mothers do these ibings, just alike, to protest it for a •day or two more until it got fully well, That was wholly new to him and it pleased him very much.. Ile were the glove /Inger wits the peeled but reserved dignity of one convalescing from a sabre stroke instead of auut from his first knife, , and to all made nee feel young again myself," , , A BLOW TO ,SENTIMENP. Dear[t,st, do you set ue late at night reading over and over my love letters to you/ 1' would, Ilenrv, but the truth is, they tuft me to steep. y e 0 On the Farm. 0 MLB1,D FARMING, There is probably only one serious objection to mixed farming, and that is it may get too mixed, caused by the farmers undertaking too much, and as a consequence too many things are needing to be done at once, and unless extra help is hired something will be neglected. In mixed farming a variety of crops are grown and different kinds of stook kept, to which more or less of the crops produced are fed. When mixed farming is followed to a very considerable extent, the farm should be made to at least produce as muth as possible of all that is needed for the table and for the stook, so that as little as possible will need to be pur- chased. One great reason for mixed farming is the safety of it. There is less risk of complete failure. The farmer is in a better condition to live if bis crops partially fail, if he must accept low prices for bis etock and therefore has but little money. Groiving a variety of products he can feed his stock more economically and to better advantage, and having a variety of atockf he can use all that thefarm produces to good advantage and with little waste. One of the decided advantages in mixed farming is that it affords a much better opportunity in every way to maintain the fertility pf the farm. It is only under special conditions that it pays to buy fertilizers. The great- er bulk, if even it Is needed to maintain the fertility, should be produced on the farm from stook and by plowing under green crops, savingthe plant food in the soil as much as possible by carrying out a system of rotations. There is at least one advantage in special farming, and that is, the farm- er feeling that his whole dependence is 111 his specialty, will give it more careful attention than the farmer that, with several crops, feels that if one thing fails he has something else to fall back on and this has a tendency to make him careless. • TREATMENT OF SWAMPY GROUND. A. W. B. has a piece of meadow land that cannot be plowed except during a dry season. Two years ago he plowed it and seeded to oats. Last year he planted to corn and lost the crop. He wants to know how to treat the land:. As far as my experience goes nothing but a grass•crop should be attempted lm this kind of land. Frequently the finest crop of corn can be raised, but when it comes to the question of cur- ing in the shook the result is, as 'a rule, a failure an account of the sur- face moisture which is always pres- ent and which will mount the inner spongy and fibrous substance even to the grain, rendering proper drying im- possible. The oat crop in a similar way would fail because of the too rapid suooulent growth, and before the Drop was ready for fodder or grain much of it would be flea and worthless. Seed to grass in August. In the meantime get quite an accumulation of manure, together wren a good ad- mixture of sand.. This will improve both the physical end moolianioal con- dition when applied to the surface, Plow o,1 the most favorable time, which will be when it is dry. Apply what sandy manure can be afforded and bar- row down well as often as possible te un - tit it is time to seed. Sow half a bushel. of the timothy, 10 lbs. of small red clover and 5 lbs of adsike to the acre, bush and roll. it must be re- membered that this kind of land, un- less drained, will gradually revert to the pr0duetioe of the wild grasses. It must then be newly seeded, If A. W. B. has other land more favorably located for cultivation it would pay better to let this wet land alone until. it can be worked into a favorable con- dition. ilnderdraining is the only treatment which will get the land in- to to condition to producannual. crops. GRAIN Irall, HORSES. Prof, Thomas Shaw writes on the value of corn, oats and bran for horsee, and says the proportions of corn and Nets which are best for working horses Will depend soaneWhet alum the na- tura of the work and somewhat en the season of the year. The harder the horse is being worked, it would be correct to say, the larger the pro- Portion of corn that way be given to him, and the colder the weather, the more corn, relatively, be may be fed, Bub to keep the system in tone, h should bo given oats and corn, and 1 some bran can be added, heavy feed ing oan be continued with safety fo a longer period than in the abseno of bran. When horses are being worked hard, they will do very well u a groin ration in winter, two -thuds o wheel is corn, and in summer, on agrain ration, one-third or opo -half o which :scorn. But if ono -fourth at one-fifth of the grain fed is bran there is much less danger of digestive derangement than when bran Is no fed. So advantageous le bran to th grain food. that the aim should be to feed some of it during much of the year. The proportions named above relate to shelled corn and to weight nether than bulk. It would not be very material whether the corn. oats and bran are all mixed before feeding oe whether they are fed separately, but even a horse tires of sameness; hence it may serve some useful end as whetting the appetite, to feed the corn and oats separately, that is to say, to feed the corn morning and evening in winter, and the oats at noon, and La the summer to feed the oats morning and evening, and the corn at noon. The bran could be fed with ons or the other of these grains. A horse weighing 1,200 pounds should require about fifteen to eighteen thee is to sayer, fiveor pounds grain pinuinds at each of the three feeds; but care should be taken to lessen the amount of food when the work slackens and in proportion as it slackens. NOTES A,W COM4!,5.\'TS: "" " ti The reported settlement of Um Nig„ er territory dispat.0 between tenglance a'nd Frame,Frame,in \Vest Arrive. is what Was to be expected, The stoning point of the new lemzelary between the Hoggish glish anti French possessions in that part of Afriea le ilo, a town of soma ;impede/Km 'impedee un the west bank of 1'$e r N!ger,sil uated about in latitude 11 dcgs e 87 nein. N. From there it runs slight- ly to the westward o1 south to Nikki 1 which remains French; all to the caste ward ix'ing British, From the point , yet to be fixed a in the Nikki distriott' , the boundary will run to where the river 00110,11.500110,11.50r Nanus ermines the 0' ninth' degree of tentacle, and follow the ceurso of that river to the eighth'. degree, to meet the northern point of the eastern front of .tlnhomay recent- ly surveyed by the joint Anglo-Freoel3 PRESERVING EGGS FOR WINTER PRICES. Some one has said the fancier has no right to preserve eggs at any sea- son; that it is his business to provide strictly fresh eggs the year round, says a writer. Nevertheless, a great many fanoiers, as well as a great many farmers, do preserve eggs every sea- son, for with the ooming of every winter there is a scarcity of eggs and a correspondingly bigh price. If well preserved they are fit for all purposes. The markets are flooded every summer with six and eight cent eggs, for there are many who must and will sell them at any price. But preferring to re- ceive for the surplus of summer and early fall eggs 20 to 25c. per dozen, I preserve them and find that it pays. The recipe given below is very good for preserving eggs, although it takes oonsiderabie work to prepare it. Into 24 gallons of boiling water put 12 lbs of unslaeked lime and 4 lbs of barrel salt. Stir frequently for one day. The next day dip off the clear liquid and put it into stone jars. Dissolve the following ingredients in one gal- lon of boiling water and add to the above liquid: Five oz common baking soda, 5 oz cream of tartar, 5 oa salt- peter, 5 oz borax and 1 oz alum. Drop the eggs into this brine every day, as gathered. Eggs greased with fresh lard. and put down in salt keep well. Use cracker boxes, or others of about that size, as these are light enough to be easily handled. Turn the box half over two or three times a week. Were I i e a village ge housew fe I am very, sure that a goodly supply of eggs, for culinary purposes at least, would be preserved when they are bate six, eight or ten cents per dozen. I should not buy them at the grocery, but would engage my supply - of some re- liable farmer's wife, \who would guar- antee me strictly fresh eggs. Many are glad of the opportunity to furn- ish them for themoney in hand, rath- er than be always obliged to take ex- change at the store. SANDWICH GIRLS OF LONDON. Sandwichi girls are parading the streets of London just now in the sweet cause of advertisement. They are not partlioalaely poetic, or pleasant ad- ditions to the sights of vast London town, and in fact, they seem to empha- size a great deal of the squalor and mis- ery that is always apparent in the most fashionable and crowded of the thor- oughfares. You wonder to whatstraite these girls mast have been brought be- fore they consented to make themselves the. subject of the gibes anti jeers of passers-by as they wander along mid- dy streets, clad in their long, shapeless blue gowns, with their little sugar loaf hats and their pathetic symbols of of- fice planked; remorselessly on breast' and back.; '!prey are pretty, some oil these girls, and brazen, a great many of them, but the thoughtful epect:ntor must wonder if ever these women will tarn into the wretched, shambling, hopeless beings rvho are the masculine equivalent for the perambulating ad- vertisement. The sandwich man of London, it is well known, can only be recruited from almost the vary scum of the earth, or, au in many cases, from that pitiably nutnerous class of irretrievably ruin- ed "gentlemen" who have sunk so far that they are willing to shamble hope- lessly under the weight of advertise- ment boards through long dreary hours at the payment of 0 pence or a shilling a day. Surely this ought to be one of the forms of labor in which the • up ward arid n r n o wa d spirit of the modern ler weenie with ber thirst for oq uttILt y should cot penetrate MMUS' PI11AS, Such lovely guests as throng my gates Were never seen, I. trove— C),uuint fairy folk with lightsome step And many a curtsy low, Grave, gentle dames in purple cap, Wee babes in bonnets white, Fair maids in gowns of pearl and rose, 'A gay and gladsome sight. My neighbors say with careless air, Stour sweet, pens bloom today." They know not these aro earry folk A keeping holiday, NEARING '.i',HIE .BRINI.,. Ile, feeling his way—l'-t wish we weregood, friends enough for you to— to call me by my first mune. She. belting him along—Oh, your last name is good enough for me. Commission appointed for the purpose, sly the arrangement now arrived at, i the Lagos hiuterland forms a wedge with Ilo al. the apex, the :[Tench Iron- , tier forming the western and the Nig- ; er the eastern side, By it also the temporary boundary of the British and i French spheres of influence formed by the northern prolongation of the east- ern frontier of Dahomey to Say on the Niger in latitude 13 deg, 5 rain, N. is abrogated, and the French gain a sub- stantial wedge of territory, of which; the base is formed by the Niger from Do .to Sem, and the apex is at the crossing of the eighth parallel and the rives Nene, The advautage to the British lies in the retention of Buussa, the head of Niger navigation at all seasons, thus leaving the control of the lower part of that riverontirelyin the hands of the British administration of the Niger territory nuieh.the same wey, es that of the. St. Lawrence is in the hands of the Canadian Government. This settlement, however, disposes of only one of the differences between England and France in West Africa. There is still the matter of the bound- ary between their spheres of influen- ce to the eastward from the Niger to Lake Chad to be gone into, and the delimitation of the boundaries of the • Gold Nest hinterland must be made before all cause of possible trouble between them in that pert of the world has been removed. blot there is no reason why they should not be ami- rably settled. No vested interests have as yet been created in the vest terri- tories that both are bringing under the influences of civilization. All the objects for which the two gov- ernments are contending in the pe. dile conflict in which they erten now engaged are prospective only, while the, interests thatwould suffer from e war between them are actual and vit- al. When war comes between Eng- land. and France, it will probably be for 'other reasons end in another sphere, DO AS YOU PLEASE. mai 1s tbeBi .µ E1'1 1 •r P f l 1 1 111 1L t and Elii07 s J7 the Blessing el'trrsllh. What has ourecl one hypochoncirian may prove of like benefit to many oth- ers. The man' in question rmagtned that some dread thing in conspiracy , with death, was rapidly working de- struction in bis system. Ile could not figure out just what it was, but he re- solved to baffle impending fate by ob- serving all the approved rules of health. Regarding the stomach as the greatest source of disease, he first de- votee his attention to it, He found Ifrom one nathority that he :.hould eat no meets and had just became a veget- arian when he learned from another good authority that the Inas wbn did not eat meat could never attain the strength of mind and body that nature intended. He ceased all stimulants be- cause he read that they were detri- mental end then came arrays the assur- ance from another learned doctor that nothing was better than these same stimulants ,judiciously taken, The farther he went the greater the con'Lu. on. 'tobacco was poisosr.. To- bacco, was a grand thing because it kept out the deadly microbes to which the: mouth' is peculiarly susceptible. Lute eating was ruinous. Late eating was a scarce of health because it at - traded the blood from the brain to the stomach and induced sleep. Besides; it was not intended that the system sbolild go twelve hours out of the twee- ty-foux without taking in sustenonoe. Bggs were among the healthiest of foods, Eggs tended directly to impair the liver„ Ib was bad to drink too much avatar. There wn water to ltoep tiro systemas Heothingrbed out and in a healthy condition. Fruit in the morning was the worst thing pos- sible for the stomach: Fruit in the • morning was positively the hippest unci hea t br a tin t stomach t n od tc o ha maid have to its clay's 's work C oar se hr a ctVas the Host, The finer the the mora nutritious the bread, But wlreir our byporhondrlao read from a German doctor that; all bread was in'dur•ious and should be used just to as xparipgly as possible, he (Mopped his i= investigations in ditticust and vowed taint he could find the highest au- E. r' c .tborii.y for eating, drinking and lug ,just as it suited. silo:. Now he has j red gills, a rotund form and a sunny nature. And yet he does nothing for r ca showyou the w hilt he unci Y highesll medicatL nineteen. CAUSE TO REJOICE. i3ei,le coining upon u. Hook of 'Chick- ens whose feathers are just appearing. Oh, you little delinge, bow groat you matst be that yul r, feathers are bud~ ding t a 1' '.i P