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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1899-2-3, Page 2THE ,BRUSSELS POST. FEB, 8, 1899 MemmeommeremmemseememememWeemmeememeenmem Diamond Gut Diamond OR, TIE ROUT OF THE ENEMY, CHAPTER 1JI—Continued, The dark eyes seemed to pierce him through and through, so intense and burning was their scrutiny. A strong- er nerved man than was tier friend Al - bent might have flinched a little un- der such an examination. Ho heli- taited a little. 'Every soul was killed—not ono survived l" be cried with a sort 11 desperation. "You saw yuurself the reports in the papers—the butchery WW1 wholesale—no one could. be identi- fied. You will -excuse me, sir, but the recollection oe that ghastly seen of mutilated and unrecognisable hu man forms always upsets me to Ili very day—it was horrible 1 But yo know that I did what 1 could—that searclt3d in vain for the pocket -boo amongst the debris of the train, an that I slid succeed in recovering en packet, at least, of valuable bonds, ae that I then hurried straigbt back t England to tell you what bad take place. You do not, surely, doubt my story now, •after all these years, Mr Mane?" The great man bad removed his eyes piobably out of a sentiment of pity Cetera the face of his clerk. Ile smite slightly at the distress in his last Words. "No, I do not doubt you at 1111, 'I'M - abet," lie said, not unkindly. "Be et4sy—I trust you, and I am grateful to you, the proot of it being that 1 am 'haul to trust you again ;" then, with a sudden, swift glance at him, "You are quite certain then that Leon de Brefour is dead?" "Absolutely certain," "Ah, then, I am not, at all. I be- lieve him to be alive!" "Sir 1" Mr, Dane pressed a call -bell upon his table, and the errand bay entered, "Tell Mr. Trichet wbut you did this morning, Tom." "I followed a lady as you bid me, sir—she didn't take a cab, but walked on into Cheapside, and down till she got into the Strand, and there she went into a bookseller's shop, and stopped a long time," "Did she bring out any parcel f" "No, but she bought something, be- cause I saw her through the window." "That will do, Tom, you may go,' and the boy left. "Now, Trichet, yeu will go to that shop, and you will Lind out where that parcel has been sent—do you under- stand? That lady was Madame do Brefour—if her husband is alive still, she will occasionally see bim—if be is dead, I shall be glad to know it for certain. I need say no inure to you, You must be quite aware of what 1 want to know. Death is not always able to balk the ends of Justice with such beautiful facility as it is some- times supposed. Ycur business is very plain and simple for the present. Find Madame de Brefour." CHAPTER XIII. A smart suburban villa, with a square garden at the back. There are hundreds of thousands of them with- in thirty miles of London. The villa is gabled, red -bricked, and pretentious, smiling at the road over a narrow atrip of neatly mown turf, across a low iron railing, like a vulgar country - town beaaty anxious to show off her charms. Close muslin draperies have been lately arranged before all the windows, but that does not alter the ineradicable pertness of striped red and white sun blinds, nor the smug gelf-assertion of the French window fames, and the brass-knockered front door, There are a whole row of .hese villas down Longway Road, as like one another as peas in a pod. And yet, in one respect, this particular villa differs widely from its fellows. Every one of them possesses at the back a small garden, empty of beauty, bare of trees enclosed by a low modern wall planted with a fringe of evergreens. But the garden behind No. 10 is of a totally different character. To begin with, it is four times the size of any ot the others, it is surrounded by a very high brick wall, it is well shaded by s—and oh, best charm of all, it What a magic in the very words 1 An old garden 1 Trim flower borders, wherein the columbines and lavender, the blue lupus and the yellow snap dragon of our grandmothers' days, bloom year after year in a fragrant and luxuriant wilderness — shaded shrubbery paths, moss -grown beneath the feet of a dead generation. A mul- berry tree, old and crippled, resting its gnarled limbs upon artificial props, like an aged pensioner on crutches, and inthecentre of the grass plot a broken sundial, overgrown with gold and brown lichens, and little soft vel- vet-like tufts, green as my lady's far- thingale, as she leant against it, when she and it were young, a hundred year's ago. Wbat breath, from a higher realm than lied ever yet inspirer) bis low- born nature, prompted the excellent man wbo built Longway Villas, to spare that old garden, and to adapt it to the needs of No. 141, rather than to follow the inatinots of his race, and to sweep its tender beauties, for ever, off the face of the earth ? Was it, per - Mance, some memory, far and faint, of bis mother's cottage amongst the t green Kentish lanes ?—or some vague, reverent homage for a dead girl, who was laid, years ago, in a flower -encir- cled grave, in the borne of his youth ? Impossible to say 1 And yet there are gleams of poetry, sometimes, in the coarsest soul—green spots upon the most barren soil, Be this as it may, the 0111 garden was spared, The house that had stood within it was pulled down; and, perhaps, as it was rat -eat- en and no longer weather -tight, one must take no umbrage at our friend, the builder, ear acstroeing it. Then the green acres on either side — once known as "The Paddocks,"—were laid out into trim and even -sized building plots. The villas 55080 simultaneously Mom the bosom of the earth, and No. 1) with them, with an additional isl2 los, per annum Lacked on to its rent, In conelderatinn of the hip -walled gar - tient to which it was annexed, ne pe.muliarity yet rentable to be Mentioned, At the further end, perched on the top of the wall, is •a small, round summer -house, like a tlovemot-•'to which a flight of .rusty tion steps spirally aseenda from the path below. The railings are bidden tram eight, beneath a wealth of honey- suckle and ivy ; and when you bravo elintbed up th-'m. you find yourself in a little round rhamhir, from which, through a gap between the unlovely buckeof tall, modern houses, just one straight. dice Was to be seen of ibe shining, moving waters of the Thames, •1s they flowed, ever silently, onwards, Loudon -wards, and 0a -wards. Such a slice, it was, too 1 Greenest beauty trom bank to bank, A tangle of will. flowers, fur a foreground, along the e edge of the towing-patb—purple spikes _ of luose-strife, great yellow tufts of s ragwort, stat -like ox -eyed daisies, and u' long, waving grasses, of countless form 1 and number. Then that strip of wa- k ter—cool, and ever -moving -sometimes d silvery grey as the winter skies, some- times green as the summer woods—but d always and ever flowing on, with the o ever -varying human burden upon its • tide. Then the further bank, wooded to the water's edge. with the great climbing woods, up the steep hill -side —such woods ns only the banks of the Thames can show. liven so small a section of so lovely a thing, as was to l be seen from the little round turret on the top of the old garden -wall, was a possession of priceless value to the dwellers of No. 10, Here it tar, Wit, In that same sum- mer in which Angel and Delete Hal- liday were testing the sweets of Lon- don life to the full, a very beautiful woman was in the habit of sitting, hour atter hour, during the long, hot Jury days, - tihe would sit just within the Iittle summer -house door, on a low basket - chair, with her face to the river. Some- times her eyes wouldfasten upon the book on her knee, and she would be so absolutely motionless that, but for the occasional flutter of the page as she turned it over, she might have been som0 beautiful old-world picture, fram- ed into the open arch of the summer- house door. At such times the birds would come, fluttering fearlessly about her, perch upon the back of her chair, or even the Mitts of her dress; or (least, with happy monfidence, up'ui the lush huneysuokle 'berries, within 11 few inches of her shoulder. Tiny spiders, too, would weave their threads backwards and for- wards about her, using the brim of her hat, or the lace upon her sunshade, as objects for their tsrchiteetural designs; whilst a bright -winged butterflywould now and again poise his crimson and yellow wings almost epee her neck; or, a sleepy -voided bumble -bee, boom stum- blingly by, knocking himself clumsily against the knot of her bronze hair, as It gleamed in his path, in the flick- ering light. But she was not always so still. Often the hook failed to enthral her; often other thoughts—against which she vainly struggled—came betwixt her soul mud the once dearly loved pages of her Montaigne, ur her Bacon: and her • s, half impatient at herself, half weary with the eternal struggle, would wander restlessly away to that glimpse of the great world, upon the bosom of the river, a couple of hun- dred yards away. Here she would watch the men and maidensflash eu ddenly into the picture, and then as suddeuiy van- ish out of it. Between one ugly struigbt wall and the other the revel- ation came—the tiny prow would shoot swiftly into sight, then the whole boat and As occupants — three or four strokes of the flashing oars, then all would be over, and the boat have van- ished away from her sight for ever, Sometimes it would be a steam -launch, puffing itself, noisily, into the panor- ama, with gay striped awnings, and a crowd of noisy, happy people on board. Sometimes a couple of lovers, floating slowly down atrertm. Sometimes a tiny outrigger shot swiftly through, with one silent man pulling long, swinging strokes, that carried bim out of ber picture with a lightning -like rapidity. And sometimes, again, it would be a vision of another sort; a rough barge, dirty, and smoke -be- grimed, slowly and laboriously drag- ged along by the man on the towing- path—whilst a pale, hungry -looking woman, clasping a crying infant on her shoulder, stood, looking wistfully out at the cabin -door, with a couple of ragged urchins tumbling about at ber feet. "It is like life 1" Rose de Brefour would say to herself; and on those days when the river's endless story fascinated her, her book always failed to claim her mind to its pages. She could see the faces, too, as they passed by ; hear their laughter, catch the ring of their voices—the, confused babel of their merry cries, Often there would be singing; the twang al 'the guitar, or the jingle of silver beilsi but they none of them glanced her way, or caught a sight of the sad -eyed woman —with ber beautiful, sorrowful nice— wbo watched them from ber lonely look -out on the old garden wall. She diel not spend her wbale exist- ence in these sad musings,. Often she paced the old walks below, backwards and forwards, with the small white terrier following close at her skirts— or, oftener still, sh3 sat within, by the crippled old man's chair, is the smart vide drawing-roan—that she had soft- ened and subdued, in a measure, to her own quiet coloring, with her shelves full of books, and her draperies of sob- er hue. The old man bad stood the move badly. IIe was more feeble sbnce the journey up from the Hidden House— now two months ago. With a pang, she owned to herself, that he had nev- er rallied from it. He was more silent than before; less inelinod to gentle rallyings of his beautiful daughter-in- law—more given to primer, and to fre- quent interviews with the Priest, who came I:o see him. A terrible self-reproach would come upon her, at times, when she realized all this. 1Ie was all she bad 10 live for she would say to herself, it bitter - nese. Her one duty, her one trust— and in that trust, perhaps, been un- faithful. "X will never reeve him again I" she would say to her heart.. I will so live that it need never be gone through again. I will watch my every action -- so that the danger may never arise again—end 1 will never leave him till 116 dies, never for one hour." So she parted with her little broug- bnrn, and her horse—aa a self-indulg- ence unworthy of the life- of esnrifice she bad Laid clown for herself—so that she could devote borsolf more entirely to the old man. "1 have always my books!" she told herself; "they should be sufficient Fir me." Other oceupatien.s, too, bud been add- ed to her simple and uneventful lite, She was now edible reueb of London —and often, deeply veiled, she would t0 up by train, an.t spend a few hours 10 adding to her dare of beloved vol- umes liome rare old edition, or some Improved new one, advertised in the papers, would catch her eye, and she would go up to an old book shop well knee's' to her in the Strand, and pur- chase the treasure, bringing it home with bet', herself, so that she need leave no address behind her. And once or twice, whilst there, sin had or- dered some pleasant old standard work which she loved, and knew well, to be sent to a direction in Lemke, which was still written faintly,'in peno1l, up- on her ivory tablets. It WaS on one of these. occasional visits to .London th'tt, instigated there- to by the prayers and entreaties of the old man, she bad presented herself at the offices of Dane and Trichet; and, sending in her card, had requested an interview with the head of the firm.. Il Ives not without great reluctance Oen she had consented to humor her father-in-law in this. "there will be danger in it; I might betray myself, and there to nothing to be gained by it," she bad urged. "Ah, mon Dieu, it is so many years ago 1 Ile cannot be made of stone, this man! Surely he will have forgiven and forgotten, and then the truth might bo known, and this terror of discovery be removed from us." She shook ber head sadly. "1 know him better," she said, "be will never forgive either the living or the dead. No good evi11 coma of it." But she went, all the same, just to satisfy him. No good did come of it. Only, had she kuown it, the seeds of unmixed evil t0 Come, - For, a week later, she was attracted mace more up to the old bookseller's in the Strand, by one of those tempting tittle notices that used to prove so ir- resistible to her: "A bargain.—Rare and unique copy of Montesquieu's works, very little damaged, in the original french, earliest edition known. No reasonable offer refused." So run the notice in the Book Lovers' Gazette. And Rose de Brefour found her way that very afternoon to the friendly book:miler Ln the Strand, with whom she had had many dealings already. "You must make an offer for that for me, 2Ir. Poyntz," she said, bolding out the paper to him, "What will it go Cot', do you suppose ?" He was a grey, bent old man. who must have spent his life in poring ever the volumes in his Inco, low-ceilinged shop, so intimate was his knewleige of them all. He was quite used se tee sight of the beautiful won;,n :y,s so fond of musty old i;-ed,k Le est say to his wife. who %vie monplace old lady ueh. Mem see made a radiance in sle • • ,• - came in, with her tine y sweetness. Mr. Poyntz scar Mee e smiled at her from sheer pie:see the eight of her, only that lie was prim old man who seldom gave sway to his feelings, and that, as he would have put it, he knew his place too well to unbend to his customers. do he only gravely put up his double glasses at the wpm. she belt out to him, and shrugged his shoulders. "There's no demand for that class of literature now, ma'am 1 it will go for a mere song. It is in bad condition, too. I have betel to see it. I half ex- pected," he added, with something like a sly smile h -'1c1'ing at the corners of his thin lips, ; •bat you would. be miming up about i' Can I send it to you 1" "No; I will call again next week for it. " And just at that very minute a young man sauntered into the low doorway, and stood by the counter turning over the books that lay in dusty piles upon it, with an aimless air of not exactly knowing what he wanted. Idose was just taking her leave; she glanced carelessly at the man who had just entered, she could not see his face, but it seemed to her that he turned his back to her with a somewhat cur- ious persistency. She had no desire to look at him, she only noticed bim because he studiously avoided looking at her. As Mr. Poyntz followed her up to the door, be added; "By the way, ma'am, that copy of Congreve you wished me to have bound in calf will come back to -night. Am 1 to send it?" "Please, Mr. Poyntz." "Ta the address you gave me the oth- er day, I suppose? G. Dans, Esq., Ave- nue Chambers." She nodded assent, and wee gone. The young man by the counter turn- ed round sharply. "That ladyls name is de Brefour, isn't It?" Mr. Poyntz gave a shrewd look at the questi0net' from under his grey brows, with a little wrinkle of ctquiry at the bridge of his nose, as of one who would say, "And pray what busi- ness is It of yours, young man?" He did not, on principle, like customers who asked questions about web other, Ile rubbed his hands softly one over the other, and bowed. "Did you wish to speak to the lady, sir?" "Oh, no," with a slight embarrass- ment that was not lost upon the book- seller, "1 only thought I knew her. Her name is de Brefour, is it not?" Mr. Poyntz could not deny it. He quickly ehenget' the subject by enquir- ing what. be could do for the gentle- man. The gentleman mentioned a book, a new and extremely frivolous volume of social sketches lately pub- lished, Mr, Poyntz mentally became as buckram, Such wonky were not in his line of busintess, he replied, and there was an unmitigated contempt in his mind for the rash youth who had ventured to mention the boolt in ques- tion within the sacred arid austerely learned precincts of his shop, "Alt, I forgot 1 Nothing modern, of 600580, you only smell of mustiness, beret" replied his visitor, with oarclessl insolence aa he look up his 511588- 0100011111 mune from the counter, 141x', Poyntz literally shook with rage.. It is nn odour, lot me tell you, sir, that le not unpleesing to great stu- dents and learned men all Over the world, he replied with heat. The offensive young gentleman laugh hisedeyes,, and tilted his hat down over "Olt, indeed! Madame de Brefour likes t bo smell, I suppose? And lIr Geoffrey Dane/ Does be like it, too? Akllove lurks under strange bindings occasionally:' "gr. Geoffrey Dane le nota custom- er of mine, sir," replied the old man angrily. "1 do not even know b1en, save by name, Hut as I do not ('aro for your' r'emar'ks, young roan 1'11 Melillo you to walk out of my shop," "All right, I'm off. Tata, old cock," In the whole course of a long and honourable enreer, Mr. Poyntz had never been called "old cock before! lle gasped end fell back with closed eyes, clutching at the back of a chair, Far a few moments- it seemed as though he was about to have an apo- pleotie seizure, so fearful was the effete: upon him of those terrible words, As to Albert Trichet, he went down the street, twirling his stick round and round in a state of uncon- trollable ecstasy, He drew long breaths of delight, be laughed for joy. "My eyel Whtt a piece of news for the Governor)" he oiled to himself in his glee. "That's his little game is it! What a kettle of fisht I think I've got you now, my young friend, and your little bash will soon be settled, Oh law! what a rage the Gov' will be int 1 wouldn't be in your shoes, friend Geoffrey, for a good bit. Sends him books, does she? This is real jam, and no mistake/ What: a precious young foal! Now's my time and if I don't melte something nut of this my name's not Albert Triebetl" And he snapped bis fingers so merrily, and tripped along with so gay and jaunty a step, to the tune of such little guffaws of laughter and delight, that more then one passer- by turned in amazement to look after bim, muttering, "mad, or drunk!" as they went by, efttdame de Brefour had forgotten bim. She went beck to Lnngway Road, a little freshened up and streng- Lbened for her lonely life, be her short visit to the shadowy old shop, with its lose ceiling, and with that musty <:dour of ancient calf -bindings, which Albert Trichet bad derided, and width is 115 dear to every true book lover as is the fragrance of myrtle and orange -blos- soms to a maiden—and no disturbing memories of the strange young man by Iii', Poynlz's bock -stall, who had 1108 looked tip at her as she went by, troubled ber peace, as sbe ministered as usual to her hither -in-law. chatted to old Martine, gave a few directions concerning ber garden to Jeceues, tend than to "k her way, with M'ntcigne as a rompam.m, to the little summer- house on lbs top of the wall, • (To be continued.) .A CURIOSITY IN MOTVIIS. Thr mo Ives for which women marr are as numerous :is the sands of ib em, or—ss -he Iversen. Our easysememas :.'e == "hie ea, h • 5115 cf every en _ ge :o-.: is 'en 1, :e" with th Mem n-." th_.: is. the p.<rties are ismer: -o-_ :ber by same mysterious q - 1 -!on. mere or teesemeng, -,..,. :i , - pereon'."i aurae- a -ion .e tr.: eloeye preset:. either in to:h iisrttes sn engagement or even 1 wi:h one of the pair. Accident, pro- t pinluity, trifling circumstances, meal a or temi1y pressure, some slight airy e no:bing decides the question between t marriage or no marriage for the svo- man soslight, that it is as if women t were always waiting on the brink of this nese experience, and a very light 0 touch caused them to fall into, or w -an- t der into, or drift into it, according to 1 their several temperaments. It is evident that, as Nature expects t woman to marry, when the time comes w she provides the way. It is Lbe next h step In the woman's life, and with the y hour the opportunity comes to take t it, The curious° point is the final' deter- fa mining motive in each case. Noting a the number and variety of these, one a is tempted to comment that a woman's 0 motive for marriage is generally 100 o high or too low; the desire to secure Ch a living; the wish to escape from un- w comfortable surroundings; the wish g Lor money to spend, for ease, position, 0 fine clothes, or jewels, to Bemire lei- th sure or travel; the fear of being an m "old maid"; to secure the liberty of a f married woman; desperation or sheer t indifference; a weak yielding to a : to man's will, as expressed in his persist- w envy; surprise; the fear of losing a a friend or of making enemies; ayield- of ing to the swishes or expectations of re family or friends; pure reekleseness, or a reaction from disappointed hopes fe in Mbar direelions; often, alas! because to the woman is fitted fur nothing else, ' th and must take whatever chance offers; M often, alas and alasi because she does eh not know how " to make a living any of other way," he A little higher, and the motive rises mut of self, Tbc women feels that da she should take the burden of her sup- fe port from those who are unable or un- gi willing to bear it, or she wishes for p means to help those who have befriend- ed her, whether parents or friends; she may feel a wish to help the man, make him more comfortable, or hie life bap - pier, or himself better. She may fes( ability to do good still greater to curers in the offered position, ,Alar- riage, may mean care, responsibility, self-sacrifice, or self -dental, yet she may take all these as a duty and a moans to the performance of same large deed. But while these motives are more worthy of respect than the first class, they are just as foolish and just as misleading. But from all these motives women, marry, and when one considers how little of any lumen or reasonable or sensible tbougbt enters into any of them, one is surprised that there are not lnore hhipwreekod women In the world than there are. 'I5ftmntnm'1trYnalNcmYWUV WWLhMArytiVHhAimdII, A,grieu1tu 1"a1 AM,ItINMMlsw wu. l'11E MODERN PARMER, We have something more to Iive for than a living. We have large duties to perform to the nation, the Mato and the community. Our standing among men is the tl'ne mea0ure of the rights and privileges that will be accorded to us in law, or social relations, writes W. D. Hoard. ""Wo have ourselves, not our stars to blame if we aro under- lings." Every other profession pays large re - swot to intellectual power and develop- ment. Have they secrets more pro- found to salve than suet Have they problems more difficult to comprehend/ No. The farmer stands dully in the prese1106 of God's latus, the most pro- found the most subtle of all lases to interpret. On the outside be is met, at all points, with the Meet thoroughly trained intellectual forces of the day, all seeking, naturally enough, their awn advantage and advancement. He shrinks from such contentions, for he realize his lack of intellectual train- ing. Ho submits to unjust favus, and systems of taxation. He sees personal property largely exempt, and lauded property grievously burdened, yet he knows that the true basis of all taxa- tion is the dollar's worth of property, without regard to its character. JIor his own success in his business, he must be better educated as a farmer, for his awn protection as a citizen, he must study harder and look. deeper in- to his relations with his fellowmen in this great social and political compact. cos A'P'PETIZING RATIONS F011 COWS A variety in the ration makes fir feeds mare palatable, !educing the to eat a greater quantity and yield more milk. \Vhetever makes the feed taste better or makes it inure enjoy able to the eosv increases its value f milk production. Early cut hay is bes for the dairy cow, nm only because i contains more protein than that cu late, but because its aroma and flaw make it more palatable to the cow. Tit appetizing effect from the early cut ting and careful curing of all forag crops increases their feed value fa milk production. Freshly harvested nn freshly ground grain are the most pal Y - f - h e r 1 Met saw. the fine row of plants to my garden, before the blizzard of Nov, 20, they were pretty much all brothel and no epz•oul. Only one meager gleaning bad whetted our appalites fu this really delicious vogcnlable ; hu we have peal expectations when th January thaw overtakes us. For hnrdi cess they excel all other known vett tables, keeping through the winter 1 outhouses, wlaero everything else weal be rained. As a nlark01 crop they'ar sold by the quart. The slow-growing popularity of vette tables out of the ordinary line is due 1 think, somewhat to the supposed di acuity of growth, but more large) to the fact that horticulture and vege table onokery do not, as they should go )rant) in hand. Idlers are a dozen fin meat end pastry cooks to one who can do judice to the wealth of the gueden Rohl-rabi, for instance, has the eon- sistenoy of n turnip, with the flavor of a cltuliflower, but is n poor substi tufo for a good turnip, if cooked like one. Specific dlreetions for both vege- tables are as (allows;' iColri-rabi—Pare, slice thing boil in salted wafer until tender, about `lOmin- utes, serve with cream meth. Mold - rain may also be used as salad, with mayonnaise dressing. Brussels Sprouts—Peel off the outer melting or leaves, sank for a -time 111 salted water, boil tender and serve with ?fawn butter. It is a curious feat that the dis- agreeable odor arising from the boil- ing of this class of vegetablee increases in Intensity front tha mal-ocloroua cab- bage to the Englishman's ideal, reach- ing the sublime in the Brussels sprout, the most delicately flavored of all. Much of this feature may be obviated by the use of u small oil stem on the piazza or anywhere where it ear be s:ereoned from the wind. A good steam- er may ,i1so be used to advantage. HEALTH. DON"!' COUGH, t Apbyslnian who is ocnnoaled with an institution in which there tare many children says: Meliti1'58 is nulling mere n irritable to a cough than coughing, icor d soma time 1 Mimi beim so fully assured e of Oils that L determined fur tine min- ulo at least to )Meson the number of , coughs heard in a certain ward 01 a f- hospital of the inalitution, lay the Y promise of rewards and punishineuts I succeeded in inducing them siauply to. e bold their breaths when tempted to cough, and In a little while 1 was my- • self surprised to see how some of the children entirely recovered from the disease, ""Constant coughing is pr'.ecieely like scratching a wound on the outside of the body; s0 tong ns 11. is done the. wound swill nut. heal.. Izt a person whin tempted to eougb draw a long breath and hold it until it warms and soothes (Wen, air cell, and Boole benefit will be derived from this process. The nitrogen welch is thus refined acts as an anodyne to the mucous membrane —allaying the desire to cough, and giv- ing the throat and lungs a chance to heal, At the same time a suitable inedicine will aid nature in her effort to recuperate." `-- BUTTERMILK AS A MEDICINE. Long experience bas demonstrated. buttermilk to he an agent of superior digestibility. It is indeed, a true milk peptone; that is, milk already partially digested, the coagulation of the coagulable portion being loose and flaky, and not of that firm, indigestible nature which is the result of tbo ac- tion of the gastric juice upon sweet cow's milk, It is at decided laxative, a fast which must be borne in mind in the treatment of typhoid fever, and which may he turned to adeentago In the trealmmt of habitual constipation 1t is a diuretic, and may be used to advantage in some kidney troubles. It resembles kuumiss in its nature, and, with the exception of that article, it is the most grateful, refreshing and di- geetible of the products of milk. It 1s invaluable in the treatment of dia. bites either exclusively or alternating with skim milk, In some cases of gas- tric ulcer and cancer of the stomach, it 10 the only toad that can be retained. —Elgin Dairy Report. THOROUGH TILLAGE. Farm properly is coming to be re- garded as the least desirable class of property, 'Sons cannot even afford to inherit the property of their fathers, and pursue the same methods. Never- theless, there are great possibilities in the future, and LL onily requires a prop- er study of the condition. There is or. still an al:andanco of plant food in the t soil, and what le wanted is the adoption t and pursuit of such methods as will t male title food available for plant or growth. Proper tillage is the first e thing essential; and in the first place _ the matter of the selection of impte- a meats is to be considered, and this is ✓ too often and too greatly neglected. d In the use of plows, fining the _ soil is of far more importance than lightness of draft, desirable as the lat- ter might be. So long as there are ample elements of fertility in the soil itself it is better to take the proper means to liberate and make the same available than to expend money in the purchase of f,.rt ilizers. It Is for this purpose that the cultivation and thor- ough pulverization of the soil is neces- sary, rather than the mere keeping down of weeds. Weeds are a blessing in disguise, as their appearance ren- ders more bultivation necessary for their destruction, and that very culti- vation, by loosening the elements of fertility, adds to the truitfulness of the soil end the growth of the coop. Another object of tillage fully es important as the liberation oe plant food, is the conservation of moisture, Drought is preferable to excessive rainfall since the termer, by the right process of. tillage, can control or overcome the Former, while the latter M beyond control. A thorough loosen- ing of the surface soil prevents the evaporation of the water in the sub- soil in very large degree, oven in the periods of protracted draught. The condition of the soil may be greatly improved by reincorporating the vegetable principle, or nitrogen. Every acre of our comparatively ex- hausted New England sail could by proper treatment, without the purchase of fertilizers, be made to produce more than it has ever done in the past. table to the dairy cow and will give hest results. Dairymen who grind eed should grind often, as grain that es lust its freshness is not the best elshed by the cow. Often the dairyman has a large uantity of coarse, ratber unpalatable, rough kidders, such as corn fodder and verripe or slightly damaged hay, which he must feed, and has only a imitetl quantity of choice roughness o feed with it. In this case, best re- ults can be secured by giving the poor - r roughage as the last feed at night, o be eaten at the cow's pleasure cluei- ng the night, or else put in racks in he yard for midday meals. Palatable feed in the morning given a contented ow through the day, and this con- entment brings more milk. When several kinds of feed are given t is usual to throw them together in - o the manger and let the cow eat at ill. This method does not secure the igbest milk yield. You do not want our soup and pie served together on he same plate, amu neither does the ow like this method of serving her od. If all the feedstuffs for a meal re thrown together, the most palat- ble are eaten first. In separating and acing Lhesa, the others are '" mussed" ver and when the caw comes to eat em, they do not taste good and she 01 not eat enough to piuduee the realest milk yield. We like to feed ur most palatable zrotighness and give is just before the milkers go to their eel. When the milkers come back z'oin eating, the cows have finished heir first feed end the less palatable ughness can than be given them. It ill not then have been slobbered on, nd will be better relished and more it eaten. 'Phis method at feeding quires time and care, but it pays. It the cowls are given their rough ads in racks out of doors, it will pays put feed in these reeks ofton, so that e feed will he clean and appetizing. angers, feed troughs and racks ould be kept clean and fresh from d, soiled feed, both as a matter of alta and because the food in aolean manger smells and tastes better. The iryman's rule should be to harvest ed in its most palatable form and ve it to the cows in the most ap- etizing manner' BRUSSELS SPROUTS AND R013L- RA131. • PECULIAR. Ah, funeral, I see said the tourist. Pass resented Rubberneck P1111, Pi - eon Ike, Br—lcone see; hasn't there some- thing peculiar about his death ? Wal, sass. It happened a sight later then any one soba had keowed bim [bought it would, trees when an opportunity is given her, Among other good tbings al the earth which should be, but are not, in every farmer's garden are Kohl- rabi and :Brussels sprouts, The one should precede and the other follow cauliflower and broccoli, .Kohl-rabi, if rightly managed, will fill the gap be- tween early and medium peas, writee G. A. Woolson, Aa they are a quick -growing crop a constant succession may be had throughout the season. The bulbs are ready for use when about the size of a fair -''sized onion, On the contrary an entire season is needed in this latitude to perfect Brussels sprouts, This vege- table from an English point of view is the elite of the cabbage tribe. T1'ew plants adhere more rigidly to the calendar ; the heads, which are something under a golf hall in size, are never ready for fuse helore Novom- her. To be up to that data the seed must be plotted early in May, I read somewhere that June was early enough for sowing the seed, consequently when INCREASE OF CANCER. eme 'aro line' Haat. Salol 1a be Fspeelally t4rrutrnl. In England four and a half times as many people die now from cancer as half a century ago, and no other dis- ease eat show anything like such an immense ineroase, W. Roger Williams says in the Lancet, "Probably no single factor is more potent in deter- mining the outbreak of cancer In the predisposed than high feeding, ';!'hese can be no doubt that the greed for food manifested by modern coinmuntties is altogether out of proportion to their present requirements. Many indica- tions point to the gluttonous consump- tion of meat, which is such a charac- teristic feature of this age, as likely to be especially harmful in this respect. Statistics show that the consumption of meal. bus for many years been in- creasing by leaps and bounds, till it now has reached the amazing total of 13.1 pounds per head per year, which is more than double whet it was halt tt century ego, when the conditions of life were mora compatible with high fending. When excessive quantities 0L such highly stimulating forme of nut - Arnett{ . are ingested by persons whose cellular metabolism !s detective, it seems probable that there may 1 bus bo excited in those parts of the body whose vita! processes aro still naive such excessive and disorderly cellular proliferation as may eventuate in ean- cer. No doubt other faetore co-operate, ani ninon; these .t should be especially int.lined to name deficient exercise end probably also detictency in fresh vege- titbie food." AN A\VTe'TUL 7""et,1NG,• She—What mokee you think he loves ma 110 desperately? Simplex --01, a 1 housancl 1ltings 1 IIe always looks pleased, for lnstanci, when you sine and p111y, REMEDY F013 CROUP. Whet a dread disease this is, coming as it dues upon one unawares in the night, and many a limn has been left desolate by its ravages. But with onions in the house one is well fortified against this treaties. Peel the onions and roast them iu the oven; then press out the juice which the ebild must be made to drink. The pulp while hot is bound on the solus of the feet, palms of the hands and on the chest. This always given relief and recovery is prompt. THE CARE 01? TIIE HANDS. In frosty weather, particularly it dark clothes aro worn, the hands very soon become soiled, and require fre- quent washing. They should be wash- ed in warm water, not hot water, and, if possible in soft water. After wash-, ing they should be dried very llzor- oughty in bran or oatmeal, and great acre taken that the nails are most thoroughly dry; in the drying the cute, ole man be pushed back sufficiently to Shaw the half-moon at the baso of the nail. Nail -scissors, not used for any other purpose, should be used to out off any hangnails; but it is better to use a file to keep the nails short, and for this purpose there should be three or four files of varying size.s To give the lustre desired there is a new kind of wash that makes the nails pink, not damp red, and also gives a gloss and finish. After .this is put on the hands shouldbe washed, but sufficient of the polish will remain. After the ]rands are washed the sow ond time to remove the polish the nails should be rubbed riskly, either with a piece of chamois, a nett -polisher, of by refilling them again with the palm of the hand, This last method is parhape the best of all, for it polishes just: enough without giving too exaggerated a finish in appearance. )pings are leo muob the fashion that the hands must of necessity be well kept, but it is n mistake to wear too many rings, particularly with a plain gown; it is to be hoped that it will soon go out ot fashion to wear them with anything but evening dress. ADMIRED THE PRINCESS. ,A. story about the Duchess of York, One moz'ning she received a passionate love letter written on poor paper and obviously watered ink. In it the writs er called her " h!a guiding star,' " hie darling love," informed lies that stn? twos 1lis destiny, modest youth I and with many terms of affection, "he re ntainod her devoted lover, Sam 1" Sbt showed this idiotic note to her mother but by some misalnanoo her misohiov ells young brothers secured it, and she was unmercifully chaffed about "Sam' and his devotion. After a time these letters became nnuisanoa, and when "Sum" threatened all sorts of horrors it she did not meet him, the schoolboy brothers thought it time for action. ')hey appointed a nteoting one night in the garden—of course, in Princess Ally's nano, "Sam " arrived in all the glory of his best Sunday clothes, and with li,,ir redolent of scented hair -oil. 7158 carried a cane and smoked a vile oi- eer: Ilia reception suns brief, if swarm. The two Princes, Adolphus and Francis, fit.fcan and thirteen years of ago, semen upon hien like two Mx -terriers, and 'Sam" received the best tanning ho had ever received during his earthly) career 68 a groocr's asa101ant,