HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1895-8-2, Page 29
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HEART TO HEART
011e LOVE'S TJ 1U XNG• OIIOICE,,
caAITER Yl,—(Coxs7Nvmu.)
" t would tell thee, dear, that love le n slave
• Who droade thought of freedom, a,i life dreeda
the grove f
,And !f doubt or terror of change there should
Such fear would but drive hito still Closer to
thee
"" He gives, and gives all," tnut'mured
'the peer gill. " Surely Mime those words
Were written no one has resigned more for
love's 'sake than I have, In giving up
Roger I hove indeed givou my all."
The Iuaroesigg oolduena of the air•—now
that the pelt Winter sun had set behind
the wooda of Marham --warned Hilda that
her final parting from her beloved home
was fest approaching, and slowly and
sorrowtully ehe retraced her steps through
the deserted park to her oten desolate
apartments.
"Do you dfu8 downstairs today
ina'atn?" asked Perkins, who was in her
mistress's room when Hilda entered.
" No, thank you, Perkins," the girl
answered ; " take some dinner into my
boudoir, and I shall not change my dress,"
she added, sexing that Perkins had laid a
dress of mostly crepe upon the sofa ; " you
may put that away."
"111r• Montacute celled while you were
out, ma'am," said the maid, as she pro•
ceedod to obey Hilda'e orders and replace
the dinner dress in the wardrobe. " He
seemed greatly vexed not to fiud you et
home, and he went into your romp and
. wrote a note ; I put it on your writing
table, ma'am."
Hilda made no reply, but hastily left the
room to means herself of the last letter
whioh, iu all human probability, she would
ever receive from Roger Montauute, It was
a brief pencil scrawl, and ran as follows:
" I am so grieved not to 8e8 you to.
day, my darliug ; my aunt has given me
back my ring and your cruel message,
but do not think, Bflda, that I will abide
by your decisiou. I utterly refuse to
give up my promised wife, and have
told Mrs. Palmer that I shall marry you
at once, and we will seek a new land,
sweetheart, where my strong arm, of
which she cannot deprive me, shall work
for and protect my wife. I shall see you
early to -morrow. Ever your own, Roger."
" My deer, brave •Roger," murmured
Hilda, " to•morrow I shall be far away.
I cannot take advantage of your generosity;
1 will not ruin your life," andsittingdown
by her w citing table she wrote the following
reply to his impassioned linea:
" My Dearest Roger—Your teuder, lov-
ing note has touched me deeply, but it has
not altered my detieion. Peunilesa and
nameless, I will not let the [shadow of my
evil fate fall acme your path. Farewell
forever, darliug.".
This slie eucloeed is an envelope, and her
dinner over, rang for Perkioe.
" Tell Parker to saddle my mare and
ride over to the Temple with this note for
Mr. Montacute," she said, giving her last
order in. her father's house.
" When is he to go, ma'am ?" said her
maid, as she took the letter.
"He can go noisy" rejoined her mistreat,
glencing at the hands of the time -piece,
which pointed to half -past seven. " There
is no answer, Perkins, and I shall not re-
quire you again to•niglit," and, bidding her
mistress a respectful goodnight, the maid
withdrew, leaving Hilda free to complete
her brief preparations for her lonely mid•
night journey.
She would have to walk to the neighbor-
ing market town, a distance of five miles,
in order to catch the express train to 'town,
which stopped there at half -past nine
o'clock. She had, therefore, but little time
to spare. She had previously attached a
strap to the travelling bag whioh contained
her mosey and jeweis; this she buckled
round her slender waist, and putting on
sealskin coat and cap, to whioh she added
a thick crape veil,shewrappedberself warm-
ly in the large, fur•liued oarriage cloak,
which has been purchased for such a far
different journey, and taking the bag which
contained her simple necessaries in her
band, she opened the door and—her Light
footfallmaking no sound upon the think
carpet—noiselessly descended the ateirs.
One solitary lamp was burning in the
vast hall as she entered, which only served
to make the darkoese and gloom of the
shadowy place more apparent ; the servants
were ell to their own portion of the mau-
eton,making the most of the unusual liberty
and freedom which the absence of a matter
and mistress tuabled them to enjoy. A
bright light streaming from under the
closed door of a small study, where hix.
Wilmot was Bitting, was the only sign of
life perceptible in the great houae so lately
blazing with light, thronged with servants
and filled with gay company. Trembling
so excessively that she could hardly atand,
Hilda with difficulty unbarred the heavy
hall door, and, stepping out, solely cloned
it behind her. As the great bar was shoe
into its place with a dreary clang and Hilda
arced outside under the brilliant, frosty
stars of that Winter night, she realized for
the Bret time the maguitnde of the step she
waa taking, and knew that ehe was "out in
the sold world," homeless, friendless, with
the door of her Duly refuge closed behind
her.
CHAPTER VII.
FALLEN AMONG 'Mumma.
While her life lasted Hilda could never
retail without a shudder the events of
that night, when ehe fled from her
home, leaving all dope, all happiness,
behind,, The memory of that night recur•
ring to her in her happiest hours had power
to cause her a pang of agony, such as one
experieuoes when toms careless finger, is
laid upon a half•healed wound.
When she had left the park and struck
out into the high road she walked rapidly
along through the woods of Marham,
where she had so often rambled in the days
that were no more; along the herd, white
road, and on, till the lights of the little
market town trembled in the keen, frosty
air, The 'station was teacliod, and, cold
and tired, Hilda wee glad to gain its wale
come shelter. Looking at the clock, the
weary girl discovered that she had fully
half an hour to wait before the arrival of
the up express.
A porter who was standing about on the
lookout for a job perceived her and came
forward to relieve her of her bag. He was
a stranger to 'Hilda, ao she asked him to
get her a sup of tea, and turning into
the waiting -room eat down before the
splendid fire whioh blazed in the
grate. The porter brought her the
tea and a bath bus, and while she elpped
the refreshing beverage the man offered 10
get her blotto, the beaking ofliue being
open, At last with a melt and, is roar tate
uprose train stemmed on to the platform,
end Hilda, having liberally feed the oblig-
ing parlor, waa soon nand in a first ela8n
carriage, speeding through the cold, frosty
night on the Gest step of her unknown
journey.,
In leo than an hour the Paddington
terminus was reaohed, and feeling, oh so
lonely and weary, H110.1418 the oarriage
and mingled with the ddream of eager pees.
engine, ail clamoring for their luggage.
The flhrletmae holidays were j118t over
and the station woe crowded. Hilda was
pushed and joebled to and fro, and, feeling
very lonely and helpless ued forlorn, she
eat down on a b8n011 60 wait until the
beetle should have subsided and sire could
find a porter to °newer her fuquiries as to
whore elle could prouure a lodging for the
night. As she eat, weary and dtspiribed
upon the bench on the greet draughty plat,
form, her lovely, pale lame, framed in1te rich
moose, of gleaminghair and her exquisite,
miety eyes filled with tear's, caught the at-
tention of a Lady who was passing, and who,
after pausing for moment and attentively
regarding the tired figure of: the young girl
clad in her deep mourning and rich, dark
furs, advanced, and in a plea8aue, gentle
voice °eked if she was waiting for a friend.
Hilda railed her head and caw before her
a tall, fine-looking woman, handsomely
dressed in black, her velvet jacket deeply
bordered with sable, and a most becoming
bonnet of blank velvet with azure plumes
shading her comely face and silvery hair.
The kindly voice and genial manner sheered
the girl's drooping spirits, and she answer.
ed:
" Na, madam, I have no friends in Lon-
don ; 1 am quite alone."
"Then wile* are you doing here, poor
child, alone at this late hour ?" asked ehe
lady and Hilda replied :
I have lost my father and have had to
leave my home. I am only waiting to ask
a porter to direct me to some hotel where
I can pass the nights'
" My poor child," replied the lady,
" you are too young and pretty to be left
to your own devices ; come home with me
for tonight, and to -morrow I can, I dare
say, aid you in finding some respectable
apartments."
Guileless,innoeent'fiflda, lifted her tired
eyes to the friendly face that was
looking down at her, agreed to the
stranger's proposal, and, leaving the crowd-
ed station, the lady signalled to a hansom
and they were soon rapidly driven down
the lamp -lit street.
"And what made you oom8 to London,
my dear?" her new acqualntanoe asked
Hilda. And the young girl replied:
"I wash to obtain a governeee's situa-
tion. I have had an excellent edueatioo,
and. I have plenty of money to support
myself until I hear of soinething to snit
me."
"Where is your baggage," asked her new
friend.
"I have brought nothing with me except
this bag," replied the girl, blushing deeply.
"1 have my money and jewels hare,"touch•
log au she spoke the dressing bag in which
she had deposited all her valuables. "1 can
send for my heavy luggage as soon as I
hear of a situation."
Further conversation waa stopper] by the
arrival of the hansom at the door of a
pretty eenti•aetaehed villa, and the Lineage
lady dismounted from the vehicle and
opening the door with her latch -key bade
the tired, worn•out girl a Hearty welcome.
"Come in here, my dear," she said kind-
ly, as she opened the door of a prettily
furnished aitting.room at the baok of the
house. The apartment was bright with fire
andgaslight, and in a low chair by the
hearth was a tall, slight woman dressed
handsomely in a rustling silk of a dark
wine color, her hair elaborately dressed
above a tired, worn face which once must
have been ennneutly lovely, but which now
bora an expreso,on of nearly [self-contempt
which tea plainly betokened au aching
heart. Her deep, brilliant eyes scanned
Hilda's face attentively as ehe rose to bid
her welcome,
"This is my niece, GeraldineGray,"eaid the
handsome hostess. " Will you get dile poor
olild some tea, love? She is quite exhaust.
ed." Then, turning to Hilda, ehe said : "My
daughters are at the theatre to -night, and
sup afterward at a friend's house. They
will not be home until late, and we never
keep the servants up,"
"Pray do not take any trouble for me,"
answered Hilda; "indeed there le no oceu•
sio0," she added, as Mise Gray rose to leave
the room. " A good night's rent is all 1
require."
Oh nonsense, my dear," responded
her hostess good humoredly, " 1)o you
think we Loudonera are so inhospitable at
that ? A good cup of tea will refresh you,
and I should advise a spoonful of brandy
in it to prevent your taking cold.'
" The tea will be very welcome, but no
brandy, thanks," replied Hilda. " I never
like spirits and have a distracting head.
aohe."
The door at that moment opened, ad.
mibtiug Miss Gray,whe carried a little tray
with a dainty ten laid upon it. But Hilda
could not eat, though the cold chicken and
delicate slices of bread and butter looked
moat tempting, and was glad to follow her
hostess to the pretty bedroom prepared for
her.
Bidding her new acquaintance a grateful
good night, Hilda soon Laid her aching
head upon the pillow, and worn out by the
fatigue and extetontent of the day,she slept
profoundly.
So sound indeed was her slumber that
she did not hear the gentle footfall of her
bootees, as clad in dressing gown and
slippers, ehe noiselessly entered Hilda's
room, and after looking for some ab
the lovely girl maim lay sleeping profound.
ly, her golden hair eoattered over the
pillow,ehe took something from rho dressing
table and withdrew es notaelessly as the
had entered,
How long Hilda had slept she knew not,
when she was roused from her feverish
slumbers by a bright light shining in her
eyoo. Hastily rising from her pillow, she
beheld Min (,ray bending over her.
" What is the matter," exclaimed the
girl, as Oho noticed 81,08 Mie Gray's faro
wag very pale.
Huth 1" replied Goraldino hastily ;
"rise and dress, and I will tell you,"
" But what is ie?" said Hiida, hardly
awake yet, but tieing, nevertheless, arid.
beginning to pub on her olotheo.
" You must dress and Ileo from this
accented house et once 1" replied the ether.
" Child, you do net guess half the evil to
witch every moment you remain here
exposes soh I'
bi hy, then, do you stay ?" asked
Hilda, frightened by Mies Gray's words
and manner,
" W lty do I stay 1" says the latter, with
a bitter laugh, " jfeoaueo 1 have 810 other
dome. ,Ah, weula to heaven some band
had been outoiretohed to save me when I
entered these evil daore 1" '
"But I de net understand,." 880 Hilda,
terrified, circ ooareely know why, by fifer•
aldine'e mysterioti . words.
"My poor girl 1 ' said the elder woman,
laying her baud very eenderly on Ghe other's
ar,us,'thio house hides many evil deeds,
of whioh 1 dare nob tell you ; but ea you
value your peace and happiuese, go at mice
before the day breaks" /
" I am going," sobbed the poor girl, as,
with trembling logera she bultoped her
bee ey mddrningdrass. "I know you mean
kindly;' but ole ! where eau I go at tide
time of night, too?"
Miss Gray stopppod in her oeoupation of
hastily peeking lliidn's few things, and,
turning to the frightened girl, Bald gravely
"If you hadto pan the nlghb in the
workhouse—.aye, even wander about till
mornlag without a plata to lay your
head, 3 should still urge you to leave Ghia
roof et, once; but if yougo a short dis-
tance yon willreach the pollee station.
There you will lied some one who will
find you a night's lodging. You have
money?" she asked.
And Bilda, putting her hand in her poo -
key, produced neepuree—a dainty coy, of.
pearl and oilver=in whioh she had planed
ten.eovereigns before setting out on tier
journey.
"I have plenty Here for the present,"
aefd the girl, "and have also a large sum of
money, besides Some valuable jewels in my
dresaiug bag," turning to the dressing table,
where the had depot ted it when she wont
'to bed. But it wee no longer there !
"Where on earth is I1?" cried Hude
nervously, as she looked about the room,
but nowhere could elle discover her mioeing
tre8anrea. "Oh, Heaveys 1 what shall I
do ?" ehe exclaimed in despair,
"You have been robbed, poor o1ild,"
said one woman. "Did Inot tell you this
wee a nursed home?" And Hien, as Hilda
stood white and trembling before her, she
added, passionately t "It ei my aunt who
has taken your jewels and money, but do
not otay to search for it ; it would be use.
lest."
And Hilda, quite broken down by this
last calamity, etowly and sadly stole down
the dimly lighted atairoase, behind the
woman who had rescued her.
The servant opened the hall door, and
as ale did so a gust of wind blew the fad
falling snow into the house. Hilda shiver.
ed with cold and fear as she glanced into
tate snowy street. Sobbing bitterly, the
poor girl descended the amps out into the
pitiless cold andheavy falling snow of the
Winter night.
The street was quite deserted when Hilda
reached the slippery pavement, and, tired
and exhausted as she yeas, she found it
well-nigh impossible to struggle on, einem-
bared as she was with her heavy cloak and
long, urepe•trimmed skirt, to say nothing
of the bag she carried. After wandering
for some Dime, vainly seeking to fled the
polies station to whioh the woman had
directed hor,she could go no longer, but sank
down upon the stone steps in the shade of
the portico of a large building which,
though she knew it not, was one of London's
famous hospitals. The sufferings of the
unhappy Hilda would soon have been over
had it noc'Aheen that rese8e was at hand. A.
cab drew up at the portal of the hospital,'
and the cabby, assisted by another man,
lifted from it the &gore of a wretched
roman beaten almost to death by her brutal
husband. When she had been tenderly
carried into the aooidont ward the young
man who had brought her in, in descending
the steps, spied ,the body of Hilda as she
lay huddled up against a pillar. His haety
exclamation of surprise brought the cabman
to his aid, and between them the inanimate
body of the poor girl was raised from Its
snowy bed and borne into the hospital.
And before morning the idolized daughter
of Mark Aeloraine was tossing from aide to
side upon her bed in the fever ward, raving
in ail the delirious agonies of brain
fever.
CHAPTER VIII•
SOMEBODY'S DARLING.
Ie would be impossible to describe the
consternation felt by all the inhabitants
of the Abbey when the flight of Hilda was
discovered, When Perkins entered her
mistress's room on the morning succeeding
the day on which the poor, friendless girl
had so foolishly quitted her only shelter
she preceived at once that something un.
usual had happened. Tho room lvae in
disorder, the bed exactly in the same state
as it had been when she had left her mis-
tress the preceeding evening, and the
clusters of wax lightaon toilet and mantel.
piece burned down into their sockets.
Perkins, in dismay, hastily left the room
to summon the housekeeper, and the news
of the flight of their former m188000s 000n
spread through the house,
Hilda's own groom hastily saddled a
horse and, without waiting for any orders,
galloped offto the Temple, where, it is
needless to say, he found Roger
Montacute ready enough to accompany
him to the Abby and join in the search
for the missing Hilda. Mr, Wilmot had
already dispatched a telegram to Nigel
Wentworth, informing . him of the young
lady's flight and requesting his presence at
the Abb
It was with feelings of rage and grief
almost too deep for utterance that Roger
entered thehome of hie lost darling and
stood is ler deserted eparbmeote. Perkins
could give him no comfort when he question-
ed her again and again tie to the reason of
Hilda's flight. Tho waiting -maid was
dissolved in tears and disposed to take the
gloomiest view of the affair,
"Oh, sir," she cried repeatedly, "I
wish I had not left her alone last night
there etasa wildness in her eyes 1 did
not like, but says she ' Perkins; says
she, ' I shall not require you any more
to -night.' You know, sir, she would al-
ways have her own way, would my poor
mistress. Oh, air ! what if my poor, dear
lady 'ave a bin and gone and drownded
her poor self"—a renewed burst of tears
from Perkins, and Roger interrupted her
impatiently:.
L'or Heaven's sake, Perkins, don't talk
in that horrid manner ; what should Miss
Deloraine make away with herself for."
" I don't know, I'm sure, sir," sniffed
the offended damsel, "I'm only a servant,
and as such, of course, can't bo expected to
know much about my betters, but I oan
and will say as my poor, dear young lady,
had 110ver seemed like herself sines her pa
died, and I'm sure she was crying in her
room for hours upon hours yesterday atter
Mrs. Palmer had been and showed her up
80, poor young lady I"
Boger turned very red and muttered,
beeween his teeth, something that was not
a benediction on thus hearing that his
acne's visit, and her treatment of Wide
had b000mo the common property of the
servants' hall,
To turn the oonversablon he &eked Per.
kiwis if ehe knew when her mistress had
loft the 11000, and whether ehe had taken
any things with her,
don't know, I'm sura, air, what my
mistress took. I've been that flurried ever
eine° I found that her bed had net been
alopt In GbaG you might knock me down
with a feather; you might, indeed, sir,"
eaid I'erklne, assuming a die away air,
and looking at the young man as if inviting
him to make the attempt.
" Well, Perkins, suppose you look over
her things," said peer Roger, with a break
in his kind, manly voice a} he spoke;
and, going over to the window, he stood
leaning against the frame and gazing over
the exquielte expanse of wood and water,
fertile meadow and undulating Mlle, upon
whioh his darling's glad oyes had to often
gaud, and upon wbieh but yesterday she
had taken her Met look, when with the
bitterness of death in her heart s1,° had
exiled herself for his rake from all she
loved. And Roger swore an oath to him.
self as he stood there that he would seek
and, if possible, find the women he eo de,
votedly loved, and far from all those stenee
whioh were fraught with to much pain for
both of them,, he would work for hie Hilda,
happier in the possession of her steadfast
love than with all his aunt's hoarded thous.
ands. A hasby explanation from Perkins
startled him from hisreverie,and with one
stride heturned and reached the wardrobe,
by the open doors of whioh the waiting
maid was standing.;
'"What is it, Perkins? What have you
found?" asked' the young man, who had
turned white to the very lips.
"Look here, sir," replied the maid,
pointing to a shelf in the wardrobe, upon
which were piled morocco aase8 of , very
shape and oolor. "My poor mistreats has
been and left all her beautiful wedding
presents 1 Oh, Lord o' mercy, whatever,
should she have dour that for, mane she
was going to put an end t0her poor self?"
And Perkine,.moved to afresh burst of
grief at tho dismal picture she had conjur-
ed up, broke into fresh sola.
"Do be quiet, Perkins," replied the
young man, better able than the lady's
maid to appreciate the delicacy of mind
which made it impoeelble for Hilda to re.
tain the costly gifts that had been offered
by himself and their many friends, on the
occasion of the marriage of Mark Delo.
raine's heiress.
"Ban she taken no clothes with her ?" he
asked,ae Parkins,fidgetedoverhermistress's
drewera and wardrobes,
"No, poor lady l Nothing but what she,
[Wood upright in except her fur coat and
the big cloak her pa sent for from Russia.
How could she carry anything with her?"
she asked.
And Roger only replied by a hitter
sigh. His lovely, tenderly reared darliug
wandering through the Winter night alone
mid unprotected ! The thought dung hurl
to madness, and he exclaimed :
"What on earth are we to do, Perkins?
Oh, Heavens 1 I wish Wentworth were
here 1"
'She have took her own jewels, sir,"
sale Perkins, returning at length from the
survey of her mistress's things, "and I
know she have plenty of money,so perhaps
she'll bo ail right,"she added. "Leastweye,
if she don't get robbed and murdered for
the sake, of her jewels. We do hear such
shocking things nowadays, I'mm sure the
things as.Mr.117aeonreade us in 'the room,'
out of the Police News, is enough to make
one's blood all of a curdle 1"
But Perkins's cheerful surmises were
addressed to the empty air, for Roger had
left the roomto consult Mr. Wilmot as to
the best plan to be pursued to obtain
intelligence of the missing girl. Before
long Nigel Wentworth arrived from town
to join in their eonsultations,and telegrams
were dispatched to thedifferent stations
along the line, and also to Scotland Yard,
requesting the services of a skilled detest.
ive ; but all to no purpose. The week wore
away and there were no tidings of the lest
Hilda. Strange to say,noone had observed
her at the station, and the porter, remem-
bering the half sovereign with which Hilda
had "tipped" him, preserved a discreet
silence on the subject of the lovely golden -
haired passenger by the 8:30 express.
Meanwhile the subject of all this anxiety
wos tying upon her narrow bed in the
whitewashed ward of the hospital at
whose doors she had fallen down insensible
on that fatal night of her arrival in London.
tier recovery was for along time extremely
doubtful. The anguish she had endured at
her father's awful death, the discovery of
the secret of her birth, the breaking off of
her engagement with Roger Montaoute,
were amply sufficient to cause the brain
fever whioh had struck her ,down, and
When to alt these onuses were added the
dreadful create of the fivetnight in Louden
And the exposure to cold of the snowy
streets, it will Dot be wondered at that the
skilled physicians and the trained nurses
who surrounded Bilda's bed shook their
heads gravely and were more than doubtful'
of the result of the battle fought between
the exhausted sufferer and the eider of the
Pale Horse.
They had tried in vain to discover any
clue to Hilda's friends. The exquisitely
fine lace=trimmed linea whioh she wore as
well as that contained in her traveling bag,
bore the same monogram, elaborately
embroidered in satin stitch, that was
emblazoned in pearls and pink coral upon
her ivory -backed brushes. When she had
been found her long, golden hair,unoovered
to the bitter blast, etreamed in its rioh
profusion over the black silk cloak, lined
with Russian sable, which she wore over
her sealskin jacket ; her heavy crape skirt
was rent and torn and wet with the snow,
through whioh aha had waded in her flight
through the midnight street,. What had
brought her to such a terrible pass ? the
doctors vainly askedeach other as, they
examined their nnoonsoioue patient. Not
poverty,they agreed. Her puree contained
nearly £'10, her watch and chain was a.
costly toy of blue enamel set with dia-
monds, and two diamond rings glittered
upon rho &nger of one white hand. Well,
they, must wait in patience until aha
recovered her reason before they could
hope to find the key to this strange enig-
ma.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Would Take No Risks.
The insurance agent stepped briskly up
to the Dutch saloon keeper.
Want your life insured ?
Your brother's
Nup.
Your wife's
Ter what ?
So when she dies you got the money.
IR I haunt my house ant it burnt up
day buy me sunder. Now if Katrina dies
day buys me sadder vino, ,Nub, I keep my
Katrina
Conflicting Views.
Juhnuy—Say, Uncle George, God didn't
snake everything, did lie
Iinole George—buses he did, Johnny,
Johnny—Don't ser how that oan be,
'cause Sie's beau was bore last bight, and
I heard Sis say ho made himself at home.
AGRICULTURAL,
Waterini' the Garden by Mennen Of
a Wlndtndlt,
Usually a garden le irrigated by run-
ning the water between every other, or
every third row: Tide neeeteitatee long
owe, os, the went, will reach the end bee
fore the ground i8 thoroughly wet. To
Obviate this trouble, 0, 0, Perry, a• 800'
ooesful farmer write8 in a western agricul-
tural report that his garden last year wee,
mado a8 ehown in the accompanying illus•
tration and described below. "Selecting
a piece of ground 23xll-QfG., I'Ascertained
PLAN FOR IRRIGATING.
with a level the way the level lines ran.
It was of no consequence which way the
beds lay, or what .weretheirohapde. I made
them wide enough for two rows of vege-
tables, with sunken paths between. The..
path ran around one end of the first bed and
then around the opposite end of the second,
and so on until the entire plat was 'laid
out. Now when a stream of water two or
three inches deep fs turned into the path
at the highest point of the garden, it will
follow the path to the end of the first bed,
go round it and down the next path, ate.
Three inches of head and the slight fall
the water pets going around the ends of
the beds will carry t6 back and forth to
the bottom of the garden, where perhaps
the last bed is two or three feet lower than
the first. By this time each bed is wet
fromaide to side. An eight -foot windmill,
with a small pond or a wooden tank hold.
Mg 120 barrels, will enable every family
to raise more vegetables and small fruits
than it needs." —^—
Pasture for Swine.
This question receives altogether too
little attention at the hands of those who
keep swine. It should not be forgotten
that the pig io by nature a feeder upon
grass as well as upon grains and fruits ;
hence, if swine are to be oheaplyfed, some
attention must be given to furnishing them
with paetures of asuitable charaoterduring
the larger portion of the season when the
ground is bare.
The first pasture that conies in the spring
is blue grass. Piga are very fond of it so
ong as it is green and succulent. But we
should be careful when we first turn brood
sows out upon it that are nursing their
pigs, quotes the Live Stook and Farm
Journal. They should only! be allowed
access to it for a [short time at &rat, until
they get accustomed to it, or the milk will
become ad affected that the digestion of
the young pigs will be deranged. Blue
grass also makes a good pasture for brood
sows in the fall, when clover has been
injured by frost. But, even in the full,
they should get some additional food when
out on pastime.
Clover of the common variety is probably
the beet kind of pasture for pigs in summer,
all things considered. The clover is ready
as soon as the blue grass loses its sucelehoe.
Both wows and their young spay be pastured
on clover, but in addition to the clover, even
when at its beat, some meal should be given
to the pigs, both young and old. When
the clover gets too strong for Ole pigs, so
that it begins to get woody, it may be
oronped down by other kinds of live etoou.
When thus oroyiped down, it begins at once
to grow again, and so furnishes young,
tender food. When the season so shapes
that there is likely to be too strong a growth
of the glover pasture, it may be divided by
a movable fence. One part may be mowed
for hay quite early, and, as Boon as it grows
up nicely again, the other part can then be
mowp. If the clover in the second instance
is not fit for hay, it will make litter, and
In some instances it may be allowed: to fall
and lie as a niuloh upon the land. A clover
pasture properly managed will last from
May to the end of September.
Barley and oats mixed will also make a
ted pasture for pigs. When used for tile.
purpeee the chief part of the seed should
be barley. Three bushels of seed may be
sown to the acre, of which one pare would
be oats and five parts barley. This mix-
ture may be sown at two or three different
times, and, in this way, the pasturing
season will be prolonged. Piga are very
fond of this pasture, and they will eat
large quantities of it unbil it becomes
woody. They should have tome other food
also when grazing upon a pasture of this
°haraotee.
Peas also make a good pasture for pigs.
But they should not be allowed on the pea
pasture until the peas aro nearly ready for
cooking, in the green stage. But he feeda
his pigs the green peas a week earlier, to
accustom diem to the ohangeof diet before
they are given the range of the pea field.
13y sowing at different times a posture of
this kind may be made to lest [severe!
weeke•
Rye is a good pasture for pigs, especially
in the autumn, when other pasture is liable
to be scarce. The rye may be eovt:n in the
autumn, and the pige turned in upon it
when 11 has made a good growth. They
are very fond of it at that season of the
year. It will also answer nicely in the
spring, but there fa usually plenty of blue
grass at thee season.
Rape alto furntshee a good pasture for
swine. It also may be sown at' different
seasons of the year,commencing with Juno,
or even May. It may be made to furnioh
pasture for pigs for :ooverelmonths. They
are fond of ft, and it bas properties which
push them on rapidly, providing they ore
given some meal at the same tine.
Itis thus not a difficult matter to p'ro•
vide abundanoo'of pasta() for swine the
whole eeasot; through, `,Here eau be nn.
gveation of the benefit to them of large-
liberty 0101000es to 8001, putting, AO they
Deme on in suceeeelou, When pig8are kept .
upon suooulout pasture they will eat • nearly
ot
all the day,teept whilo,the sun le very
warm, before, at, and ofter•inidday, They
will time omieumo a very large amount of
pasture, and it must be good for them
they would not onetime it, Pasture i8
cheap food for swine, hence it should
always be provided fm' them whomever it
may be praoticablo to do this,
Dairy Notes,
If wo'have a good machine,• we. want lb'
to last ;. if it wears out with w year or two
of nee it may be too expansive,. The little
Jersey Dow ie such a machine, and liob only
boginc work early, but never tires nor 1(8110•
lined she is old, \Ve could nob afford to
replace her every year.
Food largely determines the amount and
quality of milk and butter. The profit fa,
only derived from the excess over that
neceeeary'to euetaia animal life. It le eve.
done that a Dow kept for milk- can not
return her beat profit_ if kept on half
rations,
Bad results will follow overfeeding the
Jersey calf the first few weeks. After, a
little skim milk may be substituted for
that fresh from the cow, supplying the fat
removed front the cream in middlings or
oil meal. Ag (kat a tablespoonful of the
meal added to faire milk for each calf is
enough.
It is food which makes the milk, and in
order to make rich milkin plenty .the cow
must eat plenty' of rioh food. The Jersey
is noted as being a feeder' of this kind, a
hearty feeder, whioh can cat a large quan.
tity of the richest, rind keep it up day after
day, In fact, tins is one of her good
"points."
Gentieneae in a cow is worth money, and
counts up in dollars every year. Irritable
cows begat irritation in the milker,and this
ale aye results in loss, either directly or
indirectly. It ivaure better care, for the
gentle cow is alwayo Platted. . This gentle
disposition is certainly a oharaoteristie of
the Jersey.
A STUDY OF THUNDER STORMS.
rusts About Their Distribution Set Forth
by Prof, Hloesoveky or Odessa.
Prof. Kloseovckyof the University of
Odessa, having made a special study o
thunder etorms,hae published a chart show-
ing the distribution of suoh storms over the
known surface of the globe. It waa already
known that thunder storms are rare in high
latitudes, and unknown above 75° north.
The eleotrioalaotivity of the earth near the
poles seems to find vent in auroral displays.
In Europe the frequency of thunder storms
inoreatiesas the observer moves southward,
and there IS a somewhat irregular line of
greatest frequency encircling the globe near
the equator. The "lumber lessens as one
moves southward from the equabor,but nob
so rapidly as in moving northward from
that lime, and the regiau of strong auroral
activity is much narrower in the southern
hemisphere than in the northern. The fre-
quency of tempests decreases rapidly in
going north or south from tate equator in
the interior of the continents. There is a
line of damnation between the region of
frequent and the region of rare tempests,
extending from the southwest to the north-
east. In the desert of Africa and over Persia
and the great area of Central Asia thunder
storms are infrequent, the total number in
a given locality not exceeding
EWE OR SIX ANNUALLY.
There ie a zone with a mean of five to ten
tempests annually enveloping the northern
part of European Russia, the southern port
of the Scandinavian peninsula, and Great
Britain, while at the extreme northwest of
the Scandinavian peninsula and in Siberia
the mean descends to one, and even none.
In the American continent the number
of tempests increases regularly in approach-
ing the equator, though here, as in Eueope
and Asia, there are marked irregularities in
certain regions. Africa, save at points on
the coast, is peculiarly free from tempests.
The maximum hi reaohedin the Bight of
Benin. At Lima, Peru, lightning is never
teen. Here, however, earthquakes are of
almost daily °eminence, and there seems to
be a law that in countries subject to
earthquakes thunderstorms are tare, or,
perhaps more accurately, where bhunder
storme are unknown earthquakes, are fre-
quent. At Leon and Guanajuato. Mexico,
however, there are from 140 to 150 thunder
storme in the year.
Prof. Kloosovefty finds that the frequency
of thunder storms in a given region de-
pends somewhat upon the oonduotivity of
the soil. Where the soil is a good eon.
duotoe the electrical activity is easily
distributed without violence. Limestone
regions are subject to thuuder storms
because the soil is not a good conductor of
eleobrioity. He notes also that is the Old
World, in latitude 62 degrees to G4 degrees
north, thunder storms are more frequent
than in the tame latitude of the New
World. At tie same time the region of
enteral activity is broader in the New
World than in the Old.
•
His Depressing Thought.
He had beau silent in thought for some
time. At length ho heaved Et sigh, whioh
moved his friend to enquire what the trouble
waa
This world ain't run right, he answer.
ed.
Why, you ought to be happy. You've
been away enjoying yourself, I under-
stand.
Yee. I've been away, but 1 . don't see
much enjoyment—not in a world where the
fish are so shy about bitn' an' the mosqui•
toes to eternally willin'.
Theological.
Bessie—Papa, what ie a unit ?
Papa (refieotively)—Wolf, one ie a unit.
'Chen Rate's young man is a Unitarian,
isn't 110?
How so ?
Beoaueeyou acid he was looking out for
number one all the time.
Not a Running Mate.
Bowtoune-- What's the matter with you
and Soutdaway? I thought you were such
f not friendk.
De Goode --He got too fast
No fewer than 57.3 ereltitoots entered the
botnpotitiml for 1(100 preparation of plane
for the projected Paris exhibition of 1800