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Home My WebLink AboutThe Brussels Post, 1896-7-24, Page 2FATE' INSTRUMENTS. ()RAWER J R Iff.—(Ceirtinued.) "Eight years age," he said, slowly, „you employed halo as your counsel. You Were Charged with theft—stealing a pair of shoes. -at Peekton Quarter- Seseiens,, You retained me ata fee Of one guinea.!, Neaera Wee motionless, but a .slight eW h ed Rise smile s if en her faoeJ "What are Quarter -Sessions r" she asked. "You pleaded guilty to the charge, and were sentenced t oa month's im- prisonment with Bard labour. The guinea I asked you about was my fee. I gave it to that fat policeman to give back to you." "Excuse me, DKr. Neaten but it's real- ly too absurd." And Neaera relaxed her statuesque attitude, and laughed light-heartedly, deliciously. "No wond- er you were startled last night—oleyes, I saw that—if you identified your cous- in's fiancee with this oriminal you're talking about." "I did and do identify her." "Seriously R" "Perfectly. It would he a poor joke." "I never heard anything so monatr- ens Do you really persist in it ? I don't know what to say." "Do you deny it ?" "Deny it 1 I might as well deny— but of course I deny it. It's madness." "Then I must lay what I know be- fore my uncle and Gerald, and leave them to act as they think best." Neaera took a step forward as George rose from his seat; "Do you mean to repeat this atrocious—this insane scan- dal f" "I think I must. I should be glad to think I had an alternative." Neaera raised one white hand above her head, and brought it down through the air with a passionate gesture. "I warn you not 1" she cried; "I warn you nota" George bowed. "It is a lie, and—and if it were true, you could not prove it." George thought this her first false step., But there were no witnesses. "It will be war between us," she went on in growing excitement "I will stand at nothing-nothing—to crush you; and I will ao it." You must not try, to frighten me,' said George. Neaera surveyed him from head to foot, Then she stretched out her white hand !again, and said, George shrugged his shoulders took his hat, and went, feeling, very much as if Neaera had detected him in theft. So great is the virtue of a goad pres- ence and dramatic instincts. Suddenly he paused; then he went back again, and knocked at the door. "Come in," cried Neaera. As he entered she made an impati- ent movement. She was still standing where he had left her. "Pray pardon me. I forgot to say one thing. Of course I am only inter- ested in this—matter, as one of the family, I am not a detective. If you give up Geraldynmy mouth is sealed." I will not give up Gerald," she ex- claimed passionately, "I love him. I am not an adventuress; I am itch al- ready. I--" LLYes, you could look higher than Gerald, and avoid all this." "I don't care. I love him." George believed her. "I wish to God I could spare you--" "Spare me? I don't ask pour mercy. You are a slanderer--" I thought I would tell you," said George, calmly. Will you not go?" she cried. And her voice broke into a sob. This was worse than her tragedy airs. George fled without another word,curs- ing himself for a hardrbearted, self- righteous prig, and then cursing fate that laid this burden on himi ' What was she doing now, he wondered.' Ex- ulting in her triumph 1, He hoped so; for a different pictureobstinately fill- ed his mind—a beautiful woman, her face buried in her white arms, crying the brightness out of her eyes, all be- cause George Neston had a sense of duty. Still he did not seriously waver in his determination. If Neaera had admitted the whole affair and besought his mercy, he felt that bis resolution would have been sorely tried, But, it was, be carried away the impresslo,`I that be had to deal with a practised band, and perhaps a little professional zeal mingled with his honest feeling that a woman who would lie like that was a woman that ought to be shown tri her true colors. "I'11 tell uncle Roger and Gerald to - 'morrow," he thought "Of course they they will ask for proof., That means a journey to Peekton., Confound oth- er peoples affairs I" Georgle's surmise was right. Neaera Witt bad spent the first half-hour aft- er his departure in a manner fully as heart-rending as he had imagined. Ev- erything was going so well. Gerald was so charming, and life looked, at last, so bright, and now came this! But Gerald was to dine with her, and there was not much time to waste in crying, She dried her eyes, and doc- tored them back into their lustre, and made a wonderful toilette. Then she entertained Gerald, and filled him with delight all a long evening, Ands at eleven o'clock, just as she was driving him oat of his paradise, she said, "Your cousin George was here to- day." Ah, was be? How did you get an with him?" Neaera had brought her lover his fiat. Ile needed a strong hint to move him, But she ,int the hat down, and knelt beside Gerald for a minute or two in silence, "You look sad, darling," said he. "Did you and George quarrel?" Yes—I-- It's very dreadful." "Why, what, my sweet ?" "No, I won't tell you now. He shan't say I got hold. of you first apd pre- possessed your mind." "What in the world is wrong, Nea- era ?" "You will hear, Gerald, soon. But you shall hear it from him. I will not—no, I will not be the first. But, Gerald dear, you will not believe any- thing against me,?" Does George say anything against you?". Neaera threw her arms round his neck. Yes," she whispered. "Then let him take care what it is. Neaera, tell me." "No, no, no 1. He shall tell you first." $be Wee Areal and Gerald went away, a very mass of amzemeent and barslit. Eut Neaera sad to b rsel�f, was alone, "I bink that was rigb6 Bet, oh dear, elf dear 1 what a Riles shout"—sbe paused, and added—„noth- A1nd even if It were not quite potli- ing, if it were even as much as a pair of shoes, the effect did threaten to be greatly out Of properties to the 00058. Old Dawkinsand the fussy Work, and the fat policeman could nev- er have thought of such a coil as this, or surely, in tlefianee of all the laws of the land, they would have let that nameless damsel go. CHAPTER IV. On mature reflection; Gerald. Neston deolined to be angry., At first, when he had heard George's tale, lie had been moved to wrath, ,and bad said bitter things about reokless talking,and even about malioious back-biting, But real when you come to look at it, the thing was too absurd—not worth a moments consideration—except that it had, of course, annoyed Neaera, and must of course, leave some unpleasant- ness behind it. Poor. old George 1he t ad hunted up a mare's nest this time, and no mistake. No doubt he couldn't marry a thief; but who in his sober senses would attach any . importance to this tale? Geora had done what he was pleased to tlink his duty. Let it rest. When he saw his folly, Neaera would forgive him, like the sweet girl she was., In fact, Gerald pooh-poohed the whole thing, and not the less be- cause he had, not unnaturally, expect- ed an accusation of quite another char- acter, more unforgivable because not so outrageously improbable and wild. Lord Tottlebury could not consent to treat what he described as "the incid- ent" in quite so cavalier a fashion. He did not spare bis hearer's the well-worn precedent of Caesar's wife; and, p1 - though, after an interview with Nea- era, he was convinced of her innocence, it was in his opinion highly desirable that George should disabuse his .own mind of this strange notion by some investigation. "The marriage, in any case, will not take place for three months., Go and convince yourself of your mistake, and then, my dear George, we will make your peace with the lady. I need not caution you to let the matter go no further." To be treated as well-intentioned but misguided person is the most ex- asperating xasperating thing in the world, and George had bard work to keep his temp- er under the treatment., But he re- cognized that he might well have far- ed worse, and in truth, he asked no more than a suspension of the mar - nage pending inquiry—a concession that he understood Lord Tottlebury was prepared to make, though proof must, of course, be forthcoming in reasonable time. —'I -feel bound to look into it," he said, "As I have begun it, I will spare no pains. Nobody wishes more heartily than myself that I may have made an ass of myself." And he real- ly did come as near to this laudable state of mind as it is in human na- ture to come. Before the conference broke up, Lord. Tottlebury suggested that there was one thing George could do at once—he could name the date of the trial at Peekton., George kept no diary, but he knew that the fateful expedition had been among his tearliest professional journeys after his call to the Bar. Only very junior men went to Peok- ton, and, according to his recollection, the occurrence took place in the April following his call. "April, eight years ago, was the time," he said. I don't pledge my- self to a day." "You pledge yourself to the month 1" asked his uncle. Yes, to the month, and I dare say I shall be able to find the day." "And when will you go to Peck - ton ?" Saturday, I can't possibly before." The interview took place on the Tues- day evening, and on Wednesday Ger- ald went to lay the state of affairs be- fore Neaera. Neaera was petulant, scornful, almost flippant. More than all this, she was mysterious. Mr. George Neaten has his reasons." she said. "He will not withdraw his accusation. I know he will not.' "My dearest, George is a first-rate fellow, as honorable as the day. If Le* finds—rather, when he finds—' All Neaera said was, "Honourable I" But she put a great deal into that one word. "You dear, simple fellow!" she went on, 'you have no suspicions of anybody. But let him take care how he persists." . More than this could not be got out et her, but she spoke freely about her own supposed misdoings, pouring a flood of ridicule and bitterness on George's unhappy head. A fool you call him 1" she exclaimed, in reply to Gerald's half-hearted de- fence. I don't know if he's a fool, but I h'ooppee he is no worse." - ' ho's getting it so precious warm, Mrs. Witt 1" inquired 'Tommy Myles's cheerful voice. "The door was ajar, and your words forced themselves—you know," "How do you do, Mr. Myles?" "As you'd invited me, and your ser- vant wasn't about, the porter -fellow told me to walk up." i I'm very glad you did. There's no- thing you can't hear." "Olt, I say, Neaera l" Gerald hastily exclaimed. "Why shouldn't he hear R" demanded Neaera, turing on him in superb in- dignation. "Are you afraid that hell believe it ?" "No; but we all thought—" "I meant Mr. George Neaten," said Neaera. i "George 1" exclaimed Tommy. "And I'll tell you why." And, in spite of Gerald's protest, she poured bet tale of wrong into Tommy's sympathetic and wide -opened ears. "There! Don't tell any one else, Lord Tottlebury says we mustn't. I don't mind, for myself, who knows it." Tommy was overwhelmed His mind refused to act. He'e a lunatic!" he declared. "I don't believe it's safe to live with him. He'll out my throat,. or something," "Oh no; bis lunacy is under control. a well-trained, obedient lunacy," said Neaera, relapsing into mystery. "Wo all hope,"said Gerald, "he'll soon find out ,himistake, and teething need come of it. Keep your mouth shut, my, boy.' All right. I'm silent as the cold tomb. But I'm da--" Have some more teat", said Neaera, smiting very graciously. Should she not reward so warm a champion? When the two young men took their leave and Walked away together, Tom- my vied even with Gerald in the loud- ness of his indignation. A lief Of course it is, though I don't mean that old George don't be- lieve it—the old ass. Why, the mere T El la Tact of k{cy ie sieti oa te1U ]ace a +bout it enough, Bee wotrldn t de that if is tree,” "Of Priem not," assented Gerald, "She'd be all for hushing it up." Gerald agg'reed eggaim It's pure! for Sfreorge'e sake W8 010 SO keen to keels it quiet," he added, Though, Of ceuree, Neaera even Wouldn't want It AU over the town;' I suppose I'd hatter tell Gegoi'e _ know 1" - "Oh yes. You'll be bound to show it in Your manses'." George showed no astonishment at hearing that Netters had made a confi- dant of Tommy Myles, It was quite consistent with the game she wee play- ing as Ile conceived it, Nor did be re- sont 'Tommy's outspoken rebukes. 'pont mix yourself up in unpleasant things when you aren't obliged, my son," was all be said in reply to these tirades. pine at home 1 "No," snorted Tommy, in high dud. geon. You won't break bread wit' the likes of me?" "I'm going to the play, and to sup- per afterwards.' 'With whom?": "Eunice Beauchamp." "Dear me, what a pretty name 1" said George, "Short for 'Betsy Jones,' 1 sunpose ?" Go to the devil," said Tommy. "You ain't going to accuse her of prigging, are you?" "She kidnaps little boys," said George, who felt himself entitled to some re- venge, "and keeps them till they're nearly grown up." "I don't believe you ever saw her in "Oh yes, I did—first piece I ever went to, twenty yearsago." And so, what with Eunice Beauchamp alias Betsy Jones, and Neaera Witt, alias—what l—two friends parted for that evening with some want of cordia- lity. She plays a bold game," tbought George, as he ate his solitary chop ,• "but too bold. You overdo it, Mrs, Witt. An innocent girl would not tell that sort of thing to a stranger, however false it was." Which reflection only showed that things strike different minds differ- ently. George needed comfort. The Ser- pent -in -Eden feeling was strong upon him. He wanted somebody who would not only recognise his integrity but al- so admire his diseretion. He had a card for Mrs. Poeklington's at-home, and Isabel was to be there. He would go and have a talk with her: perhaps he would tell her all about it, for sure- ly Neaera's confidence to Tommy Myles absolved him from the strict letter of his pledge of secrecy. Isabel was a sensible girl; she would understand hie position, and not look on him as a cross between an idiot and a burglar be- cause be had done what was obviously right. So George went to Mrs. Pock- lington's with all the rest of the world; for everybody went there. Mrs. Pock- lington—Eleanor Fitzderham, wbo mar- ried Pocklington; the great shipowner, member for Dockborough—had done more to unite the classes and the masses than hundreds of philanthropic socie- ties and, it may be added, in a pleas- anter manner; and if, at her parties, the bigwigs did not always talk to the littlewigs, yet the littlewigswere in the same room with the bigwigs, which is something even at the moment, and really very nearly as good for purposes of future reference. George made his way across the crowded rooms, recognizing many ac- quaintances as be went. There was Mr. Blodwell talking to the last new beauty—he had a wonderful knack of it,—and Sidmouth Vane talking to the last new heiress, who would refuse him in a month or two. An atheistic philo- sopher was discussing the stagnation of the stock -markets with a high -church Bishop—Mrs. Pocklington always aimed at starting people on their points of common interest: and Lady Wheedle - ton, of the Primrose League, was listen- ing to Professor Dressingham's de- scription of the newest recipe for man- ure, with an impression that the sub- beect was not quitedecent, but might useful at elections. General Sir Thomas Swears was asking if anybody had seen the Secretary for War—be had a word to say to him about the last rifle; but nobody had. The Countess Hilda von Someveretheim was explain- ing the problem of "Darkest England," to the Minister of the Republic of Com postelia; Judge, Cutter, the American mystic, was asking the captain of the Oxford Boat Club about the philosophy of Hegel, and Miss Zoe Ballance, the pretty actress, was discussing the re- lations of art and morality with Col- onel Belamour of the Guards. George was inclined to resent the air of general enjoyment that pervaded the place; it seemed a little unfeeling. But he was comforted by catching sight of Isabel. She was talking to a slight young man who wore an eye -glass and indulged in an expression of counten- ance which invited the conclusion that he was overworked and overstrained. Indeed, he was just explaining to Miss Bourne that it was not so much long hours as what he graphically described as the "tug on his nerves" that wore him out. Isabel bad never suffered from this particular torture, but she was very sympathetic, said that she had often heard the same from other liter- ary men (which was true), andpromised to go down to supper with Mr. Espion later in the evening. Mr. Espion went about his bsiness (for, the fact is, he was "doing"the party for the Bull's- e_ye), and the coast was left clear for George, who came up with a deliberate- ly lugubrious air. Of course Isabel ask- ed bin what was the matter ,• and, somehow or other, it happened that in less than ten minutes she was in pos- session of all the material facts, if they were facts, concerning Neaera Witt and the pair of shoes. The effect was distinctly disappoint- ing, Amiability degenerates into sim- plicity wlien it leads to the refusal to accept obvious facts merely because they impugn the character of an 00- quaintence ; and what is the use of feminine devotion if it boggles over ac- cepting what you say, just because you say something a little surprising? George was much annoyed. "1 am not mistaken," he said. "I did not speak hastily." "0f course not," said Isabel. "But but you have no actual proof, have you, George 1" "Not yet; but I soon shall have.'_ "Well, unless you geteit Very soon— "Yes ?" "1 think you ought to withdraw what you base said, and apologise to Mrs.' Witt," In feet. you think I was wrong to speak at all?" I think I should have waited till I. had proof; and then,erhaps—" Everybody seems to.think me an ass," Not that, George; but a little—well, —reckless," 1 shan't withdraw it," "Not if you get no proof?" George shirked this pointed question, and, as the interview was really less soothing than he had expected, took an early opportunity of escaping. Mr. Espion came back, and asked why Neston had gone away looking so sulky, 7,sabei smjled and .geld DKr, Wesanbody bton wan aced wi ' her, Could e vented with Miss Bourne? askec DKr, Es - pin, and added, 'Ent Neaten is rather oroteiaety, isn't h0?" Wily do you say that asked Ismael, Oh, I don't know. Welk, the foot tie I was talking to Tommy Myles at the Qa"Wheenriln"•-, re, DKr, E,spion 1" "At the theme, and be told me Wes- ton had got soma maggot m his bead Ie don't think be ought to say that' But need we listen longer? And whose fault was it—Neaera'', or George's, or Isabel's, or Tommy's or DKr. Espion''? That beeline the question afterwards, when Lord Tottlebury was face to face with the violated compaot,—and with next day's issue of the Bull's-eye, (To Be Costtinued,) ABOUT THE RiINDERPEOT CANADIAN CATTLE IN DANGER OF THIS TERRIBLE SCOURGE. Strict Quarantine nttine Jtegaiatlons liecesmiry— Importatiau of Diseased' 10ides From South Africa Feared -110w it Would Affect Our Export Trade. The Canadian cattle trade, which since 1892 has been languishing under the ban of an English embargo, is now threatened with a still more seri- ous danger than any which have hitherto beset it, The existence of pleuro -pneumonia' • among Canadian cattle has for years been denied by the Canadian Government, and so. strong were the representations made to the Imperial Government that the, embargo was suspended for a short time in 1895. The.Imperial Govern- ment, however, becoming convinced that the disease did' exist reimposed the embargo. An enquiry into the subject brought some interesting facts to light, which are here summarized;-- Since ummarized;—Since 1889 the cattle trade has re- mained almost stationary, and the rude shock caused by the scheduling of stockers, in conjunction with the growing competition in live cattle from Denmark, and notably from the United States, has caused the outlook to be anything but cheering. Now we are threatened with a still more serious danger, and without in any way at- tempting to do more than draw at- tention to this 'possible source of danger to our trade, it is time to point out that no matter what may be the apparent immediate cost nothing but loss can result from any parsimony in the adoption of the most energetic, comprehensive, and scientific measures for the systematic inspection of Cana- dian cattle, from the farm, where they are reared until they have reached the consumer, whether in London or in Liverpool. The danger which now threatens, and which must be carefully guarded against, is the introduction of the rin- derpest, which is now decimating the herds of South Africa, and its spread among Canadian cattle. In order to thoroughly understand the serious nature of this terrible scourge it might be well to relate brief- ly its outbreak and spread in South Afrioa. Within the last few years what is locally known as the Zambesi cattle disease, which, according to. the best observers, seems to be uothing else than the rinderpest, formerly so fatal in Northern Europe; has appeared amongst the native herds of cattle and amongst the buffalo and antelope of the country, extending from the equator to the north almost as far south as Caps Town. It appears that the rinderpest began its ravages in Africa about the year 1889, when it broke out in cattle in the neighbour- hood of Aden. The pandemic character of the dis- ease may be beet understood by membering that when it first appear- ed in England in 1864, having come from Southern Russia by way of Ger- many, 73,549 cattle were attacked within a few months, 41,491 of which died. While doubtless the disease will spread more rapidly amongst domestic cattle, owing to rapid transit by rail,. yet, when it is remembered that the herds of Africa roam for thousands of miles from north to south, and east to west, the cattle of one tribe not being herded carefully from those of another, it will be readily_ seen bow the disease may be transmitted rapid- ly where no measures whatever are taken to check ata spread. The terrible ravages of the scourge are well set forth in the following extract from a recently-publisheit book by Captain Lugard, the well-known African traveller:—"The disease be- gan to spread in 1889 from Aden, and by 1891 had reached the heart of Af- rica. At Kavalli every ox had been attacked only -a few weeks before I arrived. Passing southward it reach- ed Nyassi, about July 1892, and we may expect to bear of its ravages to the north in the Soudan and Abys- sinia until it reaches the confines of Egypt, and on the west through the Congo State until its area of death has extended from sea to sea." The spread of the disease is of great interest to Canada, because the future prosperity of the country largely de- pends upon this branch of agriculture, and should this terrible scourge once gain a foothold in Canada ourrt trade in cattle, now on the deme, would fall away completely. Now, at the present time, the hides of these diseased cattle in Africa are being ex- ported by tens of thousands, and when it is too late Englishmen may find thea they have imported the germs of this fatal disease into England. 'These hides, which can be bought for next to nothing, may in all probability be im- ported to Canada from London, and the possibility of the spread of such a disease to Canada in this way as not at all fanciful. It need only be remembered that in four or five dif- ferent cases during, the last few years anthrax has beet discovered in On- tario, and in every instance the Pro- vincial Board of Health has found that it has been brought in either in foreign sun-dried hides from South Am- erica, or in unwashed wool from the Caps or Sierra, commonly purchased in London. By the purchase of these, bides in London therefore the large tanneries of Canada may be the Un- conscious means of introducing this fell plague, compared with which an- thrax or pleuro -pneumonia would ap- pear insignificant.. Into the composition of every bap- piness enters the thought of having. deserved it.—Joubert. maim FARMING. ;WAKING CEMENT BARN FLOORS, There is no difficulty in =akin; a good cement floor it a 'man Se careful and 11 lie bas good material end will follow directions carefully. I may Vas Peat some thipgs I said in en article wbiob bas been mislaid, and until I received a letter to -day hum the editor I was under the impression I had sent the second artiole on this subject. To begin, only Portland cement should be used for stable floors or outside Welke. Smile people have been successful in making good floors with the cheap grades of cement, but many have failed, and the difference in cost is not what one who think wbo knows only thet common cement costs $1 to $1.25 per barrel, and Portland cement $8 to $4 Per barrel, Those experienced in work' ing with Dement know that with the grades only two or three parts of gra- vel or broken stone can be used to one of cement for the concrete foundation, and one of sand to one of cement for the finishing coat, or liquid atone as it is called, while with Portland cement from eight to twelve barrels of gravel, stone and sand can be used to one of cement in making the concrete, and two of sand to one of cement in making the liquid stone, writes Waldo F. Brown. Another point in favor .of using Port- land cement is that you can put your horses on the filer in ten days, while those who recommend the cheap kinds of cement say: "Do not put your horses on it for three months." The best material to mix with the cement is coarse, sharp sand and finely crushed stone ; and with these materials ten parts of stone can be used to one of cement in the lower four inches, and four parts of Band to onoof cement in the upper four inches, I have been laying more or less cement each year for the past eight years and all my floors have given perfect satisfaction. I have used gravel for the concrete and have screened my sand out of the gra- vel,' using a sieve with one-fourth inch meshes. Next in importance to good material is thorough mixing. In mak- ing the concrete we measure, either by counting the shovelfuls or by using a bucket,utting eight parts of gravel to one 05Rcement in a heap, then shovel- ing it over three or four times so as, to mix it all thoroughly. The last time we shovel it over, a third person stands with a watering pot and sprinkles so that it will be thoroughly dampened, but not wet enough to drip. We are now readq,to commence laying the floor, which we do in sections about four feet wide, beginning at the end, opposite the door. For a horse stable floor we use five inches of concrete and one, inch of topping ; in the cow stable, three and one-half inchs of concrete and one- half incl of topping. We stake down a scantling four or six inches wide, as. the case may be, about four feet from the wall of the stable, end finish this section without laying another. We first put in the concrete an inch or two at a time and tramp fit solid with a broad -faced rammer, and contents until within one or one-half inches of the top, using a straight edge with, a notch at eace end so that it will drop down one inch or one-half inch as we desire. When this is put in we are readysicie the finishing coat, which is matte of two parts of clean, sharp sand and one part of cement, which is thoroughly mixed dry, and then wet and temper- ed to the same consistency as wewould use in cementing a cistern; we then pour it in, filling the mould to the top, turning our straight edge over, notched side up, s0 that it will be just full to the top. It will be necessary to use a trowel around the edges and in the corners. In order to prevent horses slipping on it we make grooves four inches apart and something over one-half inch deep, for a distance of about two feet at the rear part of the stalls, These are made by layingdown a broom.bandle, tapping it until it beds one-half its dia- mater, then move four inches and re- peat, thus making parallel grooves four inches apart. Nile also make these grooves running the other way, in front of the door where we lead the horses in. When a section is finished we carefully lift the stakes and move our edge piece over and stake it, ,and so continue until the floor is finished. The Portland cement does not set as quickly as the cheap grades, but usu- ally in twelve hours it is hard enough for a man to walk over it, and for the next tea • days it should be protected from the sun and sprinkled thorough- ly twice a day; this prevents danger of cracking end makes it harden more slowly,, insuring a better job. le the horse stable we prefer to have the floor laid perfectly level both ways and use absorbents to take up the liquid; but in the cow stable, where we have a manure ditch, it is well to make a sli •ht slope, not to exceed one inch in Five feet, We make the floor on which the cows stand five feet long from the manger back to the manure ditch, the. ditch six or eight' inches deep and two feet wide in the bottom with the edges slightly eloped outwarri • then a walk two feet wide back of the ditch on the same level with the floor on whioh the cows stand. In my stable the manger is also floored with cement; it is made. six feet wide and the horses eat from one side and the cows from the other, their hay and fodder being dropped through a chute above the manger. I prefer that all the floors in a basement stable should be of cement, because, first, plank floors rot out so quickly as to be unprofitable, and second, they always furnish a harbor for rats. I neglected to say that the grading should be done and the levels estab- lished before the concrete is put in. It will be necessary often to make a i fill, in places at least. This s best done with broken stone or gravel and the spirit level and straight edge should be used in establishing the grade. Un- til within a few years all the Portland cement used in the United. States was imported, but large deposits of the ma- terial necessary for making the best 1?ortland cement have been discovered in Ohio and other States, and our manu- factories are now making a £first -clans article of Portland cement and selling it at a lowse price than the imported article can be sold, with the long dis- tance freight to be paid. Portland cement is made from marl and clay, mixed in proportions determined by chemical analysis, then moulded into brick, dried on racks and burned in a furnace, such as is used for makin pig; iron. The cheap grades of cement are made by burning a peculiar kind of lime stone which will not slake but is ground to an impalable powder, • PEACH TREES AMONG APPLE. "It takes a long time to have oyoung appl eorchard grow to size of hearing. It is all the longer 11 the apple trees 3'u x 24t 189 ,are planted 80 far apart that it is only tie they attain large size that they be- gin to he a check on each outer. The young trees hto ,have o much room for. their Rest results in fruiting, It is just )were that a number of ,each trees plant- ed in rows between those of the apple tree will do good service, says Amert- earl Cultivator. 'The peach is a abort - Jived tree and will market tseveral crops before the trees wax old and have to be grubbed eat, On the other band, the apple trees shelter the peach trees from ,prevalent winds, and also help keep more snow upon the ground than there would be if either kind of fruit tree occupied the land to the exclusion of the other, The peach tree will arowd the apple tree earlier, and thus bring em to earlier fru;tfulness, Wo have known several farmers who planted peach trees between rows of young ap- ple trees In an orchard, and in every case the peach crop sold paid all the ex- penses 01 both orchards up to the time that the apple orchard came into bear- ing. As an old farmer remarked his only mistake was that he did not; set out a greater proportion of peach trees anti fewer apples, It is no use, how- ever, to try to set peach trees in ant old orchard. By the 'time an apple orchard has attained bearing eine, its roots in- terlaoe through the entire ground and neither a aewly transplanted peach tree nor tree of any kind has a chance to grow." STRANGE MEETINGS. People Imehily Reunited After. Many Team' Separation. The world is not so very large when friends become separated in one part of it and suddenly come face to face with each other in what we generally term "a far-off country." There are many such Instances that never find their way into print; An. English per- iodical bas recently gathered together a number of them, from which the fol- lowing are taken: "I was once making a call at a friend's house, when a lady caller was announced, wbo was Introduced to me as Miss H. The ladies of the house asked her to play the last piece of music she bad . composed. She con- sented, and its beauty made a great impression on me. "Ten years later I was settled in In- dia, Riving in a tent up country, 40 miles away from any town, buying cot- ton for a Bombay firm, One night my pugee (watchman) woke me. An Eng- lish lady and gentleman in a bullock cart, he said, were asking the way to the nearest town. They were strangers to me, but I asked them to stop until daylight, and did my best to make them comfortable for the night. Next morn- ing at breakfast, talking of one thing and another, I found that the lady knew Cheltenham well, and I suddenly then recognized her as the musician wbo had played her own composition before me in Cheltenham 10 years previously, When I recalled the circumstance to her she recalled my name perfectly. I have never seen or beard of her again," And liere is another, though along a different line: 'While waiting on a railwayplat- form in the North of England a short 'time ago, with some friends, we were prising the time away with sleight-of- hand tricks, when I. casually remarked that I could show them a trick which none of thein could do—namely, re- volving the hands in opposite directions —when a stranger wbo had joined us remarked: "'Why, it must he Jim —, as 1. never saw any one else who could do it.' He turned out to be an old school fellow I had not met for over 20 years." THE GLADSTONE FAMILY. 1'respectire IBunetot•s In 5t.ore ler n Grand- son of the Grand Old Man.. Mr, Gladstone has just lost one of his nephews, Arthur Gladstone, which bas the effect of bringing him one step nearer to the baronetcy belonging to the head of the house of Glad- stone. He, it mus be remembered, was the youngest of four sons wbo each of them married and bad child- ren. Curiously enough nearly all of the nephews • of Mr. Gladstone die without leaving male issue. The pres- ent head of the house, Sir John Gladstone, only son of the grand old man's elder brother, is a bachelor, and expresses his firm determination to re- main so,. Gladstone's second brother, Robertson, had six sons, five of whom died without leaving issue. Richard is a confirmed bachelor. The third and sailor brother of the grand old man left at his death ono son who has a family of daughters, and after that, next in succession to the baronetcy, comes the grand old man himself. It is doubtful whether he will ever live to succeed thereto. But it is practically certain that his grandson William, a lad 15 years old, now at Eton, will eventually become Sir William Gladstone and inherit along with the title the great Fasque estates, which together with the great Fettercairn distilleries, are entailed upon the head of the house of Glad- stone. The young baronet will like- wise, according to the terms of the will of old Mrs. Gladstone's brother, the late Sir Stephen Glynne, inherit the whole of the Hawarden estates, in which the grand old man has o a life interest. This will have the feat of making young Sir William Glad- stone a very desirable matrimonial catch. For with his 880,000 per annum from the Hawarden estate and with the $250,000 per annum which consti- tutes the revenues of the Fatigue es- tate in Scotland, the young man will have more than enough to keep tbo wolf from the door. STRUCK DEAD WHILE CURSING. A Mau 'Who'Won a Bet on the 'Weather a111r8 by H,Ightning. An Arkansas man named Charles Ward, who had been 'working, near, Pecan Gap, in Texas, was killed Satur- day night in a way which leads church people here to call it an interposition by Providence. There was a protracted meeting at Laden., the previous' night, and Ward, who is said to have been a bad man of the worst ,tyke, was in attendance. Several of his irientls urged him to the mourners' bench to be prayed for, butto no purpose. He treated the invitation lightly, and after ,service made a wager that it would rain in less than 24 hours, Next evening. Ward and three other farm bands were engaged in the field when the rain began to fall, and he began to rejoice, andwith a volley of oaths announced that he had won his bet. Scarcely had Wardof the last oath out of his mouth before be woe struck, by a bolt of: lightning and in- stonily 'killed.' .1