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The Exeter Advocate, 1898-10-21, Page 6H DIVEZATAN JVL.33 CLARE opymtsimo. QSo7�BY t EAiNp. Suddenly the police officer experienced a strange sensation. It seemed to him that this face, the shape of the head, the pointed beard, he bad recently seen somewhere, and that this human sil- houette recalled to him an image which he had recently studied. The perception of a possibility of a proof gave him a shoek. This man wino was there shade him think suddenly of that phantom discernible in the photographs taken of the retina of the murdered man's eye. "Who is that emu?" Bernardet shivered with pleasurable excitement and insistedupon his own impression that this unknown strougly recalled the image obtained, and mental- ly he compared this living man, bending over the* table, writing his name, with that specter which lead the air of a trooper which had appeared in the pho- tograph. The cosntour was the same, net +only of the face, but the beard. This Aman reminded one of a seigneur of the time of Henry III, and Bernardet found in that faeti something formidable, The, ;wan bed a igued his unune, He raised, his 8M xpo7x in a Into+ tone, "Ile, he w7aona 1 s' v' with at Revere." head, and his face, of a dull white, was turned full toward the police officer. Their looks crossed, keen onBernardet's side, veiled in the unknown, but before the fixity of the officer's gaze the strange man dropped his head for a moment; 'then in his turn he fixed a piercing, al- most menacing, gaze on Bernardet. 'Then the latter slowly dropped his eyes -and bowed. The unknown went out quickly and was lost in the crowd be - lore the house. "It is he; it is he," repeated thepor- 'tress, who trembled as if she had seen a ;ghost. Scarcely had the unknown disap- peared than the police officer took but two steps to reach the table, and, bend- ing over it in his turn, he read the name written by that man: "sTacques Dantin." The name awakened no remembrance in Bernardet's mind, and now it was a living problem that he had to salve. "Tell no one that you have seen that man," he hastily said to Mme. Moniche. "No one. Do you hear?" And he hur- ried out into the boulevard, picking his way through the crowd and watching out to find that Jacques Dantin, whom he wished to follow. spirit? Remorse perhaps. The man did. not seem, moreover, in a very softened mood, Re walked alon i H with his eyes upon the funeral car, his head uncover- ed in spite of the cold, and seemed to be in deep thought. The police officer stud- ied him from a corner of his eye. His wriukled face was intelligent and bore an expression of weariness, but there was something hard about the set of the mouth and insolent in the turned up end of bis mustache, As they approached the cemetery at Montmartre—the journey was not a long one in which to make conversation, --.-Bernardet ventured a decisive ques- tion, "Did you know M, Rovere very well?" The other replied, "Very well," "And whom do you think could have had any interest in this matter?" The. question was brusque and out like a knife. Jacques Dantin hesitated in his reply, looking keenly as they walked along at this little man with his smil- ing aspect, whosename he did not know and who had questioned .him. "It is because I have a great interest in at once commencing my researches," said Bernardet, measuring his words in order to note the effect which they would produce on this unknown man. "1 ani a police detective," Oh! This time Bernardet saw Dantin shiver. There was no doubt of it. This close contact with a police officer trou- bled him, and he turned pale and a quick spasm passed over his face, His anxious eyes searched Beruardet's face. but, eou.ent with stealing an occasional glance of examination toward his neigh- bor, the little mann walked along with eyes cast toward the ground, He stud- ied Jacques Dantin in sudden, quick turns of the eye.. The car advanced slowly, turned the corner of the boulevard and passed lute the narrow aveuue which led to God's Acre.,The arch of the iron bridge led to thCampo Santo, like a viaduet of living beings, ever to the land of sleep, for it was paekedwith a curious crowd, It was a scene for a melodrama, the cortege and the funeral ear covered with wreaths, Bernardet, still walking oy Dantin's side, continued to question him. The agent noticed that these ques- tious seemed to embarrass M. Roveree's pretended friend, "Is it a long time since M. Revere and Jacques Dantin have known each other?" "We have been friends since child- hood," "And did you see him often?" "No. Life had separated us," "Had you seen him recently? Mine, Meniebe said that you had." "Who is Mine. Moniche?" "The caucierge of the house and a sort of housekeeper for M. Revere." "Ah! Yes!" said Jacques Dantin, as if he had just remembered some forgot- ten sight. Beruardet, by instinot, read this man's thoughts, saw again with bins also the tragic scene when the por- tress, suddenly entering M. Revere's apartments, had seen him standing face to face with Dantin in front of the open safe, with a great quantity of pa- pers spread out. "Do you believe that he had many enemies?" asked the police agent, with deliberate calculation. "No," Dantin sharply replied with- out hesitation. Bernardet waited a mo- ment. Then in a firm voice he said, "M. Qinory will no doubt count a good deal on you in order to bring about the ar- rest of the assassin." "M. Ginory?" "The examining magistrate." "Then 1 will have to make haste with his investigation," Jacques Dan - tin replied. "I shall soon be obliged to leave Paris." This reply astonished Bernardet. This departure, of which the motive was probably a simple one, seemed to him strange under the tragic circumstances. M. Dantin, moreover, did not hesitate to give him, without his asking for it, his address, adding that he would hold himself in readiness from his return from the cemetery at the disposition of the examining mag- istrate. "The misfortune is that I can tell nothing, as I know nothing. I do not even suspect who could have any inter- est in killing that unfortunate man. A professional criminal, without doubt." "I do not believe so." The cortege had now reached one of the side avenues. A white fog enveloped everything, and the marble tombs shone ghostly through it. The spot chosen by M. Rovere himself was at the end of the Avenue de la Cloche. The oar slowly rolled toward the open grave. Mme. Moniche, overcome with grief, staggered as she walked along, but her husband, the tailor, seemed to be equal to the oc- casion and his role. They both assumed different expressions behind their dead, and Paul Rodier walked along just in front of them, notebook in hand. Ber- nardet promised himself to keep close watch of Dantin and see in what man- ner he carried himself at the tomb. A pressure of the crowd separated them for a moment, but the officer was per- fectly satisfied. Standing on the other side of the grave, face to face with him, was Dantin. A row of the most curious had pushed in ahead of Bernardet, but in this way he could better see Dentin's face and not miss the quiver of a mus- cle. He stood on tiptoe and peered this way and that between the heads and could thus scrutinize and analyze with- out being perceived himself. Dantin was standing on the very edge of the grave. He held himself very up- right, in a tense, almost aggressive, way and looked from time to time into the grave with an expression of anger and almost defiance. Of what was he think- ing? In that attitude, which seemed to be a revolt against the destiny which had come to his friend, Bernardet read a kind of hardening of the will against an emotion which might become excess- ive and telltale. He was not as yet per- suaded of the guiltiness of this man,; but he did not find in that expression of defiance the tenderness which ought to be shown for a friend -a lifelong friend, as Dantin had said that Rovere CHAPTER IX. Jacques Dantin, moreover, was not difficult to find in the crowd. He stood near the funeral car. His air was very sad. Bernardet had a fine opportunity to examine him at his ease. He was an elegant looking man, slender, with a resolute air and frowning eyebrows, which gave his face a very energetic look. His head bared to the cold wind, he stood like a statue while the bearers placed the casket in the funeral car, and Bernardet noticed the shaking of the head—a distressed shaking. The longer the police officer looked at him, studied trim, the stronger grew the resemblance to the image in the photograph. Ber- uardet would soon know who this Jacques Dantin was, and even at this moment he asked a question or two of some of the assistants. "Do you know who that gentleman is Standing near the hearse?" "No." "Do you know what Jacques Dantin does? Was he one of M. Revere's inti- mate friends?" "Jacques nantin?" "Yes. See, there, with the pointed beard." "I do not know him." Bernardet thought that if he addressed the question to M. Dantin himself he might learn all he wished to know at once, and he approached him at the mo- zaaent the procession started and walked along with him almost to the cemetery, striving to enter into conversation with him. He spoke of the dead man, sadly lamenting M. Rovere's sad fate, but he found his neighbor very silent. Upon the sidewalk of the boulevard the dense crowd stood in respectful silence and uncovered as the cortege passed, and the officer noticed that some loose petals from the Bowers dropped upon the road- way. "There are a great many flowers," he }remarked to his neighbor. "It is rather surprising, as M. Rovere seemed to have so few friends." "He has had many," the man brusquely remarked. His voice was hoarse and quivered with emotion. Ber- nardet saw that he was strongly moved. Was it sorrow? Was itbitterness of was—and, then, the more he examined him—there, for example, seeing his dark silhouette clearly defined in front of the dense white of a neighboring col- umn--tho more the aspect of this man corresponded with that of the vision transfixed iu the dead man's eye. Yes, it was the same profile of a trooper, his hand upon his hip, as if resting upon a rapier. Bernardet blink- ed his eyes .in order to better see that man, He perceived a man who strongly recalled the vague form foundin that retina, and his conviction came to the aid of his instinct, gradually increased and became, little by little, inviuoible, irresistible. He repeated the address which this man had given him, "Jacques Dantin, Rue de Richelieu, 114." He would make haste to give that name to M. Ginory and have a ci- tation, served upon him. Why should this Dantin leave Paris? What was his manner of living, his means of exist- euce? What were the passions, the vices of the man standing there with the aus- tere mien of a Huguenot in front of the open grave? • "Well, .'ll; Bernardet, what news?" hs asked, Bernardet saw that despite his strong will and his wish to stand there impas- sive Jacques Dantin was troubled wheu, with a heavy sound, the casket glided over the cords down into the grave. He bit the ends of his mustache and his gloved hand made several irresistible nervous movements. And the look cast into that grave! The look cast at that casket lying in the bottom of that grave! On that casket was a plate bear- ing the inscription, "Louis Pierre Ro- vere," That, mute look, rapid and grief stricken, was oast upon that open cas- ket, which contained the body—the gash across its throat, dissected, muti- lated, the fano with those dreadful eyes, which had been taken from their orbits and, after delivering up their secret, re- placed. They now defiled past the grave, and Dantin, the first, with a hand which trembled, sprinkled upon the casket those drops of water which are for our dead the last tears. Ah, but he was pale, almost livid, and how he trem- bled—this roan with a stern face 1 Ber- nardet noticed the slightest trace of emotion. He approached in his turn and took the holy water sprinkler. Then as be turned away, desirous of catching up with M. Dantin, ho beard his name called, and turning saw Paul Rodier, whose face was all smiles. "Well, M. Bernardet, what news?" he asked. The tall young man had a charming air. "Nothing new," said the agent. "You know that this murder has aroused a great deal of interest?" "I do not doubt it." "Leon Luzarche is enchanted. Yes, Luzarche, the novelist. He had begun a novel, of whioh the first installment was published in the same paper which brought out the first news of the crime of the Boulevard de Clichy, and as the paper has sold, sold, sold he thinks that it is his story which has caused the im- mense and increased sales. No one is reading `L'Ange-Gnome,' but the mur- der. All novelists ought to try to have a fine assassination published at the same time as their serials, so as to in- crease the sales of the paper. What a fine collaboration, monsieur! Pleasan- try, monsieur 1 Have you any unpublish- ed facts?" . "No." "Not one? Not a trace?" "Nothing," Bernardet replied. "Oh, well! I—I have some, monsieur —but it will surprise you. Read my paper. Makethe papers sell." "But"— began the officer. "See here! Professional secret! Only have you thought of the woman in blank who came occasionally to see the ex -consul?" "Certainly." " Well, she must be made to come back —that woman in black. It is not an easy thing to do, but I believe that I have ferreted her out. Yes, in one of the provisoes." "Where?" "Professional secret," repeated the reporter, laughing. "And if M. Ginory'asks for your pro- fessional secret?" "I will answer him as I answer you. Readmypaper. Read Lutece." "But the judge—to him"— "Professional secret," said Paul Ro- dier for the third time. "But what a romance it would make! The woman in black!" While listening Bernardet had not lost sight of M. Dantin, who, in the centerof one of the avenues, stood look- ing at the slowly moving crowd of ou- ,riosity seekers. He seemed to be vainly searching for a familiar face. He looked haggard. Whether it was grief or re- morse, be certainly showed violent emo- tion. The police officer divined that a sharp struggle was taking place within that man's heart, and the sadness was great with which, be watched that crowd in order to discover some familiar face, but he beheld only there of the curious. What Bernardet considered of the greatest importance was not to lose sight of this person of whose exist- ence he was ignorant an hour before, and who, to him, was the perpetrator of the deed or an accomplice. He fol- lowed Dantin at a distance, who from the cemetery at Montmartre went on foot directly to the Rue de Richelieu and stopped at the number he had given, 114. Bernardet allowed some minutes to pass after the man on whose traok be was bad entered. Then he asked the concierge if M. Jacques Dantin was es home. Ile questioned him closely and became convinced that M. Revere's friend had really lived there two years and had no profession, "Theo," said the police agent, "it is not this Dantin for whew I am looking. Ile is a banker." He excused himself, went out, hailed a fiacre and gave the order, "To the prefecture," (TO 1M CQN'TLXIMi,] A Much Mourned Mother. When Shafter was senior colonel of the army. he was temporarily in charge of some western post and numbered in Eris couimand an exceedingly bright, ca- pable fellow whose eleveruess was con- tinually getting him the noncommission stripes and whose escapades were just as frequently getting hien reduced to the ranks. One day this soldier turned op at Shafter's quarters with a long face and applied for leave to attend the funeral of Isis mother, who had died the previous night, ho said, in the town. The request was granted, but later on, hi looping over the same records, the colonel discovered that the same man had been granted leave the month before on the identical pretext. Shafter said nothing, but a couple of days afterward encountered the bereaved warrior ou parade ground. "Look here, soy man," said. Pecos Bill solemnly, "I want to ask you a question. Were you good to that mother of yours while she was alive?" "Well, sir—yes, sir --that is, flume so," stammered the culprit, not know- ing what was conic;, "I hope so, ton," replied the colonel. "I've heard of mothers dying for their sons, but never of one dyiug twice in 30 days for one. You may go in mourn- ing for a mouth --at the guardhouse." Eye 3insenge. Whenever your organs of sight feel weak, do not claw at them with the knuckles, so to express it. You must not massage your eyes the sane way you would the stronger parts of the body. They need belp from the hands, but this help must be administered in a very gentle and delicate method. John Quincy Adams had a way of treating bis eyes, which, it is said, preserved their vision to old age, with- out the help of spectacles. This was to place his thumb and fore- finger each upon an eyelid and gently rub them toward the nose a number of times each day. The action encourages circulation of blood in that locality, does away with the tiny spots that sometimes float before the vision and prevents that flattening of the lenses which causes dimness of sight at a cer- tain focus, It is wonderful how much good can be done the eyes of people of all ages by using this simple exercise 10 or 15 min- utes each day. If you are where it may not be con- venient to measure time, as in the dark, it is well to count the number of passes made by the fingers over the eyes until you have reached the number that you have demonstrated by experiment that time will allow.—New York Ledger. Her First Order. She was newly married and did not know a little bit about either house- keeping or shopping, and she was giv- ing her very first order. It was a crush- er, but the grocer was a clever man and was used to all kinds of orders and could interpret them easily. "I want ten pounds of paralyzed sug- ar," she began, with a businesslike air. "Yes'm. Anything else?" "Two cans of condensed milk." "Yes'm." He set down "pulverized sugar" and "condensed milk." "Anything more, ma'am?" • "A bag of fresh salt. Be sure it's fresh." ' "Yes'm. What next?" "A pound of desecrated codfish." He wrote glibly "desiccated cod." "Nothing more, ma'am? We have some nice horse radish just in." "No," she said. "It would be of no use to us. We don't keep a horse." Then the grocer sat down and fanned himself with a patent washboard, al- thongh the temperature was nearly zero.—New York World. Kirmess. In some portions of Germany the kirmess, or church mass, formerly danced in honor of the dedication of a church, is now observed with the special character of a harvest home. It marks the close of the year's labors and is cele- brated by three days of music, feasting and dancing with partners chosen or al- lotted, according to degrees of comeli- ness, at the preceding May festival. In southern Germany the end of the harvest is marked by the. sickle feast. The last sheaf is carried in triumph to. the barn andn"placed on the floor, while, the younger couples dance around it. One half of it is then decked with rib- bons and hung aloft, while the other, half is burned. Its ashes are treasured as a romedy for rheumatism and are sometimes used in making amulets or charms. The peasants leave for Wodan, or "the old one," a few ears of corn end a small number of apples, it being considered unlucky to strip either field or tree entirely bare.-Lippincott's.. FARine POEM) A NOVEL ENTERPRISE. Fine strawberries In August From Ice Covered Beds, Mention has recently' been made in The Rural New Yorker of a very novel enterprise, that of retarding the fruit- ing of strawberries by covering the beds with ice, so that fine fruit is secured in August, A correspondent of The Rural visited the farm of Mr, S. R. Divine, Sullivan county, N, Y., where the ex- periment occurred, on April 14 and again on Aug.. 8, and these are "cold facts" which he reports; Apri114 I had walked aver two over- coats of ice, in all 30 inches in thick- ness, On tap of this ice was a covering of straw eight to ten inches thick. It seemed to one then that the plants did not have very comfortable quarters for their long sleep. Just three mouths and two clays linter these same plants in re- turn for this cold charity are producing large, fine flavored fruit, all of which proves more conclusively that the limits and capabilities of the strawberry are not yet known by any means; I visited Mr. Divine's place again on Aug, 8, There were at least 30 quarts of ripe berries on tllevines at this time. The Marshall would give a good pick- ing for at least ten days more, They will thus fruit this variety under this experiment for over oue month, An abundance of green berries of all sizes were yet on the vines. The color of the fruit was darker than I ever saw it be- fore, and the flavor positively better than any Marshall I had ever eaten. Brandywine would have plenty of fruit for 12 or 15 days to come, The fruit, however, does not average as large as the Marshall, The Gandy was about done fruiting, and would not be as late as the (Marshall or Brandywine. The Parker Earle and \'arfleld had a quantity of ripe and green fruit ou their vines, It looked as though they had not picked these varieties for a day or more. Mr, Divine midair. Swift, who super- intended the work, gave ane the follow- ing facts about this successful under- taking: The plants were set in June, 1897, and were pat grown plants that had been kept in cold storage. They were fruited in a small way in Septem- ber of that year, so that this is their second year of fruitiug. Mr. Divine thinks that they would bear even more fruit next year than they did this. The plants were covered last fall after the ground had frozen with about two inches of cornstalks and other litter. There was one foot of moon on the ground Jan, 22, when they began put- ting on the first layer of . ice, which was 16 inches in thickness. This work was finished. Fob. 5. Thus there were 234 feet of ice on the plants. To be ex- act, it took 680 tons of ice to cover the quarter of an aore. On top of this ice were put 73.1 tons of buckwheat straw, etc., or a covering about eight to ten inches deep. This was put on between Feb. 15 and 27, and nothing further was done until my first visit April 14, when an examination of the plants was made, and everything looked favorable. May 20 one row was uncovered and of course the fruit from this row ripen- ed some time before the rest of the rows. The covering of straw was re- moved a little at a time, making six separate jobs of this work. On June 23 all the straw with some small pieces of ice on different portions of the patch was removed. The ground was then mulched. The first ripe fruit was picked from the Marshall July 16. Aug. 8 the ground was quite free from weeds. The whole thing is a pronounced suc- cess. Airing the soli. Every well tilled field, or, better yet, every well tilled field provided with tile drains, is in some sort a saltpeter yard. In such a field much of the ma- nure and of the remains of plants and of the humus in the soil will readily be converted into saltpeter, and all experi- ence teaches the great value of this sub- stance considered as a manure. Indeed when the soil is merely stirred as with a hoe or harrow or cultivator it must often happen that the formation of ni- trates is promoted, and some part of the significance of the summer tillage of crops may be fairly attributed to an actual increase of fertility through changes brought about by the action of oxygen on organic matters in the soil. But even if saltpeter be left out of soon - sideration it will still be true that the good effects produced by frequent plow- ing, harrowing and hoeing, and by draining also, result not merely from an alteration in the mechanical condi- tion of the soil, but largely from the admission of air and moisture, which not only -go to feed the plants directly, but so act upon various substances in the soil as to fit them to be taken up by plants. — Professor Storer's "Agricul- ture." Agricul-ture." Blanching Celery. It is not for the mere sake of blanoh- ing that celery is so treated, for if this were the ease only self blanching va- rieties would be used, but it is to im- prove the flavor and to make the stalks tender, says Meehan's Monthly. Care must be taken to avoid heaping the earth so that it gets in among the branches. Hold the stems together with one hand, while with the other the earth is pressed against the plant, leav- ing out merely a few leaves at the, ends. As the tops grow the earthing up must of a course be repeated, Celery is subject to a.blight which attacks the center of the plant. This may be encouraged by soil getting between the stalks, as it has been found that where the plants are boarded up instead of earthed they are less attacked. YIELDS OF Wt -(EAT. A Comparative Test et' Varieties at the Ohio Station. In the Ohio experiment station's va- riety test of cereals corn, oats and wheat are grown in rotation in the orti.;r named, followed by clover and tim- othy. The land is laid off in five tiers of plots, 90 plots to each tier, each plc's being 16 feet wide by 272 1-3 feet long and containing one-tenth acre. The plots are separated by spaces two feet wide, and uuder each alternate dividing space a tile drabs is laid. The plots have been slightly ridged and are now plowed across, so that all get the same treatment. The land is top dressed uni- formly with stable manure for the wheat crop,, the manure spreader, like the plow, being driver across the plots. No other manure or fertilizer is used during the five years of the rotation, The crop of 1898 was the sixth crop of wheat grown in this test and was 'mat. 10 ' ed on tier I, being the second wheat crop on that tier. A standard variety of wheat (Pen, quite's Velvet Chaff) is grown on every third plat of the series, and the varieties under test are compared with the plots of Velvet Chaff between which they lie, this method being employed to elimi- nate as far as possible the inec.kialities which aro towel in the most uniform soils. The Velvet Chad' bus been select- ed for the standard because it telt} of the earlier t sorts and its stray is rel- atively still. The .average yield of the 30 plots of Velvet Chaff in 145 was 28,;34 bushels per acre and for the six years 20,27 bushels per acre. Taking the six year average, the fol- lowing seven varieties have yielded two bushels per acre more than Velvet Chaff: Baily Ripe, Gypsy, Mealy, Mediterranean, Nigger, Poole, Red Russian. The following seven varieties have yielded an average of from three pecks to o shlcrre h''P- vet OhatnvbulI: Beardedespera10onarmaoh, tGczrrelanel l.'s Prolific, Egyptian, Geneva, New Mon- areh, Tuscan Island, Valley, The .following three sorts have yield- ed more than two bushels per acre less than Velvet Chaff in the average: Jones' Square Head, Jones' Winter Fife, Roy- al Australian (synonym of Clawsou). The following eight sorts hale aver- aged between three peeks and two bush- els per acre less than Velvet Mae: Early Red Clawson, Hickman, Hindu- stan, Martin's Amber, Missouri Blue Stent, Silver Chaff, Theirs, Yellow Gypsy, The Poole is apparently at the bead of the list in the six year test, with the Mealy close behind. Wo regard these as the most promising for the soil and climate in which the test is made. The apparent falling behind of the Mealy in this year's test may have been due to a fault in the plot on which it was locat- ed. Its average weight per bushel, how- ever, is low, and it has given some un- satisfactory yields on black lands. For such soil we believe there is no better variety than the Velvet Chaff. For good ,strong bottom or gravelly soil the valley meets the conditions per- haps better than any other soil, while Poole, Fultz, Democrat and Nigger are better suited to the lighter and thinner soils. Tnsoan Island and Geneva both show good average yields, but both are weak strawed varieties; otherwise they are among the best producing kinds. Late Turnips. Results of some Canadian experi- ments show that growth in turnips late in the season proceeds rapidly as long as the weather remains open and point to the importance of allowing these roots to remain in the ground as long as is "practicable, especially if the seed has been sown late. On the other hand, a farmer who leaves a large area of roots in the ground to a very late date is liable to be caught by severe frost, when the pulling of such a crop is dis- agreeable, difficult and expensive. A Capital Tomato For Forcing. Some specimens of Best of All to- mato, grown near Philadelphia, are illustrated in Gardening and a corre- spondent says of it: This is an exceed- ingly prolific variety and capital sort for forcing under glass. The weights of the fruits in one cluster are: 1034, 1034, 6%, 934, 83,4', 7%, 8M, 734, 4%; total, 72% ounces. From all appearances Sut- ton's claims for this tomato are well founded. They are as follows: "When first offering this fine tomato in 1895, we especially recommended it as the most profitable variety that could be grown for market purposes, and in - BEST OF ALL TOMATO. creased experience has ,confirmed our opinion. It sets very freely and is an immense cropper, producing heavy bunches of fruit at short intervals all over the plant. Iu a given space we question whether any other variety would produce so great a weight of fruit. A peculiarity of this tomato tvhich has attracted the attention of ex- perts is that the first cluster is borne very low on the, stem. The color is .a deep scarlet; form admirable; good size, and the fruit is so solid that very little seed is produced." I do not know whether any one has tested Best of All in comparison with the Lorillard which is at present con- sidered our best forcing variety. When. selected stock of the Lorillard is avail- able, it is hard to beat, but in Best of All there are evidently some additional points of excellence.