A Sto.-y of the Inner Vision of the
Highlanders, Oommonly Called
the Second Sight
jj
By GEORGK M ADDON AUX
<'HArrKIt II.—(Continued.?
I had ni'l not lord I III now. Hint the
storm tmil rlm’ii to u very ecstasy of
fury.
‘•They any, likewise, that the hulv's
linlr Is still growing; for. every time
they nis> tier, It Is longer than before;
ami that now stteh Is Its length ami
the ilenlong speed of the bourse. that
It floats and streams out behind like
one of those curved clouds, like a ooui
pfs tail, far up In the sky; only the
Cloud is white, and the linlr dark as
night. And they say It will go ot
growing till the hast Day. when the
horse will falter and her half will
gather In; and the horse will fall, and
the Inilr will twist, and twine, and
wreathe Itself like a mlsl of threa In
about hint, and hind him to everything
lint Iter. Then the hotly will rise ep
within It. face to fnee with hint, an
imated by a (lend who, twining her
arms arottml him, will drag him down
to the bottomless pit.
"lie need not think to take me In.
wizard us 1m Is, with his disguise. I
•till sis> through them all. Duncan,
my dear, when you suspect anything
do not he too Incredulous. This human
demon is, of eourse, a wizard still, and
known how to make himself, as well
ns anything he tmielies, take unite n
different appearance from the real on-’;
only every appearance must hear some
resemblance, however, distant, to the
the natural form. What he Is after,
now. of course, I cannot tell; hut you
must keep a Isihl heart, and it llrm and
wary foot, ns you go homo to-night."
I showed some surprise. I do not
doubt; and, perhaps, some fear as wed;
hut I only said; "How tin you know
this, Margaret?"
“1 ran hardly •<*ll .von," she replied:
“bill 1 do Know IiIiii. I I 111 n k ho hales
liu>. Often, of a wild algid, when there
Is moonlight enough by Ills, I see him
tearing around this Hide valley, .lust
on the top edge-nil round: the lady's
•tali' and the horse's inane and tall driv
ing far behind, and mingling, vaporous,
with the suywy clouds. About ho goes.
In wild careering gallop, now lost rs
the moon goes In, then visible I'c
round when she looks out lignin an
airy, pale-gray specter, which few
eyes but mine could see; for, as far
as I am aware, no one of the family
but myself lias ever possessed the
double gift of seeing and bearing both.
In this ease 1 hear no sound, except
now and then a clank front the broken
sins'. Hut 1 did not mean to tell you
that l had ever seen him. I am not a
lilt afraid of him. lie cannot do more
than he nmy. Ills power Is limited;
else III enough would lie work, the mis
creant.''
"Hut," said 1. “what hns all this, ter
rible as It Is, to do with the fright you
took at m,v telling you that I had lusird
the sound of the broken shoe'? Surely
you are not afraid of only a stormV"
"No. my boy; 1 fear no storm, lint
the fact Is. that the sound Is seldom
heard, and never, as far as 1 know, by
any of the blood of that wicked man,
without betokening some ill to one of
the family, and most probably to (lie
one who hears It -but I am not unite
sure about that. Only some evil It
does portend, although a long time
may elatise before It shows Itself; and 1
have a hope It. may menu some one else
than you.”
"l)o not wish lliat," I replied. "I
knew tie one better able to bear It
than 1 am: and l hope, whatever It may
lie, that 1 only shall have to meet li.
It must surely be something serious to
be so foretold; It ean hardly be eon
tuH'tod with my disappointment In be
Ing compelled to be a pedagogue in
stead of a soldier."
*'Do not trouble yourself about that.
Duncan." replied she. "A soldier von
must be. The same day you told me
vt of the clank of (he broken horseshoe. I
saw you return wounded from battle,
and fall fainting from your horse in
Wh the street of a great oily--only faint
ing. thank God! Hut I have particular
reasons for Is'lng uneasy at your hear
ing that boding sound. Can you tel!
>me the day anti hour of your birth ?”
"•No,"I replied. “It seems very odd
when 1 think of It. but I really do not
know even the day."
“Nor anyone else, which Is stranger
stllir she answered.
|;
(■:[’
li:
pi
f
K-y/
i. ; \
“How does that happen, nurse?"
*‘\Ve wore la terrible anxiety about
your mother at the time. So ill was
she. after you were just born, in a
strange. unaccountable way. that you
lay almost neglected for more than
au hour. In the very net of giving
birth to you. she seemed to the rest
around her to be out of her mind, so
wildly did she talk: but 1 knew better.
I knew that she was lighting some evil
poorer; tuul what power It was. 1 knew
full well; for twice during her pains.
1 heard the click of the horseshoe. Hut
no one could help her. After her de
livery, she lay as if in a trance, neither
dead nor at rest, but as If frozen to ice,
and conscious of it all the while. Once
more 1 heard the terrible sound of iron;
and. at the moment your mother start
ed from her trance, screaming, ‘My
child! my child!’ Wo suddenly became
aware that no one had attended to the
child, and rushed to the place where
he lay wrapped lu a blanket, recov
ering him. we found him black iu the
face, and spotted with dark s|K>ts upon
the throat. I thought he was dead:
but. with great ami almost liopcl.<ss
pains, we succeeded in making him
breathe, and he gradually recovered.
But his mother continued dreadfully
exhausted. It seemed as if she had
sjK*ut her life for her child's defense
and birth. That was you. Duncan, my
dear.
“1 was in constant attendance upon
her. About a week after your birth, as
near as I can guess, just In the gloam
ing. 1 heard yet again the awful clank
—only once. Nothing followed nil
about midnight. Your mother slept,
and you lay asleep beside her. 1 sai
by tile Itodslde. A horror fell upon
nip suddenly; though l neither saw n«i
heard anything. Your mother si arte
froth her sleep with a cry. which sound
ed-HS if It canto from far away, out o'
a dream, and did not belong to th's
world. My blood curdled with fear
She sat up In bed, with wide, starlit*
eves, mill half oiii'ii. rigid lips. and, i
feeble ii k hIio wii.x. thrust her limn la
straight out before her with mv.it
fnivi', her hands open ami lifted up.
with tin* palms milwartl. The wlml"
ih'IIoii was nf uni' vlnli'iitly repelling
n not lirr. SIhi began to talk wllilly as
sho hail ilmir before yntl wi'iv born,
hut. though I seemed to lirar anil tin
ilri'Hlaml It all I In* tlim*, I conlil tint I'.'
rail a WHiil of It nflrrwnrtl. It was
as If I hail llslriii'i] In It whrti half
asleep. I ii 11 i'll) | iti’d In Moot lie lirr, pit’
ll ni; my arms around lirr, Iml shoseem
ril ipilte nnrnnsclnus nf my prrsriirr,
anil my arms srcmril pnwrrlrss tipiri
iIn* tlxr<| ma.si los of hri'H. Not that !
ti li'il In coiihInilii her. for I knew that
a battle was going on nf some kind or
mins', and my liiierfrrener might do
awful mlsehlrf. I nnly Irlril to coin fort
and encourage her. All the time I was
in u state of liuli'serlhahle cold and suf
feeing, whrlhrr mure bodily or mrn'al
I eimlil not tell. Itul at length I heard
yet a mil u I hr elinl; nf the shoe. A sud
den pcarr seemed to fall llpnll Illy mil' I
—or was II a warm, odorous wind Ilia’
tilled the room'/ Your mother dropped
her arms, and I nr net I feebly toward her
baby. She saw that lie slept a blessed
sleep. She smiled like a glorllled spir
it. and fell bark exhausted on the pil
low. I went In Ihe other side of the
mom to uft a cordial. When I re
turned to the bedside I saw lit oner
that she was dead. Her face smiled
still, with an expression nf the utter
most bliss,"
Nurse ceased, trembling as overcome
by the recollection; anil I was ton much
moved and awed to speak. At length,
resuming the conversation she said:
"You sis* it Is no wonder, tiiiiieiin, my
ili'iif. If after all this I should Mini, when
I wanted to tl.x the date of your birth,
that I could not determine the day or
the hour whim it took place. All was
confusion In my poor brain, lint II was
strange Ihai no one else could, any
| more than I. One carried you across
the room to lay you down, for 1 as
sisted at your birth, I happened to
lisik up lo the window. Then I saw
what I did not. forget, although I did
not think of It again till many days
after- a bright star was shining on the
very tip of the thin crescent moon."
"Oh, then." said 1. "it Is possible lo
determine the day and the very hour
when my birth took place."
"See the good of book-learning!" r
plied she. "When you work It out, Jttsi
let me know, my dear, that 1 may re
member It.”
"That 1 will.”
ahsoi'iHMi 111 tne story l noil Hoard. 1 i
look m.v way. as I thought. homoward.
Tito wliolo ootiniry was woll Utiown "o
mo. I should huvo said, hol'oro that
night, (hat 1 could have pine homo
lilludl'old. Whether the lightning lie
wlldofod mo and made mo lake a false
I tint. 1 cannot tell; for tlio hardest
I hint; lo understand, In intellect as well
as moral mistakes, Is -how we came
to jjo wrong. lint after wandering for
some time plunged In meditation, and
with no warning whatever of the pres
on.. Inimical powers, a hrlllla it
lightning Hash showed me that at least
I was not near homo. Tint light was
prolonged for a second or two by a
slight electric pulsation, and by that I
distinguished a wide space of black
ness on the ground In front of me.
Once more wrapped in the folds of a
thick darkness, 1 dared not move. Sud
denly It occurred to me what the black
ness was, and whither I had wandered.
It was a huge quarry of great depth,
long disused, and half tilled with wa
ter. I knew the place perfectly. A few
more stops would have carried me over
the brink. I stood still, waiting ‘‘ir
the next Hash, that 1 might lie quite
sure of the way 1 was about to take
Is-fore 1 ventured to move. While I
stood l fancied I heard a single hol
low plunge in the black water far be
low. When the lightning came, 1
turned, and took my path In another di
rection.
After for walking for some time
across the heath. I fell. The fall be
came a roll, and down a steep declivity
1 went, over and over, arriving at the
bottom uninjured.
Another Hash showed me where I
was lu the hollow valley, within a
couple of hundred yards from nurse' -
cottage. I made my way towards it.
There was no light In It. except* the
feeblest glow from the embers of her
peat lire. “She Is lu bed.” I said to
myself, "and I- will not disturb her."
Yet something drew me toward the Ut
ile window. 1 looked in. At tlrst 1
could sis- nothing. At length as 1 kept
gazing. 1 saw something indistinct In
the darkness, like un outstretched hu
man form.
By llus time tin' storm had lulh'd.
The moon had boon ui> for some time,
hut had hi on quite oonooalod h.v tem
pestuous clouds. Now. however, those
had begun to break up; and. while I
stood looking Into the cottage, they
scattered away from the face of too
moon, and a faint, vatxiry gleam of her
light, entering tin' cottage through a
window opposite that at which I stood,
fell directly on the face of my old
nurse, as she lay on her back, out
stretches! niton chairs, pale as death
and with her eyes closed. The light
fell nowhere but on her face. A strang
er to her habits would have thought
she was dead; but she hail so much el'
the appearance she had had on a for
mer occasion, that 1 concluded at once
that she was In one of her trances. Hut
having often heard that persons in
such a condition ought not to be dis
turbed. and feeling quite sure she
knew best how to manage herself. 1
turned, though reluctantly, and left
the lone cottage behind me in the
night, with the deathlike woman lying
motionless in the midst of it.
I found my way home wlthont any
further dltlioulty. and went to bod.
where I soou fell asleep, thoroughly
wearied more by the mental exciteme.it
l had boon experiencing titan by the
amount of bodily exercise l had gone
through.
CHAPTER III.
llll.TOX HAM..
As my father accompanied me to the
door, where the gig which was to carry
me over the first stage of tuy journ- y
was In waiting a large target of hid",
well studded with brass nails, which
hail hung in the hall for time unknown
—to me. at least—fell on the tlixir with
a dull bang. My father started, but
said nothing: and. as it scented to me.
rather pressed toy departure than
otherwise. I would have replaced the
old piece of armor before 1 went, but
he would not allow me to touch It,
saying, with a grim smile;
| “Take that for an omen, my boy. that
I your armor must be worn over the
: conscience, and not over the body. Be
n irmn. imm-ati, my hoy. Fear nothing
mill ilo your duly.”
A grasp of (lie hand was all the good
bye I could make, and I was soon rat
I ling away to meet the couch for I’M
Inburgh and London.
I riached London In safety, and
slept ut the liouso of nn old friend of
my fnllna\ who treated me with great
kindness and seemed altogether to take
a liking to me. Before I left lie held
out a hope of tsdng able, so mo day or
other, to procure for me what 1 so
much desired u commission In the
army.
After spending a day or two with
him a ml seeing something of lamdon.
I ell lulled onee more on the risif of the
conch; and. late In the afternoon, was
set down at the great gate of Hilton
Hall. 1 walked up the broad uveutf,
through the final arch of which, as
though a huge fiothlc window, I saw
the hall in Ine distance. Kvery thing
nlsmt me lookisl strange, rich and love
ly. Accustomed to the scanty flowers
anil diminutive wood of my own eoti'.i
tr.v, wlmt I now saw gave me a feeling
of majestic plenty, which I enn recall
at will, Imt which I have uever expe
rienced again. Behind tho tree* which
formed the avenue I saw a shrubbery;
composed entirely of flowering plants,
almost at! unknown to me. Issuing
from the nvetine, 1 found myself amid
open. wide, lawny spaces. In which
the flowerbeds lay like Islands of color.
A statue on a pedestal, the only white
tiling in the surrounding green, caught
my eye. I hail scarcely seen any sculp
ture, and this, at tract lug my attention
by a favorite contrast of color, retained
by its own beauty. It was a Dryad.
<»• some nymph of the woods, who had
Just glided from the solitude of the
trees behind, amt hud sprung u|sin the
pedestal to look wonderingly around
her.
At the same moment, from tho base
of the pedestal rose a figure in white,
graceful ns the Dryad it hove, and
licit her running, nor appearing to walk
i|itlekl,v, yet fleet as a ghost, glided
past me at a few paces distance, and,
keeping In a straight line for the main
entrance of the hall, entered by It and
vanished.
I followed In the direction of the
mansion, which was large, and of sev
eral sigh's and ages. One wing ap
peared especially ancient. It was ueg
lected and out of repair, and had in con
sequence a desolate, almost sepulchral
look: an expression heightcmsl hy the
nnmlier of large cypresses which grew
along its line. 1 went up to the ecutral
door and knocked. It was opened hy a
grave, elderly hutler, I passed under its
Hat arch, as If Into the midst of the
waiting events of my story. For. as I
glanced around the hall, my conscious
ness was suddenly saturated, if I may
he allowed tilt' expression with the
strange feeling—known to everyone,
and yet so strange--that I had seen it
before; that, In fact, I knew It per
fectly. Hut what was yet more strange
and far more uncommon, was that, al
though tlu> feeling with regard to the
hall faded and vanished Instantly, and
although I could not in the least sur
mise the apitcnruuce of any of the re
gions Into which I was about to bo
ushered, 1 yet followed the butler with
a kind of indefinable expectation of
seeing something which 1 had seen be
fore; and every room or passage in
that mansion affected me. on entering
it for the first time, with the same sen
sation of previous acquaintance which
1 had experienced with regard to the
hull.
1 was received by the housekeeper, a
little, print, benevolent old lady, with
colorless fail' and antique headdress,
who led me to the room prepared for
me. To my surprise l found a largo
wood lire burning on the hearth; but
the feeling of the place revealed at once
the necessity for it; and 1 scarcely
needed to be informed that the room,
which was upon the ground floor, and
looked out upon a little, solitary, grass
grown and Ivy-mantled court, had not
been sudef or years, and therefore re
quired to be tints prepared for an in
mate. My bedroom was a few paces
down a passage to the right.
I,eft alone l proceeded to make a
more critical survey of the room. Its
look of ancient mystery was to me in
comparably more attractive, than any
show of elegance or comfort could have
bis'n. it was large and low, paneled
throughout In oak, black with age. and
worm eaten in many parts—otherwise
entire, lloth of the windows looked
into the court or yard before mention
ed. All the heavier furniture of the
room was likewise of blaek oak. but
Hit' chairs ami vouches were covered
with faded tapestry and tarnished
gilding, apparently the superannuated
members of tile general household of
seats.
(TO nK CONTINUED.)
<»U-lilng » Olmec.
Mr. Smalley, in tho Fortnightly Rc
vi«'\v. gives an interesting explanation
of tlu> expression on Bismarck's face
in tlic last portrait of liiin, painted b.v
ia-nbaoh, tho cront artist. This look is
full of power and purpose, a tin me with
anger and resolve, “lightning in the
eye and the mouth hard as iron."
So might lie have looked thunder
ing at nn obstinate majority in the
Reichstag or trying to bend a hostile
nation to ills purpose.
But this is not the explanation of his
expression. Price Bismarck loves sing
ing birds and hates tho crows, their
enemies. One day he was walking
with Herr Lenlwch in the woods, and
caught sight of a member of this de
testable tribe.
IBs sudden glance of anger arrested
the attention of the artist, who. as soon
as he got home, transferred it to can
vas. Thus it wns not the affairs of
nations which were responsible for the
look; not the obstinacy of ids country
men nor the antagonism of the French
which will send the great chancellor's
features down to posterity clothed in
tragedy.
it was simply the fact that he caught
sight of an insignitieattt bird who has
no reverence for the sweet singers of
the feathered world.
Scelnjj by Night.
Nocturnal creatures assume night
activity for some other reason than
that they cannot see by day. or that
they sis- better by night. The bat
s-c.-s admirably in the brightest sun
light. as any one knows who has ever
teased one by poking a stiek at It. It
will open its mouth and make an an
gry grab at tho stiek when it is not
near It by several inches. Prof. Uolles
j says it is the same with the owl. They
1 see perfectly In bright sunlight and
j better at night than most creatures.—
i Meehtut's Monthly.
FARM AND GARDEN
MATTERS OF INTEREST TO
AGRICULTURALISTS.
tome I'p to Date Hints About Cultiva
tion of tlia Soli and Yield* Thereof—
Horticulture, Viticulture aad Flori
culture.
Quality of Irrigation Waters.
The qualities of waters employed in
irrigation are far from being indiffer
ent. Feasants the most stupid, know
that certain waters do not produce a
fertilizing effect, while on the con
trary there are some that appear to
sterilize the land. Others are found
that seem to bear fertility to the lands
they water. The first class comprises
waters that are little aerated
and little oxygenated, and so
lay hold of the oxygen of the soil
and of the plants. The second class
comprise the waters which contain in
notable quantities salts, carbonates of
lime or iron or of sulphates of lime; for
the carbonates in losing to the air one
part of their carbonic acid, precipitate
themselves, encrusting the plants, and
closing the poores of the earth. The
sulphates of iron in too great abnndance
are veritable poisons for plants. Final
ly there are fertilizing waters. Such
are aerated waters, containing salts of
potash, soda and nmmonia, Organic
matters, or of carbonic acid in solution.
It is, therefore, very essential for one
to assure himself of the nature of the
water before undertaking to divert or
elevate them for the purposes of irriga
tion. If this be not done, the irriga
tor will sometimes have occasion to
repent the expense to which he has
been in procuring them.
Waters overcharged with sulphate of
iron make that fact known by their
astringent and metallic taste. We will
not occupy ourselves with them fur
To determine the quantity of air con
tained in the water, a hollow ball is
tilled up with that water, to which is
adapted a tube bent back, and filled
with boiled water. One end of this
tube is connected with a bell glass of
mercury. The water is made to boil
slowly and when it ceases to pass bub
bles of air, the boiling is discontinued.
The gas is measured, and proper re
ductions made according to the air
pressure aud temperature. Water
completely aerated dissolves one
thirty-sixth of its volume of air.
This air is more oxygenated than the
air of the atmosphere. They tind in
waters indifferently aerated liters of
air for 100 liters of water. But below
that quantity, and above all, if it has
to be brought far, the water should be
regarded as little favorable to vegeta
tion. The waters from wells, where it
is stagnant, are often of this class, as
arc also the waters from melted snow.
M. lioussingault attributes to the lack
of aeration of these last, the produc
tion of goites (granular swellings) in
places where such waters are drunk.
When these are used for irrigation,
vegetation does not show beneficial re
sults.
H ater in which soap dissolves badly,
or in which an alcoholic solution of
soap dissolves in llakes, should be
avoided. The character of such waters
is hard and shows that they are
poorly aerated. Legumes cooked in
such waters remain hard, at least until
the water is softened with an alcaline
salt (carbonate of soda). This is true
also of waters permeated by gypsum.
in working to obtain results that
shall improve the mineral composition
of the land, care should be taken that
the water bear to it the elements that
it lacks, or at least that it does not
bear to It other elements that it al
ready has in too great abundance, und
so aggravate its defects.
It is necessaey, however, not to press
too far these conclusions, but we
should have always before our eyes
the truth that the defects of dry land
are often palliated or destroyed when
it can be maintained in a state of
freshness.—Farmers' Ueview.
borne fctpcrunto with Mushroom*.
As many people are anxious to have
mushrooms, allow me to give a few
practical hints on the easiest possible
method of growing them, writes C. II.
Bussell in American Gardening. My
plan is only a simple one. but I trust it
will enable the reader to meet with
success. I grow my mushrooms in the
stoUe hole, with matchboard partition,
to prevent any gas from the fire com
ing in contact with the bed. First,
gather the necessary quantity of good,
fresh stable manure, but do not be so
particular, as you perhaps have been,
in shaking every bit of straw out;
merely shake out the longest, but see
that you have a good quantity of short
straw—say a third pure manure, the
balance short straw. Put the whole
in a heap on the barn floor, or where
it is not exposed to the rains. Get the
necessary quantity altogether at once.
About the second day it will require
turning over; this must be continued
every day until the fierce heat has sub
sided. Let me remark here that it is
very necessary to avoid overheating,
otherwise the material will become
fire flaked, and in that condition it
would be worthless and sure to
bring disappointment. The ma
nure will require working in this
way eight or ten days before
the heat has sufficiently gone
down and the manure is ready to re
move to the place selected for the bed.
It will most likely need turning two or
three times in the bed in order to at
tain the proper temperature, via., 85 to
IK) degrees; this is easily ascertained by
thrusting any ordinary thermometer
into the bed. The material should be
spread out equally. I'se a brick or
! something equally as heavy,the si so of
i & brick, to beat it down. (But before
I proceed lpt me remind the operator
of the necessity of having a good solid
bottom to the bed, If elevated, in order
to stand the pressure.) Beat the bed
down until about eight or ten inches
deep; let it lie hi this state a day or
two to be sure the temperature is
right for spawning, that is from 80 to
85 degrees. Use English milltrack
spawn of the best quality, and be sure
you get it fresh; break it or cut it to
the size of a turkey's egg, and insert
all over llie bed with a dibble, about
three inches deep,and six toeight inches
apart, at discretion. Rub the
face of the bed all over with
the palm of the hand, to fill in the
holes well, and beat down again with
a brick to make sure the bed is solid;
cover the surface of the bed with about
IX inches of the best garden soil to be
had, smooth the surface with the spade
and the bed is complete. With a bed
thus made, I cut in six weeks. The
cellar in which my beds arc, with the
boiler, maintains a temperature of 68
to 70 degrees, which is plenty high
enough for first-class results during
winter. To help the beds to bear in
the given time, and to strengthen them
while bearing, 1 use a little ammonia,
about a tablespoonful to a gallon of
water, heated to the same temperature
as the cellar. Sprinkle the bed and all
around the cellar with this mixture
about twice a week; this I find helps
the bed wonderfully. When picking
your mushrooms do not leave any
stalks behind; a gentle twist at the
base will remove the stalk without
breaking the surface of the bed and
avoid damaging the little ones, which
is very hurtful to the crop, lfy carry
ing out these principles the operator
will, 1 am confident, be more than com
pensated for his trouble.
Soil* of Orchards.
Prof. L. II. Bailey of Cornell uni
versity has the following to say on the
soils of orchards:
The soil in which orchards are set
should always be in a thorough state
of cultivation; that is, whether in sod
or in hoed crops the land should be in
good tilth or fine mechanical condition,
fertile and free from hard or “sour”
places and pernicious weeds. There
are exceptions to this rule in the case
of certain rochy or steep lands, upon
which it is desired to set apples; but
for all orchards which are planted di
rectly for commercial results this ad
vice has few, if any. exceptions. It is
generally best to put the land into
hoed erops the season before the trees
are set, as potatoes or corn, although
sod land, if well fitted and naturally
in good heart, often gives excellent re
sults when turned over and set at once
to orchards. But most soils need the
previous cultivation to bring them into
a mellow and uniform condition. Many
of the “bad places” in orchards, where
trees die out the first two or three
years, could have been discovered and
corrected if the land had been devoted
to one, or several hoed crops, for the
owner would have observed that they
were too wet ortoolumpy, or had other
serious defects. Lands look more uni
form when in sod than when cultivated
and the farmer may be led to overesti
mate their value for orchard purposes.
It may also be said that the familiarity
with a particular piece of land which
comes of frequent cultivation enables
the careful grower to judge accurately
of its adaptability to particular fruits,
or even to special varieties. Lands
which have hard and impervious sub
soils should be plowed very deep be
fore trees are put upon them; and in
some eases, as for dwarf pears, it may
pay well to use the subsoil plow.
Lands which hold surface water and
which remain cold and “sour,” long
after rains, should always be thorough
ly tile drained before trees are set; al
though it should be said that such
lands are frequently unfit for orchards
because of poor drainage of air as well
as of water, and because the soil is
likely to be hard and cloddy. It is
undoubtedly true that tile draining
benefits all lands intended for or
chards, but in the majority of eases,
especially in rolling lands, it is a ques
tion whether the labor and expense is,
worth the while. Yet many rolling
lands require drainage because they
have hard and tenacious subsoils which
are near the surface. The clay lands,
upon which pears and plums thrive,
give unusually good results if well
underdrained, |
Musky Flavor of lirapes.—Most ol
the wild grapes have a strong musky
flavor, which in lesser degree is recog
nized in the improved seedlings and
crosses produced by them. To most
uncultivated tastes this musky flavor
is very attractive. We had once in a
corner of the garden a Northern Mus
cadine grape, which we bought orig
inally for a Delaware when this variety
sold at $1,.)0 to 82.00 per vine. It was
a couple of years before we discovered
the mistake, and we were cheated out
of the Delaware for that time. Many
people visited us then who scarcely
saw a grape except the wild frost
grapes of the woods. Almost all of
them praised the Northern Muscadine
in terms that seemed absurdly lauda
tory. After they had eaten some of
the Muscadines, we gave them, varieties
that lacked the musky flavor. At first
they were pronounced not so.good as
the other, but after a few days'use the
better grapes were generally preferred,
and the lack of sweetness in the musky
grape became more noticeable. Most
of the musky grapes taste sweet be
cause they have little acid. When
used for wine making, sugar has to be
added, while the sweeter but also acid
grape makes the best wine without
the addition of sugar.
Agr of Tulip Trees.—It is verv diffi
cult to get the age of the large trees in
our country .as few have been purposely
planted, while no one knows how long
the wild specimens have been growing.
In England there is a specimen of the
tulip tree known to have been planted
200 years ago on Lord Homes’ estate in
Berwickshire. At two feet from the
ground it measures 23 feet in circurn
ference.—Meehan's Monthly,
Serofala k (he Neck
Is dangerous,disagreeable and tenaciJ
but Hood’s Sarsaparilfe, as a thoiw
blood purifier, cures thik and all otk»
forms of scrofula. “I liad a bunrk
W/V/S/SSf*
«largo u8
e»rg. I wM vl
vised to ilavci*
°ut» but would m
consent, A fri«2
suggested that ]
take Hood's s„J
parilla. which I
am glad to J
that I did, J
*oon the bunch
Entirely DIs*.
peared.
'{l hca" tr“'y Prai*
Hood s barsanasL
Mr* Ella Billing, a“’ exVelC^'
lcine. I have recommended iuJ
Sarsaparilla highly in the past, Z
shall continue to do so.” Mrs Fn
Billings, Red Cloud, Neb. *
Hood’s^- Cures
Hood’s Pills are the best after-din*
Pills; assist digestion, prevent constipation.
★ WORLD’S-FAIR *
t HIGHEST AWARD;
^ "SUPERIOR NUTRITION-THE LIFE
a\edioinal
Has justly acquired the reputation of bai|
The Salvator for
I N VA.M OS
The-Aged.
An Incomparable Aliment for the
Growth and Protection of INFANTS ri
•O M I OO Ft CN
A superior nutritive in continued Fevers
And a reliable remedial agent
hi all gastric and enteric diseases
often in instances of consultation in
patients whose, digestive organs were ri
duced to such a low and sensitive conditiu
that the IMPERIAL GRANLIM vt
the only nourishment the stomad
would tolerate when LIFE seem
depending on its retention
And as a FOOD it would be difficult ti
conceive of anything more palatable.
Sold by DRUGGISTS. Shipping Dept
JOHN CARLE & SONS, New York.
I suffered terribly from
routing in my head dur
ing an attack of catarrh,
and became very deaf;
used Ely's Cream Balm
and in three weeks could
hear as well as ever. —A.
E.Newman,Grayling Midi.
CATARRH
EilY'S CREAM BALM opens ami ckar^
Nasal Passages, Altai» i-ain anil Infhtmmuii'H.H''
the Sores, protects the Membrane from tokO
stores the Senses of Taste and Smell. The to*
quickly absorbed and gives relief at once.
A particle Is applied Into each nostril ar.<l
able, price 50 cents at Druggists or by nwii.
ELT BROTHERS, 56 Warren St., NewTi
WALTER BAKER & Cl
L.tXl .UiUiUUH
PURE, HIGH GRADE
COCOAS AND CHOCf
On tliU Continent, btre rtce’
award
from the grcit
il fi
EXPOSITIONS
In Europe ini AM
• Unlike the Dutch J’rw" ,
I lies or other Chemical* o-f.w
Their delieiou* BREAKFAST COCOA ta j*
pure and aoluble, aud coitt lets than one cent a ' V
80LD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE*
WALTER BAKER4CoTdQRCHESTEM
DR. SYKES' SURE CURE 00.„
Mild b/ all I riiK-i is
C/XTCN ELCC ■1
A CCUf f^ACl
fl iLn
:T. FRUIT TRAC'
ELEGAWT
l-ACKE . .
Montrose county. <’•-I" • ,
ll w«ttrf»r lirlp"1*"
each, ^ cash. Railroad fare lice fl’ u|4
GIRLEY ISV. CO.. N«T l ooP^ ]
l>«*uver. Advise us immediatclv__
WE WILL TAKE YOU
TO CALIFORNIj
Cheaply, Quickly and
Phillips-Rock Island Tourist h.,
CHEAP, because the rate in ;,
but =16.00. QUICK, because y™oBT.
fastest trains-that run. COsaav
you have a through Sleeper. ^{W ^
Fourteen years’ record. cmT (,i.
earned, and all like the scrti • , .
Des Moines and Omaha every' j* a:
famous Beanie Konte. A*»
goes each trip to care for inc fc-J
putrous en touts. We can t « • .jjor'^l
henetlt.s in this ad., but for >ojr * |
you should post yourself. r p a
Address, litt SEBASTIAN. .
r.. R. I a i _^
OMAHA bosho^
DON’T KITIN
YOUR STOVES_
Write at once for onQ noun**1
Omaha Stote Repair Work*. 1209 oow
STOVE REHJ
WANTED
An agent t > J"ndJv,r?
LAMP ^ n
hoii e should are|>.;r*
nun c buwm.- _t
cqu!red 'f satl-f.ctory
lllAHA SPECIALTY l O A '
CMAHA SPECIALTY t U
LOTHINGSSj#;'j
