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. 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. 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