PART II. CHAPTER IV.—(CoktiHUMl > “Now, Richard, think very carefully. You speak of the missing finger joint. We doctors know how many people persuade themselves into all sorts of things. Tell me, did you notice the -likeness before you saw the mutilated :flnger, or did the fact of the finger’s being mutilated bring the likeness to Tour mind.” “Bless the man,” I said. “One would think I had no eyes. I tell you there is no doubt about this man being the original of the photo.” “Never mind—answer my question.” “Well, then, I am ashamed to con fess it, but I put the photo in my pocket, and forgot all about it until I had recognised the man, and pulled out the likeness to make sure. I didn’t •even know there was a printed descrip tion at the foot, nor that any member ~ was wanting. Contound it. Brand! I’m not such a duffer as you think.” Brand did not retaliate. He turned to his friend and said gravely, “To me the matter is inexplicable. Take your own course, as I promised you should.” Then he sat down, looking deliciously crestfallen, and wearing the discon tented expression always natural to him when worsted in argument. It was now Carriston’s turn. He plied me with many questions. In fact, I gave him the whole history of my adventure. “What kind of house is it?” he asked. "Better than a cottage—scarcely a farm-house. A place, I should think, with a few miserable acres of bad land belonging to it. One of those wretched little holdings which are simply curses to the country.” He made lots of other inquiries, the purport of which I could not then di vine. He seemed greatly impressed when I told him that the man had never for a moment left me alone. He shot a second glance of triumph at Brand, who still kept silent, and looked as if all the wind had been taken out of his sails. "How far is the place?” asked Car rleton. "Could yon drive me there after dark?” At this question the doctor returned to life. "What do you mean to do?” he asked his friend. "Let us have no nonsense. Even now I feel sure that Fenton is misled by some chance re semblance "Deuce a bit, old chap,” I said. “Well, whether or not, we needn’t do foolish things. We must go and swear information and get a search warrant,-and the assistance of the po lice. The truth is, Richard,” he con tinued, turning to me, "we have rea son to believe, or I should say Carris ton persists in fancying that a friend of his has for some time been kept in durance by the man whom you say you recognised.” "Likely enough,” I said. “He looked villain enough for anything up to mur der.” “Anyway,” said Brand, “we must do everything according to law.” “Law! I want no law,” answered Carriston. “I have found her as I knew I should find her. I shall simply fetch her, and at once. You can come with me or stay- here, as you like, doc tor, but I am afraid I must trouble your friend to drive me somewhere near the place he speaks of.” Foreseeing an adventure and great fun—moreover, not unmoved by thoughts of revenge—I placed myself entirely at Carriston’s disposal. He expressed his gratitude and suggested that we should start at once. In a few minutes we were ready and mounted the dog cart. Brand, after grumbling loudly at the whole proceeding, finished up by following us, and installing him self in the back seat. Carriston placed a parcel he carried inside the cart, and away we went. It was now nearly dark, and raining very heavily. I had my lamps light ed, so we got along without much dif ficulty. The roads were deep with mud; but by this time the snow had been pretty nearly washed away from everywhere. I don’t make a mistake in a road twice, so in due course we reached the scene of my upset. Here I drew up. ‘•The house lies about five hundred yards'up the lane,” I told Carriston; “we had better get out here.” “What about the horse?" asked Brand. “No chance of any one passing this way on such a night as this, so let us put out the lamps and tie him up somewhere.*’ We did so, then struggled on afoot •’t itil we saw the gleam of light which .-.ad been so welcome to me two nights before. It was about as dark as pitch; but, guided by the light, we went on until we stood in front of the house, where a turf bank and a dry hedge hid us from sight, although on such a night we had little fear of our presence being ■ discovered. “What do you mean to do now?” asked Brand, in a discontented whis per. “You can’t break into the house.” Carriston said nothing for a minute, then I felt him place his hand on my • shoulder. “Are there any horses, any cows about the place?” he asked. I told him I thought that my surly friend rejoiced in the possession of a horse and cow. “Very well. Then we must wait. 'He'll come out to see them before he :gocs to bed,” said Carriston, as de cidedly as a general giving orders just before a battle. .1 could not set how Brand expressed hie feelings upon hearing this order from our commander—I know I shrugged my shoulders, and, if I said nothing, I thought a deal. The present situation was all very well for a strong ly interested party like Carriston, but he could scarcely expect others to rel ish the prospect of waiting, it might be for hours, under that comfortless hedge. We were all wet to the skin, and, although I was extremely anxious to see the end of the expedition, and find poetical Justice meted out to my late host, Carriston’s Fabian tactics lacked the excitement I longed for. Brand, in spite of his disapproval of the -whole course of action, was better oft than I was. As a dootor, he must have felt sure that, provided he could survive the exposure, he would secure two fresh patients. However, we made no protest, but waited for events to de velop themselves. v. • ORE than half an hour went by. I was growing numbed and tired, and beginning to think that we were making asses of ourselves, when I heard the rattle of a chain, and felt Carriston give my arm a warning touch. No doubt my late host had made sure that his new door fastenings were equal to a stronger test than that to which I had subjected the former ones, so we were wise In not attempt ing to carry his castle by force. The door opened and closed again. I saw the feeble glimmer of a lantern moving toward the outhouse In which my horse had been stabled. I heard a slight rustling in the hedge, and, stretching out my arm, found that Car riston had left my side. In the ab sence of any command from him I did not follow, but resumed the old occu pation—waiting. In a few minutes the light of the lan tern reappeared; the bearer stood on the threshold ofkthe house, while I won dered what Carriston was doing. Just as the door was opened for the boor’s readmittance, a dark figure sprang upon him. I heard a fierce oath and cry of surprise; then the lantern flew ont of the man’s hand, and he and his assailant tumbled struggling through the narrow doorway. “Hurrah! the door is won, anyway!” I shouted as, followed closely by the doctor, I jumped over the hedge and rushed to the scene of the fray. Although Carriston’s well conceived attack was so vigorous and unexpected that the man went down under it; al though our leader utilized the advan tage he had gained in a proper and laudable manner, by bumping that thick bullet head as violently as he 'could against the flags on which it lay, I doubt if, after all, he could have done his work alone. The countryman was a muscular brute and Carriston but a stripling. However, our arrival speed ily settled the question. “Bind him!” panted Carriston; “there is cord in my pocket.” He appeared to have come quite prepared for con tingencies. While Carriston still em braced his prostrate foe, and Brand, to facilitate matters, knelt on his shoul der, sat on his head, or did something else useful, I drew out from the first pocket I tried a nice length of half inch line, and had the immense satisfaction of trussing up my scowling friend in a most workmanlike manner. He must have felt those turns on his wrist for days afterward. Yet when we were at last at liberty to rise and leave him lying helpless on his kitchen floor, I considered I exercised great self-de nial in not bestowing a few kicks upon him, as he swore at us in his broadest vernacular in a way which under the circumstances, was no doubt a comfort j to him. . - We scarcely noticed the man's wife while we rendered her husband help less. As we entered she attempted to fly out, but Brand, with the prompti tude which, I am glad to record, Inter cepted hex-, closed the door, turned and pocketed the key. After that the woman sat on the floor and rocked her self to and fro. For some moments, while recovering his breath, Carrlston stood and posi tively glared at his prostrate foe. At last he found word3. “Where is ohe? Where is the key, you hound?” ho thundered out, stoop ing over the fellow and shaking him with a violence which did my heart good. As he received no answer save the unrecordable expressions above mentioned, we unbuttoned the wretch’s pockets and searched those greasy re ceptacles. Among the usual litter we did certainly find a key. Carrlston snatched at it, and shouting “Made line! Madeline! I come,” rushed out of the room like a maniac, leaving Brand and me to keep guard over our prisoners. I filled a pipe, lit it, and then came back to my fallen foe. “I say, old chap,” I said, stirring him gently with the toe of my boot, “this will bo a lesson to you. Remem ber, I told you that civility costs noth ing. If you had given me Christian bed accommodation instead of making me wear out my poor bones on that infernal chair, you could have jogged ; yr ■-? i... along in your rascality comfortably, ■o tar as I am concerned." He was very ungrateful—so much bo that my desire to kick him was In tensified. I should not like to swear I did not to a slight degree yield to the temptation. "Push a handkerchief in his mouth,” cried Brand suddenly. “A lady is com ing.” With right good will I did as the doctor suggested. Just then Carrlston returned. I don’t want- to raise home tempests, yet I must say he was accompanied by the most beautiful creature my eyes have ever lighted upon. True, she was pale as a lily—looked thin and delicate, and her face bore traces of anxiety and suffering—>but for all that she was beautiful—too beautiful for this world, I thought, as I looked at her. 8he was clinging in a half-frightened, half-con fldlng way to Carrlston, and he—happy fellow!—regardless of our presence, was showering down kisses on her sweet pale face. Confound it! I grow quite romantic as I recall the sight of those lovers. A most curious young man, that Car riston. He came to us, the lovely girl on hie arm, without showing a trace of his recent excitement. "Let us go now,” he said, as calmly as1f he had been taking a quiet even-' lng drive. Then he turned to me. “Do you think, Mr. Fenton, you could without much trouble gtt the dog cart up to the house?” I said I would try to do so. “But what about these people?” asked Brand. Carrlston gave them a contemptu ous glance. “Leave them alone,” he said; "they are but the tools of another—him I cannot touch. Let us go.” “Yes, yes. But why not verify our suspicions while we can?” .Just like Brand! He’s always want ing to verify everything. In searching for the key we had found some papers on our prisoner. Brand examined them, and handed to Carrlston an envelope which con tained what appeared like banknotes. Carrlston glanced at it. “The hand writing is, of course, disguised," he said carelessly, “but the postmark shows whence It came. It 1b as I al ways told you. You.agree with me now?” “I am afraid I must,’* said Brand, humbly. “But we must do something about this man,” he continued. Hereupon Carriston turned to our prisoner. “Listen, you villain,” he said. “I will let you go scot-free if you breathe no word of this to your employer for the next fortnight. If he learns from you what has happened before that time, I swear you shgU go to penal servitude. Which do you choose ?” I pulled out the gag, and it is need less to say which the fellow chose. Then I went oil and recovered the horse and cart. I relighted the lamps, and with some difficulty got the dog cart up to the house. Carriston must have exactly anticipated the events of the night. The parcel he had brought with him contained a bonnet and a thick warm cloak. His beautiful friend was equipped with these; then, leaving the woman of the house to un tie her husband at her leisure and pleasure, away we started, the doctor sitting by me, Carriston and the lady behind. We just managed to catch the last train from C-—. Not feeling sure as to what form inquiries might take tomorrow, I thought it better to go up to town with my friends, so, as we passed through Mldcombe, I stopped, paid my bill, and gave instructions for my luggage to be forwarded to me. By six o'clock the next morning we were all in London. (TORS COXTIXOSD.I Turning Diamonds Into Graphite. Elementary chemistry teaches us that, as far as the nature of the sub stance composing them is concerned, there is almost no difference between a brilliant white diamond and the black graphite forming the core of a lead pencil. Both are simply forms of car bon, and if we could readily turn one into the other, the diamond would cease to rank as the king of gems. In fact, very minute diamonds have recently been made in this way by Monsieur Moissan, the French chemist. Graphite can be dissolved in molten iron, and when the iron cools the graphite crystallizes. By performing this operation in a particular man-1 ner, which has heretofore been I described in this column, Monsieur j Moissan gets microscopic crystals, not of graphite, but of diamond. Curiously enough, now that we know how graphite can be turned into diamond, it has also been discovered that dia mond can be changed into graphite. This is effected by placing a diamond in an exhausted Crookes tube. In such a tube it is believed that invisiblo molecules of matter are continually darting about, and these molecules pro duce a ceaseless bombardment on the surface of the diamond. ‘ After a time 1 the effect becomes visible in a black stain, or crust, covering the diamond. On examination this is found to be composed of graphite. Staying Power*. Gentleman—"Has your horse good staying powers, cabby?” Cabby on rank (with grim humor)—"Stayin’ pow ers? Well, I should say so, guv’nor. 'E ain’t moved from this blessed spot for five hours.”—Fun. “Wilkes is a most absurd somnambu list.” “What’s he done now?” “He’s Just come back from a yachting holldty, and last night he sat down in a bath and baled it out until it flooded tbs Whole floor.”—Tit-Bits. DAISY AND POULTRY. INTERESTING CHAPTERS FOR OUR RURAL READERS. Raw Successful Farmer* Operate This Department of the Farm—A. Few Hint* as to the Car* of Lira 8took . Hi Poultry. BARD’S Dairyman says: There is more dairy literature floating around in She news papers than ever before in the history of this country. Some of it is good and much of it worse than nothing, for it is based on exploded Ideas. The following twenty-three points we find in a daily paper, evi dently culled from some other source, w we' do not know to whom to give credit. In the main they are good sug gestions: SELECTION AND BREEDING. 1. Select the best cors in your herd, or that you can buy, to keep, and dis pose of the others. 2. The best cow for the dairy ts the one that produces the greatest amount of butter fat in a year (for food con sumed) when being rightly fed. 3. Test your cows by weighing the milk of each cow for a year and test ing it occasionally with the Babcock milk tester, and know how much but ter fat each one does produce. 4. To renew or Increase your herd raise the heifer calves from your best cows. 5. Use the best dairy-bred sire you can get; one, If possible, that has a long line of ancestors and have been Qrst-class dairy animals. 6. In this way you can make each generation better than the' .preceding one, if they have at all times proper care and feed. 7. It is neither profitable nor neces sary for a cow to go dry more than four to six weeks. 8. Especially should your young cows be watched and not allowed to acquire the habit of drying up too soon. 9. Darken the stable in which the cows are milked through fly time. It will not only economise the patience ot the milker, but the cost of milk pro* Auction as well. 10. Keep a" record of the time when cows are bred, and have no guess work about the time of calving. 11. Provide a roomy box stall, and allow the cow to become accustomed to it n week prior to calving. 12. Rich foods should be withheld for a short time prior and subsequent to calving. IS. The udder should receive prompt attention. An obstacle may be re moved from the teat the first hour .that might baffle science later. 14. A pail of scalded bran should be given to the cow as soon as possible after calving. 15. The calf should be permitted to nurse its mother for two or three days. 16. After separating the calf from its mother, feed the natural milk as soon as drawn, for a week or ten days. 17. Then begin gradually to substi tute skim milk with oil meal jelly stirred into it. 18. Scald the calf’s feed pail dally. 19. Feed three times a day and not more than three quarts at a time until the calf is well started. 20. Warm the milk by placing the vessel that contains the milk in hot water. 21. Warm the milk In 90 degrees Fahrenheit. 22. Don’t trust your linger, but' a thermometer. It will save many a calf's life. 23. The man whose ideal of a cow is high, coupled with good care, feed and gentleness, is sure to receive the highest profit in milk and pleasure that can be made in dairying. We will add a couple ot other points: 24. Always clean out the box stall after a cow has calved therein, and thoroughly disinfect It with a solution made of one part of sulphuric acid to nine of water. This is to prevent aeptlc poisoning ot the next cow, which may easily occur. 25. Do not milk the udder out clean ■ until the four day after calving. This will often prevent a chill, which often produces milk fever. Chicken Roost*. A great many of our farmers seem to think that a hen will do as well with a poor roost as a good one. If I may Judge from my own observation, says i a writer in an exchange. The style of roost that seems so scientific and eco nomical to the general class of farmers is that of the step or stair style—one roost back and above the other. The lower pole Is very close to the floor, while the upper one Is, generally, as near or nearer the roof or ceiling.' It saves space, of course, but you are al ways surer to find the lower pole near ly empty, while the upper one is crowded full. Often the fowls crowd one another off with fatal effects. Some argue that fowl wish to. roost high, therefore the roosts should all be high to satisfy their desires. It is true that fowls wish to roost high, but it is an inherited habit handed down from the fowl in its natural state. They wish to roost high to keep from danger. If your house is kept well closed there is no need of high and dangerous roosts. I place my roost poles on a level and about eighteen inches above the floor. This is in the part of the room where the air is the purest. The Impure air rlBes to the celling and some gases fall close to the floor; this style of roost avoids both, as well as prevents injury to fowls jumping down from the roosts. For roosting poles I use a 2x3-inch scantling, rounded on one edge to aa to fit the feet of the fowls. I place them on trestles with suitable notches la them, with the rounded edge up. Keep the roosts clean, and by placing oil or tar on the bottoms of them you will be without lice. A good coat of whitewash is also good to keep away the pests. The diseases caused by high roosts are mainly bum ble-foot and lameness, but other dis eases hare their origin from them. IlNti of OoMIng Wet. Mr. W. p. Alkln, Oraham, Texas, was unfortunate In having some four months old chicks get wet, the result being that they have been sick ever since. He states to the Poultry Keep* er the details in a letter below: ”1 hgve a (lock of fourteen Black. Ml" norcas about four months old. We had a rain about one month ago and they, all got wet and stayed wet all night. In a few days I noticed a viscid mu cousy blubber on their nostrils. They do not have any canker in their mouths or throat, but the roof of the mouth seems inflamed. I have been using coal oil, turpentine and csrbollo add, with a medicine dropper, In the nose and throat, but they do not Improve very fast. Can you recommend any thing to put in the feed? Will they be lit tor breeders if they get well? They look perfectly well and hearty. It you did not look close and see the trash sticking on their beaks you would not suspldon anything being the matter with them. I hare tour roosters la tbe flock and they seem worse than the pullets. I used peroxide of hydrogen on them yesterday. Do you think that good for them?" The journal mentioned comments as follows: We do not know of anything more injurious to lour months' old chicks than to become soaking and remain so. If they had gotten wet dur ing the day and had the warmth of the sun, it might have been different, but to remain wet all night means that they were chilled through. It Is a sur prise that they did not die in a few days. The treatment Is correct but laborious, and as the climate of Texas is mild they may recover. If they make a complete recovery they can be used for breeding. The best remedy is to add a teaspoonful of chlorate of potash to each quart of drinking wa ter, abd repeat the peroxide of hydro* gen occasionally. Look at That BuU. Prof. Sheldon, the eminent English authority on dairying, epeaks his mind on the vicious practice of using scrub* by, low grade bulls, as follows: “Look, for instance, at the weedy, miserable bulls that many farmers are content to use in their herds—wretched quadrupeds that should never be al lowed to live beyond the age of veal. Some men say, by way of excuse, ‘My poverty, not my will, consents’; yet, on the other band, it may be remarked that no man can really afford to use Inferior, low valued bulls In his herd. That any man should continue to do so year after year can only be regarded as a kind of heedless infatuation which precludes all hope of improvement. ‘The bull Is half the herd,’ is an axiom which should be drilled into the mind of every farmer’s son who Is himself to be a dairy farmer—drilled in until he fully realises what it means. That there are many of the present genera tion of farmers who do not half com prehend the vast Importance of this is greatly to be feared, for it is plainly enough to be seen in the inferior sires that are kept for stock purposes. It would be interesting to hear the an swers such men would give to the fol lowing questions: What sort of stock do you expect such a bull will get? or, Dc you really expect to pay your Way as a farmer by using a bull like that? or. What would you say if you saw an other man burdened with a similar load of crass stupidity? Unfortunate ly, it never occurs to them to put such questions to themselves, and it is too commonly nobody’s business to do so In their default. There is no excuse nowadays for a man who uses scrubby bulls among his cowa Plenty of well descended bulls are to be had at prices within the reach of any man who can afford to keep cattle at all.” Essential* of a Dairy Farm. A United States Agricultural Depart' ment bulletin makes the following sum* mary of what la essential In the suc cessful, operation of a dairy farm: A roomy, clean, dry, light and well ventilated stable or cow house. To pro duce good milk, cows must he comfort able, and these conditions not only add to their comfort, but are absolutely necessary to keep them In the best of health. Healthy and clean cows, which ap pear well fed and contented. An abundance of pure water to which cows sto given access at least twice a day. Feed of good quality, the grain and coarse fodder should be free from dirt, decay or a musty condition. A spirit of kindness towards the stock, exhibited by every one employed about them, and gentleness of the ani mals themselves. Provision for washing and sterilizing or scalding of utensils which come in contact with milk. Provision for straining, aerating and cooling the milk in a clean atmosphere, free from all stable and other odors. This treatment should take place im mediately after i.he milk is drawn from each cow. Facilities for storing milk and keep ing it cold. Especially great cleanliness In re gard to everything connected with the dairy. The atmosphere of the stable should be pure and free from dust when milking is being done. Employes should carefully wipe the udders and wash their hands before milking, and should be in clean clothes. Whitewash is a good disinfectant, and should be seen in many more stables, and land plaster should be sprinkled about to absorb moisture and odors. < . —fSSSB ; TARIFF AND TRUSTS* SUBJECTS THAT WERE DIS* ' CUSSED BY THE HOUSE. Dockery of lllisoarl WnM the Oily Suspended on AU Articles that At* Control'- d by Combinations?- * Wbot tbo Sonata Proposes to, :•>, Do With tbo Tariff Bill. — Tariff Dtaeassloa mill O*. ' Washixotoic, March 37.—Thia morn* inff the tariff leaders on both aldm | were in their places, but there were hardly seventy members on the floor, v Mr. Lanham of Texas, as soon as the enacting clause of the bill was read, moved to strike it out Mr. Sherman of New York, who was in the chair, ruled that the motion wac ont of order. Mr. Doekery of Missouri offered the first amendment. It was to the eu>' acting clause and was in the nature