Decatur News, Volume 3, Number 7, Decatur, Adams County, 10 April 1901 — Page 3

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chapter xvui. It was two hours after midnight when Falkland trimmed the lamp, stirred up the fire and sat down before it. He had, as agreed between him and Corkle the evening previous; sent Redding, his valet, to the Jew’s, and as he had not yet re* VJurned he had reason to believe that there 'had been no remissness on the part of his confederate. He looked anxious, pale and haggard, and started at every noise. At last, light and cautious footsteps were heard In the passage. Then came three low knocks at his door. “It Is Corkle’s signal,” said he, Hiring. Neither of them spoke till Corkle had entered and the door was again secured. “I’ve been waiting for you, what has seemed to me an age,” Falkland then said. “How does the business prosper?” “Well.” “Redding—is he cured of his curiosity ?” “Yes, and his silence secured, if the cure and the curiosity can be effected by cold steel.” “May I dare venture abroad?” “Dare you venture abroad!” repeated Corkle, in a sneering tone. “Yes, if you wouldn’t draw suspicion on yourself.” “But it seems to me that everybody I meet will read the deed I’ve consented to in my eye.” , ■' I “You think that sitting mewed up here all day will carry with it an air of innocence? You are mistaken. ’Twill be the reverse of that.” . “I wish I hadn’t meddled with the mat--1 ter. The least sound startles me. Not long before you came- the noise made by a half-starved rat, as I afterward found it to be, nibbling at some bones Redding left by his plate jvhen he ate his supper, made a cold sweat start to my forehead’” “You thought it was his ghost, I suppose; but as giving bones a second picking was a piece of economy he would have despised when living, you might have been certain he wouldnt have taken to it after he was dead.” “I wish I could carry as light a heart in my bosom as you do. Hark! Didn’t you hear a noise? There are footsteps on the stairs; they are bringing the body here.” “There you are mistaken. It hasn’t been found yet.” “Not found?” “Os course not. How could it bte seen in the dark? Come, it is time that you were abroad, making loud and earnest inquiries for your valet.” “His name would stick in my throat like Macbeth’s amen.” “Say that you sent him to the Jew to pay a hundred pounds, and haven’t seen him since.” "Was the body left there?” “Where do you mean?’ “In the little dark court you spoke of.” “Yes, and the bond you had the good luck to get hold of in the morning is lying close by. It cannot fail to be seen.” “And suspicion will fall on the Jew?” “There can be no (doubt of it.” “I would that it might be otherwise. He never did me any harm.” “You should have thought of that before. There’s no help for it now, unless you feel disposed to shift the burden of the crime on to your own shoulders, or it may be on to mine. But I’ve away to manage that, and you won’t dare do it.” “I sha’n’t attempt it.” They proceeded in the direction of the house. Before it was fairly light the Jew had been left alone wjth his household. Mizar opened the shop door, when the ground, only a few steps distant, drew his attention. On examination the appearance of the muddy soil showed that some heavy weight had been dragged along, near the front of the building, and thence to the entrance of the court to which Corkle had alluded. He returned quickly to the shop and made known to his master what he had seen. “May heaven forbid,” said the Jew, much alarmed, “that the body of a murdered person should be found on my premises! It will bring ruin to me, hnd to all under my protection.” Aseneth had now risen, and as directed by the Jew, took a lamp and followed him and Mizar into the court. By holding the light close to the ground the marks were still traceable. They terminated at the further side of the court, near a pile of rubbish. There was a small pool of blood, near the edge of which lay a piece of folded paper, crumpled and defaced by many a sanguinary stain. On closer inspection they found that ’the pile of had been disturbed, and Mizar, in obedience to the command of his master, commenced removing a portion of it, to see if anything was concealed beneath, it. He had made but little progress in his task when he and'the others looked round and beheld several men standing at the entrance of the court, one of whom they knew to be a magistrate. “I arrest all three of you, in the king’s name,” said he, advancing towards them. “For what reason?” said the Jew. “You, on a charge of murder, and these, .your servants, as accomplices.” “Who accuses me and my innocent servants of so demanded the Jew. f “I am not here th. answer questions,” said he, “but it will be no harm to tell you that your accuser is a gentleman by the name of Gilbert Falkland.” “And whom does he accuse me of murdering?” “It is hardly necessary that you should be told that it is Redding, his valet, whom he sent to you last night to, discharge a debt of a hundred pounds, for which you held his bond.” “I didn’t see Redding last night, nor has the debt been paid.” “What is that you have in your hand, old man?” said one of the constable’s assistants. “I cannot tell. I found it lying on the

ground, and I have not yet had opportunity to examine it.” “I will save you the trouble,” said the constable, taking it from him and unfolding It, he held it to the light. “It is Gilbert Falkland’s,” he added, “which he gave you for the hundred pounds.” “That Cannot be,” replied the Jew. “It cap be, and of itself would be sufficient evidence of your guilt. It is plain that to regain possession of it' after it had been paid, urged you to commit the crime.” “The debt hasn’t been paid, and, of course, I never gave up the bond.” “See for yourself.” The Jew turned pale as he looked at it, for it was, or appeared to be, as the man had said, a bond for a hundred pounds, written- by his own hand, and signed by Gilbert Falkland. * / The constable’s assistants went busily to work; some of them overturning the pile of'rubbish, to see if the. missing man was buried beneath it. The only thing of consequence that rewarded their search was a piece of velvet, to which was attached some tarnished gold lace, and which the keen eyes of Mizar at once detected to be of the same color and quality as a doublet, he had seeA worn by Falkland, and which he had transferred to his valet. “Now,” said the constable, “all three of you have the privilege of refreshing yourselves with a morning walk towards Newgate. Just then Edward Elliston made his appearance. After returning home, he had discovered that she scarf belonging to Abi, which he had compelled the ruffian who was pursuing her to give up, and which, for present security, he had folded into a small compass and put into his pocket, was still in his possession. The Jew looked at him, and emphatically pronounced the name, of Abi. Elliston answered only by an expressive look, which the Jew rightly interpreted. Alice and Abi had parted with many fond regrets, softened by a secret hope that they should ere long meet again. Abi, with the opal clasped in her hand, Which Alice could not be persuaded to take from her, as soon as she was alone, threw herself on a pile of cushions. Her thoughts dwelt on Harleigh and on Alice, though most of all, she hardly knew why, on Edward Elliston. Sleep stole upon her, in the , midst of these her pleasant; musings, and the hours which to him, her only relative,' and to those who had so faithfully served him and her, were so full of anguish apd fear, were to her, for a time, like shadows, brightened now and then with the dawn of a golden dream, but soon tost in utter obliyion. CHAPTER XIX. A heavy, lumbering coach, drawn by a pair of sleek, well-conditioned horses, which was moving slowly along one of the fashionable streets of London, seemed to particularly attract the attention of two men, who for some time had been lounging at the comer of an alley by Which the street was , intersected. “That’s it,” said one of them. “Are you certain?” said the other. “Yes. Don’t you see that the body of the carriage is bottle-green—that the horses are iron-gray, and that there isn’t a speck of gilding about carriage or harness? Anybody might know that it be--tonged to a straight-laced Puritan.” “It)is easy enough to tell that, but there’s more than one straight-laced Puritan in the city who owns a coach and two horses.” “There—what do you think now?” This question was elicited by the sight of a young and lovely face which appeared at one of the carriage windows. “I think you are right,” was the answer. “Russet-Cloak’s face is one of those which is not easily forgotten.” “You understand your part of the game?” '“I am to be on the ground in season to lend my assistance —that is, if you do your part of the business so that it will be needed.” The other now hastened a few paces forward, so as to be a little in advance of the carriage, which was moving at a snail’s pace. The man commenced crossing the street? and when directly in front of the horses, drew a large silk handkerchief from his pocket, which, heedlessly and unwittingly to all appearance, he flaunted full into the face of one of the animals, which had the effect to frighten both. They immediately commenced plunging and rearing, so as to become totally unmanageable, and before any of the street passengers had time to interfere, the carriage struck against the curbstone, and was overturned with a heavy crash. At the same moment, the horses, with a sudden bound, freed themselves from the pole of the carriage, and darting madly forward, were almost instantly out of sight. A strong, resolute looking countryman, who was the first to reach the broken vehicle, with some difficulty forced open the door. There were two ladies inside, the one whom the man had called RussetCloak, being young and very lovely, and will be recognized as Alice Dale; while the other, whom the countryman, who had succeeded in opening the door, at first sight imagined to be dead, was Mrs. Elliston. This, too, was the thought of Alice, who, though much frightened, had, with the exception of a sprained wrist, escaped unharmed. By this time, Clarence Harleigh had come to their assistance, who had seen from the window of h house close at hand what had happened. “Alice, are you hurt?” were his first words. _ .. He then directed the countryman to assist him in carrying Mrs. Elliston to the house where he had witnessed the disaster. •< Z . “Keep close to us, Alice,” said Harleigh. But a man whom he had rebuked for his officiousness had already stepped

in between .them, so as to prevent her from complying with his request. The next moment, the crowd, which the accident had attracted to the spot, had closed round her. Being hemmed in on every side, she could see nothing of Harleigh, so that even if she could have freed herself from the entanglements of the throng, she would have been at a toss where to go. “Gan you tell me, sir,” said she, speaking to a decently clad man who stood near her, “where they have carried the lady who was in the carriage with me when it was overturned?” “I can,” said the man who from the first had showed himself so officious, “and with your permission, will, with much pleasure, conduct you to where you will find your friends. Hold fast by my arm, and if these knaves don’t choose to fall back and give their betters a free pass, I will give them a lesson in manners which they won’t soon forget.” “When I have a mind to take a lesson in manners,” said a man whom he roughly .pushed aside, “I sha’n’t take it of one of Gil Falkland’s lackeys, without giving him one in return;” and to show that he meant as he said, he gave the man a sharp dip across the shoulders with his quarter-staff. Alarmed at this, and still more at finding that the man who had offered her his aid was in the employ of Falkland, she let go of his arm and endeavored to make her escape. “I would give you a taste of my rapier,” said he, at the same time seizing hold of a portion of Alice’s dress, “were it not that I have this lady under my protection.” “Release me—l beg that you will,” said Alice, in violent agitation. "Rapier or no rapier,” said he who had dealt the blow, “as you seem to have undertaken to protect the lady against her will, you shall have further proof of the virtue of this oaken cudgel, if you don’t let her go.” The earnest and elevated tone of voice in which this was said, as well as the words themselves, served to indicate to Harleigh the place where Alice was to be .found. The exclamation of joy uttered by Alice at Harleigh’s appearance would of itself have showed her sturdy defender that she had no reason to distrust him as a protector. He now showed his good will by preceding Harleigh and Alice, and rendering their egress from the crowd less annoying. “You have my thanks, good friend,” said Harleigh, “for your voluntary service. It appears to me that your looks and voice are familiar to me.” “Likely enough, for you have seen me once, I am certain.” “So am I, but when and where, I’ve no recollection.” “Don’t you remember that the king graciously admitted me to his presence, at Whitehall, not many weeks ago?” “Yes, yes—l remember it well,” said Harleigh, with some difficulty repressing a smile, as he recalled to mind Hendrick Dykes and the carefully preserved currycomb. “Why, if I’d been a prince,” said Hendrick, with great unction, “the king couldn’t have treated me better. Margery wouldn’t exchange the silk gown he ordered to be sent her for a queen’s crown. • He stole right into our hearts, aftd will keep there as long as we'live.” They had by this time reached the steps of Mrs. Selwyn’s door, where stood the countryman who had assisted Harleigh in removing Mrs. Elliston from the broken carriage and carrying her into the house. He proved to be a friend of Hendrick’s, who had come to the city in company with him and his wife Margery. Having a second time received the cordial thanks of Harleigh, to which were added those of Alice, they took leave, equally pleased with themselves and with those Who had shown themselves so ready to appreciate their services. A surgedn and Edward Elliston, who were immediately sent for, had now arrived. On examining the patient, it was found that the skull was so badly fractured it was necessary that a portion of it should be removed. All thoughts of her being carried to her own home were, therefore, for the present abandoned. By the time the operation was over, which was successfully performed, Alice found that her wrist, which she had imagined to be only slightly sprained, was much swollen and began to be excessively painful. This would render it impossible for her to bestow’ on Mrs. Elliston those numerous little attentions which she otherwise would have done, although a reliable and experienced nurse had been promptly sent for by Edward. “I will supply your place, dear Alice, as far as I can,” said Abi. “It will prevent my thoughts from dwelling so constantly on him whom I am not allowed to minister to.” Thus, by a combination of painful circumstances, Harleigh and Alice, Mrs. Elliston and Abi were? brought together under the same roof. The promise made to Mr. Walworth by Harleigh was a second time unintentionally broken, while Mrs. Elliston, still in a state of insensibility, was waited on and watched over with the tenderest care by her to whom, in the hour of deep affliction, she had refused her aid and sympathy. CHAPTER XX. The next session of the Old Bailey having been close at hand, at the time of the Jew’s arrest, the day for his arraignment soon arrived. The strict search which had been made for the body qf the valet had proved unsuccessful, a circumstance which, in the minds of many, told against the prisoner, as it was generally thought that he could, if he had been so minded, point out the place of its concealment. Early in the day crowds of people, consisting of almost every degree, were seen hastening to the place of *trial. A host of witnesses had been summoned in behalf of the prosecution, while there were none, except Clarence Harleigh and Edward Elliston, Alice and Abi, who ,had anything to testify which would be favorable to the prisoner. A few witnesses for the prosecution remained to be examined, when a billet was put into Harleigh’s hand. “If you are a friend to Jeduthun, the Jew,” it said, “come without delay to the hotiSrtirectly opposite where he used' to live.” Harleigh, having with some difficulty worked his way through the crowd, hastened to the house designated. Before he had time to knock the door was opened by a middle-aged woman. “Follow- me,” said she, and she led the way up a dark, narrow staircase. At its termination, she opened a door. “Enter,” said she, and then, without another word, withdrew. He obeyed, and found himself in a comi

fartable looking bed chamber, whete, | j seated in a deep, stuffed chair, was a | young man; so thin and pale, that his appearance was almost ghastly. “You don’t recognize me?” said he. “I do not,” was Harleigh’s answer. “There are those who will know me, and who would rather meet a famished wolf in their path than to see me. I am, or was, Gilbert valet.” “Do you mean him supposed to have been murdered?’ “I am he.” • -"This is indeed strange and unlooked for. Judging by your pale looks, and the deep scar on your forehead, you have been near death’s door;” “Within a single step, as I am told by those into whose care I fell.” (To be continued.) j WAVE SAVED THE VESSELS. It Interposed Between Two Ships in Time to Prevent a Collision. Captain Burch, of the British ship Cawdor, from Newcastle, N. S. W., tell? of a narrow escape his vessel had from colliding near the Australian coast ■ with the schooner Golden Shore. A i hurricane was raging when the ships nearly came together, and a big wave which came along at the opportune moment averted a, disaster. The Golden Shore is owned in San Francisco and i was lumber laden. The Cawdor was in ballast and a gale arose. In a few hours its fury became terrible. Captain Burch soon realized the folly of sailing in such a sea, and every yard of canvas was stripped from the masts. There was nothing to do but drift, and this the ship did for j some time. Sdon the bare masts of the schooner Golden Shore hove in sight, she also drifting rapidly in the storm. As the ships neared one another their positions became perilous. The terrified crews were unable to control them and looked for nothing but the sinking of one or both of the vessels. The Cawdor bore straight down toward the big schooner with a force that meant destruction. But a few seconds more and the vessels would have crashed' together had not something occurred that filled the sailors with wonder, A great wave, as if conscience-stricken, rose between the craft and turned the nose of the Cawdor just enough to prevent the crash that seemed unavoidable. She just missed the Golden Shore. So close were the vessels as the ship fled broadside by the schooner that one could have jumped from the Cawdor to the Golden Shore, Captain Burch says., When the vessels slipped by one another a cheer went up from 100 voices. The Golden Shore drifted on, but in the distance it was seen that she had turned completely around. The Caw dor was uninjured—San Francisco Call. DANIEL O’CONNELL’S FEES. Irish Lawyers of His Time Made Good Incomes. The trustees of the National library of Ireland have just purchased the fee-book of Daniel O’Connell. This little volume, in its hundred pages or so of parallel columns, laboriously prepared by the hands of the liberator himself, shows in pounds, shillings and pence his early struggles. O’Connell was called to the Irish bar in 1798 , —the year of the rebellion—and seven days later he got his first brief—from a brother-in-law—who retained him tc draft a declaration on a promissory note. Tfie only other business he got that year was also given to him by a kinsmen—a cousin—and it was of the same kind. The fee on each occasion was £1 2s 9d. It was in one of his earliest cases that O’Connell made the retort that attracted attention to him, says the London Chronicle. He was cross-examining an awkward witness, who declared that he had drunk nothing but his share of a pint of whisky. “On your oath, now,” thundered the young counsel, “was not your share all but the pewter?” O’Connell’s fee-book is an interesting record of his rapid rise in the profession. For the first year, as we have seen, his income amounted to only £25s 6d. Next year he earned over £SO, aud the year after he made over £4OO. According to memoranda made in his own handwriting his income in 1803 I was £465, and in the following years, £775, £B4O, £i,077, £1,713, £2,198 £2,736, £2,951, £3,047, and £3,808, respectively. This record throws much light on the Incomes at the Irish bar nearly 100 years ago, for in 18f2, when O’Connell was making nearly £4,000 a year, he was still quite a young man. Cossacks Are Remorseless Soldiers. The Russian authorities have always been aware of the usefulness of their Cossack soldiery in quelling outbreaks even in European Russia. Forty years ago these wild soldiers of the steppes were sent to quell the Insurrection in Poland. The horrible butchery which then ensued in Warsaw and other Polish towns forms one of the blackest pages in the history of Russia. Only eighteen months ago the Cossacks were let loose in th? streets of St. Petersburg to restore order among the disaffected students of the university. Riding straight into the bands of students, the Cossacks lashed right and left with their long cruel reins, loaded with lead, and the students were literally driven into submission. Percentage of World’s Population. The population of the whole world is about 1,500,000,000. Os this Great Britain and her colonies has 25.9 per cent; Russia, 8.09 per cent; France, 6.3 per cent: United States, 5.7 per cent; Germany, 4.6 per cent; Austro-Hungary, 3.1 per cent; Italy, 2.2 per cent. The dangerous work of coal-mining.is almost a third as fatal as the battlefield, for of every 1,000 miners, 23.2 are killed every year in the perform- i ance of their work. •

l„J.« CULTIVATION OF CORN. Run close to corn, one furrow only with a small plow three or four Inches deep as soon as it is all up—-may use turn plow with bar next to corn and let it stand as much as five days before filling. The corn will then have taken root downward, which will be out of the way of plowing and will stand drought better. After the first plowing plow shallow and don’t throw too much dirt to corn at once. Keep grass down. Hoe when needed. Lay by clean when it begins to tassel. —The Epltomist. KEEP THE COWS CLEAN. The platform on which the cows stand should be at least six inches • higher than the floor. This will give drop enough so that the cows can lie down without getting into the manure. But the cows will not keep clean if the platform on which they stand is not of the proper length. It should I project not more than two inches beI yond the cows’ hind feet. It works well to, have the front end of the platform one-half or three-fourths inches higher than the rear end, as this allows the urine to run off. It takes but little time to fix the stables in this way. If too low the platform can easily be raised by putting thicker pieces of timber underneath, and if too long a saw will shorten it After the stable is fixed, the cows in and the milking all done, the last thing to do before leaving them for the night is to clean out any manure that may have dropped since they were tied up, and then' scatter some sawdust or other absorbent on the I floor below the drop. This soaks up I the urine and when a cow is lying down, her tail will not become wet. Upon going 'out to milk in the morning, cows stabled in this way will be clean, and one will not experience the unpleasantness of having a wet and dirty tall swung across the face. —L. O. Haskins, in New England Homestead. WHEN TO PRUNE TREES. The time to prune fruit trees is from February to April, or before the sap begins to flow. This will depend upon the climate. The wounds will then heal rapidly without leaving dead wood or scars. Much pruning may be saved by pinching and rubbing off superfluous sprouts during the growing season. The first pruning of a young tree is a very important process, for it is then that the future shape of the tree and the number of branches it will possess will be determined. Some trees will stand severe cutting back, ,but all trees should be pruned as to permit of abundant air and sunlight. HENS AND-STRAWBERRIES. I wish to tell your many readers how I make hens and strawberries by turning the propensity of the hen to scratch to a good account I have three different yards for the . hens to run in. By being confined in one yard for a season they will destroy, by eating and scratching, every vestige of grass and weeds and will also fertilize the ground. The next spring I set that yard to strawberries and put the hens into another yard to prepare that for strawberries. After this system is established with three yards one can set a new bed every year and spade up an old one, always having a bed in fruit bearing the second year from setting. By this plan all the strawberries cost Is the weeding of the plants and pick- ! Ing of berries. By having the run of the yard, if it is a good-sized one, the hens will furnish eggs enough to pay their keeping.—N. B. White, in Boston Cultivator. ENORMOUS PRODUCTION OF CARNATIONS. I From a rough computation lam inclined to think that there is perhaps 12,000,000 invested in carnation growing in the United , States to-day and that there are probably employed in the production of carnation flowers something like 5,000 people. It is still more difficult to arrive at the value of the product produced, but the probable value of blooms and plants sold should be from three to four times the capital invested. There are about 2,500,000 young carnation plants and rooted cuttings sold each year, and florists produce an equal amount which theV themselves use for growing and which are not sold. Os these plants, at least four-fifths are grown under glass during the winter time for cut'flower purposes. Assuming that they produce an annual average of twenty flowers to the plant, would give 60,000,000 blooms produced each year. What becomes of this enormous number of flowers is somewhat of a mystery. They are put to innumerable uses. The carnation is a flower I that awakens the love of almost every ! person; and as the average carnation blooms are sold at much more reasonable prices than many other flowers, they come within reach of a larger class of people than do roses and orchids, consequently the consumption is larger. There is no use to which flowers may be put for which the carnation is not fitted. It lends itself to almost every scheme of decoration. Its delicious, mean, pungent, aromatic fragrance admits it to almost every sick room. It is unsurpassed for dinj ter or center table decorations. It is

universally used in the making up of | set pieces. It is also one of the best || flowers for boutonnieres that the fl florist has at his command, and final- z ly its wide range of pleasing colors* j its lasting qualities and fresh, rich, £ clove fragrance combine to make it one. of the most popular, as well aa one of the most sought for and profitar ble of florists’ flowers. —C. W. Ward, J in American Agriculturist. || WINTERING HORSES. The average farm horse is worked i too hard in summer and given toe much idleness in winter. All through. J the planting and harvesting season ; his work is ceaseless and laborious, and then when snow and frost close the country roads the animal is shut up for most of the time in the stable. There are occasional drives with him . when the sleighing is good or when the ground is frozen hard, but these ‘ drives are irregular and not the most S conducive to the animal’s best devel- ' opment. This wintering of horses is - a problem that the breeder has to face as well as the farmer. He realizes the danger probably more than the man who has one or two farm horses, to carry over. The breeder and train- < er has enough horses to make it an * object to give them regular daily exercise, and his men are employed fort this special purpose. In this way the! animals are kept in excellent condi- I tion through the winter, and in the spring they come out with fine, sleek coats, good, round bodies, and well- . knit but not over-developed muscles. Nearly eVery farmer has a few horses which he hopes to sell at a fair bargain when the market is good. He makes it a part of his business to breed a few colts every year for extra saleg. Now a good many of these farm horses are nearly ruined through, the unwise wintering which they get. It is not that the owner is not willing to do the best by them, but because he thinks that a good winter’s rest will j do them good. No animal needs such, a long rest. They all do better with a fair amount of exercise. There should, u hardly be a day in winter that the horses do not have the freedom of a yard or field to run about in if it la impossible to drive them. Farm horses turned loose in this way will do much better than those stablest carefully all winter. It will harden! and toughen them to come in contact with the fresh air,and their whole systems will be better for it in the spring. They will be prepared then to enter in the spring work with more vim and vitality than if stabled all winter. The feeding is also an important question with the horses in the winter. They cannot be put on a slim diet of hay and less grain without suffering therefrom. Let the diet . be a fairly liberal one and then give them all the daily exercise they want.—William Conway, in American Cultivator. z ♦ ■ i j LAWNS AND LAWN MAKING. / The best lawns I have seen arp* those composed of a single varietyof grass. So long as the texture and color are good it makes but little difference what variety is usqd, presupposing the soil to have been properly and carefully prepared. For New Eng- ' land and regions near the coast, where the influence of the ocean winds may have some effect, Rhode Island bent and creeping bent are the best grasses to use. They require careful attention, however, more than Kentucky blue grass, and for general purposes I would recommend Kentucky blue grass. Lime is required in the soil to make it do its best. From experiments at some of the agricultural experiment stations Rhode Island bent and other bent grasses are n<jt improved by the application of lime. Now, for a mixture I would recommend Kentucky blue grass, Italian rye grass and white clover. The Italian rye grass is introduced simply for immediate effect. An ultimate lawn should consist J of blue grass and white clover. Another 'mixture which may be recom- .. mended is Kentucky blue grass, crested dog’s tail and white clover. In this case also Italian rye grass could be added if an immediate covering is desired. This mixture is good for somewhat shaded lawns. In New England and the middle states some of the fescues might be used for lawns, but their characters are not? well understood, and it is difficult to secure seeds true to name owing to ' their close resemblance one to another.- The creeping red fescue is a valuable seed for light or sandy soils, and sown thickly makes a good turf. For ' woodland parks I know of nothing better than crested dog’s tail and various * leaved fescue, Festuca heterophylla. Ihave seen beautiful lawns of Kentucky blue grass as far south as Atlanta, Ga., but ordinarily, at points so far south, Kentucky blue grass will not survive the hot summer months. Its place is taken by Bermuda grass, which stands any amount of hot sun, and remains beautifully green throughout the season, br St Augustine grass or Charleston lawn grass, which is used for lawns in cities near the coast from Charleston southward. Poor and weedy lawns are the result of improper care or bad management, and, as stated above, an attractive lawn depends less upon the variety of grass than upon the preparation of the soil and subsequent care.—F. Law- s son-Scilbner, in Orange Judd Farmer. 1 All the' trains that reach the new Orleans station in the center of Paris, : France, are brought there by electric power in tunnels. This is considered - the ideal depot of the twentieth cen--1 tury.