Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 August 1896 — Page 4

CHAPTER X. "But, Algernon ” "I will have it bo, or else I shall have to obey the commonest rules of prudence; to think exclusively of my own health and to act accordingly. Of course you can forward my wishes or thwart them, as yon please. I have not lived so long in the world without being keenly alive to the amount —the sickening amount —of heartless selfishness that prevails. 1 have no right, of course, also, to expect to find an exception in your ladyship's case. But ” “Algernon, dear Algernon ” “But I have the right, and shall enforce it, to demand consideration not merely for the wishes, blit for the welfare of an ailing and suffering—perhaps dying —husband. I shall make arrangements for a protracted stay at Davos or at St. Moritz, unless you choose to exert yourself, as duty dictates. My health has brought me to Yorkshire, as, before long it may probably take me to the Upper Engadine or elsewhere. I hear good reports of the Rocky Mountains, and of wonderful cures effected among log-cabins high up in Colorado, but, if I consent to stay here, I must protest against being moped to death.” This last speech, emphatically enunciated from amid the downy pillows and wadded wraps of his gouty chair by the Right Honorable the Earl of Thorsdale, did strike his perturbed countess as being supremely unjust and vexatiously provoking. Lady Thorsdale, however, could not afford to be provoked. Her lord was in very truth a lord to her. He was a masterful invalid, but at any rate he believed in himself, and in the ailments of which he complained so querulously. Lord Thorsdale rode his present hobby very hard. His wife, Constance, had been a daughter of the late Sir Richard Mortmain, and was a sister of the reigning Sir Richard. She had a hard time of it. She was handsome —most of the Mortmains had been handsome —and frivolous, and had still some pretensions to take sank as a professional beauty in London drawing rooms. Nor was she unfit to hold her own, had she but an ordinary husband to deal with. But she was quite incompetent to resist the energetic will of her earl, who carried all before him by dint of a fluent discourse, a resolute selfishness, and the magician’s wand that ready money supplies. Only last June he had hurried his wife off to the Engadine for two months’ residence among the snow-showers, cow-sheds and general discomforts of that enchanting region, leaving little Lord Thirsk and little Lady Flora at home. The year before he had chosen to waft the entire family in his steam yacht, the “Hecla,” first to Iceland, and later to the glacial coast of Greenland itself; and what the countess had endured from midges, the glare of the Arctic summer sun, solitude, and the terror of the Arctic icebergs, and ice floes, even her lady correspondents only partially knew. Now, at the end of June, this impetuous earl had abruptly rushed down to Thorsdr.'.e, declaring that no place was worse than London for his tormenting gout; and, once in Yorkshire, had proclaimed that it was designed to kill him by mental depression and physical isolation, because the big lonely mansion did not swarm with visitors. “But if you will leave London so early, you can’t—indeed you can't—bring Loudon along with you,” pleaded the countess, half crying as she spoke. “I don’t know that!” snapped the earl from among his cushions. "There are people to be had always who are sick of the worry and racket of that precious season which to you seems like a Mecca to the Moslem. In my state of health I must consider myself shamefully neglected ns I am. Either this place must he enlivened—and you used to like that sort of thing—or eioe the sooner I send for Schultz the courier, and pack up for the Engadine, the better.” “Ah, well! I think I can manage it,” •gaid Lady Thorsdale to herself; and then she began to write. Her pen flew fast across the perfumed and coroneted paper. Presently, when the pretty perfumed notes lay strewed in heaps upon the ivory table, the countess conceived a bright idea. She had heard through the tattle of servants—for there was little of fraternal intercourse kept up between herself and the baronet—that Sir Richard Mortmain was at Helston, hard hy, and that he seemed disposed to stay there. Now, Lady Thorsdale was not on very intimate terms with her brother. There had been some unpleasantness in their father’s lifetime about the marriage portion of the countess expectant. Richard’s signature was required for the raising of the necessary sum, and Richard would sign nothing without being handsomely paid for it. And then his dubious repute, and the queer things that were whispered concerning him and his associates, had caused a coldness to exist between the present master of Mortmain and his sister ennobled. Now, however, she bethought her of her brother, of his tact, of his social resources, and of what she had seen him do when he chose to make himself agreeable. So she penned him the sweetest of little sisterly notes, congratulating herself on having him as a neighbor, warmly inviting him to Thorsdale, and entreating him to be charitable enough to do his best to brighten up the old house, and aid to enliven poor dear Algernon in the blues. And she signed herself his “ever affectionate sister, Constance Thorsdale,” and she sent off the letter by a mounted groom. Sir Richard Mortmain, when he read his sister’s charming little epistle, smiled as Mephistopheles or Talleyrand might have done. "Conny wants something!” he remarked, grimly, “so do I. This will help me with the Woodburn Parsonage people better than she dreams-of.” CHAPTER XL “It was a pity, too!” said the rector, genuine sympathy in fats voice. “A pity, Don, my poor fellow! All your work, all your peril for nothing! i never arraign the Fates, but it does seem to me as if, in your case, destiny had been a little overhard with you jet hunters.” “That, dear Mr. Langton,” replied Don, ihcerfully, “is too classical, too pagan a standpoint, as my foster-father, Captain Jedson, would say, from which to regard our late mishap. I, for one, find no fault with fickle fortune because our grand jet mine at Dutchman's Bay has collapsed. Brittle, friable gandstone will break up, and props give way, and a gradual landslip demolish what a sudden landslip first suggested. Anyhow, we have come out of It. if not much enriched, at anv rate with-

ALOYAL LOVE

BY J. BERWICK HARWOOD.

| ont serious accident to life and limb.” "And that, Mr. Don, is chiefly due to your courage and your unselfish readiness to face any risk and undertake any labor for your comrades’ sake,” interrupted Mrs. Langton warmly. “Yes, Mr. Don, we beard of what you did, and trembled for you, I am sure, before you had got clear of that dreadful underground place, with the two poor fellows who were trapped there when the roof gave way,” exclaimed Violet Mowbray, with a sort of shy enthusiasm that brought tears to her eyes, and caused the mantling blood to rise to her soft cheek. “And we were all so glad to hear that no harm came of it” “Harm seldom comes, Miss Mowbray, 1 believe, from inerely doing one’s duty, ’ answered Don, gravely. He was always serious, and almost bashful in manner, when he spoke to Violet, although his heart throbbed wildly as his ear drank in the welcome words of praise that fell from her lips. “At any rate,” he added, “there is an end of jet hunting for the moment; so, Mr. I>angton, I have ventured up here, with my books, to crave a lesson if you can kindly spare me the time for one, and are at leisure.” “Of leisure, Don, my boy, I have only too much,” replied the clergyman, genially; “and it is a pleasure to me to resume my old task of tuition with a pupil whom not even hero worship can spoil. So, if you like, we will adjourn to my study.” It is strange by what invisible links our fortunes are bound to those of one another. At first sight it might have appeared as if no proceedings on the part of Sir Richard Mortmain, of Mortmain Park, could conceivably influence the future weal or woe of so comparatively humble a person as Obadiah’s adopted son and the rector’s favorite pupil. So, at all events, it would have seemed to the baronet himself, as, on his black horse, but unattend<ki by a groom, he rode slowly along, deep in thought, while, amid the well-stored book shelves at Woodburn Parsonage, Don and Mr. Langton were busy with thfe lore of a bygone day. Sir Richard, it has been mentioned, was absorbed in thought, as, with slackened reins and downcast eyes, he rode on, so that when a carriage, coming along at a brisk pace, between the high banks that lined the road, suddenly overtook him, he did not hear or heed the sound of wheels, and was only apprised of their approach when his horse violently started and swerved, in a manner that would have unseated many a careless rider. Sir Richard, however, was too practiced a horseman to be easily discomposed, so that he merely gathered up his loosened reins, and, recognizing the occupants of the barouche, took off his hat with a smile of amiable insinperity. “So glad!” he said, riding close up to the open earringe. the liveried driver of which had now pulled up his horses at a word from his noble mistress. The equipage, indeed, was that of the Countess of Thorsdale, and beside her ladyship lounged, wrapped in plaids and shawls, the listless form of the earl himself. "I did not hear your wheels, Constance, until you overtook me,” explained the baronet; “our Yorkshire roads are solitary hereabouts. Well, Thorsdale, .this flue day has tempted you out early, I see.” “The more fool I!” peevishly retorted Sir Richard’s noble brother-in-law. “This treacherous climate is worse, absolutely worse, than that of the Riviera itself, with its dust and its marrow-piercing mistral. 1 feel there is rain coming on—humidity in the atmosphere—and it racks my gout and unstrings my nerves. I have told Sharpe, my secretary, to write for details as to two places, one in the Carpathians, the other in the Rocky Mountains, of which I have heard good accounts.”

The countess made haste to express her wifely hopes that her ailing lord might yet be reconciled to Yorkshire and England, and to paint a rose-colored picture of the forthcoming gayeties at Thorsdale Park. “You. Richard, have hitherto been a sad truant,” she said, playfully shaking her gloved forefinger at her brother. “We have been here a week in our exile, and have seen you but once at Thorsdale. I must insist now that you come home with us, and stay to luncheon.” “I’m sure it would be a charity on your part,” chimed in his lordship, more graciously than usual. “So you see, my dear Richard, that you have fallen into our hands, and that we will tuke no denial,” said the countess, with her prettiest manner and with her falsest smile. “Awfully kind of both of you; hut, unfortunately, i have an appointment with a friend,” rejoined Sir Richard, almost dryly. “Before long, depend upon it, I shall look you up at Thorsdale, and so often thut you will vote me a bore. But to-day my time is not my own.” There was a brief leave-taking, and the carriage rolled off. “You are always talking nonsense, my dear, and always making mountains out of mole hills!’ growled the earl, as he shifted uneasily among his downy cushions. Meanwhile, Sir Richard, turning his head to ascertain by ocular evidence that the barouche, with its liveried servants and high-stepping grays, was out of sight, wheeled his own horse, rode back for a short distance, and then struck into a cart-tracc that branched off from the macadamized road, and led into the wild and lonely moorland. "Let me see,” he murmured, pulling out of the breast pocket of his coat a scratch map, roughly penciled, such as hunting men often carry. “Yes, this must be the way and presently some shepherc, will be at hand to direct me.”

The friend with whom, as the veracious baronet had informed his titled sister, he had an appointment, certainly did live in a dreary and inaccessible part of the country, and it was not for a considerable time that Sir Richard could congratulate himself on drawing near to his destination. “Robinson Crusoe's house, you mean, measter? Yes, yes—red-headed jet hunter chap—we calls him Robinson!” bawled a lad from behind a loose stone wall, as he leaned upon his spade. “You call him Robinson, my boy, because he lives all aloneV” suggested the baronet, reining in his horse. “Yes; and a main queer customer he is, from foreign parts,” replied the boy. “Anyhow, yon he lives, down in the hollow there. You’re sure to hear the barking of his dogs once they nose ye!” For a moment the baronet lingered. The stony hill sides looked singularly barren and grim; th > hollow between precipitous banks, toward which the lad bad pointed with a grimy finger;, anything but a cheerful resort. Nor was what he knew and what he heard respecting the recluse for whom he was inquiring of a remarkably rAflsunrim? nature. But the boy. UHiIHIU.V*

gltlTC as become* a rustle, had returnee to hk digging among the potato beds, and was whistling shrilly as he delved, bo that Sir Richard was ashamed to question him further. He therefore rode on. The bridle track which led down into the darkling hollow was a steep one, while here and there n bank pf yellow flowered broom, or some great stone that bad slipped down from the hill side, seemed to bar the path. Abov*, the hawks wheeled, soaring, and now ssd again there was a rustling amid the tall bracken fern, as if a startled bare bad brushed by, but of human habitation there was for gome time no sign. A wilder or more desolate spot than that secluded hollow could not readily be found, and Sir Richard, as he carefully descended the steep and rugged path, began to doubt whether his latest informant had not willfully deceived him, when at last the deep, hoarse barking of a dog reached his ears. Almost instantly the warning note was taken up by another canine voice, and yet another, as though Cerberus, with his triple head and savage bay, were aroused to guard the shadowy frontiers of\ Pluto's sable realm. Guided partly by the fierce barking of the dogs, Sir Richard pressed on, and came in sight of a mean hovel, compared with which the wigwam of a Pawnee or the kraal of a Zulu are types of symmetrical architecture. Chained to the walls of the hut, and sheltered either by a fragment of shattered w<jpdwork or by some mat or morsel of frowsy Utrpauiin propped by a rickety pole, were no less than four lean, fierce dogs, all barking furiously in chorus, and striving to get free, as if to tear the intruder on their domain. A wreath or two of blue wood smoke rising above the low chimney seemed to give token that the proprietor of this delectable villa residence was to be found at home. For a while Sir Richard hesitated, but then, rallying his courage, he rode nearer to the hut, and, dismounting, passed his horse’s bridle over the blackened stamp of a sturdy old willow tree that stood hard by. As he approached the door, the two dogs that were tethered nearest sprang savagely toward him, straining their chains and half choking themselves in the effort to reach him with their glistening fangs. With the butt-end of his riding whip he knocked at the door. . (To he continued.)

VISIONS WHICH WARNED.

Two Instances Where Dreams of Horses and Fire Came True. Dreams, like girls, “are queer,” and dreams wherein horses figure largely take rank among the queerest. It Is usual to head this column with a little horse talk—a sort of bait to tempt the wary horseman Into the discussions of minor subjects, and this time I shall give a few dreams, not of “fair women,” but of horses, told one day between heats. In the year eighteen ninety something a gentleman entered a promising pacer for a race to come off some time during the summer. He was speeding the horse on the last of the snow, and wrote to his wife, who was visiting In a distant town, that his prospects for a race horse were rosy. That night the lady, although not especially an admirer of horses, dreamed that she was sitting in the stand watching the finish of the race wherein her husband’s horse was to take part Replying to the letter, she said that his horse would win the race, the last heat several lengths ahead of a gray horse, the only other one she saw in her dream, and that the judge announced the time 2:20%. The letter caused a good deal of amusement In the family during the months previous to the race, and finally when the day came five horses started, among them being a dark gray. The dream came true in every respect, the race being won In three heats, and at the finish the gray was the only one in it; the rest just coming into the stretch; time, 2:20V4. Tlie dream I can vouch for, as I saw the letter weeks before the race took place.

Another gentleman who was sleeping at an inn beside the track where his horses were stabled dreamed that he saw the window of a stall containing a valuable young horse being stealthily opened from the outside. Tlieu fire flashed and fell among the straw, revealing the horses in a state of terror, pawing and snorting loudly. The dream was so vivid that he awoke and fancied that he could in reality hear the horse striking the walls of bis cell. He partially dressed and ran out, and not a moment too .soon. Some miscreant had thrown a cloth burning and soaked with oil in through the window. This had ignited the straw and In a few seconds more the horse must have perished, though fortunately as it was he was but slightly injured. —Trotter and Pacer.

Vast Strength in His Arms.

It is a well-known fact that nature makes partial amends for the loss of one faculty by strengthening those left to us. The loss of sight is followed by an extraordinary acuteness of the sense of sound. There are several blind men well known about New Y™ :k who thread the crowded sections ol* Broadway with apparently as much ease ns those who can see. They go about fearlessly, Ignoring the dangers of cable cars, trucks and trolleys without even the assistance of the traditional dog, trusting wholly In the sound of the staff on the pavement. There Is a cripple who haunts the vicinity of Seventy-first street and First avenue, propelling himself on a crude little hoard on wheels by means of his hands. His withered limbs are twisted up beneath him, useless from birth. But his powerful arms take the place of both legs and feet. He can roll along through the crowded thoroughfares, across the streets, and dodge the trucks aud trams with astonishing celerity and certainty. He is known to the entire neighborhood, and he is practically the boss of the ward. People seem to have much respect for his judgment on their various affairs, and he is consulted as often as a Tammany leader. Sometimes the street urchins attempt to take liberties with him. They never do It twice. He has a way of suddenly hopping off his board on his hands, with a leap like that oT a kangaroo, and grabbing a boy by the leg and shaking all the courage out of him, which has earned him the respect of the knowing ones.

He can whip a man. twice his size and weight. All he wants is to get his enemy within reach, and it is done. Being high strung and quick tempered, his fighting qualities have been frequently tested. The young roughs of the neighborhood are in deadly fear of those arms. There is not much sympathy wasted on that cripple, you may readily imagine.—New York Herald.

RUNNING A CAMPAIGN.

MUCH HARD WORK, AS WELL AS MONEY REQTIRED. What the Managers of a Political Party Have to Do in a Year in Which the President is Elected. No two Presidential campaigns are conducted alike, but all are directed by national executive committees, and the headquarters of an executive committee is always the very vortex of political activity daring the continuance of the fight Down to the present both the great parties have always had campaign headquarters in New York, though more than once determined moves have-been made to locate them elsewhere, Campaign headquarters are always iu charge of a campaign or executive committee, the members of which, with the exception of the chairman, are chosen from among themselves by the members of the National Committee. The chairman Is selected by the Presidential candidate himself, and of course, is always a man in whom the candidate places implicit confidence, both as to his loyalty and political wisdom. The place is one cf honor from the politician’s standpoint, but it is also one the duties of which are complicated enough utterly to disjoint and upset the intellect of most men. A man of only ordinary executive ability would go crazy in a single day over the intricacies of the job. The executive chairman Is by all odds the hardest worked of all those who occupy headquarters during the campaign. He feels that the burden of the contest is on his shoulders. He is in a constant state of terror lest some acts have been committed either by himself or some of his subordinates that will “Burehardize” the campaign. The number of letters he is obliged to answer daily is greater, probably, than those which come to any other mortal in existence, no .matter of how exalted station. His callers are numbered literally by the thousands. It Is- physically impossible for him to see them all, and it is equally impossible always to decide wisely as to who shall be refused an audience. His every action is watched by critics and fault-finders, aud he knows it; aud the wonder is, not that the reputation of the executive chairman for political sagacity sometimes suffers during the campaign, but rather at its close he has any reputation at all, no matter which way the contest ends. No two campaign committees organize exactly alike, but there is a general similarity, as a matter of course. Necessarily the work is divided. There are always a treasurer aud a secretary, a speakers’ committee, a finance committee, a printing committee and a committee on election methods. Naturally the treasurer is at the head of the finance committee. In some respects he is badgered even worse than the executive chairman, since not only has to strain every faculty to secure sufficient contributions to meet the truly enormous expenses of the campaign, but also to so manage the funds after he has them in hand as to prevent a deficit, or at least too great a one at the end. If the treasurer is a methodical business man. as he should ne, he comes to be known as a hard man to get along with by the committee’s subordinates, and even by some of the committeemen, quite early in the campaign.

The printing committee generally has charge of the editorial work as well as the printing. The most important piece of this branch of campaigning.is the production of the text book. In the eyes of the committee this volume is always the greatest piece of literature of the current year. Sometimes it is the work of a large number of party wiseinen; sometimes of only a few. The text book issued by one of the parties in 1892 was produced by a young attache of the headquarters, who put it to press without so much as showing the larger part of it to all the members of the committee. Of course, there was a row over that book, as I suppose there is over most text books, no matter liow accurate they may be as to their facts or how sound in their party doctrine.

In addition to looking after the editorial work of the text book the printing committee has to get out the “documents”—that Is, the pamphlets and tracts setting out that unless its candidate wins the country will go to the dogs, whereas if he is elected the entire population will be able to wear diamonds all the time—that are distributed over the country at a great expense, and. as some say, with little effect, from the beginning to the end of every campaign. With regard to documents as with regard to stump speakers, committees differ. Some committees believe in documents as the only salvation of the party, and one committee of which the writer has some knowledge printed anil tried to put out about a hundred millions of documents, including text books, or one and a third to every man, woman and child in the United States. The man who had the contract for getting out the enormous mass of printing this represented was almost driven into a private bedlam by the complications with which he found himself surrounded. Of course the getting out of such an enormous number of documents renders necessary the organization of a tremendous shipping department. In the case just mentioned this department, together with the binding department of the printer, occupied two or three floors of a huge building, a whole block long, and several hundred men, women, boys and girls were kept busy every weekday aud Sunday and many nights during the campaign getting the matter off. The chairman of the “Bureau of Oratory,” as the stump-speakers’ department is sometimes colloquially known about headquarters, has a job that can hardly be considered a “snap.” The limber-tongued members of the party who are in hard luck always rush to him in great numbers, each armed with innumerable letters of recommendation, wherein his ability to hold the attention of turbulent crowds, his soundness as a party man, and many other excellent qualities are duly and enthusiastically set forth. Most of the would-be “stumpers” of this class desire to be paid for their services, not.be ing in politict for their health; and In addition to their compensation they

must, of course, be allowed traveling expense*, which includes their keep in every town they visit, where the faithful are not willing to feed them and sleep them. Occasionally an executive committee employs a man to look after a lot of details too fatiguing or trivial for members of the committee themselves, who, although he may be nominally connected with one special department, has to do with the details of nearly every department. One man who was so employed by an executive committee a few campaigns back had to audit the printers’ bills, to wrestle with the artists who drew cartoons for the committee, to draw up the contracts with those who desired to furnish services of one kind and another, to look after the work of the newspapers published in foreign tongues and attend to one thousand other unconsidered trifles.

The expenses of a National Executive Committee vary as much as the method of conducting them. One committee, which did its work only a few years ago, is said to have used up fl,900,000 in its existence of less than three months, but $1,500,000 is probably nearer the average. Besides the ways of using money of which I have already spoken there are a hundred other avenues for Its escape. Nearly every committee establishes secret bureaus, which are located away from the headquarters themselves. There are bureaus for the workmen, bureaus for the Swedes and voters of other nationalities, and even bureaus for the liquor dealers, whose favor is generally courted by both parties. Curiously enough more than one committee has maintained a temperance bureau contemporaneously with the liquor dealers’ bureau.

The number of typewriters bought and worn out by each committee is very large. In 1892 one of the committees gave a single order for 250 machines. The selection of employees, of which each committee must have a hundred or more, in addition to the speakers and traveling agents, is an important and delicate task, since the persons engaged must be unquestionably of the same political faith as the committee itself, must be strictly trustworthy, so that no damaging.information may be carried into the enemy’s camp, and must be capable of exceedingly hard work for ten, twelve and sometimes sixteen hours a day. A most important part of an executive committee’s work is known as polling doubtful States, that is, securing a supposedly correct and complete list of the voters in each such State. These lists sometimes cost a great deal of money, and are sometimes found to be discouragiugly inaccurate and incomplete. This is not surprising when you consider the brief life of an executive committee. In very few cases does such a committee have more than three months in which to do its work, and this work is really of the most difficult sort throughout, since it means the organization of a vast business in stitution as well as a political machine. There are those that hold that executive committees should be of continuous existence, with permanent headquarters, permanent officers and permanent employees, including a wellpaid executive head. Such an institution would have four years instead of three mouths in which to do its work. Its poll lists would l>e kept constantly revised, and its machinery would always be well-oiled and efficient.— Philadelphia Press.

SEWN UP IN HIS LEG.

How an Immensely Valuable Stone Was Taktn from Persia to Russia. (Jus Fox. a dealer in diamonds on Fourth street, Cincinnati, has a story about the famous Orloff diamond named after Count Orloff, the first European who l>ought it. Fox says: “It was originally the eye of an idol in Trincliinopoli. It was stolen, according to the accepted account, by a Frenchman, who escaped with it to Persia, where he sold it for the equivalent in our money of SB,OOO to a Jewish merchant. “The Jewish merchant sold it to an Armenian named Shafras, who had traveled in Russia, and conceived the idea of taking the diamond to that country and selling it to the Empress Catherine for a great sum. Shafras paid him SOO,OOO for it. “Having secured the stone, the next question with Shafras was how to get it to Russia, or rather how to conceal it when he was searched by robbers, as he was sure to be on the road. The journey was a long and perilous one, and thieves abounded everywhere. Shafras thought of swallowing the stone when he should be taken by the robbers, but was obliged to give that plan up, as the diamond was too large to swallow. “He began to feel he had a white elephant on his hands, when a thought occurred to him. He procured a sharp lance, made a cut in the fleshy part of his left leg,and thrust the diamond into the wound. He sewed up the cut with a needle and a silver wire. It healed, leaving the diamond embedded fast in the leg, quite out of sight. “Then he started for Russia. On the way he was seized by robbers again and again, and it was thoroughly searched. Being an Armenian, and suspected of going to Russia to trade, the thieves marvelled-greatly at finding nothing of value upon his person. “He arrived in Russia at last, and, after extracting his diamond, visited the Empress, He was willing to sell it for about $150,000, but the Empress had not so large an amount in cash for the purchase, and Shafras preferred to go on to Amsterdam, the seat of the diamond-cutting industry, where he had the stone polished. “Here Count Orloff, an extremely wealthy Russian, saw the diamond, and was filled with a determination to secure it for the Russian crown. He did secure it, but Shafras exacted from the Russian Government $400,000, an annuity of $20,000, and a title of nobility. He died a millionaire. “The Orloff diamond weighs 195 carats, and is about the size of a pigeon’s egg. It is smaller than the Ivoh-i-Noor, in the possession of the Ehglish Queen, which is supposed to be worth $3,750,000.” In looking around for an ally China is more successful than Spain. The combination of Russia and China includes more than a third of the world’s population and is likely to cut a figure in history.

FARM AND GARDEN NOTES

ITEMS OF TIMELY INTEREST TO THE FARMERS When Fences Are a Nuisance—The Asparagus Beetle—Nut Culture—The Feeding Value of Straw. Feeding Value of Straw.—To utilize straw for winter feeding it win be a good plan to put It into a mow in the barn in alternate layers of six or eight Inches with the green corn stalks. The straw will absorb the moisture from the corn, and both will be improved for feeding. This will be equally adaptable to a silo, and the ensilage thus made wifi be better than of the corn alone. Any kind of corn may be used in tfiis way, or clover, either. IRREGULAR HATCHING. There Is some variation in the time of hatching hen’s eggs, depending on the vigor of the fowls and the time eggs are left cold before being sat on. W ith strong, vigorous fowls twenty days will see most or the chicks out. Late in the season the germ fu the eggs sometimes begins to evolve into a chick even before it is sat on, from the heat of the weather. This has been known to occur in the house, and we remember a neighbor who kept eggs in a basket not far from the kitchen, who found a live chick among them unmothered. It had been hatched out from the heat of the stove in the next room. A GOOD GARDEN. In laying out your plot for garden make it longer than wide; begin at one side and set a row or two of blackberries, the same of raspberries, both red and black; then currants and gooseberries; and do not forget the luscious strawberries, of which it is said that perhaps God Almighty might have made a better berry, but he never has. I set these all in long rows, that they may be easily cultivated with a horse. While they are small, potatoes, peas or some other vegetable can be grown between them. Put in a row of asparagus; then in early spring sow spinach, lettuce, beets, and such hardy vegetables as a light breeze will not hurt. And put out some onion seed, i>arsnips and carrots. Later plant cucumbers and melons, sweet corn and tomatoes.—J. W. Brigham in Massachusetts Ploughman.

WHERE FENCES ARE A NUISANCE. When the haying is in progress one realizes the nuisance of the fences quite forcibly. Why should there be inside fences on any farm? Why should there be any fences? It is not easy for any one to satisfy his mind in regard to this matter, the real necessity for fences beistg wholly based upon unnecessary conditions altogether. But if there must be fences, they should be straight, and made of posts and wire. The borders of them will not then be mere nurseries of weeds and all kinds of yernjin, breeding pests to damage the' crops far more than is thought of. But if one will have fences, and not have his farm all out of doors, as has been said, let him have whatever kind he wishes, but only straight ones, taking up no more room than the width of the posts, and keep both sides well grassed. This strip of grass may be mown for hay, and will permit the horses used in the cultivation of the land to turn upon without damaging the crops. The edges of the cornfields are always more or less wasted or incumbered with weeds, on account of the difficulty in turning, by which It is not possible to clean the land just there. There will be nothing about the fuim more pleasing to the owner or the traveler passing by than these neat, clean, and smooth fence rows.— New York Times.

FOR POTATO BUGS. Plaster and paris green is with us the most satisfactory application for the potato bug, where the field is of moderate size, a tablespoon of green to a wooden pail of plaster. On fields where water can be had without trouble, liquid poison may be more convenient; but usually the water must be carried some distance, and is less satisfactory, because the poison will not remain evenly mixed. The plaster mixture, when once thoroughly prepared, will stay so, and 100 pounds of it will dust an acre of mod-erate-sized vines. It can be quickly mixed upon an„old piece of canvas with a hoe or # shovel; one pound of green to 100 pounds of plaster. If applied when the vines are wet with dew the mixture will stick until the next heavy rain. Care should be taken not to handle the mixture without gloves. Paris green will poison the skin, causing blisters, resembling the symptoms of ivy poisoning. The plaster in the mixture is worth all it costs as a stimulant to the soil, and for that reason it is just as well to apply it freely. Two thorough applications, paying special attention to the new leaves at the ends of the vines, will usually prove enough. Good sieves for applying dry poison can be had at the farm supply stores, or can be made by punching holes in the bottom of a tin dish. Cheap flour is used by many instead of the plaster. Flour will adhere longer upon vines, but its value as a dressing is of little account.—Massachusetts Ploughman.

NUT CULTURE. There is much encouragement to plant our native nuts, and some of the foreign ones. As a rule, our indigenous trees are good bearers, and In Mr. Van Deman’s opinion, they produce nuts of better quality than foreign ones. The chestnut is receiving the most attention now, and there are a few well-marked native varieties of value. Although they are smaller than the European varieties, they are of better quality and very productive. The best are Delaney. Excelsior, Griffin, Hathaway, Morrell and Otto. Rocky hillsides and other places unsuitable for tillage can be used with profit for nut trees, and they can be set about

buildings and in pastures. The Euro> pean varieties seem more profitable. It seems to be a rule that the more pubescence the nut has, the better it» quality. European varieties are more fuzzy than the Japanese, and less so than the American sorts. The most prominent of these are the Paragon, Numbo, Ridgely, and Hannnm. Japanese chestnut trees have a more dwarf habit, and the nut has a bitter skin. They graft quite readily on American seedlings, and the best varieties introduced are Alpha, Early, Reliance, Grand and Superb. Among the hickories. the best nut tree is the pecan, a native of our Southern States, and the shell bark hickory, common throughout the Northeastern States. A firm in Pennsylvania ships more than twenty tons of hickory nuts very year. T!fc nuts should be planted In rough places, four feet apart each way, and thinned as they grow. Sellings are variable, and so they must be grafted. The principal varieties are a large, thin-shelled sort; Leaning, Curtis, Elliott and Mulford. Among the walnuts, our native butternuts may, perhaps, be improved, but the so-called English walnut is the best of the family, although it is difficult to grow as far north as New York. * There is no doubt that nut trees are hard to graft and to bud. Evaporation should be prevented until the sap begins to flow. When the sap starts the grafts should be put in underground. The scions should be cut so as to have the pith all on one side, or, if necessary to graft above the ground, they should be covered well to prevent all evaporation possible—Garden and Forest. THE ASPARAGUS BEETLE. The asparagus beetle ■ was noticed many years ago in the vicinity of New Jersey.lt has been working northward ever since. It has done much damage on Long Island and in southern Connecticut, but lias been followed by a parasitic enemy that greatly aided farmers in keeping it under control. At one time it was hoped that the parasite would exterminate the beetle, but such is not the course of nature. Parasites suppress, but never exterminate. No war was ever known where all the combatants were destroyed. The beetle has been doing more or less damage in the vicinity of Boston, for a half-dozen years or more. It is not difficult to fight in old beds, as cutting the slioots destroys most of the eggs that are laid during the cutting season. The first crop of beetles (grown the year previous) usually gets through mating, eating and egg-laying by the middle of June, when peas are ready for picking. My rule is to cut asparagus till the last beetle is dead, then the new stalks will be free from eggs, and I will have no slugs. On new beds the case is different. Cutting here is not allowable, so the eggs hatch and the young slugs must be destroyed. If a careful gardener has a careless neighbor, the former will have a hard fight, as the second crop of beetles, appearing late in summer, will be sure to visit him in large numbers.

The best way to destroy slugs I have tried is to dust the foliage when wet with dew with air-slaked lime, using it quite freely. The slug is a softbodied thing, and the lime curls him up in short order. C. W. Prescott, of Concord, one of the most successful growers in this State, writes “The Farm and-Home’’ that he fights the beetle with chickens. Two men—one at each end—take a board, ten or twelve feet long, and, carrying it in front of them, brush the beetles from the foliage in the early morning, while they are in a semi-dormant state. Chickens are taught to follow, and they pick up most of the beetles. Mr. Prescott’s chief trouble is with neighbors’ beetles, propagated in fields that are badly neglected. It would seem but just that any one having such a nursery of mischief should be compelled to abate it or suffer the consequences. Poultry do not eat the slugs, so these must be killed by poison or by knocking off to die on the hot ground. Mr. Prescott says he has seen them dead in less than sixty seconds after falling on sand in the heat of a sunny day. Paris green will destroy the slugs or beetles if it can be made to stick to the foliage. Adding glucose or molasses to the water will help the matter somewhat. Of all the remedies I have tried, lime dust is the cheapest and most easily applied. One can throw a handful over quite a space and cover every leaf when wet with dew on a still morning.—A. W. Cheever, in New Eng. land Farmer.

FARM AND GARDEN NOTES. There has been a good deal of poor lamb meat in the market this season. It is tough and tasteless. In seasons of scarcity of hay or where hay is w r anted for sale, and corn is cheap, horses, cattle and mules may be brought through the winter in admirable condition on straw, fed in con?nection with corn. Most vegetables, and especially potatoes, contain a large proportion of starch, which, in itself, is not a complete ration. There should be some nitrogenous material fed with the vegetables, and, if mixed with the feed, so much the better. Horses hard at work need water between the morning and noon meal, and also between noon and time for closing the day’s work If a handful of oatmeal is thrown in a pail of water it will prevent any danger of injury, and it will also give strength, as well as refreshment. Milk is a perfect food for young animals, it being what nature has provided. It contains all the nutritive elements called for by the system, in the proportions needed, and in such a condition as to be more easily available. Cow’s milk lias n nutritive ratio of about one to four, just what the young pig wants. Corn is the most valuable single stock fbod known, and if it were to be lost to us the calamity would be immeasurable. But its deficiencies must be made up before its full value is brought out. How shall we do this? By feeding it in connection with some substance which is rich in what it (the corn) is lacking, thus making one supplement the other.