FIELD AND FARM. (From" The Agricultural Gaeette.") COST OF TILLAGES AT DIFFERENT SEASONS. The actual value of work done in winter may uceed (remarks Professor Jelin Wrightson) in some cases that of the same work done in summer. Take, as an example, winter ploughing as oompared with Bummer ploughing. It is however, quite possible that a work of greater value can be done with less expenditure at one time of year than another. If I can cart out dung and plough my land at a time of less pressure I may reap a double advantage, first in performing the work at the best possible time, and secondly, in doing so at a time more con- venient, and therefore loss costly to myself. If I may value my horse labour at a premium durmg the months of high pressure, so I almost must allow some discount on the same work performed during periods of low pressure. If, therefore, I find that the cost of maintaining a farm horse averages 2s. or 2s. 6d. per day throughout the year, surely I may be allowed, simply for convenience, to value their labour in one instance somewhat above, and in the other somewhat below the average figure. As this idea has been stated to be unsound, I beg to call attention of certain critics to the following considerations: First they do not hesitate to take out a large number of days of comparative or total idleness, and charge their horses on those days at nothing, and yet the cost of keeping the horses during those days is not nil. If I assume a, larger number of working days and vary my value of horse labour from Is. 6d. to 3s. a day, it is not opposed to their system of valuing, but appears to bt only a reasonable development of it. It is a ques- tion of cost, not of value. Does it appear more reasonable to assume a dead level throughout the year, or to put a high charge against horses en- gaged in farm work during the busy periods, and a lower one agaicst the slack times ? As an example, why should it be thought unreasonable to charge horses from March 1 to October 31 at a cer- tain figure, because they are at a premium, and from November 1 to February 28 at a lower figure because their time is at a discount? It is impossible to apportion precisely, because the lost time during the slack period is much greater than during the busy summer period on account of short days and bad weather. If, however, horses are charged 3s. a day during summer they may well be charged Is. 6d during winter. The pri ncipal reason why the above consideration should weigh with those who compute the cost of tillages ia that the actual cost of carting dung, roots, straw, &c., is liable to be overstated if horse labour is valued at the same price in winter as in su mmer. It has less to do with the value of the work done than with the prime cost of doing it, for, as above stated, we are ertitled to the benefit if we can perform work of high value at a low cost. In other words, if our horses earn the greater part of their waqes, (cost) during a certain period of the year, we are entitled to any profit over and above the actual cost of their maintenance during the remainder of the period. If this principle is sound, it is practically expressed by charging for horse labour on a higher scale during the busy half of the year, and at a lower scale during the winter. It is, however, only suggested as a means of valuing horse labour for private use, and not for purposes of valuation as between outgoing and incoming tenants THE RISE IN WHEAT AND ITS INFLUENCE ON BRITISH FARMING. The economical influence of dearer bread is already being felt (remarks T. C. S.") both by producers and consumers in Great Britain. As regards con- Burners, the increase of outlay by a household in the purchase of what is called the staff of life, is not so serious a matter as it was in the days when our food supply was limited to a comparatively small number of articles. Our policy of buying in the cheapest market has attracted from the whole world a choice of foods such as was unknown in the days of our fathers. The extent of this choice of foods very considerably lessens the necessary expenditure of every family. If the rise in value in all other articles weie as great as it is in bread, the economical effect would be very serious. As with the exception of bread and potatoes <?hes.pness is still the rule in all kinds of commodities in daily use, our wage earners are at present comfortably off. In the event of a rise in value of other food products corresponding to the rise existent in breadstuffs, the position of our wage- earners will be very closely touched. It may be that the time has come when, as some thinkers have foi years past asserted, the demand for breadstuffs has overtaken the supply. Indeed, we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that a famine of bread all over Europe would now be felt in an extreme degree if i were not that America has had a larger surplus than usual from her last harvest. But let us, for present considerations, look at the subject from the point of view presented to the British farmer. It is impossible not to recognise Effect generally felt over the whole of Great Britain of the fall in value of wheat during the present generation. The sad fact has been brought home to all of us, and specially to those actively interested in the warking cf the Royal Agricultural Benevolent Fund, that the production of wheat has been the Cause of ruin to most of the present claimants on that fund. But there would have been by far a wider spread of ruin if tÙAteachílJs Of ecoriqmy had not been quickly apprehended by the zriajority of our farmers. It is quite true that the non-agricultural public do not even now give sufficient I credit to the adaptability of farmers in every district of Great Britain to the changing circumstances of their time. The writer can call to mind the period when the whole course of the farming year had for its central object the production of wheat. Indeed, there are still to be heard faint echoes of a system of land tenure regulated by corn rents. The change in farm practice has been so silent and so gradual that little notice has been taken of it by the outside public, and little credit has been given to those who have brought about the change. ci It is just because of this change, which in so many words has put live stock and the produce of live stock in the place of corn growing, that the situation is complicated. If wheat were king, as in the days of our fathers, the return of our farmers to wheat grow- ing as the central object round which their whole practice revolved might appear possible. But we may rest assured that the same men who have raised the quality of our cattle, sheep, and horses to such a degree of excellence that Great Britain is called the stud farm of the world will not hastily depose King Cattle and restore King Wheat. Meanwhile we know that if the rise in wheat pe permanent, there will also be a permanent rise along the whole range of corn and cattle foods. So far, wheat is still king of the market of all kinds of grain. How far-reaching in its effect on the breeding and feeding of horses, cattle, sheep, and pigs the rise in wheat will be is at present a matter of absolute uncertainty. All we can say is that, if a higher value be permanently settled in wheat, a higher value will prevail in oilcakes and aH feeding stuffs. This being so, the expenses of production, "so far as regards all descriptions of live stock and dairy produce, will be increased. If the, increase of these expenses were confined to ourselves, British owners of live sto6k would feel the effect of i Qiiit increase greatly. But the whole world as well a* Great Britain will feel the increase. We know well that a long run of cheap maize in America brings to our shores large supplies of beef, perk, and dairy products and it follows that an increase in the valne of cattle foods very soon decreases the output of cattle products in those countries which are our strongest competitors in those products. It may very well be that the rise in wheat Will give a much-needed revival of enterprise in the wheat- growing districts of Great Britain, but there is reason to be found even ih a permanent rise of wheat for the producers of live stock to turn their attention from their present business to that of growing corn.
TnF. practice ot requiring bondsmen guaranteeing :he fulfilment of municipal contracts was the subject., of a protest addressed to the Southampton Town Council by the local plumbers. The Town Clerk, in reply, explained that the Council was bound by law to require contractors to find security in any contract ibove the sum of EIOO. MUST you go ?" she cooed. Can you doubt me ? he asked feverishly as the footsteps on the stairs chew nearer. WHAT three disorders incidental to childhood art like the contents of a breakfast table?—The cough hiccups, and teethings (coffee cups and tea-things). Wirra (reading paper): I .soo that the life of a paper dollar is five years." Husband: Not when you get your hands on one, my dear." SMITH (to journalistic friend): You say you never wear an overcoat in winter." Journalist 1 never do," What do you do in very cold weat her:. "Iron," r
A MYSTERIOUS INTRUDER. A hedgehog played high jinks in a Paris drug store the other nignt. The proprietor had gone tc spend an evening at the theatre (says a correspondent of" the Mohiing.Iieader), leaving his apppentice-puf^J ia charge. -/The youth locked,up the shop about ten ofcloek, and went into a back room to await the prin-, tapal's return; Soon after he heard a fearful knook- I g. about of bottles mild, enshiiig of glass in ,t aellais. Burglars I" he yelled-at the top of hia, lOng,3, and being a spirited lad, possessed of a pistolu withal, he bolted below yi .search., of, adventure and" a: reasonable excuse for shooj^'ng-?^ some- body. In which natural and praiseworthy yearning he was wofully disappointed. Not so much as a rag could he find that would yield a plausible pretext for letting fly with his pistol. Then he concluded that the devil must have broke loose, or a ghost at least, and went at once for the poliee, who afre known to. possess mysterious power over evil spirits, fluid or solid.- But the policeman on that particular beat says he never met with spirits except in liquor form, and as the apprentice could show no or sport of that kind, he at once went to- Work on the is hypothesis that somewhere, if it could only be found, there must be something solid. He was right. Curled up in a ball; in a musty corner of an old shelf, the dark lantern after long search revealed a splendid hedgehog, who had retired for a snooze after a noisy spree. He was promptly run in "to the skin-dressers.
n T ^liss Al7TTM,N tolcl me her age was twenty-lour.' I always sa,d that girl wasn't up to date." •f'lEY don t have near the fun they did when I was a boy. 1 ou mean you don't." q, HILLS Browne says that he is saddest when he sings." Hulls: That's why thoy call his audience YlIJpatlwtic.' "Is your new travelling man enterprising?* Enterpr.sing ? That man could sell a carved-ivorv »rd-caqe, to an elephant. .l ) -:1 ;i
A RSifATtkABLE bicycle feat is at the present time in progress in New York viz., the attempt to ride 100 miles a day for 365 consecutive days. Already the cyclist has finished rather more than 11,000 miles, and his trainers expect him to be able to com- plete his self-imposed task, in spite of the opinion gf certain physicians and of the example of otners who bavefailed. '¡, =. !.If f-;
THE PENNY POST. GLADSTONB AND ROWLAND HILL The Snndap Special has published, for the ilrat 'time, copies of two, characteristic letters of Mr. Gladstone which admirably snow the late statesipaa'a method in official and in private correspondence. Ap.it2, 18.55i j DEAR UM. Hill^t—When we;were .discussing the- ;stamp question I understood from you that the pro- iportiohsof net and'gross post-office revenue had not changed very greatly from the first establishment of the penny post, or at any rate, tor a series pf "yfearS. Could^Uh kirfdly supply me with^the ifigu^ea which Will show this ? I think the fact throws some considerable light upon the question, no very easy one, at what minimum rate the public can afford to carry. Has the proportion of newspapers and letters in- weased, diminished, or remained stationary since UW?-I reihain, my dear Sir, very truly yours, (Signed) "-W. E. GLADSTONE. u Rowland Hill, Esq." Hawarden, April 2, 1879. My Dear Sir,—I am much touched by the desire which, as I learn from you, was expressed by Sit Rowland Hill, that I should be invited to his funeral, and were I a younger and a less occupied man, I should not hesitate to make the journey to London for the purpose of acting as a pall-bearer, which you kindlj designated for me. But I had to make a journey to town last week, and I have another riext week. I have only just disposed of the great amount^Of corres- pondence which my few days of absence or indisposi- tion cause me.. Under these circumstances I am sure you will feel that it is not from indifference that I ask you ta excuse me. L; "Itwasmy principle and pleasure at important functions to co-operate with Sir R. Hill, and to sup- port him in the development of his enlightened views, as well as to be the organ of an universal sentiment of gratitude at the period of his retifement. In some respects I think his lot was peculiarly happy, even among, public benefactors for his great plao ran like wildfire, through the eivilised ,world_, and never perhaps was a local invention (foif such it was) and improvement applied in the lifetime of the author to the advantage of such vast multitudes of his fellow- creatures. With a feeling of deep respect for his memory, I remain, my dear Sir, faithfully yours, -1 (Signed) W. E. Gladstone Frederick Hill, Esq."
GARDENING GOSSIP. (From Cottage Gardening.") VARIEGATED IVY-LEAVED PELARGONIUMS. The ivy-leaved section of the Ptlargonjum family has had considerable additions made to it of recent years, but this has chiefly been in the direction of greater variety of colour and an increased number of double forms. For thes; we are grateful, as any- thing that is less void of close and formal growth than the so-called bedding Pelargoniums must, be considered an acquisition. The variegated section has not, however, had the same amount of attention bestowed upon it. The few varieties that are grown do not, on the whole, appear to receive that attention they should do, more particularly such a kind its TElegante, which is undoubtedly the best variety in cultivation, the leaves being neatly margined with clear white, while the flowers are also white. This kind is well adapted for hanging-baskets, and grown in this way it is very attractive for conservatories or greenhouses. Another use to which this pretty Ger- anium (I like, G." remarks, the old-fashioned name the best) can be put is for filling up bare spots on rock- work during the summer. For this purpose it is parti- cularly well suited. No better place for it could b chosen if it is desired to make any considerable increase in the stock tnis coming autumn. In pots again, it cannot be put to a better account than as marginal edgings to greenhouse and conservatory stages, or for bracket plants or window-boxes. L'Elegante is not of rapid growth by any means, but its progress is pretty sure and reliable hence it should not be planted too near those plants of like character which happen to be stronger growers. As an outside edging to flower-beds it is also recom- mended, being in many respects better than several other plants so used which have to be constantly pinched or trimmed to keep them within limits. Another and a much older variety used to be grown which had an occasional variegatiftn of golden blotches, that eventually toned down to a pale green. This is no loss, in my opinion. Note should, how- ever, be made of Duke of Edinburgh, of which the growth is as free as that of the green varieties, the foliage being broadly margined with white; also of Aureum marginatum, with pale yellow variegation. TUFTEI) PANSIES. It should not be lost sight of that the chief beauty of these plants lies in their tufted or clustered habits. Growers to display their varieties have taken to show flowers in spray fashion, and very pretty they look but no method of showing them can less correctly convey what are the natural cha- racteristics of these Tufted Pansies. Even a bed full of small plants fails to show their value. Only when seen in large tufted clusters are the real charms of these flowers fully displayed. Those who want to see them at their best should plant early in the autumn, and get the plants well rooted before the middle of winter. That is the way to have fine broad clumps blooming profusely in April, May, and June, when usually Violas are seen at their best. If such clum ps as these be cut over in July, and have a liberal soaking of water and a top-dressing of old pot soil given them, they soon get into flower again and are very beautiful all through the autumn. It is such masses as these which sc fully justify the appellation now commonly given tc one of the most charming of hardy flowering plants. Cuttings taken from the young shoots that break up s) densely from old plants after being cut over in the summer, and inserted thickly in sandy soil under q north wall, or underhand-lights, or in a frame, stand- ing so all the winter and planted out as strong plants in May, will, if put out fairly close together, growintc very effective masses, although they do not show the same tufted quality that old plants exhibit. It is when grown in either of these ways that their value for ordinary border, bedding, or rockwork planting is seen. It is certain that, whether owing to the introduction of more suitable varieties, or because our seasons are now less trying, tufted as well as ordinary bedding Pansies now seem to withstand southern summer weather better than formerly. I am referring (observes a correspondent signing him- self A.") to spring-planted plants, because there was a time in my experience several years since when these used to die off wholesale after hot weather set in. It was difficult to find the real cause, but one existed that baffled the best efforts tc find out. Soakings of water seemed at times tc rather accelerate than check the evil. Whether due to a fungus or not could not be discovered. It was. however, an undoubted fact that the evil was rarely operative in the case of old plants or those put out in the autumn, and thus not only well established but having several shoots or stems on them. It is. indeed, a great gain to be able to grow those Tufted Pansies in the summer in this way in the usually too arid South. For such uses as are termed summer bedding they now rank among the most persistent bloomers and the most beautiful. A few good sorts of distinctive colours suffice, and from these may be obtained effects of the most attractive description. THE SWEET LUCULIA. This plant botanically known as L. gratissima is i somewhat rare but most charming climber for a back or end wall, or as a pillar-plant, in a well-heated greenhouse. The temperature of a stove is rather too much for it, and that of a cool house a little the other way. but where the thermometer seldom falls below fjOdeg., or 45deg. at the lowest, it is simply grand. The white or pale-blush-coloured blossoms are freely produced in the autumn and early winter. and being highly fragrant, cannot fail to be admired. The plants grow best in a well- drained border of light or peaty loam, with plenty of coarse sand or grit, and some mortar-rubbish, broken bricks, or the like, to keep the whole porous lod sweet. They ought not to be much. cramped at the root, and 3hould have plenty of room to ramble about above ground, the knife being also used sparingly. When in full growth give water abun- dantly at the root, with slight shade from the summer sun, Qld plants in borders that are full of roots should have some liquid-manure and an annual top- dressing of fresh, rich compost. Syringe freely over- head in, hot weather to encourage growth and keep down red-spider, &c. The spring is the proper time ro plant out. Do not prune severely at any time, nor give water at the root until required then give a full 3iipp'y. Propagate by means of cuttings of the young 3hoots in the spring, inserted in pots of sandy soil ind placed under a hand or bell-glass, or in a propa- gating case. The cuttings ought never to flag, or they will probably perish instead of rooting. OLEANDERS. One does not see this plant (Nerium Oleander) nearly so often as it deserves to be seen. Of its beauty there can be no question when well managed. Failures to flower it successfully have no doubt caused it to be less grown than formerly, for it used to be popular. It is a plant that delights in an abundance of light; hence a sunny position. should be given it. This not only tends to develop ind solidify the current season's growth but also acts favourably in bringing the flowers to perfec- tion. It is not difficult to induce an Oleander to show flower-spikes, but these often, from want of 3unshine and warmth, do not open, rarely getting beyond the partially-developed bud stage. Want of water during growth will tend to the same end. This may even take place without the plant actually suffering, but a sickly hue will pervade the foliage jji1 this case, whereas if grown in a shady house the foliage mav be of a dark green tint, yet no flowers will be produced. In this respect it is somewhat inalogous to Adiantum cuneatum, which, if grown In heat, moisture, and shade, produces fine, healthy- looking fronds, which will not stand the test when ut. The Nerium, if grown in a light house, will develop foliage of smaller size, paler green in colour, but perfectly healthy, the wood being short- jointed. Such wood as this will be the following 0 p season almost sure to result in plenty of flowers before the young growth becomes too sappy to deprive the flower-trusses of their share of suste- nance. The spikes are terminal, three woody shoots usually issuing from their base. If these are seen to be pushing away too freely, it is better to stop them 11 y and rely upon back breaks. During growth an abun- dance of water should be given, with an occasional stimulant to pot-bound plants. Teat and loam make the best compost, solid potting being advisable too rich a soil will tend to a woody rather than a free- flowermg growth.
ONE Ll FE LOST. It is very unfortunate. I really dont know hou it can have happened. Numbers twenty and twenty- two are both engaged: If you would stepintthe drawing-room a moment I will inquire." The manager of the Seacliff Hotel rubbed his hands together, and smiled ingratiatingly at the couple before him; Mr. Thompson, -stotit,, prosperous and middle-aged Anne, slender, blonde and lovely, with bride written large all over her attire, from the picture hat, the fawn travelling cloak, lined with white satin, and the watch bracelet set in turquoises down to her new patent-leather shoes. "Will you go upstairs and wait, my dear?" he said, turning to her. Oh, no l this will do," she said, indifferently; and pushing open the door of the writing-room, she walked in. Away from her husband's eyes she drew her breath hard, her grey eyes had the look of a child rudely awakened she clasped her hands together with a gesture of nervous dread. A man, the solitary occu- pant of the room, turned his head at the soft rustle of her silk-lined skirts, and as their eyes met both uttered a cry. "Charliel You here ?" Anne! Great Heavenl is it you ? I'm not too late!—«ay I'm not!" he cried. I was married this morning. We-we are on our honeymoon but what has that to do with yon ?' said she, almost fiercely. "You—you broke off our engagement. I would have been true to you in spite of everyone." Then there has been foul play! I was sure of it. Look, Anne, I had such faith in you that, when there was no answer to my letters, I knew they must be tampering with you. And then came the news of your engagement—my sister, wrote to me; she always was jealous of you—and I got leave somehow. It was the colonel who managed it for. me, and I have travelled day and night ,to be in time. I haven't slept or eatensince, and I meet you here, married." He was close to her now, his handsome face flushed and quivering, his strong hands clenched in i masculine impatience of suffering. Anne shrank away from him, white and trembling. She could hear her husband's voice speaking to a waiter outside. Anne, haven't you got a word for me ? Tell me why you have done this hideous thing I Was it his money ?" he demanded. His money? No, no; I never heard from you. I was so lonely and miserable," she faltered. "Oh! Charlie, Charlie! What shall we.do ?" She held out her hands to him with a little gesture of appeal, but he did not take them. He was begin- ning to see that it had been better for them if they had never met. "I don't know—Heaven help us he said brokenly. To meet you like this! Is he—does your husband The door swung open-Mr. Thompson was enter- ing. It was such a stale device by which they had been parted that it seems almost impossible Anne could have been taken in by it! But, after all, a well- brought up girl does not lightly suspect her mother of such an extreme measure as suppressing letters from an ineligible lover; and Mrs. Carruthers' daughters were eminently well brought up, so, when Charlie Dacre's letters suddenly ceased, she began to believe that the popular opinion as to his incon- stancy was well founded. She suffered a great deal under the belief; her wrists grew so slender that her bangles were too big; the roses faded out of her cheeks, and the once ready smile came and went infrequently, and Mrs. Car- ruthers was genuinely sorry for her child. She sup- ported herself, however, by the reflection that it was all for Anne's ultimate good. Mr. Thompson was obviously only too ready to marry her, and endow her with his twenty thousand a year, his big country house, his moor in Scotland, and his share in the business of Thompson, Goodrich and Company; and Mrs. Carruthers was sure that Anne would be happier in the long run as his wife than married to a young man with nothing but his pay and good looks. Mr. Thompson was forty-five and rather bald but personal experience had taught her that after a few years a husband's banking account is of infinitely more importance than his looks, so she felt justified on high moral grounds in putting a stop to one engagement, and doing her best to bring on another. At first Anne resolutely avoided Mr. Thompson but by degrees the kindliness of his mariner and the sense that other women would gladly have had his attentions gratified her, and then a feeble longing to be revenged on Charlie, to show him she was not. wearing., the willow for his sake, grew upon her.1 Moreover, she was of an affectionate nature, and the disgrace in which she felt herself' with her mother during the time she had held herself bound to Charlie had weighed on her heavily, and she turned' eagerly to the approval which graciousness to Mr. Thompson brought her. So it is not to be wondered at that less than a year, after Charlie had gone West with his regiment, Anne found herself awaking on the day of her wedding to Mr. Thompson. She lay on her little white bed looking dreamily around the room, littered with all the paraphernalia of packing. Her going-away dress was stretched across two chairs, a huge trunk, gaping open, gave a glimpse of dainty cambrio and lace, and across the passage she knew her wedding gown was displayed on the spare-room bed; but her imagination refused to realise that she was indeed going to be married, though the previoas night she had seen the drawing- room blocked up with costly preseftfs, such as Mr. Thompson's wife-was likely to have, and the dining- rooms already laid for-the breakfast. Smart clot'hes, diamonds, and excitement are sometimes very effec- tive in drugging the mind, and for the past week Anne had refused to let herself think, so-she was not going to give way to it now. She sprang out of bed and dressed herself quickly. 0111 There was something she wanted to do before her mother came to her, so when she hadpiqt on her plain white dressing-gown she, unlocked a trqmpery- rosewood desk and took out a pack of letters, a bunch of faded violets, and a photograph. She sli pped t he last two into an envelope and welitswiftly: downstairs; for, it being June, there was only the kitchen fire available. The cook had just gone out to the sida door for the milk. so there was no one to witness her holocaust. She did not feel any pain over it, only a desire to get I it done .before her .mother came aad she even laughed a little as she heard the cook boasting to the milkman of the, number and value of the wedding, presents. The morning seemed to pass with her like a dream, in which her share was only imaginary. Her mother's kisses, the crowd in the church, the service, the wed- ding breakfast with its endless speeches, the fussy officiousness of the bridesmaids who helped to array, her in her travelling gown, the smiling farewells and good wishes, were all indifferent to her; but when at last she and Mr. Thompson were in the carriage that was to take them to the train, and he- laid hia hatid on her arm, she suddenly awoke to realities. At last Dve got my dear little wife to myself," he said; and passing biSt arm around-her, turned her face up to his with one plump hand and laid his lips on hers for the first time.. é » Don't, don't! You mustn't t" eriea Anne. Her words seemed to fall over each other in her haste her heart was beating like some caged wild thing. "Did I frighten you, my darling? Come, You mustn't be so shy of your husband," he said, smiling at her indulgently.. I-I don't like being kissed. I—am tired,' faltered Anne. She suddenly seemed to have become aware that she belonged to this man. His short, blunt fin^rs, .on one of which was a big signet ring, his dou]j]0 chin, the big creases on his cheek when he sulilt-d, filled her with repulsion. Are you tired, dearest ? Does your head ache ?" he said, kindly solicitous at once. Yes, it does, rather," said she, catching at (he immemorial excuse of womenkind. She shut her eyes and leaned back in the corner while he fussed over her with smelling salts and eau- de-cologne. They had engaged rooms at the seaside resort, hut there had been some mistake about them, and it was while he was talking to the manager that Anne went into the writing-room to wait. n Oh, yes, that will do quite as well I" said Mr. Thompson, coming briskly in and Speaking over his shoulder to a waiter. Anne, my dear, it is all right now. We have three rooms on the first floor; they are taking up our things. Why, my dear, what is the matter ?" I hive made a mistake," said Anne, hardly knowing what she said. This,-this is Charlie Dacre." Mr. Thompson had heard a sketchy outline of his witi's previous Jove, aflaues from Mrs. Carruthers. Boy and girl affair "—" mere fancy "—M quite un- worthy young man "—the phrases seemed to ring in his brain now. A dull flush rose slowly to his face; he laid his hand on Anne's arm. A have heard of Mr. Dacre," he said coldly; I think you had better come with me." You have stolen her from me I You know best yourself by what means I" said the younger man, savagely. The situation was insupportable; a primitive emotion was out of place in the commonplace .room, with its writing-tables littered with directories and hotel stationery. I gained my wife by no means of which I need be ashaiped," said Mr. Thompson, with a certain dignity. But it was all a mistake. He wrote, only 1 never tiad his letters. He was coming back to me," said Anne, helplessly. "I don't understand; perhaps I am dense. You mean to say you only married me, believing Mr. Dacre was false ?" began the elder man, confusedly. The door swung again, a busy traveller bustled in, bag in hand, drew a chair noisily up to a table, and began to write. Mr. Thompson beckoned imperatively to Anne. Come I must speak to you," he said sharply. He held the door open for her, and she obeyed him mechanically, leaving her lover standing by the mantel-piece powerless to stop her. Mr. Thompson led the way up the first flight of t stairs, a waiter threw open a door, and Anne found herself alone with her husband. "Now, perhaps, you will explain. This man— what is he doing here? By what right does he address you ?" he said. There was a tone of sharp- ness in his voice. He did not know I should be here. He wae coming home from the West to stop my marrying you. He thought he would be in time," said Anne, almost in the voice of a chidden child. But he is too late I You are my wife now. N. one can take you from me." The remembrance of the handsome young face below moved him to a touch of brutality. But I can't live with you now! Don't you see? I can't, oh, I can't! cried Anne. You are my- wife.. You are bound to live with me. You thought it possible half an hour ago, Nothing has changed since then." But I didn't know then! I thought he had left off caring for me. My mother knew. It was she who made me marry you," panted she. All her delicate colour had faded, even her lips were white, her eyes were full of terror. Oh, won't you be kind to me and let me go ?" To your lover ?" No, no I I will never see him again if you will only let me go." But don't you know I love you? Yes, as dearly as you love that man downstairs. Haven't you a little pity for me ?" Anne looked at him dully. His round florid face had not paled he looked as prosperous as ever. Love her ? Love was young, and strong, and comely, with ardent looks and melting tones. Her heart could not recognise him under this guise. I am sorry. It is not my fault. We have loved each other so long. Oh, if you will only be kind enough and let me go I" She came up close to him in her earnestness. Her hat had fallen off, he could see the little tendrils of hair curling round her tiny ears, the depth of her eyes darkened by coming tears. You ask too much," he said, with sudden anger; I love you, you are my wife, and very beautiful." He had both her hands in his now, and was draw- ing her nearer. Anne did not speak, only looked at him with a white face of ifcrrified repulsion. He could see the pulse in her throat beating furiously. You would not be the first wife who had lived down a fancy for another man and has been happy with her husband," he said slowly, and then the girl broke down into a storm of wild, hysterical weeping, cowering away from him with bent head. "My poor child I my dear girl I You are quite overdone," she heard his voice saying in quite a changed tone. Come and sit down and let us think what is for the best." She suffered him ta lead., her to, a couch, and sat down, burying her head in the pillows. Mr. Thompson was not accustomed to women, and her long-drawn, sobs .and the piteous heave of her shoulders went to his very heart. You ask me to let you go, Anne but what would you do then ? Would you go to your mother?" Oh, no, no I" I thought not. And as you bear my name, in common fairness to myself, I could not let you go out alone in the world." She said something incoherent between her sobs of wishing she were dead. For Heaven's sake, child, don't treat me as an enemy!" he said bitterly. Listen! You must share my home; there's no help for that; but in 0.]1 other respects I will leave you utterly free; only I ask you for your own sake not to see that man again." Through her own distress the sense of his generosity reached Anne's soul. You are very kind to me," she said faintly. I will think it out. I will see whether I can think of anything better but you must, give me time," he said. "I will let you know to-morrow. Perhaps you would like to go to your room now; the waiter might be coming up with the dinner." Anne complied, thankful to be alon?, and sent word by the maid that she did not want any dinner, so the bridegroom dined alone under the watchful eye of the waiter, who formed his own conclusions on the situation. Anne was lying on her bed, worn out with the emo- tions of the day, when, about nine o'clock, she heard a rap at the door, and her husband's voice asking if he might speak to her. She got up and went to him, looking at him with, eyes full of apprehension. "I am going out for a stroll and smok6, and I thought I would just come to see how you were." Oh, I am better, thank you," sivid Anne, quickly. He paused, looking at her with an expression she He paused, looking at her with an expression she could not interpret. Stoutness, a bald head, and a florid complexion cut one off from much comprehen- sion by one's fellows. Well, good-night, then," he said awkwardly. "Good-night," said Anne. He held out his hand, and she laid hers in it. He could feel the nervous twjtch in her slender fingers. I am going to think it over, you know. Good- night," he said once again, and turned away. He lighted a cigar, and, strolling along the shore, proceeded to think it over. ¡ What conclusions he came to can never be cer- tainly known, but the following paragraph appeared in the evening paper: I Fatal Accident to a Bridegroom.—A most lamentable occurrence took place at Narraganett last night. Mr. Richard Thompson, senior partner I in the well-known firm of Thompson, Goodrich, and Company, and who had just started on his wedding trip, was washed ashore a few hours after he had i left his hotel for a stroll. His body was discovered by some fishermen, and was easily identified by the papers in his pockets." It was nearly a year later before his bride-widow married Charlie Dacre. His voice and looks, when he had bidden her farewell at the door of her room, haunted her. It was absurd to suppose that a well- to-do merchant could carry love to such a height as to lay down his life to make a woman who did not love him happy, and yet-no! she dared not let herself believe it. Such a love would have demanded a life- long fidelity to its mere memory. So she married the man she loved, with whom she was happy enough; but the memory of her brief honeymoon never quite faded from her mind.
EXPLORING LAKE CHAD. The Paris Temps announces that Lakt Chad has been successfully explored by the Gentil expedition from the French Congo territory. M. Gentil, with M. Huntzbutler and a few other companions, left the French post on the Gribing, a tributary of the Shari, in a steamer, at the beginning of April last year. The expedition returned to its starting point at the begin- ning of December, after having explored the Shari as far as Lake Chad. M. Gentil concluded a treaty of commerce and protection, with the ultan of -Agirmi; and some envoys from that country, returned with the expedition for the purpose of visiting France. This embassy is headed by the Sultan's brother-in-law, Soleiman. The operations of the Gentil mission, which are of considerable importance, were confined to that part of Central Africa assigned to France as her sphere of political influence.
THE ACTUAL SITUATION IN CUBA. A RESIDENT'S INTERESTING RECITAL. A former German resident at Havana, who is in ilaily communication with his business' house there, jives the following as a truthful account of the situa- tion in Cuba (the Key West correspondent of the Daily News telegraphs): When I left, just before the declaration of war, goine4 had about 300 cavah-y and G»rcft» 200 intantcy directly under their command. Besides these there ivere scattered throughout the country east- of Havana from 5000 to 6000 insurgents. West from Havana in the Vuella Abjo district, scattered about in small bands of 20 to 60 men,* were ibout 700 or* 800 insurgents;' The ldst- niirried were badly armed and clothed, and had no provisions. Neither Gomoe 'nor Garcia: had any port in Cuba. On the other hand, Spain had a thoroughly equipped and acclimatised army of 120,000 men, 80,000 to 85,000 of them- Volunteers who had served seven years inctiba, and well drilled and armed. In addition she had 25,000 guerillas. These are men whose time-service has expired and who have re-enlisted. They are mostly cavalry. They know the country thoroughly, and act as. guides and scouts. I do not consider the Spanish have ever suffered a great defeat in Cuba. Gothez's pblicy has Seen marching and counter-marching to tire out the jnemy. Disease, not Gomez, has caused the casual- ties among Spaniards. The starvation stories ire nonsense. Here is a telegram from Havana tvhieh -JL received yesterday. It says We are all right. A country which can at any seapon of the year produce a crop of corn in 60 days cannot be jasily starved. Of course, there is always misery at- icading every war, but Havana can never be starved by a sea blockade. All the forts near Havana now mount the celebrated Spanish Hontario guns manned by experts. There is no lack of ammunition or arms. I am desirous of seeing a speedy-end to the war, and would pay half a million dollars to see it ended to- morrow. I give these facts so that the Americans, may know what they have to face. I favour annexa- tion, but not a Cuban Government. It would mean ruin to every industry and capital."
GENERAL LEE'S REPORT ON TIIE ISLAND. Major-General Fitzhugh Lee, late Conaul-General of the United States in Havana, has communicated some of. his personal observations and experiences to the Fortnightly Review. In 1896 he arrived in Havana tkrrport on the exact political and military conditions.existing in Cuba. He reported that-the island was gradually being reduced to a heap of islies, and its commerce extinguished. Without out- side interference he thought the war would continue for an indefinite time. Cuba is, in some respects, the most fertile spot on the face of the globe. But, during four centuries the, Spanish colonists have done little to develop the natural resources they have made no public roads and no canals. The few rail- roads in the island were built by English enterpriseand capital. Whence the enmity between the Spaniards and Cuba? About 1850 the Cubans, or Insular Spaniards," owned most of the property and,wealth in the island, but to-day the wealthy class of Cuba is ;he Peninsular Spaniard "—that is, of course, tlW Spaniard born in Spain. By means of a high tariff an all non-Spanish goods,'the inhabitants have been jriven to trade mainly with Spain, and the Spanish merchants at Bitrceloria. and other points naturally prefer to deal with Spaniards rather than Cubans. This economic change has accentuated the division, ilready wide enough, as nearly every person bora )n the island seems to be at once instilled with a dis- like for the Spaniards and their methods," and hence this last attempt to throw off the Spanish yoke. Spain has resisted the inevitable independence in variety of ways. Over 200,000 soldiers have been transported, at immense expense, nearly 4000 miles from their shores, but they have been badly handled, and located principally in the coast-cities and larger interior towns. Inadequately drilled, disciplined, and organised, badly paid, clothed, and fed, they soon become half-sick, listless men. Gomez, the rebel leader, "a grim, resolute, honest, conscientious, grizzled old veteran, now 75 years old," has astutely adopted the Fabian policy against Hannibal; he has played a waiting game, and avoided risking his small army of abotit.36,000 men in any fight that could be avoided. General Weyler's original policy was to build "trochas," or ditches, across the island from north to south, at oneor two points, hold them strongly with Spanish troops, and penning them into one divi- sion at a time, to capture. or kill the insurgents; a costly and ineffective plan that has now been aban- doned. Next, Weyler issued his famous reconcen- trado order," compelling old men, women, and children to come within Spanish lines, with the result that over 200,000 died from starvation. Despairing of terminating the war, the Canovas Ministry decided upon a new policy, that of allowing the Cubans more self-government; but the Cubans soon showed that they would not accept such reforms, so that the Sagasta Ministry decided on a still more liberal mea- sure, which they called Autonomy." By'this, also, the Cubans saw they were likely to gain little, as one of the proposed legislative chambers could be con- trolled by the Spaniards, and. behind this, lurked the veto of the Governor-General from Madrid. Blanco's Autopomistic government was rejected' alike by Spanish soldiers and merchants, the Cubans in arms, and the Cuban sympathisers, and had matters gone oTi without the intervention of the United States, it would have fallen tb pieces by desfiirtjops in, its pwn ranks." The, 'pe±t i>lail was to bribe the principal insurgent chiefs. The Spanish messengers bringing such proposals were put to death. Finally, all other measures having failed, it was decided to offer an indefinite armistice to the insurgents, and this also was refused. In this' state of affairs the United States could retain no longer from taking action in the Cuban problem. Commpn humanity, ties of commerce, the investments of her people, the geographical and strategical position of the island-all combine to give the United States a stake in the progressive, legal, and peaceful administration of Cuba. "Seventy-fivE j years ago," concludes Major-General Lee, Thomas Jefferson declared that the addition of Cuba to our' Confederacy is exactly what is wanted to bind out power as a nation to the point of its utmost interest. From that day to this the island has disturbed our statesmen, and played an important part in our foreign policy.
STARS AND STRIPES, In the village of Brington, not far from Northamp- ton, there lived, in the 17th century; the ancestors of1 George Washington, and on the tombs of two. of them, the great-grandfather and his brother, may be seen the coat-of-arms which now appears on the American flag. George Washington's grandfather 11 as Ing Sir John, having got into trouble clurirrg- the Civil War, went to America, and George Washington, being the first President of the U.S.A., adopted the family coat-of-arms for his country's
&R, GLADSTONE AND THE MEDICAL PROFESSION. Now that the great statesman has passed to his rest, everyone who can is trying to recall a story concerning him, and we may be excused, therefore, says the Medical Press and Circular, in quoting the opinions which some years ago he expressed regard* ing the medical profession. A statement was madet in a German professional work that Mr. Gladstone had prophesied--that doctors would become the leaded ,of the people, and this aroused the curiosity of gentleman in this country, who wrote to the then Prime Minister inquiring as to the truth of the alleged) statement. The following was Mr. Gladstone's reply So far as regards the exact words cited in your letter, I cannot say positively aye or no, and I rathec think that in using them I should have added some qualifying or limiting expressions. But it is certainly a fact that for a very .long time I hav believed the medical profession to be both in a state of absolute advance from the progress of its science- this, it may be said, is. mere commonplace—and ot relative advance from the:pa.rticular features attach", ing to our civilisation in its onward movement." Perhaps these generous sentiments were largely prompted by a feeling of indebtedness owing to thai benefits which he had derived from the skilled attend- ance of his medical advisers. It is generally known: that he placed implicit confidence in the. late Sir Andrew Clark, and that the latter: was most success* ful in the management of ithe distinguished patient* Again, it will be remembered that Mr. Gladstone fgw .years ago successfully underwent the operation for, extraction of senile cataract, and this would ) naturally afford him an additional reason for in- debtedness to a profession from which, during the later years of his life, be had derived many benefits. His was juabithe nature to recall the empiricism of medical practice in his early life and compare it wfth. the scientific precision and the vast improveiHenfr characterising the practice of modern medicine an surgery. Mr. Gladstone's prophecy above referred to is not likely to; become true in its entirety, for reasons which scarcely need demonstration. Never- theless", it is nothing more than the truth to observe that the recent past has shown a growing ascendancy in influence ancbpower of the medical piofession ia this country.
THE NEW MOSAIpS AT,jST. PAUL'S, It is no.w more than five years since Sir William Richmond began his almost herculean task of decorat- ing the great upper spaces of St. Paul's and of these only the clvoir and sanctuary are as-yet. (remarks a writer in the Leisure Hour) completed. Here we-find, among many other beautiful devices, the reproduction of the picture seen at the Royal Academy in 1895. Melchisedek blessing Abraham," a work full of solemn dignity and charm. Looking upwards from the floor of the cathedral, the first mosaics that meet the eye are the figures of the four Evangelists, occupying the spandrels above the four chief arches which intersect, the dome. These, however, are not the work of Sir William Richmond, but of Mr. G. F. Watts, Mr. Alfred Stevens, and Mr. W. E. F. Britten, and are executed in a method: wholly different from that followed ip-the work, now in progress. Thej are, in fact, mosaics of the modern Venetian sghoo £ in which the artist works at his picture from behind instead of in front-laying his cubes of colour on a thin screen on which the subject is outlined, then fixing these at the back in a matrix, which in its turn, has to be fixed to the wall and -finally removing the screen from. the surfack when the mosaic is safely in its., place. Sir William Richmond's method is,, precisely the opposite. He first prepares the surface of the wall by a layer of bricks of very firm and adhesive quality; over this he spreads a peculiarly hard-drying kind of putty, the manufacture of which is his own secret, and in this ground he sets the mosaics them- selves, working inch by inch upon the actual surface to be covered by the design. His contention is that the Venetian method, though" producing a much smoothQr surface and a more soft and mellow effect, well suited to a., Gothic building, is not bold and broad .enough for massive architecture like that of St. 'Paul's. He claims that the play of light on a rugged surface gives a more brilliant and striking result. Over this point the. controver- sialists are busy stilj. Two of the four great quarter domes, or concave space at the four corners where the central dome is intersected by the transepts, nave, and choir, aro n0w in themosaic-settera? hands. By the courtesy of Canon Scott Holland, who is watching the work with keen enthusiasm, the present writer was recently enabled to visit the crafts- men in their wonderful little workshops in mid-air, where, with the platform swaying und-ar their feet, and hardly room enough to spread out the artist's original coloured cartoons, which they are" faithfully copying on the roof above and around them, the in- telligent and willing toilers are daily at their task. Sir William cannot speak too highly of the little band of men whom he has personally trained thus to translate and execute his. designs. He says they have shown extraordinary quickness in applying what he has taught them, and the artistic spirit they have developed _has enabled them to modify his suggested colouring at their own discretion, according to the light in which each portion will appear. He has endeavoured to treat them as brother-artists and friends, and not one of them has yet left his service. He considers that we have in England both draughts- men and craftsmen as capable as any that the world can show.
TUB United States is the fifth naval Power in the world. The navies of Great Britain, France, Russia, and Itcly rank ahead in the order named. Germany and the United States are about equal. A STATISTICIAN computes that Queen Victoria is (Sovereign over one continent, 100 peninsulas, 500 promontories, 1000 lakes, 2000 rivers, and 10,000 islands. TIIIII latest Government census in India showed 6,016,759 girls between five and nme years of ago who were already married, of whom 17,000 had become widows. A PHONOGRAPH is being made for use at the Export- tion of 1900, which is expected to be of sufficient dimensions to be heard by 10.000 persons.