g:nnn!n!n?nnn!n!nnntnnns!n?nun!nnnHnnnnnnnnnnHn!n!nnHn!!n? SS ?Ai? Rie?T* Rttttv?Bj S? = a I FATAL FINGERS = ￼ By WILLIAM LE QUEUX, 5 = By WILLIAM LE QUEUX, a Author of The Money Spider," The Riddle of the Ring," &o. 5; /mIlII!JUIIllli Ii I ii I :Hnll HUUUH:1UI1: 1! IIUIJ:IIIIUilniiUIIH I :IIHIIIIIUUIIIIIU:1n; CHAPTER XVIII. (Continued). I THE MARBLE PACE. I The man concealed in the shadow regarded them idly; but suddenly it seemed as though in their backs he recognised some- thing familiar, for he bent forward, half- r ising from his seat, eager and uncertain. The pair had halted before the statue of the Earl of Ellersdale, and the girl was bending forward as she read the inscription. Then. looking up at it, she stood for a few moments quite motionless. The man was speaking—whispering rapid questions into her ear. But she neither re- sponded nor did she budge. It seemed as though the marble features of the illustrious deceased held her in strange fascination. Both their backs were turned to the silent, unseen watcher, and at that distafice in the falling gloom it had become difficult to dis- tinguish detail. He saw, however, that the man placed his hand upon the girl's arm, and, pointing up- wards, asked her something. She replied, "whereupon the man slowly nodded. Then the girl, suddenly turning her face from the life-like sculptured features, ad- dressed come quick questions to her com- panion. to which he made reply. For a few moments the pair. stood, their backs still turned, both their faces raised in eagerness to tl'3 marble effigy standing forth whit-c and ghostly in the dim, religious gloom. 0 The quick action of "Old Chestnut" was curious. He had swiftly withdrawn deeper -into the shadow beside the door, back into a niche near an old sixteenth century tomb, where he had hoped to escape observation. Sight of the strangers had startled him. His thin lips were pressed together as he stood staring at them, almost terrified, for they had both turned to retrace their steps slowly to the door. Then he turned his back, and became interested in the crumbling old tomb. His suspicions had become confirmed. He stood aghast. The serious, earnest girl who had been there to inspect the statue of the late Earl of EUersdale so closely was none other than Maidee Lambton, while her companion was Detective-Inspector Medland The pair. walking together and conversing in low whispers, passed close by the pale- faced. anxious old man, who in the gloom had his back still turned to them, and then went out again into the noise and bustle of Parliament Square. And the weird and silent watcher, gazing at the closed door after they had disap- peared. stood with a look of abject terror upon his white, haggard countenance. "Then my secret is out!" he whispered hoarsely to himself. "They know the truth I" CHAPTER XIX. MORE ABOUT JOHN AMBROSE. Just after seven o'clock that evening the man Tulloch re-appeared unexpectedly at Bruton Street. He had been down at Brighton for the past few days, he told Gordon, as he stood with him in that dim Oriental room. He had telephoned to him at the House, and the young man had rushed home. Well?" he inquired, "have you dis- covered anything, Tulluch? "Not yet." Gordon sighed disappointedly. This man of secrets constantly appeared and dis- appeared, yet his story was ever the same. He could discover nothing concerning the strange threat—or its author. "Every day increases my peril, Tulloch," declared the young man, glancing to see if the door were closed. "Only last night Maidee was asking me why, now that I am right again, I do not put the question in the House." "Don't," urged his visitor, glancing at him narrowly. "I somehow don't like that mysterious note you received. Whoever wrote it means mischief." "Neither do 1. We're fighting in the dark." "That's just it," remarked Tulloch. "And another contretemps has happened. Yester- day while walking along the King's Itoad at Brighton I met a man who recognised me. Like you, he believed me to be dead. My appearance caused him a terrible shock, I can tell vou. And-" "And what?" "Well. There are reasons, Gordon, why I should leave the country at once. I expect by this time lie has gone to the police and told them an amazing story of a dead man being alive." beip,g ,ave the country-and leave me?" gapped the young man in dismay. "I'm sorry that I must. I'm compelled to go as soon as ever I can, for—well, the fact is the little affair is so serious that I'm un- able to stay and face the music. Therefore I shall go back again—to my tomb in Italy." "But without you, Tulloch, I can do nothing. Ruin—nay, death-slares me in the face! Somebody knows my secret, and should be silenced—by fair means or by foul." The elder man, smart and spruce as usual, slowly nodded. Then he said: "To save myself I must fly. As you know, I haven't exactly a clean sheet," he laughed a trifle nervously. "I sailed near the wind in the City once or twice, and some people han-ell, t forgotten it." "And how do you manage to live now, Tulloch?" asked his friend. "Well," he hesitated; "in a certain set on, the Continent there are various ways of' earning a living which, if not cxactly honest, are scarcely criminal. One meets many pigeons to pluck in Paris, Vienna, or Rome." "Yours is not exactly an exemplary life, Tulloch, is it?" remarked Gordon. "Have a cigar ? The other man took the weed offered him and lit it, while the young man lying back upon a lounge wondered how he should act. "Well, Tulloch, what shall I do?" he asked at length, "suggest something." "I could suggest lots, if it were not for Maidee. She's the most difficult problem," said Tulloch. "While you don't put that question she will still remain suspicious that you are in possession of some facts which ought to be revealed." "You compelled me to put the query to the Home Secretary." "Yes, I did. I admit that I made a great mistake. Yet had you not put the question, the consequences might have been much worse," he said slowly. "How?" asked the young man instantly. 8C1 don't follow you." "I merely say that by putting the ques- tion you misled certain other people who were ready to think evil of you, Gordon. So congratulate yourself that though I may lave acted foolishly in compelling you to demand the truth from Scotland Yard, yet by so doing you saved yourself." "But I have not saved myself. Remem- ber that threat! he cried. "While you do not repeat the question, the mysterious person who threatened will say nothing." "Why ? < "Ah! that I can't tell, my dear fellow. It Is the motive' I've been trying to discover. If I found that, the rest would have been quite easy. The worst is, however, that I have to clear out of the country in order to save myself." "When do you go?" "As soon as ever I can. If there is any inquiry for me after I have gone, tell Newton not to admit that I have ever visited you. I am dead as far as you know—under- stand? "Quite," replied Gordon, with failing heart. While he had this clever, unscrupu- lous man at his hide, he somehow felt pro- tected from his enemies. But now he would be left to fight alone. Tulloch had not sat down, for he was in a hurry. He stood near the fire, smoking the excellent cigar, his eyes fixed upon the young man before him. Then at last he put forth his hand, say- ing: "Well, my dear boy, I must wish you au revoir. When the coast is clear I shall turn up again—never fear." "I may be dead," remarked Gordon in a half-whisper. "Dead-rot! "I can't endure this suspense much longer, Tulloch," he said in a low, hoarse voice. "You say Maidee suspects?". "Pair, and go abroad for a month or so. Plead illness and you'll get a respite from Maidee. Act with caution, and at the same time remain bold. Don't go about wearing that wretched, worried look. It will give you away, if you're not careful. Chin-chin, my bov-and the best of good luck." Then he gripped the young man's hand and went forth, leaving him seated motion- less in despair. As he passed from Bruton Street into Piccadilly Don Mario Mellini joined him, and together they walked westward along by -the park railings, deep in earnest conversa- tion. At nine o'clock Maidee, pleading a head- ache, had gone to her room, but instead of retiring had hastily exchanged her black dinner-gown for a dark stuff dress, and was in the act of tying her veil prior to going forth upon one of those clandestine excur- sions to "Uncle John," when Rayner, her discreet maid, knocked lightly and entered with a note. I "This has just come by boy-mesenger, miss," she said as she handed Maidee the note. "He said there was no answer." The girl took it, and in an instant recog- nised the handwriting of the superscription. Tearing it open with trembling fingers she read it, and then stood aghast. Her hands fell limply by her side, and she stared straight before her. "I hope nothing is wrong, miss," the maid said, alarmed at the sudden change in her. "Oil, no! Rayner," Maidee managed to say, "nothing at all—at least, really no- thing," and she tried to smile. But it was a sorry attempt. The news had utterly crushed her. She had just been about to go to Uncle Joilii and put to him a few pointed ques- tions questions arising out of certain etrange things which Medland had told he: that afternoon—when this note informed he: that he had been suddenly called away int- the country for a short time. "I will let you know where I am, a: Boon as I have a permanent address," hi wrote. In tho meantime bo wary an watchful. Remember our compact. Act ing together, we must discover the truth Though absent, I shall have constant new, of you through a third party. All gooC, wishes, and hoping soon to see you again —Your UNCLE JOHN." When the maid had gone out to attend to Lady Ravenscourt the girl sank into a chair and sat wondering. Some curious questions she had beer wnxious to put to the old man. Yet at the very moment when she was about to visit him he had been called away. Tliat day had, indeed, been an eventfui one for Maidee. What the detective had hinted had astounded her. Again her sus- picions had been aroused, and at eight Vclock she had telephoned to Gordon to call at once, as she wished to consult him. But Newton replied that his master had left for Reading, where, he had to deliver a politicaJ !peech that evening. As for old John Ambrose, he returned from Bruton Street about half-^ast seven to Wansey Street, and, having- ascertained that his landlady was in the basement he slipped in unobserved by means of his latch- key. Standing before the glass overmantel in the shabby sitting-room he rapid-ly trans- formed his features by removing various marks and adding others. Then he threw off his overcoat, and ascending to his bed- room exchanged his clothes for a suit of dark blue serge, the pea-jacket of which gave him almost a nautical appearance. As the reader may have guessed, it was Ve who, decrepit and shabby, had lingered in Westminster Abbey for so many hours— Ae who was known to the vergers as "Old Chestnut." Aboiat eix o'clock he had returned and, entering unobserved by the front door, as was his habit, changed his clothes, and in a few minutes had gone forth again as Mr. Tulloch. His change of garb never troubled him much, for the majority of landladies put his various modes of dress down to his eccentricity. When they became curious, he simply moved to other apartments. In that one day he had played three roles, and played them with such success that, as in his narrow bedroom he once again becaihe John Ambrose, he chuckled to hi &elf tn triumph. "It was fortunate that I went to the Abbey to-day—very fortunate. Or I might have remained here and been faced by tho girl-which would have been decidedly awk- ward Then, with a self-satisfied grin upon his face, the crafty old fellow busied himself in gathering up his small belongings and throwing them into an old and battered travelling trunk. From his sitting-room he got an armful of books and other things and carried them ul-wt-a Irs, afterwards care- fully collecting his various clothes, which he placed on top, and locked the lid. Afterwards he wrote upon a luggage label "John Ambrose, Totnes Station, G.W.R. To be called for," and tied it upon the handle. In a small hand-bag he plaoed his false white beard, his spectacles, and a few other mysteries of his disguises, while from beneath the carpet in his bedroom, near tho window, he took a flat envelope filled with English bank-notes. Then he descended to his sittiBg-room, called his landlady, paid her a month's rent, which greatly pleased the good woman, and, asked her to give the box over to a railway carman on the morrow. "I'm called away on business suddenly," he explained to her. "I only knew an hour ago. Probably I shall be back in April, and if so I shall return to yon." When she had gone he paced the room several times. There was nothing more to be done. He bad already ,written to Maidee. He had only now to make good his escape. So, shouting farewell to the woman, who had returned to the regions below, he put I on a thick dark grey ulster, &hd left th: house with his hand-bag, -walking to the corner of the Walworth Road, where he J hailed a passing. cab, in which he drove a.way. & l'A few hours!" he exclaimed, speaking to himself, "will carry me into safety. I've had a narrow squeak of it-a devilish narrow squeak. And even now it will re- quire all my wits if I am to avoid exposure. But for the present, I am surely quite safe." And he .laughed again in complete satis- faction. He, however, was in ignorance that ever since seven o'clock, in that deep doorway opposite the house in Wansey Street, the dark figure of a. man had been lurking, wary and vigilant, as he had watched before, or that on his emerging the man, with evil in his deep-set eyes, had stolen ewiftly after him and entered a taxi-cab waiting round the corner. And that taxi was now slowly following the four-wheeler in which the fugitive eat. CHAPTER XX. I REVEALS TREACHERY. I Having crossed Westminster Bridge and traversed Victoria Street, the cab halted at the Brighton Station at Victoria, where old Ambrose alighted, his small bag in hand. Hardly had he paid the driver when a taxi drew up a little distance away, and a thin, wiry, elderly man with deep-set eytes and a yellow complexion, and dressed in dark clothes, got out and walked into the booking-hall, closely following John Am- brose. It was Don Mario Mellini-the friend of the dead Richard Goodrick. Ambrose went to the booking-office and obtained a second-class ticket to Hay ward's Heath. Afterwards he made inquiry regard- ing the trains, and finding he had half-an- hour to wait he bought an evening paper and stood near the cloak-room leisurely reading it. At some distance away'the man who was watching while pretending to be interested in the bookstall, kept his quarry under strict observation, having tlrcady ascer- tained which ttttin he was about to take and his destination. As usual, there was much noise, bustle, and confusion, for trains were- arriving and departing every few minutes, and in order to avoid the stream of peoplo old Ambrose moved (further towards the refreshment-room. Of a sudden he apparently made up -his mind to enter there and wait, so he turned and disappeared within the door. Swift as lightning the mysterious watcher hurried across and looked into the bar. But Ambrose was not there! The man entered and looked around, utterly confounded. Not until a few minutes later did- he realise that the cunning old gentleman had played a trick upon him. He had entered the next door leading into the Grosvenor Hotel, passed through the hall and out 4nto the darkness of the Grosvenor Road. Ere the man who had been keeping such strict observation could realise the truth, th? old fellow had crossed the road and waa lost in the night. N Not before three minutes had elapsed did the priest enter the hotel breathlessly, and make inquiry of the hall porter. "Yes," replied the latter, "an old gentle- man walkei tllrou-Ii a minute or two ago. • He isn't stopping at the hotel, I think." "Perhaps he took a cab outside," said the yellow-faced man. But the outside porter declared that he had not. The old fellow, carrying, his. bag, had simply walked out in the direction of Buckingham Palace Road. The priest was beside himself with chagrin, for the action of Ambrose told him that he had suspected the presence of a watcher. For half-an-hour he continued to make inquiries, and ho was present when the train left for Hayward's Heath. When it moved out without the old man h3 cried aloud in Italian: "Madonna mia! I ought to have known that it was only a ruse—that the old black- guard is as artful as Satan himself!" Truth to toll, however, old Ambrose was quite unaware of being watched. He had simply adopted that course in order that, if anybody should discover him, they would be thrown off the scent. He was far- too wary to go straight into hiding and thus leave a trail behind. So he had just slipped through the hotel and down the steps. Th-sn crossing the road sv/iftly he had gape up Ebury Street, and walking until he found a. taxi, had driven to Liverpool Street Station, arriving there at about a quarter to nine. There he bought a first-class ticket to Brussels, and, entering the Continental train, got safely away down to Parkcston. The night was dark and wet, with the wind howling dismally, when lie, with a email crowd of follow-passengers, stapp-ed upon the quay and made his way towards the Antwerp boat lying alongside. One by one the passengers for the Conti net went up the gangway, and Ambrose, without fear of recognition, gained the steamer's deck, and at once sought the steward for a berth. He was unaware that a" dark-eyed man, dressed in semi-nautical uniform,, standing near the gangway, was watching, as he does every night, each departing passenger as he or she came up from the quay beneath the glare of the electric lamp on .j!eck. And he, the port-watcher of the police, suddenly be- came interested in the old fellow. He left his coign of vantage, and strolling across the deck rn.unagcd to get a good look at his prominent, clean-shaven features. "Isn't M enough," lie remarked to him- self, "and yet the description tallies." Then he turned and made his way quickly ashore and to the telephone. Without much delay he was on to London, asking for in- structions. But what he received was apparently not very definite, for presently he hung up the receiver, and on coming out of the telephone-box walked across to his own little office, which lie unlocked. Then switching on the light he drew out a large photograph album, in which were preserved portraits of many hundreds of persons who had absconded and were wanted by the police in various towns in England for all sorts of offences, from the non-payment of income-tax to murder. He ran rapidly through them, but found nothing which tallied with the person he suspected- For a few moments he stood puzzled. Out- side, the mails and luggage were be1) car- ried on board, and in ten minutfcs the steamer would leave. So again he returned on board; and ob- tained another good look at the fugitive, who, however, displayed no sign of anxiety. Indeed, he was standing in the salopn taping a glass of whisky and soda and changing a ifve-pound note with the steward into Bel- gian money. The detective went up to the steward and ordered a drink. Then, while taking it, he remarked to Ambrose: "Rather rough night outside, I'm afraid." "I believe so," replied the old man, speak- ing with a very pronounced Italian accent. "But these steamers are very good sea- boats." The man in semi-nautical attire drained his glass, and, wishing the traveller good night, ascended to the deck again, cursing himself as a fool. "The man wanted is an Englishman— whereas he is a foreigner," he said aloud to himself as he walked towards the gangway. "And yet there is a likeness, I'm sure—a very striking likeness. I recollect now that [ left the photograph in my other pocket at home. I was wearing my grey coat this morning when I received it from London." He stood on deck undecided. There was no time for him to go to his home over in Harwicn. Again, the fact that the man he suspected was a foreigner was not convinc- ing. The siren shrieked, announcing the sailing of the ship. Porters and others were going ashore, and the men were ready to withdraw the gangway and cast off. (To W Continued).
?nnnHn!!HHnHnn!HHnnHHnnnnHHn!Hnnn?nn!HnH!Hn!n!nnnHH!Hnnnn!!nnnHnnnn!Hnn!!n? ￼ I S WEEK IN THE GARDEN. | E ir? = "God Almighty first planted a garden: and indeed it is the 3' æ purest of human pleasures.Bacon. æ liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiillillilliflifill III I iiii I I I i III., I III, I I III! I I i iiii liiiiiiii I'llillF-r- Forsythia.—Later flowering of this b) about three weeks has delayed pruning. Flowers are borne Ðn the twigs of the pre- vious season, therefore fairly hard pruning is desirable to encourage strong, new growths. Mulching with manure will also assist the development of vigorous shoots. Thinning Per-ennials.- -Thin the young shoots of many hardy herbaceous plants now. Notable examples are delphiniums, Michaelmas daisies, heiianthus, heleniums, and phlox. *■ < < Tomatoes in Boxes.—Tomatoes are equally suitable for culture in boxes. as in pots. Plants will soon be t requiring their final shift. The best-,sized box to use is one 24in. long, 9in. wide, and 9in. deep, with wobd lin. thick for the sides and ends, and fin. for the bottom. Pierce drainage holes in the bottom, but instead of using crocks for 1 draining purposes, use freshly-cut turves which will fit in the bottom of the box. On top of the turf place a layer of roughly- chopped turfy loam and then on the top of this the soil for receiving the plants, which may consist of three parts of good loam, one part of leaf-soil, one part of wood a-shes, some powdered bricks, and a little sand. Plant strong and sturdy plants with bloom trusses—trusses showing low down on the plants if possible. Plants boxed now may be stood out of doors at the end of May. Above all plant firmly. • • The Kaffir Lily.—This is one of the best hardy plants for late autumn and early winter flowering. The weather may be treacherous to the blooms at this season, and in selecting a position for present plant- ing, choose a sheltered border facing south or west. The flowers are scarlet. The bulbs or corms increase by offsets, and can be readily divided now. Ordinary loamy gar- den soil is suitable. » Hollyhock.—Most hardy flower lovers raise a few hollyhocks from seeds each year. Generally, seedlings are much more vigor- ous, and withstand the ravages of disease better, than plants increased by division and cuttings. The hollyhock is onp of the few double flowers which come true, produc- ing no sidles; single-flowered plants also come true from seeds, and are equally beau- tiful in the garden. Sow the seeds now on a border outside. 8* Ilceinc,Hoe between all bushes and be- neath trees when the surface soil is dry. This i* nece-ssary not only for the destruc- tion of weeds, but also for retaining moisture in the land. The same work will be needed between the rows of raspberrit's and loganberries, to be followed where pos- sible with a mulching of good manure. < < Late-Planted Fruit Trees.—The excessive and long-continued rainfall which has been experienced for the last few months has hampered considerably the work required on spring-planting fruit trees, with the result that a great deal of late planting will have had to be done. These trees should now be mulched, and in this way nourishment will be given to the soil and the moisture near the n roots be conserved. Where sites on which these trees are planted have been pro. perly prepared, no further nourishment need be gnen just now, so that manure need not be used. Should a dry period come along, an application made now of short litter, long grass, leaves, or lawn mowings, will help to maintain the necessary moisture. The application will also lessen the need for frequent atering when watering is needed. In order to encourage late-planted trees, syringe the branches frequently with clear water. This will eifable the trees to get a firm root-hold upon the soil. Manuring Fruit Trees.—Where trees have from any reason become enfeebled it may be wise at this season to apply stimulating manures to assist growth. Sulphate of am- monia is probably the best of those known as artificials. This or nitrate of soda can be given at the rate of one ounce per yard as far as the branches extend. Liquid manure given in weekly applications for about a month will do much good. it Vegetable Marrows.—Seeds of any variety may now be sown in the open garden. Do not lay them flat on the soil, but push in about an inch below the surface. Put three seeds in one place and cover them with a glas6 jar. < < Cucumbers in Frames.—From now on- wards a good healthy cucumber plant may be. planted upon raised heaps of any good porous soil. It will be very advantageous to add one-third of nearly fresh horse manure. Runner Beans.—Plants raised in boxes and now in cold frames should be stood in the open air for a few days previous to planting out, taking the box under cover whenever the thermomenter falls unusually low, or covering with a little straw. Early Potatoes.—Where sprouted sets were planted in exceptionally favourable positions, the tops will now be pushing through the soil. Do not be in a hurry to cover these. Thia only retards growth. Keep a plentiful supply of light material on hand to be used as a covering if necessary. Asparagus.— Where no manure has been applied to the surface of beds of this, now throwing up shoots freely, give a thorough drenching with liquid manure. Nothing in this way fails to benefit well-established beds. A dressing of salt will be beneficial. < Value of Soot for Onions.—Soot is of great assistance to onions, and occasional dustings during showery weather will have a marked effect. Be sure the soot is old, however, or the plants will be burnt. It may also be applied in dry weather, when it should be hoed in lightly. Frequent hoeing will assist growth even if no soot is available it keeps down weeds also.
EDIBLE TABLE PECO B ATI ONS* Utility is the keynote of modern life, and -the very latest thing in table decorat ions are crystallised flowers, which, having delighted the eye throughout the principal part of a meal, may delight the palate also as dessert. Crystallised rose-petals and violets have been highly popular table delicacies for some time; but the creators have gone further, and the up-to-date confectionery bouquet in- cludes tiger-lilies, iris, mimosa, crimson ramblers, and white violets. The method of preparation is simple enouoph-at. any rate, in theory. The real flower, freshly cut and fragrant, is dipped into boiling syrup and crystallised. As the flowers are preserved whole, they can be made into bouquets and sprays, and make charming table decorations, arranged in silver flower-holders.
FL UPPERS. There are many ways of earning a living, and one of the latest is that of "flupping." A "flupper" is one who secures a good place in the pit or gallery queue at a theatre where a big "hit" has been scored, and then sells it on what is known as the "q.t." to some late arrival, who is only too willing to pay extra for the privilege of a front-row seat. Sometimes the "flupper" will make half-a-crown, but more often it is eighteen- pence or a shilling; while, often, of course.. his enterprise is abortive, and then the "flupper" must flap foodless home. Taken as a, whole, the gentle art of "flup- ping" provides but a precarious existence; but, sometimes tried Suppers get actual orders to wait beforehand at a shilling for the first hour and eighteenpence each hour afterwards. Then they have only to wait for the man they call their "spouse," and draw their pay. ■ I ,L.. ■
?ilininiffif filiffilillifillilillililli g?ll I III I 1 THE POULTRY YARD. I ê THE POULTRY YARD. Hei'pful Hints for Back7arders. By -1 COCKC90W."? 7;Z ? Hdpfu! Hints for "Backyarders." By "COCKCROW." M ?!nn!!nnnnnuHn!n!HUHt!n!!n<nnn!nn!HH!HnHnnH!nH!!nH!!Hn!HHH!n!nS The importance of having healthy birds and keeping them healthy cannot be over- estimated. It is a matter which is, un- fortunately, treated much too lightly by amateurs and beginners. No profits will be made out of poultry unless the fowls are ma-intained in good health and fitness. C3 fowls are of no use to anybody. Unless the stock is healthy poultry-keeping will be a very expensive business. In this connection it is as well to remember the' old adage, "Prevention is better than cure." Better see that the fowls are kept under proper conditions a,nd so kept in health than to spend money in trying to cure them after they have caught one or other of tl\e numerous ills to which poultry flesh, is heir. Even with the best possible care there lliay be trouble sometimes, but the danger can be greatly lessened by the observance of ordinary precautions. w Mil; I CLEANLINESS SKRST. One of the great essentials if birds are to be kept healthy is cleanliness. The birds themselves must be kept scrupulously clean; and thtt can be ensured only if the places in wlMIth they live are kept clean also. Every ijtensil and article used by the birds must be kept perfectly clem, Feeding- troughs and drinking vessels must be VIO- roughly washed very frequently with hot water to which a little disinfectant has been added. The perches must be treated simi- larly, and to these at frequent intervals apply a little paraffin oil. This helps to keep away that most horrible of pests, the red mite. Do not allow the birds' guano to accumulate in the houses and runs. If you use dropping boards (and these are very good), it is a good plan to sprinkle them with dry earth. When it comes to the cleaning operations the boards are then much more easily cleaned. If, however, dropping boards are not used, the floor must be swept regularly and the earth turned over. Fresh soil, which smells sweeter, is then brought to the surface. The nest-boxes should not be fixtures, for these are favourite breeding places for vermin. Fresh material in the boxes should be sup- plied as often as possible and given a good dusting with a reliaMe insect powder. The whole of the interior of the houses and runs and their contents require lime-wishing not less than three times every year. To the wash may be added a few drops of carbolic solution and a handful of common salt. THE OVERCROWDING EVIL. I Overcrowding is a fruitful cause of the illnesses and diseases from which poultry suffer. This is an evil that is most common, and yet it is one of the most dangerous. If twenty people are compelled to live in one small room some illness is bound to re- sult. The same applies t(. poultry. If you allow a score of birds to inhabit a house in which there is room for only half that nura- but you must expect some ill-result. The novice is the chief offender in the overcrowd- ing evil Let;Ilse-lbt us charitably a-ssun2- he knows no better. He gets his house for roosting purposes only, and allows his purse to say how many birds he will keep. This is wrong. The size of 'the house should de- termine this. It is usual to allow 10 cubic feet of space for every bird. So that if your house is, say, 120 cubic feet, you have room for i twelve birds. Don't overcrowd. It is the greatest evil imaginable. Far better to keep only ten in a House that will contain twelve than to over-stock it. FEEDING—THE HAPPY MEAN. ¡ Then there is the feeding problem. It is Important, of course, that the fowls should have enough to eat, but I rather think, so far as novices are concerned, at any rate, that over-feeding is a commoner fault than under-feeding. And over-feeding is as bad for fowls as it is for human beings. We have to strike the happy medium. A bird wrongly fed quickly falls a victim to dis- ease. If under-fed she gets thin, and too weak to lay. It is a good thing, if possible, to allow the birds freedom to roam over nrrass land. There they can augment their rations by picking up tit-bits, which they greatly relish. Birds that are fed too much get fat, lazy, and unproductive fIB far as eggs are concerned. Their digestive organs are heavily taxed, and thus the physical condition of the bird is lowered very much. Keep your birds keen and active. Give them just enough food to keep them hungry. A little more than a half-handful per bird Ls usually considered the ration per meal. I Keep them active, for exercise is one of the most essential things if you want the birds to maintain good health. I ECONOMICAL FEEDING. tkhe high prices of poultry feeds are attracting attention of breeders, aud it be- hoves all who wish to avoid an adverse balance to study a wise economy in every I direction. No fowl can be profitably kept on less than 4?d. per week (says the "Daily Telegraph"), whilst during the present season it often costs more, which on a score of birds is worth careful consideration. Soft, spongy foods made bulky by the addition of clover meal wonderfully economise the food bill, and give nutrition Such soft mash will produce heat, flesh, fat, bone, muscle, and feather for poultry. Sussex clover meal from chalky soil is invaluable for breeding pens, as it ensures fertile and strong-6helled eggs and vigorous chickens, whilst as a sub- stitute for green food it has no equal. Waste vegetables boiled can with advantage be mixed in the morning mash. Too often waste crusts and various household scraps are consigned to the dustbin, whereas if mixed off with bran and sharps and other low-priced wheat offal, they become a valu- able element in the production of eggs. It is generally found that a laying hen in con- finement requires about loz. of food to every lib. weight, so that non-sitters will suffice with about 4oz. of food (dry and soft) per day, whilst heavy breeds naturally- require more. The more active a fowl may be the more food she will require in proportion to her weight. The evening feed of oats, wheat, or maize, given alternately, may be econo- mised by being kibbled and buried in loose litter, and when soaked for a day or so and well rubbed in middlings it provides an agreeable change.
At Canterbury Cathedral three thousand Boy Scouts attended a memorial service to ] 600 of their comrades who have been killed in the war. Field-Marslhal Lord Methuen, Governor and Commander-in-Chief of Malta, expects to Jeave for England. at any moment. General Plumer, who succeeds him, will arrive in. June.
f ^lfllli!nmiiUl!ll!!II!iiilllHllimil!I!lllll £ I FOOTBALL NOTES = 1- I = By "WANDERER." 1 siliiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiE i The match at Goodison Park was good foot- ball from start to finish, and, for the most )art it Was very typical football. Personally, i thought the game was over when Scot- land got two goals to the good quite early in the fight, especially in view of the fact that the Scottish forwards were playing de- lightful close football, which seemed to have our defenders guessing most of the time. And England would have been beaten, too, if her own front-rank men had not changed their tactics. For the first half hour the English attack seemed to think it abso- lutely necessary to beat the Scots at their own gamo--short passing. But. bless me, it can't be done. Fortunately, our men realised it in time, and by a change of tac- tics pulled the game out of the fire, and, indeed, came desperately near to winning. I THE MAN OF THE MATCH. Some reputations were enhanc.edby the match. but there were one or two men on the England side whose play was so mode- rate that I was rather surprised to find that the whole eleven had been chosen en bloc for the return game. The man of the match from the English point of view was un- doubtedly Turnbull, the outside right foi Bradford, about whom I had something tc say last week. This week I could say a lot more, for Turnbull certainly played with all the confidence of a Jock Simpson, and it was he who scored the first goal for England after the Scots had put up two. For the position of outside right Turnbull will cer- tainly do to go on with, for he slipped along the- wing and centred with fine judgment and accuracy, and really considering all the circumstances made about a.s successful a I big match debut as I can remember. I FORWARD DOUBTS AND FEARS. In using the phrase "under all the circum- stances," I am remembering that TurnbuU did not get nearly so much support as an outside man is entitled to have. Shea, at inside right, seemed for quite a long time to be absolutely ignorant that he had a -partner at all; while the half-back Fleetwood did not push the ball along to the man in front of him nearly so often as he might have done. For this reason I am rather surprised that Shea and Fleetwood should be retained a place in the England eleven. It took Puddefoot a long time to settle down, but he rather redeemed himself with a very fine goal in the second half. Smith was himself, but Martin wasn't, and at half- back Grimsdell justified the confidence the selectors, and McCall was fine. BY THE WAY. At the International match at Goodison Park there were around 45,000 spectators. At the Final Tie for the Scottish Victory Cup between St. Mirren and the Hearts, there were 70,000 onlookers. We in Eng- land are still a long way behind the Scots in our football enthusiasm. A word of warning seems to be due to I some clubs. During May a lot of friendly games will be played, but if the clubs en- tice spectators to these games it is surely up to them to play something like reure- I etentative teams. 1'
Six old boys of the Kent County Indus. trial School at Kingsoiorth, Ashford, have Von commissions during the war, two re- ceived the Military Medal, three the Dis- tinguished Conduct' Medal, and three were mentioned in despatches. I