4 I (U) [ALL RIGHTS RZSXRVID.] I THE MAN HUNT ? I Nil By TOM GALLON, 1(11 XA Author of "Tatterley," "The Great Gay Road," &c. A\ CHAPTER XII (Continued). A CONFESSION. Heatied this scrap of paper into hie hand- kerchief, and then, with much labour, dragged himself again to the window, and -held out his hand to the dog. "earer, old chap, nearer," he pleaded. "I can't reach you. But he reached him at last, and carefully fastened the handkerchief round the dog's neck. It took a long time, for Manners was weak and the little animal restless; but at last the thing was done, and knotted se- curely. And now came the supreme test. Often and often on those Sunday morning jaunts Manners, with the masterful feeling of the man who will always be obeyed in the slightest things, had trained the dog to obey his lightest wish, and to leave him at a moment's notice and go home. Often and often it had wrung his heart to do it, and to eee the little animal, with ears pricked and wistful eyes, watching him, and yet obliged to turn away and leave him. Manners had little thought then how some day this might serve him. Gripping the bars now, he drew himself up painfully, and with what strength was left to him speke with sternness to the (lcg, "Home, Rags, home!" he cried. The dog sprang up, and with the instinct of obedience ran a few yards away, and then stopped, looking back. Once again Manners, with his face close to the bars, called out that order: "Home, Rags, home!" This time the dog turned, and set off at a great rate across the grounds, not making for the house, but for the open country uor did he look back. Manners laughed softly, and let go the bars and dropped back and fainted. Meanwhile, a very unhappy man was pacing up and down Manners's rooms in Bloomsbury; that man was Erasmus Jar- man. Ordinarily the healthiest and sanest of men, he had been driven almost to dis- traction during the latter half of the pre- vious day and the night that had gone be- fore and the day that had followed that, by reason of the fact that he had heard nothing ol Robert Marsh—that mysterious man who had set out to find a young girl, who had called to see him and had been repulsed by Jarman. A deadly fear had come upon Jarman that he had offended that strange man with the clean-shaven face that was so like the face of the long-dead Arthur Manners; he could not rest or sleep for thinking of that possibility. Often and often during those hours he would think he heard a sound out- bide on the staircase, and would hurry to the hall door and open it, and would go out to listen. But nothing happened, and the big man had at last worked himself into a very fever of anxiety. For, of course, it must be remembered that Jarman was working entirely in the dark, save for the one faint clue he thought he had concerning the identity of the man who called himself Robert Marsh. For the rest, the man Murdoch Slade and the little pretty girl in black were but mere shadows, signify- ing nothing to him. So that now when Robert Marsh was gone, Jarman did not know what to do, nor where to search for I him. It was towards the evening of the day fol- lowing Robert Marsh's disappearance that Jarman went out for the last time, as he told himself, into the little hall, and stood there listening. Surely there was a sound at last, though scarcely the one he had expected. A faint sniffing sound against the bottom of the door, and then the short, sharp bark of a dog. Surprised, Jarman opened the door, and looked out. There, crouched against the wall, was a small and very dirty rough-haired terrier. It had evidently been running for miles, and was exhausted its tongue Ü was lolling out, and it seemed scarcely able to keep on its I icg3. Jarman stooped to touch it, and it drew back from him suspiciously. He was about to close the door upon it, when a thought leapt into his mind and he stood 6taring at the dog, with his breath coming and going fast. The dead Rodney Manners had had a dog, which lie had bequeathed to the girl he was to have married With a jerk Jarman pulled the door open, and snapped his fingers to the small animal, in token that it might come in; Rags slipped past him, made straight for the hearthrug in the sitting-room, and lay down. Jarman shut the outer door, and got some water and food, and fed the little crea- ture. And all the time puzzled his head to know what this nctv thit.g meant. The dog had finished his meal, and was lying with his chin on his paws, regarding Jarman with bright eyes, when the man noticed that the animal's neck was curiously muffled up with something tied about it. He stooped and looked at this, and saw at last it was a handkerchief, knotted closely about the dog's neck. For a long time Rags would not let him touch it; but at last, by dint of much coaxing, he munched to get it unfas- tened, and took it to the taMe to examine it. He found that it was knotted in two other places and, unfastening these, discovered the note twisted tightly in the folds of it. He took out the scrap of paper, and read it eagerly understood at last dimly what it meant. And as he read the note, startling though it was, h, almost cried aloud for joy at a new discovery. For in that moment of faintness the irr;ir who had written it had told the truth, and had signed it in a long scrawl—"Rodney Manners." Here was news at last, and Jarman could pet to work. He did not, of course, yet un- derstand all that the brief note conveyed, his mind merely leapt to the thought that there was treachery of some sort, of which Manners was the victim. Nor could he, of course, know to whom the house mentioned in that scrap of paper belonged. While he hurriedly made preparations for departure, he talked to the small dog curled up on the hearthrug. "I don't know your name, young fellow- but the fact that you belong to him is quite sufficient to make us friends. You've come a long journey, my little man—and I'I: won- dering if you care to take a long journey back aain, or if youul stop here and wait for him. What do you Rags seemed to understand what was said he sat up, and shook himself, and pricked up his ears. Mr. Jarman left the matter to him to decitlp; lmt when presently he had his hat and coat on. and was ready to start, he was glad to find that the dog came out of the place after him, ready to go also. There were no trains at that time of night; but that fact did not trouble Erasmus Jar- man. He knew the power of his money and, some half-hour later, with the dog curled up beside him on the cushioned seat, he was speeding away from London in a hired motor- car for the house of Mr. Boyd Litchfield. It was a bright moonlight night, and he had told the driver to take all risks, and had promised an exorbitant tip if the man hurried they flew along the roads as though it were indeed a matter of life or death. The house stood silent and deserted when they swung in at the gates and raced up to it. Under the circumstances. Jarman had expected that, and it did not trouble him. Preceded by the chauffeur carrying one of the lamps, and with the dog darting ahead, and looking back every now and then to see if they were following, Jarman came to the old workshop at the end of the grounds, and kicked open the crazy door, and called aloud. But there was no answer. "There ain't nobody here, sir," said the chauffeur, turning the light this way and that. But Jarman's quick eyes had shown him that the bench that had stood in one place so many,, years had been displaced. He put his great strength to it, and pushed it back, cry- ing out in excitement as he saw the trap- door. Flinging this back, he saw the flight of stenn, down which the dog instantly rushed, barking and whimpering eycitedlv. "Give rue the light," said the big man; iind went down the steps, looking about him. The chauffeur, kneeling at the top, was amazed to see the big man down on his knees, supporting the head of someone lying in the yioorn of that underground cellar, and mur- muring to the unconscious man as though talking to a child. Between them they got him up the steps, and Jarman managed to get some life into the colourless face with the aid of a flask he took from his pocket. The chauffeur would have assisted to lift Manners, but saw to nis amazement the big man take him up, as though ho had been a baby, swing him deftly over his shoulder, and go striding aivily through the grounds towards the motor. Stop at the first decent inn you come to then you'll have to go on for a doctor," said Jarman, curtly, as he set his burden iown tenderly in the car. Meanwhile, that er party in Murdoch Blade's car had re led London, and had made their way > Wedgwood Square. 31ade, after seeing them deposited at the house, would have driven off then and there with Adams; but Boyd Litchfield literally ;lung to Slade's arm, and insisted that he ;hould come into the house. After some iittle hesitation his request wns acceded to, md the two men went in together. "You can't—you shan't leave things like "his," spluttered Litchfield, literally holding )n to his man. You wouldn't leave a man in the lurch like this." "What do vou mean?" demanded Slade, racing him, with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his heavy coat; "how am I ieaving you in the lurch?" You are leaving me utterly helpless," almost whimpered Litchfield. "I am in dcs- perate straits, as vou know, and anything may happen at any moment to throw suspi- c ion upon me. I'm quite innocent-" "Yes, my cowardly friend, you're quite innocent," broke in Slade, with a laugh. "But I think you forget that I told you that in this matter we sink or swim to- gether. You can't expect to benefit unless rou do some of the work and take some of the risks. What do you want of me now?" I want to know what's going to hap- pen?" answered Litchfield, striving to con- trol his voice. "Are we to remain here- waiting; or are we making a bolt for it. or what are we going to do?" For the present you're going to remain here," answered Slade, witllOut looking at him. If you doubt me at all, the best thing you can do is to bear in mind the fact that in this matter I do not stand alone; I have Grace to think of. Am I likely to de- sert you all? Keep your courage up, rvnd hold your tongue. So far as money is con- cerned, you shall have it so soon as I can spare it. Good Heavens, mAi," he added rallyingly, as he struck the other man lightly on the chest, "What is there to fear? Somo time in the future—months or veara hence, perhaps—someone will find all that remains of a man that bears no name and has no record. I have the papers from his pockets, and I have again that bunch of keys that was stolen from me, and that lets me into all his secrets. Sleep in peace, my friend, and don't worry." So he went away, leaving Litchfield in anything but an enviable frame of mind. If by any chance Slade thought at all, as he must have done, of that poor prisoner, wounded and shut away underground, he strove to dismiss the idea from 1* is mind. For the present he was safe, and the pre- sent only mattered to him. I But that night that had seen Jarman start off into the country with the dog found Murdoch Slade in his rooms, restless and afraid. The man could face anything in the I| light; darkness and silence wore him down. ) He looked out of his windows across the lighted streets, and fancied that he heard many things threatening him; now the cry of a newspaper seller shouting strange news; now a man hurrying who migh;, be hurry- ing in his direction. Unable to stand it any longer, he went out, at something near to midnight; and his feet unconsciously turned in the direction of those rooms wherein Rodney Manors had once lived, and which were now occupied by a stranger whose name he did not know. He had those keys in his pocket which would give him access to the rooms; and he stood for a long time in the street, finger- ing them and looking up at the dark win- dows. Those rooms held secrets he had not yet penetrated; someone else was moving in this story, whose name and position he did not yet know. If he could break down that la:t barrier which held him back from the very heart of the mystey he would feel more safe. He took the keys out of his pocket, and selected the one which should fit the lock of the outer door; after a quick glance to right and left he inserted it in the lock, and opened the door and went in. He found himself at the foot of the stairs, leading up !)ast many offices to the rooms above; Im began to wonder how he should explain his presence if, when he reached the top of the stairs, the door was opened and the strange man with the big beard should confront him. Nevertheless, urged by curiosity more than by anything else, he began to climb the stairs. Only when he was half-way up, and still hesitating whether to go on or not, did lie, remember that he had left that outer door leading to the street ajar. He was on tho point of returning to close it when he re- flected that circumstances might occur which would render it necessary for him to leave open his way of retreat; so he went cu until he reached the outer door of the fiat. The landing outside was in darkness; from that lie argued that. the stranger had re- tired for the night. After hesitating for a long t.me he slipped the other key into the lock and softly opened the door; and, hold- ing it w:de at the length of his outstretched arm, looked about him, and listened. There was not a breath of sound; there was no movement anywhere. Cautiously he switched on the light, and, leaving the door of the flat open, advanced on tiptoe, looking about him warily as he did so. He came to the room on the right hand of the hall in which th. man-servant Kirbv had slept; he opened the door of that in the same cautious fashion, and gently turned on the light. The bed was empty, and there was no one there. So wii-fi the tiny kitchen and also with the sitting-room, both were smpty. There was only one other room to be examined, and that was at the further tide of the sitting-room, Manners' bedroom, from which a bath-room led out. Somewhat to his astonishment he found that that room also was empty; he stood still, looking about him, and wondning what had happened. It seemed surprising that the stranger with the big beard should have given up possession so easily; he could Dnly surmise that the man had gone away for a short time, and that good luck had at- tended his own invasion of the place. He laughed at the ease with which the thing had been managed, dropped the keys back into his pocket, and began to look about him. It was possible that he might find something here of use to him in the future. He was actually whistling softly to him- self over his task, as he raked about amongst books and papers, when he sud- denly sprang across the room, and switched out the light; he had heard a sound upon the stairs. He cursed himself for his folly in leaving the outer door of the flat open, but it was too late to reach it and close it now. He felt for the weapon in his pocket, and was glad to think that he had it at hand. But this was no man's step that came hesitatingly in at the door, and after a moment reached the door of the sitting- room Slade heard the light flutter of a dress. Very quietly he moved a little, until his hand was actually on the switch of the light, and waited. A voice he knew spoke out of the darkness tremulously. "Is anyone here?" He switched on the light then, and found himself looking straight into the startled eyes of Hester Wake. She stood dumb- founded for a moment, and then gave a shrill scream: but in a moment his hand was on her lips, and he held her prisoner and silent. Be quiet I he whispered, as she struggled with him. "Vlhat do you wajit here, creeping in like a thief? She broke away from him, and got to the other side of the room; she flung that ques- tion back at him. What are you dõhg here?" she demanded. "How did you get in? "Bv the simplest method in the world, my dear," he answered insolently. "I have managed to recover the kevs you stole from me; see, here they are." lie dangled them before her eyes and laughed as he spoke. "And what has become of--of him? she panted. "You can speak the name; it's quite safe, lie retorted. "I got them from him in the simplest fashion; I don't suppose he'll re- quire them any more. So that you see all Your schemes have come to nothing, Miss iiester Wake." She looked at him out of startled eyes. "You—you've killed him!" she exclaimed. "I know it; I am certain of it. I can read it as clearly as though you had told me your- self. I know it, I know it!" She had raised her voice almost to a scream; she was making straight for the door. The man overturned a chair in his rush to seize her, caught her firmly by the wrists and dragged her away from the door, striving to silence her cries. He managed to get the outer door shut, and to drag her back into the sitting-roon, and there she still fought so desperately that he wrapped his arms about her, and literally held liei; pressed close against himself in his efforts to keep her quiet. And then suddenly she lay efuito passive in his arms, and he thought for a moment that she had fainted. But she was still for another reason. Looking down at her he saw that she held herself but. like a per- son listening to something. In his surprise he let her go, and she backed away slowly from him, looking at him with a face of horror, staring at him wildly, like one understanding some dreadful thing fully and clearly for the first time. "What the devil's the matter with vou?" he demanded, startled in his turn by the ex- pression of her face. "Once before—a long time ago it seems," she began in a low voice, "I caught hold of someone in a darkened room and tried to hold him. He beat me off and ran, and got away, but he left behind what I have found again to-night." "What was it?" he asked hoarsely. "What are you talking about? "He left behind the memory of a scent. It is not many men who scent their clothes. When you held me a moment ago that scent was in my nostrils. I know now "her voice had risen to a cry that was weird and strained—"and at last I understand. It was you that killed poor Arthur Bradshaw." lie looked at her for a moment sullenly; his face was white and his lips were work- ing. "Well, if it's any satisfaction to you to know, I did kill him," he said brutally. "He was im my way; he had begun to have a con- science, and to talk of what he meant to do, and of what lie meant to say. You're such a poor thing, and of such poor account, that it doesn't matter whether you know or not. I silenced him, as I'll silence you if neces- sary." lie made a swift movement across the room towards her: his face was the face of a fiend. She waited until he had almost reached her, and them, darting aside, caught up a heavy book and flung it with unerring aim at the one light in the room-a large reading-lamp on the table. The thing went over with a crash, and in a moment the room was plunged in darkness. He felt rather than heard the rush of her skirts as she fled past him; heard the outer door opem even while he fumbled about to find the inner one. When lie reached the landing at the head of the stairs he was in time to hear the door leading to the street slammed hard, with an echoing noise in the great silent house. I CHAPTER XIII. I I ADAMS LOSES HIS MASTER. I I It was only when Murdoch Slade stood I alone there mi the little hall of Rodney i%i aiiners' flat that he realised that in that one moment of a brutal display of temper he had said too much. This mad creature, Hester Wake, had gone flying out into London with a storv to tell; to whom might she not tell it? Ife might deny this, that, or the other, I and yet in the end the truth might dog him down and grip him and hold him. It occurred to him, too, that he was in a false position in being in that place with those keys in his hands. He had unlocked a private desk and a cabinet, but had not had time to search for anything; the keys them- selves were lying on a table near to the shattered lamp. Sheer panac at the thought of being found there seized upon the man; he groped his way out on to the landing, Closing the door after him, and only realis- ing when the door was shut that the keys were inside, and that any further entrance he might desire to make was barred to him. Outside in the street he stood for a little time, wondering what was best to be done. Thoughts of all that had happened during the past week or two came crowding upon the man; not for the first time fear was knocking heavily at his heart. He thought of the man he had left to die in that under- ground place, far from any hope of rescue; he thought of that weak creature, Boyd Litchfield, who to save his own skin would not hesitate to blurt out the story. He thought, too, of the man Adams, who had told that other story in the presence of Litch- field concerning the death of young Arthur Bradshaw. "I've brought a hornet's nest about my enrs," said the man to himself as he stood there in the dark street. "Well, I think I can fight my way through yet; at all events, I won't stay here to be caught. I'll give them all the slip for a day or two while I make up my mind how best to arrange money matters and to get away. I want a holiday, and it seems to me that just now the further I travel the better." (To be CÛ1.tinllr:.)
PRESS ThE BUTTON! I Many marvellous things have been per- formed by the simple procedure of pressing a button. At Balmoral King George pressed a button, and in a flash the people standing round the memorial to Jacques Cartier (the father of the Canadian Confederation) in Montreal, 3,100 miles away, saw the cover- ing shroud roll off as if by magic. Another interesting instance is that of King Edward, who shortly before he died, while staying at a Sussex mansion, similarly opened a university in Montreal, and six years ago Queen Mary, by merely pressing a button in Buckingham Palace opened a hos- pital in Ontario. The method by which these feats are accomplished is easily expiated. A line is connected, eay, from Balmoral to the Central Telegraph Office in London, which is connected in turn by cable to Halifax, Nova Scotia, the current being switched to Mon- treal, a small line to the statue completing the circuit. The only "man power" employed was that of King George,
I TRICKS OF THE MOTOR THIEF. I It is very interesting to note the methods adopted by motor-car thieve?. Having been successful in stealing a car, the motor thief must, in order to evade capture, so alter its appearance that it is unrecognisable even to the owner. So expert arc they that within twenty-four hours they can effect a complete transformation. The number plate is changed during the drive to the thieves' garage, where the body of the motor is re- painted and sometimes changed from one car to another. Most motor-cars have the maker's name stamped on a metal cap fixed on the axle. Even this presents no difficulty to the ingenious thieves, says a contemporary, as the cap is removed and replaced by d metal disc bearing the name of a different firm. Brass fittings are plated, tyres are changed, and Bedford cord upholstery g.ves way to leather, and leather to Bedford cord. Motor experts arc well aware that thieves will actually go to the trouble of removing the chassis and engine numbers.
"Notice of leave was given two years ago, but the tenant is still in possession," baid an applicant for an ejectment order at Acton. Charles Dickens went to eleep in a Bristol cinema and had X50 taken from his pocket. Daisy Brimble, 22, was eent to prison for three months for the theft. Farmers from Tyrone end Donegal, at a big meeting in Strabane, pledged themselves not to send their flax into markets for grading until the Flax Control Board ir.- creases the prices.
OTHER MEN'S MINDS. ) Now is the day for earnest work and effort. All men must work.—Air W. Hughes. POWER OF THE PRESS. I Without the Press we should not have I won tJ> war.—Lord Ampthill. SO DO WE. I I have always thought I was too good for the old world, but. "the new world" leaves me wouderiiig.-Sir E. Carson. A TREE'S GENEALOGY. I The London plane-tree is a cros-f which originated, probably accidentally, at, Oxford about the year 1G50,—Sir A. Hc-nry. THE COUNSEL CURE. I Doctor Johnson bequeathed us a rich store of counsel that should help to cure our wounds of war.—Sir Sidney Lee. THE TROUBLE. I Miners are not getting a chance to work. —Mr. Duucan Graham, M -P. (Scottish I miners' secretary). A DOOMED rORT. I Unless something is done London is I doomed as a- port of any importance at a, 71.- Mr. A. W. Gattie. RESPONSIBILITY. I The trade union movement cannot evade its responsibilities to the cc-mmuuity.di:.I J. T. Brownlie. TRUE, BUT UNKIND. I The majority of plays produced in London arc utterly unworthy the attention of civilised people.—Mr. W. S. Kennedy. OUR FOLK LORE. I Americans are steeped in the literature I and traditions of the old country.—Dr. Lynn Hough. SETTLING IRELAND. I The final way to settle the Iiish difficulty was to allow Ireland to take a referendum of her own I)cople.-It- J. Devlin, M.l'. UP WE GO I Within five years the financial position of the British Government and people will, Oil the whole, be as stro;;g as ever.—Mr. T. W. Lamont. THE GENERAL WAS MOVED. I I believe the moment when I was mct deeply moved was that of the signing of the armistice, which consecrated definitely the triumph of the Allied Armies.—Genera! Pershing. A SHORT LIFE. The average East End parson lasts about I 10 years.—Archdeacon of Westminster. c' L' L I,' I SELF-CONTROL. The time has arrived when the staff should take full control of the postal de- partment.—Mi". W, 11. Lockyer k Pobtmcn Federation). PITY THE I The working man will not pay more than 10 s. a week for his house.—Mr. W. Black- inore, at a meeting' of the Pontypool Trades and Labour Council. OUR MERCANTILE MARINE. The generous assistance of the seamen of Great Britain in the arduous task of trans- porting the American forces overseas de- serves our lasting appreciation.—Geuer.il Pershing. QUESTION OF INSURANCE. I Private insurance firms should not lIe allowed to insure employers against compen- sation under 'tiie Workmen's Compensation Act—Mr. S. Choriton (Raiiwa\nien'c Union). THREE "NEVEES." I Never contradict; never explain; rever apologise. Those are t~e ccercts of a happy I liie.-Lord FISher. WOMAN'S ^-WORKSHOP I The house is the woman's workshop, and it irt the women who should have the say in the election of houses.—Mrs. i,iiiri(-v, a member of the jt'outypoci Trades "ud Labour Council. A CLAIRVOYANT. I Lord Fisher predicted to me some 15 years ago almost the c-xact date- of the great con- flict with Germany. Mr. Alexander Richardson, M.P. OUR RULERS. I Rulers are still infected with the old spirit of antagonism, and have no inten- tioi) of adopting the new principle of co- operation.—Sir George i'aish. LIVING AND WORK. I There are other things to think of beside the c-ost of living, such as tIle value of work done.—Mr. Stuart Bunning (to postal workers). I EMPTY PROMISES. I We cannot live on schemes, and the I people are tired of waiting for the land of I promise.—Mr. J. It. Ciynes, M.P. CONVERSATIONAL CONTORTIONS. I Those people who talk ox an early dissolu- I tion of Parliament are talking through their hats.—Mr. Kennedy Jones, M.P. SOll.fE 'f" c;;r I SOME TASK. I The worker must be made to think that he is working for the general good rather he is for the 1-1 tiian for private gain.—Mr. Artiiur HCll- derson, .M.P. BUT NOT TO-DAY! I With a little more organisation and more per,i,tept propaganda there i.-> hardly a seat in the country where Labour his Hot a sporting chance.—Mr. Ramsay Macdcnaid. AN OFFER. I I am prepared to accept tho Duke of Northumberland's advice and resign from the Miner. Federation if the Duke is kind enough to resign fjom his cotates.—Mr. Smillie. Til- t PENALTY. I Ccst cf living has become more and o ppressi ve, not so 111 Heh h Y profiteering as by under-production, excessive consumption, and high wages.Sir G. B. Hauler ^ship- owner;. —————————————————— I
Eighty-five competitors, aged from ten to I 75 years, took part in the ladies' f-ea anHing competition at Deal. Half an hour passed before the first fish was caught. Mr. Ilarry Gosling, president of the Transport Workers' Federation, has been selected prospective Labour caudidute lor Kenuington, S.E. Sir Lawrence Nunns Guillemard, K.C.B. Chairman of the Board of Customs and Excise, has been appointed Governor and Commander-in-Chief »>f the Straits Settle- ments. For obtaining money hy means of worth less cheques. Reginald" Heald, who had posed as a Devon peer but the son of a lector was at Dorset Sessions tjenteiicfjd to 1. months' imprisonment.
<> -<0> -.>.> <4 S TH!S WEEK !M THE I (I q xx THIS WEEK IN THE GARDEN. | ¡ W "The ripest peach is highest on the tre-Anon. I h The Dropmore Alkanet.—It is desirable tc plant the Dropmo»«r Anchusa in autumn, the object being to get the plants established before winter. If put into the ground in mid-winter, when the soil is cold and wet the thick and fleshy rooto are liable tc decay. Winter Lettuce.—When planted in the open in the ordinary way the success of this depends upon the weather. If trenches are iormed in which to plant, it will be found more satisfactory than planting on the level, whilst, if needed, protection can easily be afforded. The trenches could be prepared properly by adding manure or leaves in the bottom, covering with several inches of soil; then planting for lettuce. The trenches will then be quite ready for celery as soon as the lettuce is removed. Another good plan is to form a ridge, or bank, facing south, and plaut on it. Excessive wet is more harmful than frost. Bedding Fuchsias.—It is desirable to lift those from the beds and borders. Large fuchsia plants make such a good display in the garden that it is advisable to pot up as many plants as can be readily stored during the winter. Do no pruning now. place in as small pots as convenient, and stand in some sheltered position outside unti! cold nights make it necessary to place under cover. make it necessary to place uil d er (-over. Transplanting Annuals.—We are finding quite a lot of self-sown annuals in the beds and borders. A few may remain whcr-j they are growing, but it is desirable to trans- plant others to new positions. These include Godetias, Pot Margiolds, Bluebeard Salvias. Clarkias, and White Alyssum. Even Poppies Escholtzias, and Larkspurs can be trans- planted now if lifted in tafjLs with a trowel Wallflowers.—Success with the fragrant wallflowers is secured when they are planted out permanently by mid-October. The plants then make fresh roots, and are estab- lished in their new home before the cold and windy days of winter. Firm planting if necessary. Lift with good balls of soil attached to the plants, and if the soil is not too heavy or wet tread the grounl attei planting. Choosing Fruits for Planting.—More than casual consideration must be given to this matter. There is too often overplanting of one thing at the expense of another, and sometimes, too, at the risk of keeping out something of greater general value. Personal prejudice in such matters should be avoided and advantage taken of the advice given in thee-c pages with regard to the selection of kinds and sorts of fruit to be grown. Morella Cherries.—These can be planted with every prospect of success at the foot of shaded walls or those facing north. This is a great advantage, as there are so few kinds of fruit which are of any value for 6uch positions. The young growths on es- tablished trees may now be thinned out to some extent and secured in position. Thin out some of the old bearing wood if possible in order to make space for young growths. Preparing for Planting.—The soil iu which fruit trees are to be planted should be well dug or trenched in advance. It may be possible to attain a certain measure of sue cess by merely digging holes and sticking the trees in them. Where bushes are to be planted, manuring will also be necessary. Yard manure is one of the best things to use, but, failing this, dressings of soot, fish guano, or bone manure now, to he followed by something more active in the s pritig may be applied. Zonal Pelargoiilumc-Bodding geranium* should be lifted to make room for spring plants and bulbs. How many of the plants jan be kept for another year will depend on local convenience. Obviously if in good health plants kept a second season will be larger and produce many more flowers than they have done so far. From old plants there is also the possibility of obtaning cut- tings in early spring. Comparatively smail pots may be used now. Housing Plants.—With the desire to grow as many plants in the greenhouse as possible the tendency is to crowd the plants. There is,-however, a limit to the accommodation. It is not worth while trying to cultivate six or seven plants when there is ouly space fo; four or fire. Auriculas.—Do not neglect the plants 1)(,. cause winter is approaching. "at.er only when the soil is becoming dust-dry, then fill the pot* full to the top so that it will soak right through the ball. Constant watch must be kept for decaying leaves, so stand the plants in a convenient position for in- spection. Storing Swedes.—There need he no hiirri to store this crop, as the garden swede is practically hardy. Towards the end 01 ^October is a suitable period to lift. In cut- ting off the tops do not cut too clq,se to the crown, but allow about half an inch of stalk to remain. The best material in which tc store them is slightly moist sand, and th( best place an odd corner in an outhouse, 01 cellar. A further covering of straw or dr\ bracken can be placed over them if the weather proves exceptionally severe. Sonu rultivators clean them before scoring; thi: is unnecessary. Vegetable Marrows for Winter.—Examine tho vegetable marrows in store for winter use. If stood on a shc-lf turn each one over occasionally or decay may set in. + Winter Onions.—These germinated excep- tionally well this autumn. Hows should 1 not be allowed to remain all the winter in a crowded condition any surplus plants should be removed during the next few days. Shallots.—Where these were stored in a hurry advantage should now be taken of the first favourable opportunity to examine the stcek, carefully removing all which t-hcw signs of decay. Afterwards grade the sound bulbs, reserving those of good size and best shape for next year's planting. Pot-itoes.-Ilav timely attention to tubers that have been in store since early August. If stored in even fairly warm quarters, many of those just below tiie sirf-ce are now likely to be pushing out shoots. If these are not removed they rob the tuber of its good cookirg ouality, also weaken any sets wanted kept for seed" next season. •* Scarborough i.ily.—aliota purpurea 12 one of the few plants cultivated as ,vell III a sunnv cottage window as in the best ap- pointed greenhouse. Established bulbs flower well each year. Rrpotting is seldom necessary or desirable, provided the drain- age is free and clear. Just a little of the loose surface soil can be removed, replacing it with new and rich compost. # Double Petunias—Insert a few cuttings in pots of sandv oil. covering with a bell- glass or standing- in a handlight. When rooted, winter them on a greenhouse shelf, deferring potting them off singly until early spring. Old plants- may be retained for large plants. Cut the shoots close to the main stems. It will depend on the tem- perature of the greenhouse how soon new growth comme;rcps. In a cool house little water will be necessary. oil- Achimenes.—These beautiful pot and basket flowers are not grown so much a-s thev deserve to be. As the flowers iade and the" plants show s igns of exhaustion they should lie gradually dried off, by lessening and then withholding water. When quite dry cut off the tops and lay the pots on their sides under a cool greenhouse stage. If the stage is an open one, hanging baskets must be protected from the drip when watering plants on the stage above them. Trees in Grass Orchards.—When it is seen that young trees in grass a-re not. growing well it is usually owing to the grass heing allowed to grow close to the steins of the trees without disturbance. Have a circle Oft. in diameter (iii7 around each tree. This will be all the better for two or three times during the growing ?asou. three times diii.ia,(, t)le Pruning.-A good deal of pruning may be got through at once. Biack currants may have attention, and the work is in a measure easier before the foliage has fallen than afterwai'ds. Manv young trees can more easily be dealt with when the leaves are on, as it can more readily be seen then which branches do, or are likely in the near future to, encroach unduly on the given space. to, encroac h iiia ul oi the -iTCU # Lettuce.—When tilling frame* with half- grown plants for early -winter use, do not minimise the importance of having plenty of soil on the roots. Such plants feel the re- movel but little, but where the soil has left the roots the plants remain stationaiy for quite a long time.
I ￼ | THE WILES OF BILL SYKES. I To paraphrase an old axiom we may "a that the "ways of the wicked are max.v.' A baker named Guillaume Volkamps, v hc was tired of living on nothing but bread a.'d buns, was arrested because his dog h, t] stolen a joint from a butcher's shop. Pre- sently it came out that the dog had been trained to do the job by its owner, and that for eight months on end the baker had beci living on meat, etc., stolen by his tlevei accomplice. Two men and a woman were sentenced at Dublin for stealing shirts. The woman, it was stated, ran off with the goods, whilf one of the prisoner* had a bulldog on a chain, which contrived to trip up the assis- tant who went in pursuit. As in the case of the baker aforementioned, the dog had been trained to the work. In another case an Amsterdam jewellei aad an order for two fine brilliants worth £ 1.000. He procured them, and was examin- ing them in his office when a customer called to see him. He went cut of the room tc meet the customer, and, coming back a few moments later, found, to his horror, that the diamonds had disappeared. He at once sent for a detective, who noticed a little dog pitting under the table, and at once de- clared that this must be the thief. The pool little beast was taken to a veterinary sur- geon and destroyed, and, sure enough, inside its stomach were lhc, two stones It was supposc-a that the dog had belonged to the man who had called on the jeweller But as he could not be found there was lie proof. It must have required marvellous patience to train a dog actually to climb on to a table and swallow jewels as this one must, have done. Yet the training was nol perfect, for the dog failed to bolt after com- pleting the first part of its tas-k.
I SOME PECULIAR WILLS. I It is quite notorious that lawyers are the greatest delinquents in naking for them- selves wills which will bear the strictest legal scrutiny. As is universally known, in this country a testator can do almost anything he likes with his property. He can, for instance, be- queath every penny to a hospital or mission, and leave his wile and children to starve. He can lay down that the legatee may not marry certain persons, or that he must go to church every Sunday. He may bar him from the use of beer or tobacco. All such conditions are permissible. One man left his money to his daughters on condition that they did not marry clergymen, while a well-known and very wealthy baronet left instructions to his trustees that his licirm-his only daughter —must spend at least 240 days out of the 3G5 within the limits of the United King- dom. The lady in question appealed to the Chancerv Court to sc.. aside this clause, but the Court refused tc do anything of the kind. There are limits, however, and now and then a will is filed which the law will not sanction. A Staffordshire gentleman left all his real property to his nephew, on condition that the latter "did not "enter the naval or military services of his country." The nephew appealed, and the ease was decided that the condition was "prej udicial to the public good and welf-ire of the State, which must depend for its protection against out- side enemies upon the armed Services of the Crown." When Fragson, the comedian, was killed. it was found that he had left £ 20,000 to his father, who had t'lwt him. Here again the bequest became void.
The National Joint Committee of the Post Office Associations are claiming IL2 4s. per week with a 50 per cent. bonus, making X3 6s. The Postmaster-General has refused the request and the matter has been re- ferroo to the Conciliation Board. Founder in 1881 of the Church of England Waifs and Strays Society, Prebendary Ru- dolf has been presented at Caxton Hall, with an address and a cheque for .£ [,000, a balance of £ 850 "ocing given to help and girls of the society.
Fonr hundred South Wales public-tcusefl r.re without intoxicants. One of Exeter'* largest public building*?, the Victoria Hall, has been destroyed by fire. Of 130 houses ,0 be erected by Worthing Council, only Co will have a parlour. Lord Bath has presented ten acrpe of Downs to Warminster for the use cf the townspeople. t
áD). THE POULTRY YARD mj Helpful Hints for "Backyarders." By "COCKCROW." H J ) I have been asked to give seine further particulars concerning leading breeds of birds, and no doubt many poultry-keepers will find the following additional notes oi some practical value. A popular breed is that which was produced by crossing the American Dominique with some breed of Cochins and the Black Java. The comb ii tingle and straight, not very large, and thick at the base; ear-lobes bright red, rather smaller than in Cochins, wattles more developed, but line. The eyes are generally bay, and large; the beak yellow, some horny streak being permissible. The legs should be bright yellow, and rather short. The body is compact aiid deep, with a full. well- rounded breast; this is essential to good stock, and a poor breast is a great fault, however good the other points may be. The saddle, or cushion, is full and rather high, but not globular as in the Cochin, nor so fluffy, and the fluff on the thighs is compact and moderate. BUFF ORPINGTONS. I There are strong grounds for the belief that this variety was gradually formed in Lincolnshire from a foundation of Bull Cochin on Dorking and farmyard fowls, some of the breed hi-ing yellow and some white shanks. Of air the manufactured buff varieties this white-legged one is best adapted for the English market as yellow legs for the American. Being hardv, of line flesh, and a good layer, the Buff Orpingtou has become one of the m t popular breeds of the present day. SILVER CAMPIXES. I The Silver Campines originally came from the Continent. They have a reputation as good all-the-y ear-round b^.erts, and as table birds hold a high position. Campines are not a sitting variety, but one of their advantages is their love of foraging, which materially reduces the food bill. They can be depended on to find at least half their food. The Silver Campine is a gtod breed for exhibiting, and the novice, with care., stands as reasonable a chance as the fancier. In colour the head and neck hackle is putc white, \\hlle the remainder of the plumage has a ground colour of pure white, barred with pure black, with a rich beetle-green sheen, every feather being barred in a trans- verse direction with the end white. These bars should form as near as possible ring s round the body. # SUSSEX. I I Sussex fowls represent an old i^ngiisn breed, long known as supplying the best fatted birds to the London market. Thev are unequalled as table birds, and are stan- dardised in three species; Red or Brown, Speckled and Light. They have short, white legs, with four toes, thin white skin, and massive, deep bodies, not unlike the Dorking. Tho most characteristic point is the wide and very flat back, peculiar to the breed. They are hardy birds and good layers in both summer and winter. The hens are ex- cellent mothers, and will often cover 18 oi 20 chicks. Sussex fowls are, moreover, with- out exception, the finest fatters of all fowls. BLACK SUMA TRAS. I The chief characteristic of the Sumatras is the length and sweep of- feather, with a flowing and pleasant-like carriage. The male bird is the cmbodynent of perfect symmetry Another point is the beetle-green lustre of plumage. The beak should be strong, but the head bv no means coarse. The face should be dark or gipsy, and the head should have a neat pea-comb. The feathers should be close and hard, but not short or scanty. Sumatras are hardy. The hens are excellent layers and mothers, going long with their chicks. The birds, though small, are juicy in hesh and delicate table birds. I CHEEKY BANTAMS. Bantams are a diminutive bre?d of fowls, and by crostiing with existing- bantams aid breeding size down., most of the larger breeds of poultry have been reproduced In bantam form. The right standard of size i6 one-fifth the weight of the original breed. The best-known varieties are the Sebright, Black, White, Nankin, Pekin, or Cochin, Japanese, and Game Bantams. Most of the hens are good mothers, and often they arc employed to rear small game. Their chief use is in the garden, where they eat slugi, and insects with little damage. The Game variety is the hardiest. THE LEGHORN. Leghorns resemble Minorcas in fe-atures, having large and high combs and long pen- dulous wattles. They lay large white egg's. The legs are yellow, so is the beak. The far- lobe is creamy. White Leghorns are the purest specie^, but. they have been crossed with Minorcas to increase size and to coun- teract the tendency to aea-n or yellow plum- age. As a rule, the thinnest com bs arc best for pullet-breeding, the thickest for cockerel breeding. A White Leghorn cockerel crossed with Plymouth Rock hens produces pullets of exceptional laying qualities. THE USE OF LITTSR. The fowl-house construction, and especi- ally the character of its floor, determine*; the kind of litter which is best to use. Earth floors, unless on dry, sandy gravel and Taised a good six i«e.hes above the surrounding level, are a fruitial source of trouble. It is difhcvlt to keep litter on them dry and seratchable. A great improvement can be achieved by ramming down stones and brick rubble to the depth of several inches; on the top of that put a layer of dry, sandy soil or gravel also hard pres-scd down and beaten liat to serve as a firm ancs dry floor for the litter. If the situation is very damp a double thickness of roofing felt or old sacks soaked in tar should first be spread over every inch of the ground before commencing with the rubble. Even then a little damp- ness may be expected to come to the sur, face during a spell of wet weather. A- FEw GENEKALITIES It is quite possible to draw a fair profit from utijity poultry. Once the stock is known its fan:e spreads, entailing constant demand for breeding-pens. The birds must be bought to lay well in the late autumn, winter and spring. Some pullets will beg-HI laying at four or five mouths. These arc kept for table purposes, as thev would prove bad birds for breeding, producing a weak and diminutive t-ock. Pullets intended for breeding from shuid net be allowed to lay until thev reach six months. Bird? should be clear-ea out at two years. Three-year birds lay a gcod third less than a pullet- and so cumber the space. a old bird is perfectiv tender on the taMe. Breeding-pens should be kept from laying during the winter until January, previous to their eggs being used for hatching.* Trap- nests can be used in the late autumn and winter; the riullet.s that come through host £ >eing~pnrmarked for breeding when they art rising two years old.