BONES: The April Fool of Harvey's Sluice

ABE BURTON'S cabin waa not beautiful People have been heard to assert that it was ugly, and even, after tho fashion of Harvey's Sluice, havo gone the length of prefixing their adjective with a forcible expletive which emphasized their criticism. Abe, however, was a stolid and easy-going man, on. whoso-mind the remarks of an unappreclativc public made but little im pression. He had built the house himself, and it suited his partner with him, and what more did they want? There was only ono man inside the hut, and that was tho proprietor, Abo Durton himself, or "Bones," as he had been christened with the rude heraldry of the camp. He was sitting iv front of the great wood fire, gazing moodily into its glowing depths, and occasionally giviug a fagot a kick of remonstrance when it showed auy iutlicatiou of dying into a smoulder. His fair Saxon face, with its bold simple eyes and crisp yellow beard, stood out sharp and clear against tbe darkuess as the llickoring light played over it. It was a manly, resolute couutouancc, and yet the physiog nomist might have detected something in tho lines of tho mouth which showed a wcakuess somewhere, an indecision which contrasted strangely with his herculean shoulders and massive limbs.

" Tbe Boss is late to.nij.lit," he muttered as ho rose from his chair and stretched himself in a colossal yawn. "Mv stars, how it does rain and blow! Don't it, Blinky?" Blinky was a demure and medi tative owl, whose comfort and welfare were a chronic subject of solicitude to its master, and who at present contemplated him gravely from one of the rafters, Abo was still talking when tho tough door was flung open, aud a blinding cloud of sleet and rain came driving into the cabin, almost obscuring for the moment a young man who sprang in aud proceeded to bar the entrance behind him, an opera tion which the force of the wind rendered no easy matter. " Well," ho said, in a slightly peevish voice, "haven't you got any supper?" " Waiting and ready," said his com panion cheerily, pointing to a large pot which bubbled by tho side of tho fire, " You seom sort of damp."

"Damp bo hanged 1 I'm soaked, man thoroughly saturated. It's a night that I wouldn't have a dog out, at least not a dog I had any respect for, Hand over that dry coat from tho peg."

Jack Morgan, or Boss, as he was usually called, belonged to a type which was com moner in tho mines during the flush times of the first great rush than would bo sup posed. Ho Was a man of good blood, liberally educated; and' a graduate ef an English university. Boss should, in the natural coiirso < 6£>i things, have boeu an energetic curato, or struggling professional man, had not some latent traits cropped out in his character, inherited possibly from old Sir Henry Morgan, who had founded tho family with Spanish pieces of eight gal lantly won upon the high seas. It was this wild strain of blood, no doubt, which had Caused him to drop from the bedroom window of the ivy-clad English parsonage, and leave home and friends behind him, to try his luck with pick and shovel in the Australian fields. In spite of his effeminate face and dainty manners, the rough dwei lers in Harvey's Sluice had gradually learned that tho little man was possessed of a cool courage and unflinching resolution, which|won respect in a community where pluck was looked upon as the highest;of human attributes. No one ever know how it was that Bones and he had becorao part ners; yet partners they were, and the large, simple nature of the stronger man looked with an almost superstitious rever ence npon the clear, decisive mind of his companion.

"That's better," said the Boss, as he dropped iuto the vacant chair before the fire and watched Abe laying out the two metal plates. " Come here and sit d6wn." flia gigantic partner came meekly over and perched himself upon! the top of a barrel.

" "What's np ?" he asked. "Shares aio up," said his companion. "That's what's up. Look here," and he extracted a crumpled paper from the pocket of tbo steaming coat. " Here's the Buck hurst'Sentinel.' Bead this article—this one here about a paying lead in the Conemara mine. We hold pretty heavily in that con cern, my boy, We might sell out and clear something—but I think we'll hold on."

Abe Dnmton in the meantime was laboriously spelling out the article in ques tion, following the lines with his great fore finger, and muttering under his tawny moustache.

"Any news from Bnckhurst?" asked Abe, rising and proceeding to extract their sapper from the pot.

"Nothing much, said his companion. *' Cock-eyed Joe has been shot by Billy Beid in'McFarlane's store."

'. Ah," said Abe, with listless interest.

"Bushrangors have been, around and stuck up the Bochdale Station. They say they are coming over here."

The miner whistled as ho poured some whisky into a jug. •' Anything more ?" he asked. " Nothing of importance, except that the blacks have been showing a bit down New Sterling way, and that the assaycr has bought a piano, and is going to have his daughter gut from Melbourne to live in the new house opposite on the other side of the road. So you see we are going to have something to look at, my boy," he added as he sat down and began attacking the food set before him. '■ They say say she is a beauty, Bones."

His partner suddenly dropped his knife and seemed to listen. Amid the wild up roar of the wind and the rain there was a low, rambling sound which was not evidently dependent upon the weather. " What's that ?" " Darned if 1 know," i

The ;two men made for the door and peered out earnestly into the darkness. Far away, along the BuckhuTst road they could see amoving light, and the dull sound was louder than before.

"It's a buggy coming down," said-Abe, " Where is it going to 1" "Don't know. Across the ford, s'pose."

" Why, man,' the ford will be G feet deep to-night, and running like a mill-stream." The light was nearer now, coming rapidly round the curve of the road. There was a wild sound of galloping with the rattle of tho wheels. .

" Horses have bolted, by thunder I"

H Bad job for the man inside."

"If he don't pull 'em up before they reach the ford he's a goner," remarked Abe Durton, resignedly. Suddenly there came a lull in tho sullen splash of the rain. It was but for a moment, but in that moment there came down on the breeze a long cry which caused tho two men to start and stare at each other, and then to rush frantically down the steep incline toward the road below.

"Awoman, by heaven!" gasped Abe, as he sprang across the gaping shaft of a mine in the recklessness of his haste.

Morgan was the lighter and more active ' man. Ho drew away rapidly from ',his stalwart companion. Within a minute he was^standing panting and bareheaded in 'the middle of the soft muddy road, while his partner was toiling down the side of the 'declivity. ■ ... •

The carriage was close on him now.j He could see in the light of the lamps' ',the raw-boned Australian horse, as ,terrified by the storm and its own clatter, it came tearing down the de clivity which led to the ford. The man who ,was driving seemed to see tho pale face1 :in the pathway in front of him, for he I jelled out some incoherent words of warn ing, and made a last deaperato attempt to pull up. There was a shout, an oath, and a jarring crash,' and Abe, hurrying down, saw a wild.infuriated horse rearing madly •in the air with a slim dark ifigure hanging on to its bridle. Bones, with a Keen power fit . calculation which had made him the ■finest cricketer at Kugby in his day, had caught the rein immediately below the bit, and clung to it with silent concentration. "Hold it, Bonos," he said, us a tall 'figure hurled itself into the road and seized the other rein.

"All right, old man ; I've got him ;" and the horse, cowed by the sight of afresh assailant, quieted down, and stood shiver ing with terror. . ,"Get up, Boss, it's safe now." But poor Boss lay groaning in the mud. '■ "I can't do it, Bones." There was a catch in the voice as of pain. "There's something wrong, old chap, but don't make _ fuss. It's only a shake ; give me a lift up." ... Abe bent tenderly over his prostiato com panion. He could see that he was very White and breathing with difficulty. "Cheer up,, old Boss," he murmured. _' Hullo I my stars 1" . ; _Tho last two exclamations were shot out P* i»*Ji honest miner's bosom as if they were jnpelied by some irresistible! force, and he

took a couple of stops backward in sheer amazement, There, at the othor side of Ihe fallen man and half shiouded in the darkness, stood what appeared to Abe's simple soul to be the most beautiful vision that over had appeared up ou earth.

"Ob, papa," s&id the apparition, in "■real distress, "he is hurt-the gentleman fj hurt ;" aud with a quick feminine "esture of sympathy she bent her little figure over Boss Morgan's prostrate figure. " Why, it's Abe Durton and his partner," said the driver of the buggy, coming forward and disclosing the grizzled features of Joshua Sinclair, the assaycr to the mines. " 1 don't Know how to thank you, boys. The in fernal brute got the bit between hia teeth, and I should have bad to have thrown Carrie out and chanced it in another minute. " That's right," he continued, as Morgan staggered to bis feet. " Not much hurt, 1 hope," " I can got up to the hut now," said the young miin, steadying himself upon his partner's shoulder. "How arc you going to got Miss Sinclair home?" " Oh, we can walk," said the young lady, shaking off the effects of her fright with all the elasticity of youth, " Wc can drive and take tho road round the bank, so ns to avoid tho ford," said her father. " Tho horse seems cowed enough now; jounced not bo afraid of it, Carrie. I hope we shall see you at the house, both of you. Mcithcr of us can easily forget this night's work." Miss Carrie said nothing, but she managed to shoot a little demure glance of gratitude from under her long laßhcs, to have won which honest Abo foit that he would have cheerfully undertaken to atop a runaway locomotive.

Thero was a cheery shout of " Good night," a crack of the whip, and the buggy ruttlcd away in the darkness.

" You told me the men were rough and nasty, pa," said Miss Carrie Siuclair, after a long silence, when the two dark shadows hnd died away in the distance, and the car riage was speeding along by tho turbulent stream. "I don't think so; I think they aro very nice." Aud Carrio was unusually quiet for tho remainder of her journey, and scorned more reconciled to tbe hardship of leaving ber dear friend Amelia in the far off boarding school at Melbourne. That did not prevout her from writing a full, true, and particular account of tneir little adventure to the same young lady upon that very night. "They stopped tho horse, darling, and one poor fellow was hurt. And oh, Amy, if you had seen the other one in a red shirt, with a pistol at his wai.t I couldn't help thinking of you, dear. He was just your idea. You remember, a yellow mustache and great blue eyes. And how ho did staro at poor me 1 You never sco such men in Bourko-streot, Amy;" and so on, for four pages of prettyfemininc gossip. In tho meantime poor Boss, badly shaken, had been helped up tbe hill by his partner and regained the shelter of the shanty. Abe doctored him out of tho rndo phar macopoeia of the camp, and bandaged up his strained arm.

J„J-X:'V. -.ll.' A casual visitor would have noticed a re markable change in tho conversation of this community. Somehow, when a certain dainty little bonnet, with a sweet, girlish figure beneath it, was seen in the distance among the disused shafts and mounds of red earth which disfigured tbe sides of the valley, therejwas a warning murmur, and a general clearing-off of the cloud of blasphemy, which (was, I regret to state, a habitual characteristic of the working population of Harvey's Sluice.

Abe had been considered one of tho most experienced valuators of ore in the settlement. It had been commonly sup posed that hs was able to estimate the amount of gold in a fragment of quartz with remarkable exactness. Thia, how ever, was evidently a mistake, otherwise he would never havo incurred the useless ex pense of having so many worthless experi ments assayed, as ho now did. Joshua Sinclair found himself inundated with such a flood of fragments of mica, and lumps of rock containing decimal percentages of the precious metals, that ho began to form a very low opinion of theyouny man's mining capabilities,

It is certain that what with professional business in the morning and social visits at night, the tall figure of the miner was a familiar object in tho little drawing-room of Azalea Villa, as the new houso of the assayer had been magniloqnently named. There was one cloud on Bones'a horizon, and that was the periodical appearance of Black Tom Ferguson, of Bochdale Ferry. This clever young scamp had managed to ingratiate himself with old Joshua, and wa3 a constant visitor at the villa. There were evil rumours abroad about Black Tom. Ho was known to he a gambler, and shrewdly suspected to be worse. Har vey Sluice was not censorious, and yet there was a general feeling that Ferguson was a man to bo avoided. Miss Carrie seemed to hail his appearance as a relief, and chattered away for houra about books and music and the gayeties of Melbourne. It was on these occasions that poor simple Bonc3 would sink into tho very lowest depths of despondency, and cither slink away or sit glaring at his rival with an earnest malignancy which seemed to cause that gentleman no small amusement.

The miner made no secret to bis partner of the admiration which he entertained for Miss Sinclair.

"That loafer from Bochdale," he said, "he seems to reel it off kinder nat'ral, while for the life of me I can't say a word. Tell me, Boss, what would you" say to a girl like that ?" " Why, talk about what would interest her," said his companion. " Ah, that's where it lies."

"Talk about the customs of the place and countiy," said the Boss, palling medi tatively at his pipe. "Tell her stories ot what you have seen ia the mines, and that sort of thing."

"Eh? You'd do that, would you?" res ponded his companion more hopefully. "If that's the hang of It, lam right. I'll go up now and tell her about Chicago Bill, an' how he put them two bullets in the man from the Bend the night of the 'dance.'1' ' , , *,'', . . . . !

Boss Morgan laughed. •'That's hardly the thing," he. said. " You'd frighten her If you told her that. Tell her something lighter, you know; something to amuse her, something funny."

" Funny ?" said the anxious lover, with less confidence in his voice. " How yon and me made Max Houlahan drunk, and put him In the pulpit of the Baptist Church, and he wouldn't let the preacher in in the morning ? How would that do, eh J"

" For heaven's sake don't say anything of the sort," said bis mentor, in greatconster nation. " She'd never speak to either of us again. No, what I mean is that you should tell her about the habits of tbe mines, how men live and work and die there. If she is a sensible girl that ought to interest her."

" How they live at the mines ? Pard, you are good to me. How they live 1 There's a thing 1 can talk of as glib as Black Tom or any man. I'll try it on her when I see her."

" By the way," said his partner, listlessly, " just keep an eye on that man Jferguson, Watch what he does."

"I will," said his companion

And he did. He watched him that very night—watched him stride out of the house of the assayer with anger and baffled pride on every feature of his handsome swaithy face; watched him clear the garden paling at a bound, pass in long rapid strides down the side of the valley, gesticulating wildly with his hands, and vanish into the bush land beyond. All this Abe Durton watched, and with a thoughtful look upon his face, he relit his pipe and strolled Blowly back ward to the hut upon the hill.

. 111. March was drawing to a close in Harvey's Sluice, and the glare and heat of the anti podean summer had toned down into the rich mellow hues of autumn.

On that particular morning tho stream looked pretty as it meandered down the valley ; pretty, too, was the long rising up land behind, with its luxuriant green covering; and prettiest of all was Miss Carrie Sinclair, as she lai 1 down her basket of ferns, which she was carrying, and stopped upon the summit of the rising ground.

She stood for some time gazing at the view before her. She glanced at the great mysterious stretch of silent bushland be side her, and stooped to pick up her basket, with the intention of hurrying along the road in the direction of the gulches. She started round, and hardly suppressed a scream as a long red-flanneled arm shot out from behind her, and withdrew the basket from her very grasp.

The figure which met her eye would to some have seemed little calculated to allay her fears. The high boots, the rough shirt, and tho broad girdle with its weapons of

denth were, however, too familiar to Miss Carrie to bo objects of terror ; aud when above them all flic saw a pair of tender blue eyes looking down upon her, and n halt-abashed Braite lurking under a thick y.How mustache, she knew that for the re mainder of that walk ranger aud black would be equally powerless to harm her. "Oh, Mr Durton," she said, "how you did startle me !"

"I'm sorry, mis», said Abe, in a grate trepidation at haviug caused his idol one moment's uneasiness. "You see," he con tinued, with simple cunning, " the weather bein' fiuo and my partner gone prospectin', I thought I'd walk up to Haglcy's Hill and round b:ick by the bend, and there I sees you accidcnti. like and promiscuous a standin' on ahillop.k."

They passed down by the red pathway together, and along by the river's bank. Abe had relapsed into his normal conditio n of taciturnity. He had made oue gallant effort to hold forth ou the subject ot fcins, stimulated by the basket which he held, in ht3 hand, but the theme was not a thrilling one, and after a spasmodic flicker, lie had abandoned the attempt. Suddenly his conversation with his part ner came back into his mind. What was it Boss hnd said upon tho subject? "Tell her how they live at tho mines." Ho_ re volved it in his brain. It teemed a curious thing to talk about, but Boss had said it and JBoss was always right. Ho would take tbo plunge ; so with a premonitory hem he blurted out:

"They live mostly on bacon and bcaus in the valley."

He could not sco what effect this com munication had upon bis compauiou. He was too tall to be ablo to peer under the little straw bonnet. She did not answer. He would try again. " Mutton on Sundays," he said. Even this failed to arouse any enthu siasm. In fact she seemed to-be laughing. Boss was evidontly wrong. Tho youue man was in despair. Tho sight of a ruined hut beside the pathway conjured up a fresh idea. Ho grasped at it as a drowning man to a strow.

" Cockney Jack built that," ho remarked, "Lived thero till he diod."

" What did he die of ?" asked his com panion. " Three-star brandy," said Abe, decisively, "I used to como over of a night when ho was bad and sit by him. Poor chap ! Ho bad a wife nnd two ebildren in Putney, He'd rave, nnd call mo Polly, by the hour, He was cleaned out, hadn't a red cont; but tho boys collected rough gold enough to see him through. He's buried there iv that shaft; that was his claim, so wc just dropped him down it an' filled it up. _fut down his pick too, an' a spado an' a bucket, so's he'd foel kinder perky and at home."

Miss Carrio seemed moro interested how. "Do thoy often die liko that?" she asked.

"Well, brandy kills many; but there's moro gets dropped—shot, you knew," " I don't moan that. Do mauy men die alone and misorablo down there, with no one to care for them ?' and she pointed to the cluster of houses beneath them. "Is there any one dying now? It ia awful to think of.

" There's none as I knows on likely to throw up their baud." " I wish you wouldn't use so much slang. Mr Durton," said Carrie. " You know ii isn't polito. You should get a dictionary ana learn the proper words."

"Ah, that's it," said Bones, apologeti cally. "It's gettin' your hand on the propor one. When you've not got a steam drill, you'vo got to put up with the pick." "Yes, bnt it'a oaey if you really try. You could say that a man Was 'dyiug,' or 'moribund,' if you like." "That's it," said' the minor enthusias tically. '''Moribund!' That's a word. Why, you could lay ever Boss Morgan in the matter of words. ' Moribund !' There's some sound about that."

Carrie langbed.

" It's not the sound you must think of, but wbethor it will express your meaning. Seriously, Mr Durton, if any ono ehould be ill in tho camp you must let me know, 1 can nurse, and I might bo of use. You will, won't you J"

" And now I must say good morning," said Canie, as they came to the spot where a crooked pathway branched off from the track and wound up to Azalea Villa. "Thank |you ever so much for escorting mo." '

So poor Bones departed in a mixture of many opposite feolings, He had interested her. She had spoken kindly to him. Hii, then she had sent him away before therr was any necessity; she couldn't care much about him if she would do that, I think he might have folt a little more cheerful, however, had he soen Miss Carrie Sinclair as sho watched his retiriug figure from the garden gate, with a loving lock upon her saucy face, aud a mischievous smile at bis bent head and desponding appearance.

IV. The Colonial Bar was tho favourite haunt of the inhabitants of Harvey's Sluice in their hours of relaxation. There had been a fierce competition between it and the rival establishment termed tbo Grocery, which, in spite of its innocent appellation, aspired, also, to dispense spirituous re freshments. The importation of chairs into the latter had Jed to the appearance of a settee in the former. Spittoons appeared in the Grocery against a picture in the Bar, and, as the frequenters expressed it, tbe honours were even. When, however, the Grocery led a windew curtain, and its op ponent returned a snuggery and a mirror, the game was declared to be in favour of the latter, and Harvey's Sluice showed its sense of the spirit of the proprietor by withdrawing their custom from his oppo nent.

Though, every man was at liberty to swagger into the bar itself and bask in the shimmer of its many-coloured bottles there waa a general feeling that the snuggery, or special apartment, should be reserved for the use of the moro prominent citizens. On this particular evening there was au assemblage of notabilities in the snuggery. The rangers ware the present subject of-discussion. For some few days rumours of thoir presence had been flying about, and an uueasy feeling had pervaded the colony,

A fresh impetus had been given to the panic by the report brought in to-day by Jim Struggles. Jim was of a a ambitious and aspiring turn of mind, and after'gazing in silent disgust at his last week's clean up, he had metaphorically shaken the clay of Harvey's Sluice from his feet, and had started off into the woods with the intention of prospecting round until he could hit upon some likely piece of ground for him self. Jim's story was that ho was sitting upon a fallen trunk eating his midday dam per and rusty bacon, when his trained ear had caught the clink of horses' hoofs. He bad hardly time to take the precaution of rolling off the tree and crouching down be hind it, Before a troop of men came riding down through the bush and passed within a stone-throw of him.

"There was Bid Smeaton and Murphy Duff," said Struggles, naming two notoriDns ruffians ; "and there was three more that I couldn't rightly see. And they took the trail to the right, and looked like business all over, with their guns in their hauls."

Jim was subinuted to a searching cross, examination that evening, but nothing could shake his testimony or throw a further light upon what he had seen.1

There .were a few, however, who were loudly sceptical as to the existence of the rangers, and the most prominent of these was a young man who was perched on a barrel in the centre of the room, and who was evidently one of the leading spirits in the community. We have already seen that dark, curling hair, lack-lustre eye and thin, cruel lip, in the person of Black Tom Fergussou, the rejected suitor of Miss Sin clair. ■.'■•":

" It's always the same," he said; "if a man meets a few travellers in the bush, he's bound to come back raving about rangers. If they'd seen Struggles there, they would have gone off with a long yarn about a ranger crouching behind a tree. Aa to re cognising people riding fast among tree trunks—it is an impossibility. Something seemed to be on his mind,too, frr occasionally ho would spring oil hi» perch and pace up and down the room with an abstracted and very forbidding look upon his swarthy face. It was a relief to every one wheD, suddenly catching up his hat and wishing the company a curt " good night," he walked off through the bar and into the street beyond. "Seems kinder put out," remarded Long McCoy.

" He can't be afcard of the rangers, sure ly," said Joe Shamus, another man of con sequence, and principal shareholder of the El Dorado.

" No, he's not the man to be afraid," an swered another. " There's something qneer about him the last day or two. He has been long trips in the woods without any tools. They do say that the nssayer's daughter has chucked him over,"

" Quite right, too. A darned sight too good tor him," remarked several voices. ■'It's odds but he has another try," said Shamus. " He's a hard man to beat when lie'» set his mind on a thing."

" Abe Burton's ttie horse to win," re marked Boulahan.a little, bearded Irishman " It's siviu to four I'd be willing to lay on him."

"And you'd be af ther losing your money avioh," said a young man with a laugb. "She'll want more brains than ever Bones had in his skull, you bet." " Who's seen Bones to-day ?" asked Mc- Coy. "I've seen him," said a young miner. " He came around all through the camp asking for a dictionary—wanted to write a letter likely." "I saw him readin' it," said Shamus. " He come ovar to me ond told me he'd struck something good at tho first show. Showed me a word about as long as your anil—'abdicate,' or something."

" It's a rich man he is now, I suppose,'' Slid the Irishman.

" Well, he's about made his pile. Ho holds a hundred feet of tho Conemara, and the shares go up every hour. If hod sell out he'd belabout fit to go home."

" Guess ho wants to take somebody home with him," said another. " Old Joshua wouldn't object, seem' that the money is there."

I think it has already been recorded in this narrative that Jim Struggles, tho wandering prospector, had gained the repu tation of being the wit of the camp, tie had been brooding in silence ovor some idea since the departure of Kergusson, and he now proceeded to evolve it to his expec tant companions.

"Say, boys," he began ; "it's tho first of April I've got a calendar in the hut as says so,"

"What if it is ?" said several voices. " Wcll.don'tyou see, it's All FooU'Day. Couldn't you fix uu somo littio joke on some one.eh ? Couldn't we get a laugh out of it ? INow there's old Bones, for Instance ; he'll never smell a rat. Couldn't we .end him oil somewhere, and watch him go may be ? We'd have something to chaff him on for a month to come, eh ?''

" Where shall we send him?" was the

query. Jtm Struggles was buried in thought for a moment. Then an unhallowed inspira tion seemed to como over him, and he laughed uproariously, rubbing his hands between hia knees in the excess of his de light.

"Well, what is it?" naked tbe eager audience.

" Sco hero, boys, There's Miss Sinclair, You was saying as Abe's gone on her. She don't fancy him much you think. Suppose we write him a noto—send it him to-night, you know,"

" Well what then ?" said McCoy.

"AVell, pretend the note is from her, dye see I But her name at tho bottom. Let ou as she wants him to como an' meet her in the garden at twolvc. H«'s bound to go. He'll think she wants to go off with him. It'll be the biggest thing pliyed this year." There was a roar of laughter. The plan Was approved of unanimously. " Here's pencil and here's paper," said the humorist. " Whose going to write the letter I"

" Write it yourself, Jim," said Shamus. " Well what shall I say?"

"Say what you think right." "I don't know how she'd put it," laid Jim, scratching his head in great perplex ity. "However, Bonos will never know the differ. How will this do? 'Dear old man. Come to the gardcu at twelve to night, else I'll never speak to you again, eh?"

"No that's not tho style," said the young miner.. " Mind she's a lass of eddicatiou. She'd put it kind of flowery aud s»ft." "Well write it yourself," suid Jim bul kily, handing him over tho pencil. "This is the sort of thing," said the miner, moistening the point of it in his mouth. " When the moon is in the sky "Thcro it is. That's the bully," from tho company, " And tho stars a-shiniu' bright, meet, O meet me, Adolphus, by tho garden gate at twolve.'" " His name lain't Adolphus," objected a critic, "That's how the poetry comes in,"aaid the miner. " It's kinder fanciful, dye seo. Sounds a darned sight bettor than Alio. Trust him for guessing who shojneans. I'll sign it Carrie, There 1" This cpistlo was gravely passed round the room from hand to hand, ar.il rovorcntially gazed upon as being aremarknblc production of the human brain. It was then folded up and committed to thecaro of asmallboy, who was solemnly charged, under dire threats, to deliver it at the shanty, and to make off before any awkward questions were asked him. It was only after he had disappeared in the darkness that some slight compunc tion visited ono or two of tho company. "Ain't it playing it rather low on the girl ?" said Sliamus. "And rough on old Bones?" suggested another.

However, thoso objectionsjwero overruled by the majority, and disappeared entirely upon the appearance of a second jorum of whisky. Tbo matter had almost been for gotten by the time that Abo had received his note, nnd was spelling it out with a palpitating heart under tho light of his solitary candle.

V. • That night has long been remembered in Harvey's Sluice. A fitful breeze was sweep ingdown from the distant mountains, moan ing and sighing among the deserted claims. A great loneliness seemed to rest on the face of nature. Men remarked afterward on the strange eerie atmosphere which hung over the little town.

It was in the darkness that Abo Durton sallied out from his little shanty. His part ner, Boss Morgan, was still absent in the bush, so that, beyond the over-watchful Blinky, there waa no living being to observe his movements. A feeling of mild surprise filled his simple soul that his angel's delicate fingers could havo formed thoso great straggling hieroglyphics; however, thero was the name at the foot, and that was enough for him. Sho wanted him, no matter for what, and with a heart as pure and as heroic as any knight-errant, this rough miner went forth at the summons of his love. ' •' ■

He groped his way up tho steep winding track which while led to Azalea Villa. The miner paused under the shade of tho trees, and then moved on to the garden gate. There was no one there. Ho was evidently rather early. The moon was shining brightly now, and the country road was as clear as day. Abe looked past tho little villa at the road, which ran like a white, winding streak over tho brow of the hill. \ watcher behind could have sconhissqunre athletic figure standing out sharp and clear. Then he gave a stnrt as if he had boon shot, and staggered up against the little gate be side him.

He had Been something which caused even his sunburned face to become a shade paler as he thought of the girl so near him. Just at'the bend of the road, not two hun dred yards away, he saw a dark moving mass coming round the curve, and lost in the shadow of the hill. It was but for a moment; yet in that moment the quick perceptions of tho practised woodman had realised the whole situation. It was a band of horsemen bound for the villa ; and what horsemen would ride so by night save the terror of the woodlands —the dreaded rangers of the bush?

It is true that on ordinary occasions Abe was as sluggish in his intellect as he was heavy in his movements. In the hour of danger, however, he was as remarkable for cool deliberation as for prompt and decisive action. As he advanced up the garden he rapidly reckoned up the chances ' against him. There were half a dozen ',oi the assail ants nt the most moderate computation, all desperate and fearless men. Tho ques tion was whether he could keep tbem at bay for a short time and prevent their forc ing a passage into the house. We havo already mentioned that sentinels had been placed in the main street of the town. Abe reckoned that help wouldbent hand within ten minutes of of the firing of the first shot. Were he inside the hou«e ho could confi dently reckon on holding his own for a longer period than that. Before he could rouse the sleepers and gain admission, how ever, tho rangers would bo upon him. He must content himself with doing'his ut most. At any rate he would show Carrie that if he could not talk to her he could at least die for her. . < The road along which the rangers were coming ended at a wooden gate opening into the upper part of the assayer's little gardon. This sate had a high acacia hedge ouleither side of it, and opened into a short walk alsolincd by impassable thorny walls. Abo knew the place well. One resolute man fjnight he thought, hold the passage for a few minutes until theassailants broke through elsewhere and tookhim in tho rear. At any rate, it was his best chance. .He passed the front door,' bnt forbore

to give any alarm. Sinclair was an elderly man aud would be of little assistance in such a desperate struggle as was before him, and the appearance of lights in the house would warn the rangers of the resis tance awaiting them. O, for his partner, the Boss, for Chicago Bill, for any one of twenty gallant men who would have come at his call and stood by him iv such a quarrel! He turned into the narrow path- May. There was the well remembered wooden gate, and there, perched upon the gate, languidly swinging liis legs backward aud forward, and peering down the road in front of him, was John Morgan, the very mam for wnom Abe bad been longing from tho bottom of heart. There was short time for explanations, A few hurried words announced that tho Boss, returning from his little tour, had come across the rangers riding on their mission of darkness, nnd, overhearing their desination, had managed by hard running and knowledge of the country to arrive before them. "No time to alarm any ono," he explained, still pant ing from his exertions; "must stop them ourselves—not come for swag—come for your girl. Only over our bodies, Bones ;" nnd with these few broken words the strangely assorted friends shook hands, and looked lovingly into each other's cye..,while tlie tramp of the horses came down to them on the fragrant breeze of the woods.

There were six rangers in all. One, who appeared to be leader, rode in front, while the others followed ia a body. They flung themselves off their horses when they were opposite the house, and after a few mut tered words trom their captain, tethered the animals to a small tree, and walked confidently toward the gate.

Boss Morgan| and Abe were crouching down under the shadow of the hedge, at the extreme end of the narrow passage. They wero invisible to the rangers,) who evidently reckoned on meeting little resis tance in this isolated house. As the first man came forward and half turned to give some order to his comrades, both the friends rocognisod tho stern profile and heavy moustache of Black Fergusson.the rejected suitor of Miss Carrie Sinclair. Honest Abe mado a mental vow that he at least shold never rcacft tho door alivo.

The rullian stepped up to the gate and put his hand upon tho latcb. Ho started as a stentorian "Stand back!" came thundering out from among the bushes. In war, as in love, the miner was a man of few words.

"There's no road this way," explained another voice with an infinite sadness and gentleness about it which was characteristic of its owucr when the devil was rnmpantin his soul. Tho ranger recognised it. He remembered the soft languid address which he had listened to in the billiard room of tpe Buckhurst Arms, nnd which had wound up by the mild orator putting his back against the door, drawing a derringer, and asking to see tho sharper who would dare to force a passage. " It's that infernal fool Durton, ho soid, "and his white-faced friend."

Both wero well-known names in tho country round. But the rangers were icckless and desperate men. They drew up to the gate in a body. " Clear out of that!" said their leader, in a grim whisper; "you can't save the girl. Go off with whole ekina while you have the chance."

The partners laughed.

" Then, curse you, come on 1" Tho gate was [lung open and the party fired a strangling volley and made a fierce rush towards the gravelled walk.

The revolvers cracked merrily in the silence of tho night from the bushes at the other end. It was hard to aim with pre cision in the darkness, 'ihe second man sprang convulsively into the air, and fell upon his face, with his arms extended, writhing horribly in the moonlight. The third was grazed in the leg and stopped The others stopped out of sympathy. After all, tho girl was not for them, and their heart was hardly in the work. Their captain rushed madly on, like a valiant blackguard, as he was, but was met by a crashing blow from the butt of Abo Dur ton's pistol, delivered with a fierce energy which sent him reeling back among his comrades with the blood streaming from his ..chattered jaw and his capacity for cursing cut short at tho vory moment when he needed to draw upon it most.

" Don't go yet," said a voice in the dark' ness.

However they had no intention of going yet', A few minutes must elapse, they knew, before narvey's Sluice could be upon them. Thcro waß still time to force tho door if they could succeed in mastering the defenders. What Abe had feared had come to pass. Black Ferguson knew the ground aa well as be did. He ran rapidly along the hedge, nnd the five crashed through it where there was some appearance of a i>ap. The two friend* glanced at each other. Their flank was turned. They stood up like men who know their fate and did not fear to meet it.

There was a wild medley of dark figures in the moonlight, and a ringing cheer from well known voices. The humorists of Harvey's sluice had found something even more practical than iho joke which thoy had como to witness. The partners saw faces of friends beside them—Shamus, Struggles, M'Coy. Thero was a desperate rally, a sweeping fiery rush, a cloud of smoke, with pistol shots and fierce oaths ringing out of it, and when it lifted a singlo daik sliadow flying for dear life to the shel ter of tho broken edge was tho only ranger upon his feet within the little garden. But there was no sound of triumph among the victors: a strange hush had como over them, and a murmur as of grief—for there, lying across tho threshold which he had fought so gallantly to defend, lay poor Abe, the loyal and simple-hearted, breathing heavily, with a bullet through his lungs: He was carried inside with all the rough tenderness of the miners. 'I here were men there, I think, who would have borne his hurt to havo had the love of that white girlish figure which bent, over tho blood stained bed and whispered so softly and so tenderly in his ear. Her voice sccmod to rouse him. He opened his dreamy blue eyes and looked about him. They rested on her face.

"Played out," he murmured; pardon, Carrie, morib—" and with a faint smile he sank back upon the pillow. However, Abe failed for o»co to be as good as his word. His hardy constitution asserted itself, and he shook off what might in a weaker man have proved a deadly wound. Whether it was the balmy air of the woodlands which came sweeping over a thousand miles of forest into the sick man's room, or whether it was the littio nurse who tended him so gently, certain it is that within two months we heard that he had realised his shares in the Conemar a, and gone from Harvey's Sluice and the shanty upon the hill for ever.

I had the advantage a short time after wards of seeing an extract from the letter of a young lady named Amelia, to whom we have mado a casual allusion in tire course of our narrative. We have already broken the privacy of one feminine epistle, so we shall nave fewer scruples in glancing at another. •'I was bridesmaid," she re marks, ."and Carrie looked charming (underlined) "in the veil and orange blossoms. Such a man he is— twice as big as your Jack, and he was so funny, and blushed, and dropped tho prayer-bonk. Aud when they ask.d tho question you could have heard him roar "I do 1" at the othor end of George-street. H'"s best man was a darling (twice underlined), "So quiet and handsomo and nice. Too gentle to take caro of him'clf among those rough men lam sure." I think it quite possible that in tho fulness of time Miss Amelia managed to tako upon herself tho care of our old friend Jack Morgan, commonly known as tho Boss.— London Society.

Brigham Young not Dead.

An Omaha letter in the "New York World, says:-A Josephito Mormon lately from Salt Lako expresses tho opinion that Brigham Young is not dead, but that ho is concealed, and will in due time appear to his people and pretend that God has " resurrected " him to lead them out of their troubles. The gentleman in question saw the alleged body of the prophet, and says that while there was a strong resem blance, it was not in reality the corpse of Young. He declares that he is not alone in this view, as not less than a hundred of his acquaintances express a similar be lief. While hero he visited some of the Omaha Josephites, and it was to them he made the revelations of the plan by which Brigham Young is to create tho greatest sensation of modern times. He had many business dealings with the propbet, and was intimately acquainted with him. He asserts that, with the complete organisation and secret workings of the Church, it would be an easy matter to keepßrigbami Young concealed for almost any length of time, and reproduce him when most needed to revive the, faith of believers .■ by his alleged resurrection, ,

THE ONE RELIGION

IN THREE] DISCOURSES,

Preached in the Lome Street Hall. BY SAMUEL EDGAR, 8.A., APRIL 30TII and May 7th and 14th, 1882,

BEtNo. 1.-ITS WORSHIP. >

Every congregation of worshippers is sup posed to exist for the one sole purpose of religious culture—that is, the increase of religious influence and power amongst the religious, its creation or initiation amongst the irreligious. Some would express it, the conversion of the ungodly, and the saiietili cation of the godly. The former expres sion is the more clear and definite. I can not mean, though I would wish to, that this is, IN FACT, the only object of its existence ; but illegitimate ends are apt to creep under the very purest. I mean that it is tho only avowedly recognised as right and proper. And therefore the one ques tion wc arc allowed to ask respecting this or any congrega'ioii is this— What is the conception of religion entertained and put forward, and is it gaining ground amongst us?

It would be a great tlay for the world, and tho Church, too, if this question were more generally and more deliberately asked, and the answernot laken for granted. For among the myriad:- professedly religious how few could give ii satisfactory interpre tation of their religion. Each sect is apt to assume that true religion is confined within its own sectarian opinions; otherwise the sect would not exist as such, for purely re ligious ends. And thus we are landed in the absurdity—either that there are in numerable religions, and not any one reli gion-ox else that there arc innumerable false religions among which we have no means of discriminating the true. Either of these conclusions is manifestly false, and presents to thoughtful minds the unanswer able condemnation of sectarianism.

Itcligion is One, eternal, indivisible, and unalterable in its essential elements. To see that, and how it is so; to feel it, and realise it, is to rise into a calm and hallowed region of pure, divine life, where the diver sities and discords of sect seem as idle and senseless as wrong. I would not be mis understood. The peculiarities of any and every sect may have their value, just so far as they best promote religions life and power amongst those people; but no farther. It is imperatively demanded of us that we bo quite sure that they do that; for othcr wi.o to maintain theni is treason to religion —to God. Yet allowing them this their legitimate value, that is no reason why they should separate us into sects. One man can pray but standing, another sitting, another kneeling. For prayer's sake, let each man as he best may. But it would not be more foolish to have standing, sit ting, and kneeling sects, than thejsccts that do exist, if you believe that religion is one, and that tlieso peculiarities are merely helps to foster it. • For to divide on the mero means or helps where the grand end is one, is to throw that end into the shade under the means. lam so confident of all this that I have not the least fear that anyone would seriously call it in ques tion. But remembering the past when each sect did claim for itself the exclusive possession of pure or tbo purest religion, we see plainly the continuance of sects is the lingering on of this feeling, often un conscious and unavowed ; or, iv some cases, may be the lingering ou of the effect, after the cause haß ceased to exist or to be operative.

That religion is one has for these many years been the ruling thought of my niiud and the crowning principle of my life's work. On no other ground could I stand, conscious that its gradual recognition is as certain as the movements of the heavenly bodies, and that as that recognition ad vances it will realise Christ's great thought and prayer—" That they all may be one," and that He, "lifted up, will draw all men." It needs no prophet's eye to see that on this ground alone can religion sur mount the tides and storms of unbelief. The death-knell of narrowness has long been ringing. A distracted world wait to sec the one religion that can commend its reverent love and obedience, aud can lead the ages onwards. And therefore, however late in tho world's history it seems this is still tho question of questions— What is the one religion? Is the question presumptuous amid these multitudinous sects, or is the answer impossible? It might be, if wc hud to take all existing forms and divisions and sift out the answer therefrom. Not s", if we arc willing to take the true standard, the decision of our inspired Scriptures. Ch'ist has unfolded the deep underlying principles. Peter has stmck tho audibl key-note, From both comes the answer that religion is one and indivisible. Of it there are three elements -Worship, Conscience, nnd Love. Thero is do dilliculty in getting this ad mitted, in a general way, on the positive side ; for no ono doubts it; no one would acknowledge that there is any religion without love. The difficulty is m convinc ing men that there is nothing else in re ligion. And that depends to a considerable extent in seeing what these three things mean, or involve. "

This morning I can only speak of the first —AVorship.

There can be no religion without worship, and worship is everywhere the one same thing. Wc can have morality, an ethical system, in all degrees of perfection. We can have love, kindness, benevolence, even to tho denial of self, without any religion. Many ask, Why is not this enough, seeing that all the practical duties of life rest on these two things, Conscience and Love ? I answer—For two cogent reasons:—l. Because thcro is a wide gulf between the most perfect system of morality, aud obedi ence to it. In our present state neither perception nor conviction, nor both insure uction. Impulse is Mcdcd, Worship sup plies the inspiration which transforms moral theory into good life. 2. Love, again, as kindness, benevolence, beautiful as it is, is not safe alone. It makes many enormous bluuders. It needs guidance; that which can exalt it from an emotion into a principle. Conscience, morality, aids in this, but is too rigid and formal. Worship again supplies that elevating in spiration, which lifts love above the reign of fluctuating emotion, and gives it the en during steadiness of principle; yet without crippling that sublime freedom which dis tinguishes it from the rigid formality of law. It imports into love that which enables it to be a holy law to itself, What then is worship? The answer is simple : the consciousness and recognition of One higher than man, than any man, than all men, whom we call God; the sense of whoso presence is the grandest in. spiring impulse to the human soul; the conviction of whose infinitude gives lo the moral sense an ever-expanding perfectness; the consciousness of whoso love raises ours above the limitations and imperfections of humanity. The soul and genius of such worship is reverence. ; which keeps the out look of our nature tqswards ; which pene trates the soul with the beauty of obedience and makes our love as pure and holy as it is sympathetic. The loss of reverence is the|most disastrous calamity that has fallen upon this unbelieving age ; which we mourn iv the undisciplined character of our chil dren ; which wo foster and see not in the frivolity of manhood. I say that it is the consciousness and recognition of some one person higher than humanity, not somo being. But we aro told that "person" means limitation, and a person is a man. And is God such ? I know not why persui is more limited than being, By person wo mean conscious thought and intelligent will. These, visible and limited in man, we can conceive unlimited. Surely there is nothing in that unworthy of the Infinite Father. Now it is surprising how men who discard God feel compelled to put some thing in His place. Positivists put humanity (ideal); philosophers put natural law ; scientists put perpetual progress or evolution. But it is hard indeed to rever ence these poor dumb idols for God, Ideal humanity, amidst tho realities of these scattered works of tho human; Latural law that crushes antl tortures tho worshipper/ deaf alike to his agonies of misery, his orics for help, or his songs of gladness; perpetual progress, with the past laughing at us in its fluctuations, backwards as far as forwards. Yes, it is hard to worship these intelleotuai fetishes. Emotionless men of thought may succeed; the tondor, suffering heart of man never. But now, God is all thoso; only that he is infinitely moro. Ho Is—and must be—man becomo infinite. What higher thought can we have than "mind," through which to conceive of God ? Antl if He formed the finite mind in His own image, did He not intend that as the best revelation of Himself? Thus we have our ideal man in God ; not imaginary and hard to fashion out of human wrecks ; but real of inimitable lovoliness, in Christ; in whom is the fullnoss of the Father. And thou«h critics would tarnish that fair vision as not being so perfect, thoy are open to the sar castic rebuke .-Why do you not present us with a fairer vision ; one that is perfect' Were it such, it would soon displace

One can but smile, though with deep sadness, at the manner in which criticshave assailed the character of Christ. One is content to reason—All men are imperfect; Christ was a man, and therefore he was imperfect. And then suggests that his relation to Mary and Martha was not alto gether as pure as it might have been. Another, that He as good as stole the ass on which he rode into Jerusalem. So eloquent a writer as Kenan, who is .far above such coarse insinuations,' has filled the latter pages of his " Life of Jesus " with suggestions not less astounding to the devout and thoughtful reader of the New Testament. Within thirty pages I noticed not less than half that number, of which I "ive a few fair specimens :—" In those fits °i severity he abolished natural tics."— " The barsh and gloomy feeling of distaste for the world."—"Ho was not able to receive opppsition with the coolness of tbe philosopher."—"He cried out in bis mo ments of bittetness, '0 Jerusalem,' &c."

—"Sometimes he allowed a gloomy resent ment against his enemies to appear."—"He liked to be honoured, for honours served his aim." Eeally, one would much like to know what sort of an ideal could be pre sented that would satisfy tbe critics. _ To us again all law is the emanation of tho Divine mind, the method of his will in action ; but then instinct with the designs of love. Our progress is inseparable from the thought of God; but it is not by steps and courses that our poor minds can mea sure. God is all these - all these concentred and exalted in the Holy One—the Father —all those, but infinitely more. Yes, I say, infinitely more than these, and more than all our highest conceptions of God. This " infinitely more "is a safe guard against what might otherwise become to us a debasing idolatry. The child has his conception of God—well for him ; but did wc remain at that as men, what a poor little idol would it be. Not less so our conception as men. did we think we could remain at that. But, on tbe contrary, we knew that our bc-^t conception only ap proaches Him, IS NOT He, but one step to wards Him ; inviting us to ever higher and purer thoughts. The moment we are dis posed to stop short we become idolaters worshipping a small image of God; the necessity of ever reaching upwards towards Him whom yet we never can reach, but only approach, keeps our thought of Him pure, and far removed from idolatrous forms; and also keep vigorous that rever ence which is the soul of worship, and the powerful impulse of good and holy life. Such, in part at least, is the meaning of Christ—that God is a spirit,_and they that worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth. Whatever other ideaß we have of epirit, this is most prominent, that spirit is far above and beyond all the limits of matter; that so long as we worship God a spirit, in spirit, our minds are evidently carried above all idol forms, all narrow limits of sense; and. while wo enlarge our ideas of God from every visible created thing, He is felt immeasurably to rise above it all; to our poor minds, so far as any distioct idea is concerned, lost in the dazzling splendour of his infinitude. This is worship, thus kept pure and enno bling ; essentially the.first element of all religion that ever has been, is, or ever will be. So long as we keep to this in its simple but grand purity, religion can be but one. In what conceivable way could you make this sectarian. AU religions are true in so far ns they participate in it; and in that, their truth, they are one. For you see that in this worship there can be neither creeds, forms and ceremo nies, nor ecclesiaaticism, tbe prolific .ources of dissension. A creed means a fixed form of conviction at whic/i, you rest, otherwis* it were no creed. But as we have seen we can rest nowhere ; high as on' thought of God may be, it is not He. He is immea surably higher. We leave the little idol for that which is above all; and thus ever have a sublimely exalted object of our worship, and keep our reverence strong and ennobling.

Equally certain is it that no forms or ceremonies of any kind can necessarily be connected with this worship, ' They may be desirable for those whom they can aid towards the true spiritual worship. But they no more belong to it than the scaffold ing docs to the building; they aie no more part of it than a man's clothes are part of the man. To sever religion into sects by that which is no part of religion is in itself as unreasonable as in its results it has proved pernicious. Of priests again and ecclesiasticismj this worship kno*s nothing; itself ia nothing without the drawing near of the individual soul to God ; and for that, the less of priest or churchism the belter.

Thus, so far as worship is concerned its tiist gieat element—we see that religion is and can be but one in its spiiit and es sence. To bring in division, you must bring in what is not religion. That is the principle for which we contend; the im portance of which no language can exagge rate. Whether it is or has been right to bring in what is not religion,.the one thing now clear U, that it is not anything of that kind that.thinking men in this age want. They a«k for tbat which is purely and essentially religion; and'they know that that everywhere is and most be one. ' And now, of worship, if we have been enabled to any extent to sco how perfectly distinct a thing it is from all the parapher nalia of display and ornament and mere bodily service; how it it is full of aspira tion and reverence; how it keeps man's soul looking upwards, and yet only the more animated with a sense of earthly duties; and if this feeling has gone forth from these services into life, then I know full well tbat these services will be held in grateful remembrance. For of all things in life, the one incomparably precious thing is that which can bring us "nearer to God!"

GARDEN AND ORCHARD.

Asparagus Planting.

[From tlus Gardener.' Chronicle. Notwithstanding ail that has hean written for our information by thoso con versant with the French system of growing asparagus, the' home productions cannot yet be said to have attained.tho 'standard of excellence which " distinguishes the French " grass." The French growers, as is well known to most of our readers, allow a greater area for the development of tlio individual plant than has hitherto been given them by English growers; and this may have been an important agent in tli3 production of the splendid example* of asparagus which are sent to London iii the season by the growers from tho neigh-J bourhood of Park And .with this object in view we shall at once proceed with,the modus operandi of planting tho roots. The ground having been trenched as previously recommended, open trenches four feet fiom centre to centre, nine inches deep, and fifteen inches wide, in the centre of which make little hillocks a couple of inches high and three feet apart, on which lay the roots of the plants, spreading them out equally in every direction, and then cover them with a few inches of fine soil, and subsequently with a littio weld-decom posed mamire, which will tend to preserve tho roots in an equable condition, and afterwards water through a rose to settle the soil about t,:e roots. For this purpose we prefer one-year-old plants, which we plant as soon as the young shoots appear through the soil iv the nursery beds, press ing the soil moderately firm around the roots,with the hands at the time of plant ing. After which a small stick should be put to each plant, to which to tie it for support later on. In addition to the trenches we still plant in beds, but in a modified form, for instead of planting three longtitudinal lines in each four-feotbed we plant two only. The beds, aa a^ea^v stated, aio four feet wide, with alleys two feet wide between them, and aro marked out for two rews of plants in oaoh bed at nine inches on cither side of the centre drills aro then drawn about three inches' deep, and in these the roots— takine half nf them m one hand and half in the other are placed, with the crowns in an elevated position eighteon inohes apart in the row and the soil pressed about the roots with the hands; the plants are then sticked, and lw UI TCc mU, lchc?' aB commended above. To supply plants for forcing the fourth year alter planting we plant in frills as above recommended, iff teen inches asunder, and the same distance from plant to plant in the row, and in such a way that the p ants m the second row stand angle wise to those m the first-this mark aLo applies to those in beds, these beinir planted inconsecutive drills-and so on witheach ZZ^ R Tm' Whl ch *> the plants more room to dovelop themselves than if planted opposite. In the meantime rows of cauliflowers, cabbage, or broccoH can bo planted between the aspamgu S trenches, which are four feet asunder with Xc ST "^^ **the

Planting Fruit-Trees.

It is an important question whether nr not the roots of deciduous tree ß make B ny

growth during the period that the leave* are off. Certainly at the beginning o spring there is growth, beexuse without it the dormant buds would not awaken to life and activity; but it in a moot point whether thcro is any activity during the first period of rest—when the leaves have fallen or are falliog. By some alithoritiei it is urged that during the whole time the roots are more or less active, whilst others assert that they are perfectly dormant. If activity is present in a greater degree jurt when the leaves have fallen than it is a month or six weeks after, there may be some good in planting deciduous trees early after the fall of the leaves, in order that the roots may "get a hold on the bed," before they go to sleep, and when they afterwards "wake up'1 the first step to active work will have been taken. It, on the contrary, the plant is at its most com plete state of rest when the leaves have just fallen, it would be wise to let it stop in the nursery bed until the period of activity is about to commence. With evercreen trees such as loquats and the orange tribes - it is the opinion of the best cultivators that it is inexpedient to plant them just previous to or during a cold wet part of the year. Either plant them at the cud of autumn or else in spring—the latter time being pre ferred by many. In California summer is advocated as the proper time to plant all kinds of evergreen shrubs and trees—es pecially conifers. If the land has not been worked down into a hard mass it is sufficient to plough the surface to a good depth- say ten inches, and follow with a subsoil stirrer to a further depth of six or seven inches. The taproot of any kind of tree will find ite way down through the natural subsoil, and the fibrous surface roots can luxuriate in the surface loosened by the plough. There are very few fruit-trees that do not require a space of fully 25 feet in which to spread out their branches, and this space should be given, • As at first the.trees do not cover so much, the ground can be used for the cultivation of peas, beans, or such crops as can be cut and gathered by hand ; but it is not ndvuable to turn in sheep or any kind of live stock to graze amongst the trees, Before planting, or even before preparing the ground, it should be resolved to plant none but the very best varieties of fruit trees, and these should be ordered from reliable nurserymen. It is very seldom indeed that stocks of trees or plants put up to auction can be relied upon. Nursery men who are careful do not raise stock that cannot be sold at paying prices to private order, but stock made from plum tuckers can be grafted by thousands with scions from anything that comes to band, and any label will do for stuff so raised and sold by auction ; but the purchaser finds out at the end of seven years that he has been nurs ing a worthless tree. If there is a choice amongst the varieties to be selected let it be borne in mind that the straight-stemmed, clean, bright-barked trees are beat, and the small trees are gene rally better than those which are larger, because the small trees have [most fibrous roots, the'ends of tho roots of the larger trees having been chopped off when digging them out of the ground. A tree in this state is not much better than—if as j»od at —a slip or cutting. The roots arc; i_ot strong enough to support tho branches, and tbe result is tbat the tree makes hardly any growth the first year, and next year is found to bo permanently stunted—such a tree will never give enti .'faction. The small tree, on the contrary, having plenty of roots to support the branches, statts away, at once, and before the season is over has made more progress than tbe crippled tree, and in four or five years begins to hear fruit, ■ ■ • ■ - «'

When planting, see that the stem Is not put down more than an inch deeper than'it was previously, else the bark will be <fes troyed by the damp earth and the tree will be killed. Let the roots he spread out to their full length and extent, and see that the soil is finely pulverised, to that it may come into close contact with the small fi brous roots; and if necessary to support with a stake let it be driven in before the roots are covered, so that none shall be destroyed The tie must be made in such away that the sap can rise easily, and bo that by the movement with the wind the bark shall not be chafed through. Then it Is advisable to cover the soil lor as far as tho roots reach with about three inches deep with farmyard or stable litter, and finally to cut off the top two buds from each branch—generally one, but in some cases two or three. This rule does not apply to evergreen trees, &c.

The Willow for Bees.

J. Rust, in ihe " Gardener's Chronicle' wiites thus respecting tho willow as a food for bees :—" lam not now going to write about the Whitepillow (Salax alba) nor the Bedford Willow (Salix Riwelliana), nor yet of the Crack Willow (Salix fragilis) any one of which, planted in a suitable situation in quantity, will purchase a horse, while most other trees will only bujKhis saddle—nor am I going into a long account of the black, green, and golden Osier, all of which we have woven into useful bas. kets when the weather |rtndered out-door work impracticable; but I write to eaU attention to the Goat Willow (Salix caprea) which was known and planted as early food for bees 2,000 years ago, Virgß says :-i "The Wllow hedgeiwhich piarts your neigh- To bees oJHybla yields TOfalMng store ! *** Wtth oonßtant *""* And yet, strange to say, few persons are now aware that the catkin of this willow is the very first food which our honey-bee gets. Some ten or twelve years ago 1 had a capital opportunity to plant several hun dred yards of this willow simply as eorlv food for the bees in the garden; the situa tion was somewhat damp, and they havo now grown from 15 to 20 feet high. The blossom this fine season has been perfectly marvellous, and all day long and every day durmij the month of March the trees havi been literally swarming with bees, and at the hives as^busy carrying in their stores asi.if it were flort-ery May or leafy June. ihoro is no need to speak of the value of bees in field andgarden; they unquestioiv ably hep to fertilise our fruit trees, and indeed I look ppon them as part and parcel °£ the garden,;, Willows cd all kinds Tare of all things, the easiest to crow, and na watercourse, atream, river, or lake is perfect without the willow being associated with it, and it is this tree which yielded the palm used by our forefathers at this seasoa of the year." ...,. ,;.

Mated and Published by the P.< pr^tor, 'i Ms* §2 ET?'• of Symonds-street, at his Gncral Printing Offlco, Wyndham-stroet, la toe Pro. vtacoofAuckland, Now Zealand. I """^v" Satukdav June .17,1882, •

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, JUNE 17, 1883.



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