"HAND AND RING."

By Anna Katherine orkkn, /^.utiiorof "Tho Loavcnworth &T- ar a er| » "T ne Sword olDamodes," ""Jho Defence °*U"»Pludo,"eto.

CHAPTER XIV.

A LAST ATTEMPT,

When Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a. threatcnine eye. —King John. The Bleep of Horace Byrd that night wus anything but refreshing. In the first place,: he was troubled about thu fellow Brown, whese last impertinence showed he was a > man to be watched, and, if possible, under-, 'stood. Secondly, he was haunted by a vision of the unhappy youth he had just left; seeing, again and again, both in his dreams and in the rush of heated fancies which followed his awaking, that picture of latter despair which the opening of his neighbour's door had revealed* Me could not think of that poor mortal as sleeping. Whether it was the result of his own sym-1 pathetic admiration for Miss Dare, or of; Gome subtle clairvoyance bestowed upon ; him by the darkness and stillness of the hour, he felt assured that the quiet watch he had i interrupted by his careless importunity! had been again established, and that if he could tear down the partition separating | their two rooms, he should see that bowed form and buried face crouched despairirigly above the disfigured picture. The depths i of human misery and the maddening: passions that underlie all crime had been revealed to him for the first time, perhaps, in all their terrible suggestivenoas, and he ' asked himself over and over as he tossed on his uneasy pillow if he possessed the need-1 ful determination to carry on the scheme he had undertaken, in face of the unreason ing sympathies which the fathomless misery of this young rrtan had aroused. Under the softening influences of the night, he answered, No; but when the sunlight catno and the full flu ah cf life with its rest less duties and common necessities awoke within him, hx» decided, Yes. Mr Mansell was not fit the breakfast table when Mr Byrd came down. His duties ' at tha mill were peremptory, and he had already taken his coffee and gone. But Mr Brown was there, and at sight of him Mr Byrd'a caution took alarm, and he bestowed upon this intrusive busybody a close and searching scrutiny. It, however, elicited nothing in the way of his own enlighten ment beyond the fact that this fellow, total stranger though he seemed, was for some inexplicable reason an enemy to himself or -, hia plant). iNbtthat Mr Brown manifested this by ■ nny offensire token of dislike or even of mis trust. On the contrary, he was excessively polite, and let slip no opportunity of drag ging Mr Byrd into the conversation. Yet, Tor all that, a secret influence was already at work against the detective, and be could not attribute it to any other source than the jealous efforts of this man. Miss Hart was actually curt to him, and in the attitude of tha various persons about the board he de tooted a certain reserve which had been en tirely absent from their manner the evening before. But while placing, as he thought, due weight upon this fellow's animosity, he had ;n© idea to what it would tead> till he went upstairs. Mrs Hart, who had hitherto treated him with the utmost cordiality, now called him into the parlour, and told him him frankly that she Would be obliged to him if he would lot her have his room. To be sure, she qualified the seeming harshness of her request by an intimation that a per manent occupant had applied for it, and . offered to pay his board at the hotel till he could find a room to suit him in another /house ; but the fact remained that she was really in a flutter to rid herself of him, and no subterfuge could hide it, and Mr Byrd, -■ to whose plans the full confidence of those wound him was essential, found himself obliged to acquiesce in her desires, and an nounce at once his willingness to depart. ,! Instantly she was all smiles, and over i whelmed him with overtures of assistance ; but he courteously declined her help, and, flying from her apologies with what speed he could, went immediately to his room. Here he sat down to deliberate. . The facts he had gleaned, despite the interference of his unknown enemy) were three: First, that Cfaik Mansell had found ex ■ cuses for not attending the inquest, or even the funeral, of his murdered aunt. \'• Secondly, that he had a atf ong passion fpjf invention, and had even now the model of a machine on hand. 3 ' And third, that he was not at home, ■■ wherever else he may have been, on the morning of the murder in Sibley. • " A poor and meagre collection of insig nificant facts," thought Mr Byrd. "Too poor and meagre to avail much in stemming *he tide threatening to overwhelm Gouv erneur Hildreth." 1 But what opportunity remained for making them weightier? He was turned i from the house that held the few persons from whom he could hope to glean more • complete and satisfactory information, and ■ he did not know where else to seek it unless ■ he went to the mill. And this was an al ternative from which he shrank, as it would ■. in the first place necessitate a revelation of his real character ; and, secondly, make known the fact that Mr Mansell was under the surveillance of the police, if not in the actual attitude of a suspected man. A quick and hearty " Shure you are very good, sir I" uttered in the hall without roused him from his meditations and turned his thoughts in a new direction. What if he could learn something from the servants? He had not thought of them. This girl, now, whose work constantly carried her in to the various rooms onthls floor, would, of course, know whether Mr Mansell hadbeen away on the day of the murder, even if she could not toll the precise time of his return, At all events, it was worth while to test her '■ with a question or two before he left, even If ho had to resort to the means of spurring ■ Sii»r memory with money. His failure in •ther directions did not necessitate a failure He accordingly called her in, and show lag ker a bright silver dollar, asked her if she thought it good enough pay for a short aaswer to a simple question. '■■•.-,. To his great surprise she blushed and drew back, shaking her head and muttering that her mistress didn't like to have the girls talk to the young men about the houee, and finally going off with a determined toss of her frowsy head, that struck Mr Byrd aghast, and made him believe more than ever that his evil star hung in the ascendant, and that the sooner he quit the house the .better. » , , In ten minutes he was in the street. But one thing now» remained for him to do. He must make the acquaintance of one of the mill-owners,- or possibly of an over seer or accountant, and from him learn where Mr Mansell had been at the time of his aunt's murder. To this duty h« de voted the day; but here also he was met , by unexpected difficulties. Though he took pains to disguise himself before proceeding to the mill, all the endeavours which he made to obtain an interview there witlr any responsible person were utterly faultless. Whether his ill-luck at the house had fol lowed him to this place he could not tell, but for some reason or other, there wasnot ono'of the gentlemen for whom he inquired but had some excuse for. not seeing him ; and, worn out at last with repeated ding pointments, if not oppressed by tho doubt - Id looks he received from the various sub oXates who carried his messages, he left Rebuilding, and proceeded to make use of ' the only means now left him of compassing hi Thisdwas to visit Mr Goodman, the one which I am surrounded in this quarter has • breached thisgentleman's house,"thought ie And havinl learnedfrom the directory where thathofse was, he proceeded im "iSpiion was'byno means cordial. , MrGoodinan had been ill the night before, ' and was in no mood to see strangers. "Mansell?" he coolly repeated, in ac knowledementof the other's inquiry as to wheOe had a person of that name mhis / " B Ss?trd=in'rdetectivere. spondeoV adopting at once the bold.course, 3 "you can put me in possession of a fact wmch it eminently befits the cause of V be quite ready to tell you V . fe's ■' ! ' . • • • I ■-•','■• , '•

The inflection he gave to these words warned Mr Byrd to be careful. The truth Was, Mr Goodman was Mr Mansell's beßt friend, and as such had his own reasons for' not being especially communicatfare in his regard to this stranger. The tfetective vaguely felt this, and immediately changed his manner.

"I have no doubt of that, sir," he in genuously answered. "But Mr Mansell has had so much to distress him lately that I was desirous of saving him from the un pleasantness which such a question would necessarily cause. It is only a small matter, sir. A person—it is not essential to state whom—has presumed to raise the question amdng the authorities in Sibley as to whether Mr Mansell, as heir of poor. Mrs Clemmens's small property, might not have had some hand in her dreadful death. There was no proof to sustain the assumption, and Mr Mansell was not even known to have been in the tbwn on or after the day of her murder; but justice, having listened to tho aspersion, felt bound to satisfy itself of its falsity ; and I was sent hore to learn where Mr Mansell was upon that fatal day. I find he was not in Buffalo. But this does not mean he was in Sibley, and I am sure that, if you will, you can supply me with facts that will lead to a complete and satis factory hlibi for him." But the hard caution of the other was not to be moved.

"lam sorry," said he, "but I can give you no information in regard to Mr Man sell's travels. You will have to ask the gentleman himself." " You did not send him out on businoss of your own, then?" ".No." .

" But you knew he was going ?" " Yes."

"And can tell when he came back 1"

" Ho was in his place on Wodnesday." The cold, dry nature of these replies con vinced Mr Byrd that something more than the sullen obstinancy of an uncommunica tive man lay behind this determined re ticonce. Looking at Mr Goodman inquir ingly, he calmly remarked: "You are a friend of Mr Mansell ?" Tho answer came quick and coldly: " He is a constant visitor at my house." Mr Byrd made a respectful bow. "You can, then, have no doubts of his ability to prove an alibi f "I have no doubts concerning Mr Man sell," was tho stern and uncompromising re- Mr Byrd at once felt ho had re ceived his dismissal. But before making up his mind to go, he resolved upon one further effort. Calling to his aid his full power of acting* he slowly shook his head with a thoughtful air, and presently murmured half aloud and half as it were to himself:

" I thought, possibly, he might have gone to Washington." Then, with a casual glance at Mr Goodman, added : " He is an inventor, I believe ?", .

" Yes," was again the laconic response. " Has he not a machine at present which he desires to bring to the notice of some capitalist ?" "I believe ha has," was the forced and none too amiable answer.

Mr Byrd at once leaned confidingly for ward.

"Don't you think," he asked, "that ho may have gone to New York to consult with some one about this pet hobby of his ? It would certainly be a natural thing for him to do, and if I only knew it was so, I could go back to Sibley with an easy conscience."

His disinterested air, and the tone of kindly concern which he had adopted, seemed at last to produce its effect on his companion. Relaxing a trifle of his austerity, Mr Goodman went bo far as to admit that Mr Mansell had told him that business connected with his patent had called him out of town ; but beyond this ho would allow nothing ; and Mr Byrd, baffled in his attempts to elicit from this man any distinct acknowledgment of Mr Mansell's whereabouts at the critical .time of Mrs Clemmens's death, made a final bow and turned toward the door.

It was Only at this moment he discovered that Mr Goodman and himself had not been alone in the room; that curled up in one of the window-seats was a little girl of some ten or twolye years of ago, who at tho first tokens of his taking his departure slipped shyly dow n to the floor and ran before him out into the hall. He found her by the front door when he arrived there. She was stand ing with her hand on.the knob, and pre sented such a picture of childish eagerness, tempered by childish timidity, that he in voluntarily paused before her with a smile. She needed no further encouragement. " Oh, sir, I know about Mr Mansell I" she cried. "He wasn't in that place you talk about, for he wrote a letter to papa just the day before he came back, and the postmark on the envelope was Monteith. I remember, because it was tho name of tho man who made our big map." And, look ing up with that eager zeal which marks the liking of very little folks for BOtne one favourite person among their grown ac quaintances, she added, earnestly: '"I do hope you won't let them say anything bad about Mr Manßell, he is so good." And without Waiting for a reply, she ran off, her curls dancing, her eyes sparkling, all her little innocent form alive with the joy of having done a kindness, as she thought for her favourite, Mr Mansell. Mr Byrd, on the contrary, felt a strange pang that the information he had sought for so long and vainly should cothe at last from the lips of an innocent child. Monteitb, as you remember, was the next Btation to Sibley.

CHAPTER XV. THE END OF A TORTUOUS PATH. Thus bad begins and worse romainß behind. —Hamlet. The arrest of Mr Hildreth'had naturally quieted public suspicion by fixing attention upon a definite point, so that when Mr Byrd returned to Sibley he found that he could pursue whatever inquiries he chose without awakening tho least mistrust that he was on the look-out for the murderer of Mrs Clemmens. ... The first use he made of his time was to find out if Mr Mansell, or any man answer ing to his description, bad Keen seen to take the train from the Sibley station on the afternoon of the fatal Tuesday. The re sult was unequivocal. No such person had been seen there, and no such person was be lieved to have been at the station at any time during that day. This was his firsts disappointment. . ■ . He next made the acquaintance of the conductors on that line of street-cars by means of which he believed Mr Mansell to have made his escape. But with no better result. Not one of them remembered having taken up, of late, any passenger from the terminus of the appearance de scribed by Mr Byrd. . . , And this was his second disappointment. His next duty was obviously to change his plan of action and make the town of Monteith the centre of his inquiries. But he hesitated to do this till he had made ono other visit to tho woods in whose recesses he still believed the riiurdorer to hare plunged immediately upon dealing the latal He went by tho way of the street railroad, not wishing to be again suen crossing tho j bog, and arrived at the l:ut in the centre of : the glade without meeting anyone or ex periencing the least adventure. This time he went in, but nothing was to , be seen save bare logs, a rough hearth . where a fire hod once been built, and the rudest sort of bench and table; and hurry ing forth again, he looked doubtfully up and down the glade in pursuit of some hint to guide him in his future researches. Suddenly he received one. The thick wall of foliage which at first glance revealed but two outlets already traversed by him showed upon close inspection a third path, opening well behind the hut, and leading, as he soon discovered, in an entirely oppo site direction from that which had taken him to West Side. Merely stoppmg to cast one glance at the sun, which was still well overhead, he set out on this new path. It was longer and more intricate than the other. It led through hollows and up steeps, and finally out into an open black berry patch, where it seemed to termin ate. But a close study of the surrounding bushes soon disclosed signs of a narrow and thread-like passage curving about a rocky , steep. Entering this he presently found himself drawn again into the woods, which he continued to tra verse till he came to a rosd cut through the heart of the forest, for the use of the lum bermen Here he paused. Should he turn to the right or left ? He decided to turn to the right. Keeping in the road, which was rough with stones where it was not marked with the hoofs of both horses and cattle, he walkedforsomedistance. Thenheemerged into open space again, and discovered that he waion Ac hillside overlooking Monteith, and that by a mile or two's further walk over the highway that was dimly to be de scribedatthefoot of the hill, he would reach the small station devoted to the uses of the quarrymen that worked in this pkce. . There was no longer any further doubt that this route, and not the other had been the one taken by Mr Mansell on that fatal, afternoon. But he was determined not to trust any further to mere surmises; so hastening down the hill, he made hifl way Si the direction of tho highway, meaning to take the walk alluded to and learn for him self what passengers had taken the train at this point on the Tuesday afternoon so often | mentionedi ". . -

But a barrier rose in hia way. A stream which he had barely noticed in the quick glance he threw over the landscape from the brow of the hill, separated with quite a for midable width of water the hillside from the road, and it was not till he wandered back for some distance along its banks, that he found a bridge. The time thus lost was con siderable, but he did not think of if; and when, after a long and weary tramp, he stepped upon the platform of the small station, he was so eager to learn if ho had correctly followed the scent that he forgot to remark that the road he had taken was anything but an easy or feasible one for a hasty escape. The accommodation trains, which alone stop at this point, had both passed, and he found the station-master at leisure. A Bingle glance into his honest and intelligent face convinced the detective that he had a reliable man to deal with. He at once com menced his questions. " Do many persons besides the quarrymen take the train at this place 1" asked he. , "Not many," was the short but suffi ciently good-natured rejoinder. " I guess I could easily count them on tho fingers of one hand," he laughed. " You would bo apt to notico, then, if a strange gentleman got on board here at any timo, would you not?"

" Guess so ; not often troubled that way, but sometimes—sometimes."

"Can you tell mo whether a young man of very dark complexion, heavy mustache, and a determined, if not excited, expression, took the cars hero for Monteith, say, any day last week ?"

"I don't know, "mused the man. ''Dark complexion, you say, largo mustache; lot me see."

"No dandy," Mr Byrd carefully ox. plained, "but a strong man, who believes in work. He was possibly in a state of somewhat nervous hurry," he went on, sug gestively, " and if ho wore an overcoat at all, it was a grey one." The face of the man lighted up. " I scorn to remember, said ho. "Did ho have a very bright blue eye and a hiph colour ?"

Mr Byrd nodded. "And did he enrry a peculiarly shaped bag, of which lie wag very careful ?" "I don't know," said Mr Byrd, but re membering the model, added with quick assurance, "I have no doubt he did," which seemed to satisfy tho Other, for he at onco cried t

"I reoolloct such a person very well. I noticed him before he got to the station—as soon in fact as he came in sight. He was walking down the highway, and seemed *to be thinking about something. He's of tho kind to attract attention. What about him, sir ?"

"Nothing. He was in trouble of some kind, and he went from home without say ing where he was going; and his friends are anxious about him, that ia all. Do you think you could swoar to lub faco if you saw it?"

" I think I could. He was the only stranger that got on to the cars that after noon.

" Do you romember, then, tho day ?" "Well, no, now, I don't."

"But can't you, if you try? Wasn't there something done by you that day which will assist your memory ?"

Again that slow "Let me see" showed that the man was pondering. Suddenly ho whipped his thigh and exclaimed : "You might be a lawyer's clerk now, mightn't you ; or, perpaps, a lawyer him self? I do romember that a large load of stone was sent off that day, and a minute's look at my book It was Tues day," he presently affirmed. Mr Byrd drow a deep breath. There id sadness mixed with the satisfaction of such a triumph.

" I am much obiicod to you," he said, in acknowledgment of the other's trouble. "The friends sf this gentleman will now have little difticulty in tracing him. There is but one thing further I should liko to make sure of."

And taking from his memorandum-book the picture ho kept concealed there, he showed him the face of Mr Mansell, now altered to a perfect likeness, and asked him if he recognised it. The decided Yes which ho received made further questions unnecessary.

CHAPTER XVI. STORM. Oh, my oflbnco is rank, it smells to lieuv'n ; It hath the primal oldest curse upon't! —Hamlbt. A day had passod. Mr Byrd, who no longer had any reason to doubt, that ho was upon tho trail of the real assailant of tho Widow Cloimnens, had resolved upon a third visit to tho woods, thio lirao with tho delinito object of picking lip any cluo, how ever trifling, in support of tho act that Craik Mansell had passed throng iI c glade behind his aunt's house. The sky, when he left tho hotel, was one vast field of blue; but by tho timo ho reached the terminus of the car-route, and stepped out upon tho road loading to the woods, dark clouds had overcast the sun, and a cool wind replaced the quiet zephyrs which had all day fanned the brilliant autumn foliage. He did not realise the condition of tho atmosphere, however, and proceeded on his way, thinking more of tho person he had just perceived issuing from the doorway of Professor Darling's lofty mansion than of the low mutterings of distant thunder that now and then disturbed the silence of the woods, or cf the ominous, brazen tint which was slowly settling over the huge bank of cloud that filled the northern sky. For that person was Miss Dare, and her presence here, or anywhere near him, at this time, must of necessity awaken a most painful train of thought. But, though unmindful of the storm, no was dimly conscious of the darkness that was settling about him. Quicker and quicker grew his pace, and at last he almost broke into t. run as the heavy pall of a large black cloud swept up over the zenith, and wiped from the heavens the last remnant of blue sky. One drop fell, then another, then a slow, heavy patter, that bent double the leaves they fell upon, as if a shower of lead had descended upon the heavily writhing forest. The wind had risen, too, and tho vast aisles of that clear and beautiful wood '■ thundered with the swaying of the boughs, and the crash here and there of an old and falling limb. But the lightning delayed. The blindest or most abstracted man could be ignorant ns longer of what all this turmoil meant. Stopping in the path along which he had been speeding, Mr Byrd glanced before him and behind, in a momen tary calculation of distances, and deciding he could not regain the terminus before the storm burst, pushed on toward the hut. He reached it just as the first flash of lightning darted down through the heavy darkness, and was about to fling himself against the door, when something^was it the touch of an invisible hand, or,the crash of awful thunder which at this instant ploughed up the silence of the forest and woke a pandemonium of echoes about his head ?—stopped him. He never knew. He only realised that he shuddered and drew back, with a feeling of great disinclination to enter the low ! building before himalone ; and that pres -1 ently taking advantage of ■ another loud I crash of falling boughs, he crept around tho corner of the hut, and satisfied his doubts by looking into the email, square window ! opening to tho west. He found there was ample reason for all the hesitation he had felt. A man was sit ting there, who, at the first glimpse, ap peared to him to be none other than Craik Mansell. But reason soon assured him this could not be, though the shape, the attitude that old attitude of despair which he re membered so well—was so startlingly like that of the man whose name was uppermost in his thoughts, that he recoiled in spite of himself. A second flash swept blinding through the wood. Mr Byrd advanced his head and took another glance at the stranger. It was Mr Mansell. No other man would git so quiet and unmoved during the rush and clatter of a terrible storm. Look ! not a hair of his head has stirred, not a movement has taken place in the hands clasped so convulsively beneath his brow. He is an image, a stone, and would not hear though the roof fell in. Mr Byrd himself forgot the storm, and only queried-, what his duty was in this strange and surprising emergency. But before he could come to any definite conclusion, he was subjected to a new sensa tion. A stir that was not the result of the wind or the rain had taken place in the forest before him. A something—he could not tell what—was advancing upon him from the path he had himself travelled so short a time before, and its step, if step_ it were, shook him with a vague apprehension that made him dread to lift his eyes. But he conquered the unmanly instinct, and merely taking the precaution to step some what further back from view, looked in the direction of his fears, and saw a toll, firmly built woman, whose grandly poised head, held high, in defiance of the gale, the light ning, and the rain, proclaimed her to be none other than Imogeno Dare. It was a juxtaposition of mental, moral, and physical forces that almost took Mr Byrd's breath away. He had no doubt whom she had come to Bee, or to what sort of tryst he was about to be made an unwill ing witness. But he could not have moved if the blast then surging through the trees had uprooted the huge pine behind which

he had involuntarily drawn at the first im pression he had received of her approach. He must watch that white face of hers slowly evolve itself from tho surrounding darkness, and he must be present when the dreadful bolt swept down from heaven, if only to see her eyes in the flare of its ghostly flame. It came while Bhe was crossing the glade. Fierce, blinding, more vivid and searching than at any time before, it flashed down through the cringing boughs, and, like a mantle of fire, enveloped her form, throwing out its every outline, and making of the strong and beautiful face an electric vision which Mr Byrd was never able to forget. A sudden swoop of wind followed, flinging her almost to the ground, but Mr Byrd knew from that moment that neither wind nor lightning, not even tho fear of death, would stop this woman if once she was determined upon any course. Dreading the next few moments inexpress ibly, yet forcing himself, as a detective, to remain at his post, though every instinct of his nature rebelled, Mr Byrd drew him self up against the side of tho low hut and listened. Her voice, rising between the mutteringa of thunder and tho roar of tho ceaseless gale, was plainly to be heard. "Craik Mansell," said she, in a strained tone, that was not without its severity, "you sent for mo, and I am here." Ah, this was her mode of greeting, wns it? Mr Byrd felt his breath come easier, and listened for the reply with intenseat interest.

But it did not come. The low rumbling of the thundor went on, and the wind howled through the gruesome forest, but tho man she had addressed did not speak. 11 Craik !" Her voice still came from the doorway whore she had saomingly taken her stand. "Do you not hoar mo?" A stillod groan was tho sole reply. She appeared to take ono step forward but no more

" I can understand," said she, and Mr Byrd had no difficulty in hearing her words, though tho turmoil ovorhoad was almost deafening, " why the restlessness of despair should drive you into seeking this intorviow. I havo longod to sco you too, if only to toll you that I wish heaven's thunderbolts hud fallen upon us both on that day when we sat and talked of our future prospects and "

A lurid flash cut short her words. Strange and awasomo sounds awoke in tho air above, and the next moment a groat branch fell crashing down upon tho roof of the hut, boating in one oornor, and sliding thenco heavily to the ground, whero it lay with all its quivering loaves uppermost, not two feet from the doorway where this woman stood.

A shriok liko that of a lost Bpirit went up from hor lips. " I thought the vengeance of heaven had fallen !" sho grasped. And for a moment not a sound was heard within or without the hut, save that low flutter of the disturbed leaves. "It is not to bo," she then whispered, witli a return of her old calm ness, that was worse than any shriek. '' Murdor is not to be avenged thus." Then, shortly '■ "A dark and hideous lino of blood is drawn between you and me, Craik Man sell. I cannot pass it, and you must not, for evor and for ever and for over. But that does not hinder mo from wishing to help you, and co I ask, in all sincerity, What is it you want mo to do for you to-day T" A response camo this time. . "Show mo how to escape tho conso quonces of my not," woro his words, uttered in a low and mufllod voice.

She did not answer at once,

" Are you threatened ?" sho inquired at last, in a tono that proved sho had drawn one step nearer to tho bowed form and hidden fnco of the porson sho addressed. " My conscience) threatens me," was tho almost stifled reply. Again that heavy silonoo, all tho more impressive that tho moments beforo had been so prolific of hoavon's most torriblo noises.

"You suffer bocauso anothor man is forced to enduro suepicion for a orime ho nover committed," sho whisperingly ox claimed.

Only a groan answered her ; and tho moments grew heavier and heavier, more and moro oppressive, though tho hitherto accompanying outcries of the forest had coased, and a faint lightening of the heavy darkness was taking place overhead. Mr Byrd felt tho pressure of tho situation so powerfully he drew near td, the window ho had hitherto avoided, and looked in. Sho was standing a foot behind tho crouched figure of tho man, between whom and horsolf she had avowed a line of blood to be drawn. As he looked sho spoko. "Craik," said she, and the deathless yearning of lovo spoko in her voice nt last, " thoro is but one thing to do. Expiate your guilt by acknowledging it. Save tho innocent from unmerited suspicion, and trust to tho mercy of God. It is tho only advice I can givo you. 1 know no other road to peace. If I did " She stopped. choked by the terror of her own thoughts. "Craik," she murmured, at last, "on the day I hoar of your having made this confes sion, I vow to take an oath of celibacy for life. It is the only recompense i can offer for the misery and sin into which our mutual mad ambitions havo plunged you." And subduing with a look of inexpress ible anguish an ovident longing to lay her hand in final caress upon that bended head, she gave him one parting look, and then, with.a quick shudder, hurried away, and buried herself amid the darkness of tho wet and shivering woods.

CHAPTER XVII. A SURPRISE. Season your admiration for awhile. —Hamlet. When all was still again, Mr Byrd ad vanced from his place of concealment, and softly entered the hut. Its solitary occu pant sat as beforo, with his head bent down upon his clasped hands. But at the first .sound of Mr Byrd's approach he rose and turned. The shock of the discovery which followed sent the detective reeling back against the door. Tho person who faced him with such quiet assurance was not Craik Mansell.

CHAPTER XVIII. A BRACB OF DETECTIVES. Hath this follow no fooling of hla business t —Hamlet. No actioi, whother foul or fair, Is over dono, but leaves somewhere A rocord. —Longfellow. "So there aro two of us ! I thought as much when I first set eyes upon your face in Buffalo I" This exclamation, uttered in a dry and musing tone, woke Mr Byrd from the Btupor into which this astonishing discovery had thrown him. Advancing upon the stranger, who in size, shape, and colouring was almost the fac simile of the person he had so successfully represented, Mr Byrd looked him scrutinisingly over. The man bore the ordeal with equanimity; he even smiled. "You don't recognise me, I see." Mr Byrd at once recoiled. "Ah I" cried he, "you aro that Jack-in the-box, Brown!" "Alias Frank Hickory, at your servico." This name, so unexpected, called up a flush of mingled surprise and indignation to Mr Byrd's cheek. "I thought———" ho bogan. "Don't think," interrupted the other, who, when oxcited, affected laconicism, " know." Then, with affability, proceeded, " You are the gentleman " he paid that much deference to Mr Byrd's air and manner, " who I was told might lend pc a helping hand in this Clemmens affair. I didn't recognise you before, sir. Wouldn't have stood in your way if I had. Though, to be sure, I did want to see this, matter through myself. I thought I had the right. And'fve done it, too, as you must acknow ledge, if you havo been present in this terrible place very long." This self-satisfied; if not boastful, allusion to a scene in which this strange being had played so unworthy, if not un justifiable, a part, sent a thrill of revulsion through Mr Byrd. Drawing hastily back with an instinct of dislike he could not con ceal, he cast a glance through the thicket of trees that spread beyond the open door, and pointedly asked: " Was there no way of satisfying yourself' of the guilt of Craik Mansell, except by en acting a farce that may lead to the life-long ' remorse of the woman out of whose love you have made a trap?" A slow flush, the first, possibly, that had visited the hardy chock of this thick skinned detective for years, crept over the face of Frank Hickory.

"I don't mean.she shall ever know," he suddenly protested, kicking at the block upon which he had been sitting. "But it was a mean trick," he frankly enough ad mitted the next minute. "If I hadn't been the tough old hickory knot that I am, I couldn't have done it, I suppose. The storm, too, made it seem a bit trifling. But Well, well!" he suddenly inter-' jected, in a more cheerful tone, "'tis too late now, for tears and repentance. The thing is done and can't be undone. And, at all events, I reckon we are both satisfied now as to who killed Widow Clemmens 1"

Mr Byrd could not resist a slight sarcasm. " I thought you were satisfied in that regard before ?" said he. "At least, I understood that a certain time you were very positive it was Mr Hildreth'."

" So I was," the fellow good-naturedly al lowed ; "Bolwas. The byways of a crime like

this are dreadful dark and uncertain. It isn't strange that a fellow gets lost some times. But I got a jog on my elbow that sent me into the right path," said he, "as, perhaps, you did too, sir, eh!" Not replying to this latter insinuation, Mr Byrd quietly repeated : "You got a jog on your elbow? When, may I ask ?" " Three days ago, just!" was the emphatic reply. " And from whom J"

Instead of replying, the man leaned back against the wall of the hut and looked at his interlocutor in silence.

"Are wo going to join hands over this business?" he cried, at last, "or are you thinking of pushing your way on alone aftor you have got from me all that I know ?"

Tho question took Mr Byrd by surprise. He had not thought of the future. Ho was as yet too much disturbed by his memories of the past. To hide his dis comfiture, he began to pace the floor, an operation which his thoroughly wet con dition certainly made advisable. "I havo no wish to rob you of any glory you may hope to reap from the suc cess of the plot you have carried on here to day," he presently declared, with some bitterness; "but if this Craik Mansell is guilty, I suppose it is my duty to help you in the collection of all suitsble and proper evidence against him." "Then, said the other, who had been watching him with rather an anxious eye, " let us to work." And sitting down on tho table, he motioned to Mr Byrd to take a seat upon the block at his side.. But the latter kept up his walk. Hickory surveyed him for a moment in silence, then he said:

"You must have had something against this young man, or you wouldn't be here. What is it? What first set you thinking about Craik Mansell ?"

Now, this was a question Mr Byrd could not and would not answer, Aftor what had jußt passed in the hut, ho felt it impossible to mention to this man the name of Imo geno Dare in oonneotion with that of the nephew of Mrs Clommens. He therefore waived tho other's interrogation and re marked : , " My knowledge was rather the fruit of surmise than faat. I did not believe in tho guilt of Gouverneur Hildroth, and so was Forced to look about mo for some one whom I could conscientiously Buapeot. I fixed upon this unhappy man in Buffalo j how truly, your own suspicions, unfortunately, reveal." " And I had to have my wite started by a horrid old woman," murmured the evidently abashed Hickory. " Horrid old woman I" repeated Mr Byrd. "Not Sally Perkins?" " Yes. A sweet one, isn't she J

Mr Byrd shuddered. " Tell me about it," said he, coming and sitting down in the seat the other had pre viously indicated to him. "I will, sir; I will; but first let's look at the weather. Some folks would think it was just as well for you to ohange that toggery of yours. What do you Bay to going home first and talking afterwards 1" "I suppose it would be wise," admitted Mr Byrd looking down at his garments, whose decidedly damp condition he had scarcely noticed in his excitement. " And yet I hato to loave this spot till I learn how you came to choose it as the Bcene of tho tragi-comedy you have enacted hero to-day, and what position it is likely to occupy in tho tostimcny -which you have collected against this young man." " Wait, then," said the bustling fellow, " till I build you the least bit of a fire to warm you. It wou't take but a minute," ho averrod, piling together some old sticks that cumbered the hearth, and straightway sotting a match to them. "See I isn't that pleasant ? And now, just oast your eye at this I" ho continued, drawing a comfortable looking flask out of his pooket and handing it over to the other with a dry laugh. "Is n't this pleaßant!" And ho threw himself down on tho floor and stretched out his hands to tho blaze, with a gusto which tho droary hour ho had undoubtedly passed made perfectly natural, if not excusable. "I thank you," said Mr Byrd; "'I didn't know I was bo chilled," and he, too, en joyed the warmth. "And, now," he pur sued, after a moment, "go on; let us have the thing out at once." But tho other was in no hurry. Very good, sir," ho cried; "but, first, if you don't mind, suppose you tell me what brought you to this hut to-day t" " fwas on the look-out for clues. In my study of tho situation, I decided that the murderer of Mrs Cleminons escaped, not from the front, but from the back of tho house. Taking the path I imagined him to have trod, 1 came upon this hut. It naturally attracted my attention, and to day I came back to examine it more closely in tho hope of picking up some signs of his having been here, or at least of having passed through the glade on his way to tho deeper Voods." "And what if you had succeeded in this, sir ? What, if some token of his pre sence had rewarded your search ?" "I sheuld have completed a chain of Froof of which only this one link is lacking, could have shown how Craik Mansell fled from this placo on last Tuesday afternoon, making his way through the woods to tho highway, and thence to the Quarry Station at Monteith, where he took the train which carried him back to Buffalo." "You could !—show me how?"- Mr Byrd explained himself more de finitely. .

Hickory at once rose. _ "I guess we can give you the link, he dryly remarked. "At all events, suppose you just step here and tell me what con clusion you draw from the appearance of this pile of brush." • Mr Byrd advanced and looked at a small heap of hemlock that lay in a compact mass in one corner. "I have not disturbed Jt," pursued the other. "It is just as it was when I found '« Looks like apillow," deolaredMrßyrd. "Has been used for such, I am sure; for Bee, the dust in this portion of the floor lies lighter than elsewhere. You can almost detect the outline of a man's recumbent form," he Wont on, slowly, leaning down to examine the floor more closely. "As for the boughs, they hava been cut from the tree with a knife, and " Lifting up a sprig, ho looked at it, then passed it over to Hickory with a meaning glance that directed attention to ono or two short hairs of a dark brown colour, that were caught in. the rough'bark. "He did not even throw his pocket-handkerchief over the heap be fore lying down," he observed. Mr Hickory smiled. "You're up in your business, I see." . And drawing .his new colleague to the table, he asked him what hesawthore. , .•' , ■.. Atfirst siglitMr Byrd exclaimed: nothing, but in ariotnsr moment he picked up an iri finitesmal chip from between the rough lo^s that formed tne top of this somewhat rustic piece of furniture, and turning it over'in his hand, pronounced it to be a piece of wood from a lead-pencil. , "Here are several of them," remarked Mr Hickory, "and what is more, it is easy to tell just the colour of the pencil from which they were cut. It was blue." " That is so," assented Mr Byrd. "Quarry-men, charcoal-burners, and the like are not much in thehabit of sharpen ing pencils," suggested Hiokory. "Is the pencil now to be found in the pocket of Mr Mansell a blue one ?" "It is." - " Have you anything more to show me ?" asked Mr Byrd. " Only this," responded the other, taking out of his pocket the torn-off corner of a newspaper.- "I found this blowing about under the bushes out there," said he. " Look at it, and tell me from what paper it was torn." .■,.„,•-•„ " I don't know," said Mr Byrd; " none that I am acquainted with." " You don't read the Buffalo ' Courier ?'" «' Oh, is this " "A corner from the Buffalo 'Courier?' I don't know, but I mean to find out. If it is, and the date proves to be correct, we won't have much trouble about the little link, will we J" Mr Byrd shook his head, and they again crouched down over the fire. "And, now, what did you learn in Buffalo ?" inquired the persistent Hiokory. "Not much," acknowledged Mr Byrd. "The man Brown was entirely too übiqui tous to give me my full chance. Neither at the house nor at the mill was I able to glean anything beyond an admission from the landlady that Mr Mansell was not at home at the time of his aunt's murder. I couldn't even learn where he wag on that day or where he had ostensibly gone. If it had not been for the little girl of Mr Good man — ' "Ah, I had not time to go to that house," interjected the. other, suggestively. "I should have comenome as wise as I went," continued Mr Byrd. "She told me that on the day before Mr Mansell re turned, he wrote to her father from Mon teith, and that settled my mind in regard to him. It was pure luck, however." The other laughed long_ and loud. "I didn't know 1 did it up bo well," he cried. " I told the landlady you were a de tective, or acted like one, and she was very ready to take the alarm, having, as I judge, a motherly liking for her young boarder. Then I took Messrs Chamberlin and Harri- Bon into my confidence, and having got

from them all the information they could give me, told them there was evidently an other man on the track of this Mansell, and warned them to keep silence till they heard from the prosecuting attorney in Sibley. But I didn't know who you were, or, at least, I wasn't sure ; or, as I said before, I shouldn't have presumed." The short, dry laugh with which he ended this explanation had not ceased, when Mr Byrd observed: "You have not told me what you gathered in Buffalo." "Much," quoth Hickery, reverting to his favourite laconic mode of speech. "First, that Maneell went from home on Monday, the day before the murder, for the purpose, as he said, of seeing a man in New York about his wonderful invention. Secondly, that he never went to New York, but came back the next evening, bringing his model with him, and looking terribly used up and worried. Thirdly, that to get this inven tion before the public had been his pet aim and effort for a whole year. That he believed in it as you do in your Bible, and would have given his heart's blood, if it would have done any good, to Btart the thing, and prove himself right in his esti mate of its valuo. That' the money to do this was all that was lacking, no one believ ing in him sufficiently to advance him the five thousand dollars considered necessary to build the machine and get it in working order. That, in short, he was a fanatic on the subject, and often said he would be willing to die within the year if he could first prove to the unbelieving capitalists whom he had vainly importuned for assist ance the worth of the discovery he believed himself to have made. Fourthly—but what is it you wish to say, sir ?"

"Five thousand dollars is justthe amount Widow Clemmons is supposed to leave him," remarked Mr Byrd. " Precisely," was the short reply. " And fourthly 1" suggested the former. " Fourthly, he was in the mill on Wednos day morning, where he wont about his work as usual, until some ono who know his rela tion to Mrs Clemmens looked up from the paper he was reading, and, in pure thought lessness, cried, 'So they have killed your aunt for you, have they?' A barbarous jest,, that caused everybody near him to start in indignation, but which made him recoil as if ono of theso thunderbolts we havo been listening to this afternoon had fallen at his feet. And he didn't get over it," Hickory went on. "He had to beg permission to go home. . He said the terriblo nows had made him ill, and indeed he looked sick enough, and continued to look sick enough for days. He had letters from Sibley, and an invitation to attend the inquest and be present at the funeral services, but bo refused to go. He was threatened with diphtheria, hedeclared, and remained uway from the mill until the day bofo.e yesterday. Some one, I don't re member who, says he went out of town tho very Wednesday he heard the news; but if so, ne could not havo been gone long, for he was at home Wednesday night, sick in bed, and threatened, as I have void, with the diphtheria. Fifthly " "Well, fifthly?" " I am afraid of your criticisms," laughed tho rough detective. "Fifthly is the re sult of my poking about among Mr Man sells traps." "Ah I" frowned tho other, with a vivid remembrance of that picture of Miss Dare, with its beauty blotted out by the ominous black lines.

" You are too squeamish for a detective," the other declared. "Guesa you're kept for the fancy business, eh 1" The look Mr Byrd gave him was eloquent; "Go on," said he ; " let us hear what lies behind your fifthly." " Love," returned the man. " Locked in the drawer of this young gentleman's table I found some half-dozen letters tied with a black ribbon. I knew th«y were written by a lady, but squeamishness is not a fault of mine, and so I just allowed myself to glance over them. They were from Miss Dare, of course, and they revealed the fact that love, as well as ambition, had been a motive powei in determining this Mansoll to make a success out of his invention."

Leaning back, the now self-satisfied deteC' tive looked at Mr Byrd.

" The name of Miss Dare," he went on, "brings me to the point from which we started. I haven't yet told you what old Sally Perkins had to say to me." " No," rejoined Mr Byrd. " Well," continued the other, poking with his foot the dying embers of the fire, till it started up into a fresh blaze, " the case against this fellow wouldn't be worth very much without that old crone's testi mony, I reckon ; but with it I guess we can get along." " Let us hear," said Mr Byrd. "Tho old woman is a wretch," Hickory suddenly broke out. "She seems to gloat over the fact that a young and beautiful woman is in trouble. She actually trembled with eagerness as she told her story, If I hadn't been rather anxious myself to hear what she had to say, I could have thrown her out of the window. As it was I let her go on ; duty before pleasure, you see—duty before pleasure." "But her story," persisted Mr Byrd, letting some of his secret irritation betray itself.

" Well, her story was this: Monday afternoon, the day before the murder, you knbw, she was up in these very woods hunting for witch-hazel. She had got her arms full and was going home across the bog when she suddenly heard voices. Being of a curions disposition, like myself, I sup pose, she stopped, and seeing just be fore her a young gentleman and lady sitting on an old stump, crouched down in the shadow of a tree, with the harmless intent, no doubt, of amusing her self with their conversation. It was more interesting than sho expected, and she really became quite tragic as she related her story to me. I cannot do justice to it my self, and I sha'n't try. It is encugh that the man whom she did not know, and the woman whom she immediately recognised as Miss Dare, were both in a state of great indignation. That he spoke of selfishness and obstinacy on the part of his aunt, and that she, in the place of rebuking him, re plied in a way to increase his bitterness, and lead him finally to exclaim : ' I cannot bear it I To think that with just the advance of the very sum she proposes to give me some day, I could make her fortune and my own, and win you all in one breath I It is enough to drive a man mad to see all that he craves in this world so near his grasp, and yet have nothing, not even hope, to comfort him.' And at that, it seems they both rose, and she, who had not answered anything to this, struck the tree before which they~stood with her bare fist, and murmured a word or so which the old woman couldn't catch, but which was evidently something to the effect that she wished she knew Mrs Clemmens; for Mansell—of course it was he—s»id, in -almost the same breath, ' And if you did know her, what then ?' A question which elicited no reply at first, but which finally led hor to say : ' Oh ! I think that, possibly, I migbt be able to persuade her. AH this," the detectivo went on, " old Sally related with the greatest forco; but in regard to what followed, she was not so clear. Prob ably they interrupted their conversation with some lovers' by-play, for they stood very near together, and he seemed to be earnestly pleading with her. 'Do take it,' old Sally heard him say. ' 1 shall feel as if life held some outlook for me if you will, only gratify me in this respect.' .But she answered :'No ;it is of no use. lam as ambitious as you are, and fate is evidently against us,' and put his hand back when he endeavoured to take hers, though she im mediately snatched it away again, crying: ' I cannot; you must wait till to-morrow.' And when he asked: 'Why to-morrow V she answered : ' A night has been known to change the whole current of a person's affairs.' To which he replied: 'True,' and looked thoughtful, very thoughtful, as he met her eyes and saw her raise that white hand of hers and strike the tree again with a passionate force that made her fingers bleed. And she was right," con cluded the speaker. "The night, or if not the night, the next twenty-four hours, did make a change, as even old Sally Perkins observed. Widow Clemmens was struck down and Craik Mansell became the pos sessor of the five thousand dollars he so much wanted in order to win for himsolf a fortune and a bride."

Mr Byrd, who had been sitting with_ his face turned aside during this long recital, slowly rose to his feet. "Hickory," said he, and his tone had an edge of suppressed feeling in it that made the other start, " don't let us ever hear'you say, in my pre sence, that you think this young and beauti ful woman was the one to suggest murder to this man, for I won't, hear it. And now," he continued, more calmly, "tell tne why this babbling old wretch did sot enliven the inquest with her wonderful tale. It would have been a fine offset to the testimony of Misß Firman."

1' She said she wasn't fond of coroners and had no wish to draw the attention of twelve of her own townsfolk upon herself. She didn't mean to commit herself with me," pursued Hickory, rising also. "She was going to give me a hint of the real state of affairs; or, rather, set me working in the right direction, as this little note which she tucked under the door of my room at the hotel will show. But I was too quick for her, and had her by the arm beforg,:«he could shuffle down the stairs. It' w^a partly to prove hej story was true, wi? not

a romance made up for the occasion, that I lured this woman here this afternoon." « "You are not as bad a fellow as I thought," Mr Byrd admitted, after a momentary contemplation of the others face. "If I might only know how you managed to effect this interview." "Nothing easier. I found in looking over the scraps of paper which Mansell had thrown into the waste-paper basket in Buffalo, the draft of a note which he had written to Miss Dare, under an impulse which he afterward probably regretted. It was a summons to their usual place of tryst at or near this hut, and though un signed, was of a character, as I thought, to effect its purpose. I just sent it to her, that's all." The nonchalance with which this was said completed Mr Byrd's astonishment. " You are a worthy disciple of Gryce," he asserted, leading the way to the door. "Think so?" exclaimed the man, evi dently flattered at what he considered a freat compliment. "Then shake hands," c cried, with a frank appeal Mr Byrd found it hard to resist. " Ah, you don't want to," he somewhat ruefully declared. " Will it change your feelings any if I pro mise to ignore what happened here to-day —my trick with Miss Dare and what she re vealed and all that? If it will, I swear I won't even think of it any more if I can help it. At all events, I won't tattle about it even to the superintendent. It shall be a secret between you and me, and she won't know but what it was her lover she talked to after all."

"You are willing to do all this?" in quired Mr Byrd. " Willing and ready," cried the man. "I believe in duty to one's superiors, but duty doesn't always demand of one to tell every thing he knows. Besides, it won't be ne cessary, I imagine. There is enough against this poor fellow without that." " I fear so." ejaculated Mr Byrd. " Then it is a bargain 1" said Hickory. "Yes." And Mr Byrd held out his hand. The rain had now ceased, and they pre pared to return home. Before leaving the glado, however, Mr Byrd ran his eye over the other's person and apparel, and in some wonder inquired: " How do you fellows ever manage to get up such complete disguises? I declare you look enough like Mr Mansell in the back to make me doubt even now who I am talking to."

'• Oh," laughed the other, "it is easy enough. It's my specialty, you see, and one in which lam thought to excel. But, to tell the truth, I hadn't much to contend with in this case. In build I am famously like this man, as you must have noticed when you saw us together in Buffalo. In deed, it was our similarity in this respect that first put the idea of personifying Trim into my head. My complexion had beep darkened already, and, aa for such accessor ies aa hair, voice, manner, dress, etc., a five minutes study of my model was sufficient to prime me up in all that—enough, at least, to satisfy the conditions of an interview whtdh did not require me to show my face."

"But you did not know when you came here that you would not have to show'your face," persisted Mr Byrd, anxious to under stand how this man dared risk his reputa tion on an undertaking of this kind. " No, and I did not know that the big gest thunderstorm of the season was going to spring up and lend me its darkness to complete the illusion I had attempted. I only trusted my good fortune—and my wits," he added, with a droll demureness. " Both had served me before, and both were likely to serve me again. And, say she had detected me in my little game, what then ? Women like her don't babble."

There was no .reply to make to this, and Mr Byrd's thoughts being thus carried back to Imogene Dare and the unhappy revela tions she had been led to make, he walked on in a dreary silence his companion had sufficient discretion not to break. To be Continued

APPLE PLANTING.

[FROM THB "NORTH NEW ZBALAND SBTTXBB," JUNE.]-

Autumn-flanting of fruit treeß has this advantage over spring planting, that in the former case the trees form new roots directly they are transplanted, and in this mild climate root formation goes on to some extent probably all through the winter. The consequence is that, in the spring, autumn-planted trees start away into bios-. som and leaf as vigorously almost as if they had never been moved at all. Also, if tree planting operations be deferred till spring a farmer is apt to find himself so crowded with work at that time that he pushes off the planting until it is too late, or has to do it so hastily that the trees suffer in conse quence, either from being carelessly shoved into the ground anyhow, or from insufficient preparation of the soil. If it is worth planting apple trees, or any other trees, at all, it is worth planting them well and care fully, taking the proper pains over the planting of each individual tree as much as if it were the only one you were planting. SITUAtION. In North New Zealand apple trees will do -with almost any aspect so long as they are protected by shelter trees from the strong gales we often have. But wherever possible it is best to choose for jour orchard a northern aspect; that is, a slope inclining towards some point between north-east and north-west. It is true a nor'-easter is apt to spoil much of the fruit crop by shaking it from the trees, and the trees are likely to be injured by the violent swaying of the branches, by which they are often broken and the fruit spurs knocked off and bruised. The only way to avoid this evil is to plant shelter trees judiciously to protect from the force of the wind without excluding the due amount of Bun and air necessary to the per fect health of the fruit trees. In choosing a situation the climate of the locality as regards the fall of fain should be taken into consideration. A good authority says "trees are apt to suffer from want of moisture where the subsoil is naturally well drained and where the, rainfall does not exceed 24 inches per annum. So long as the, soil and subsoil is moisi trees thrive exceedingly well where there is perfect natural drainage; but as the trees increase in size and acquire a surface foliage capable of evaporating more rain than falls on the area of ground over which the roots extend, it has been found that the trees suffer from dryness at the roots. Whilst the foliage is healthy it will act, and must evaporate when the air is not saturated with moisture, and to supply the waste caused by this evaporation the roots will absorb all the moisture, within their reach. In a short time the principal portion of the roots is in a medium as dry as dust, and in which they must remain as inert as pieces of dry sponge. The greatest dryness is found to take place in the stratum of ioam where the roots chiefly penetrate so long as moisture is to be found there, and from this consequently the tree chiefly derives its nourishment. Deprived of this, it can no longer thrive, and has to depend for mere existence on a few roots at; the surface, where, especially if it is kept stirred, some moisture, which has been deposited during that period of the twenty-four hours when the air is considerably warmer than the soil with which it comes in contact, will always be present. "With this limited Bupply, the tree can only linger. Vigorous shoots are no longer produced ; sometimes the wood of the pre vious year dies back; layers of alburnum can scarcely be deposited; the^ numerous buds and spurs previously originated can be only partially developed; a large portion of thorn die in the attempt to vegetate, and the whole tree assumes a stunted, sickly, or cankered appearance. This deplorable con dition is neither owing to the variety nor the soil and aspect, but solely to the action of the roots being suspended for want of moisture. It is therefore obvious that the cause of so much evil demands serious con- I sideration.

" The lower part of slopes, and the level at their base, will generally have a subsoil moist enough at all seasons, owing to the descent of water from the higher ground. Where the amount of rain does not exceed twenty-four inches, such places will be found eligible for the apple, so far as mois ture is-concerned. For the greatest amount of heat and light, the northern exposure is to be chosen. Similar situations will answer for moister climates, provided effectual means are taken to carry off superfluous moisture." SITUATION. The apple tree will, thrive in any gpod soil which is neither too dry nor too moist; but it lives longest, and produces the heaviest crops where the soil is a good sub stantial loam; and, in all cases, the less iron there is in the subsoil, the better. It suc ceeds very well in marly soils; and the ad dition of marl to soils that are not naturally calcareous improves them for the growth of the applet In hot sandy soils, the trees are apt to canker, and the extremities of their snoots to die back; whilst in such as are too heavy, or with cold, wet subsoijs, they be come diseased, and are frequently overgrown rathmoßfc

PREPARATION OF THE GROUND.

If the ground- requires 'draining,- that should be seen to in the first place. It must then be well trenched, whether the plantation be of small or large extent; for, in either case, the trees will amply repay the trouble of the operation. In trenching, let the good soil be thrown1 up where it is deep; let all inequalities; which may then appear.in the bottom of the trench be reduced, and, when all is trenched over, the surface can either be levelled or made to form a regular slope or slopes, such as may be found to agree best with its general inclination. In wet or cold subsoils, it has been recommended to plant the trees on the surface, or on raised mounds or ridges. This may succeed very well for a time, but ultimately the roots will go down after moisture, if this should, in some dry summers, be deficient near the top. It is therefore a much better plan to drain the subsoil effectually, and thus render high planting unnecessary, so far as regards too much moisture at the root. As already observed, there are, however^ many situations in which the trees are liable to suffer for want of sufficient moisture at the roots. It may apjjear paradoxical to propose remedying this serious evil by planting on mounds or n<Jg6s—the_ very means by which too much moisture is fre quently to be remedied. An explanation, therefore, becomes necessary; and we shall take an actual case in point. On a level garden soil, 18 inches deep, lying on an equal or greater thickness of yellow loam resting on a naturally good drainage of gravel, trees suffered after their roots had drained the loam of all apparent moisture; and the rain uniformly penetrated the sur face soil, but was mostly absorbed by the latter before reaching the Btratum of loam. A row of trees, in the same kind of soil and subsoil, grew luxuriantly every season. These trees were planted near the edge of a walk, in front of a south-aspect border (equivalent to a north-aspect in N.Z.). The sou where their roots were situated had,- of course, its due share of the rain.which fell over the general surface; but, in addition to this, ithad that which flowed down the slope of the border, and that of the walk. These slopes formed a sort of gathering ground; and the water thus collected proved sufficient to keep moist the subsoil in the vicinity of the trees, whereas, if the border had been level, and no water had flowod from the: surface of the walk, the trees would have been in the same condition'as the others that had only the quantity due to the equal distribution of the amount of rain. Now, if the trees of an orchard were planted on a ridge, say about 6 inches, or from that to one. foot above the level of the ground, a slope could be formed ori each side of the tree by digging the soil towards it to a certain extent. At first the slope might terminate in a depression or furrow, running parallel to the row of trees, and about 4 feet from it on each side; and, as the roots extend, the distance of the furrows from the trees could be increased. In this way,; moisture for the extremities of the roots could be obtained. A tree cannot thrive well when the extremities of the root are in a dry medium, even although the soil close to the stem may be moist in consequence of the tree being placed in a hollow. Bui] reverse this:. let the soil at the extremities be moist, and it matters little if it is dry near the stem. Therefore, it is advisable to supply moisture to the extremities of the roots, even if the ground in the vicinity of the stem is deprived of th&t supply; and, accordingly, the rows of .trees may be ele vated on convex ridges) with a sort of valley between, in which water may accu mulate in sufficient quantity, riot only to saturate occasionally the surface soil, but also to moisten throughout the stratum beneath. If the extremities of the roots can be thus supplied with water, the ex tremities of the shoota will never perish for wan* of it. ~,:;;;;

It ..no soil is not naturally rich enough it should be well manured. By duly attend ing to this point, larger trees will be pro duced in ten years than would be the case in twenty years if this precaution were neglected. We do not wish to encourage i over luxuriance in any case; but a healthy vigorous growth should be promoted. If consistent with this, a tree make annually twice the quantity of shoots and foliage that another does that is stinted of nourish-, ment, the former will assuredly attain double the size of the latter in a given number of years, and will also be able to bear double the quantity of fruit; and although it may not be disposed to commence bearing at so early a period, it may notwithstanding be induced to dp so by skilful pruning. Instead of applying manure from the farmyard in a fresh state, it is better to form it into a compost with such kind of soil as would by. itself prove beneficial. Turfy loam will in all cases be suitable. The compost should be worked in as the trenching proceeds; and it should be placed chiefly between 1 foot and 2 feet >clow the surface. Some good compost ought to be reserved for muring with the soil in planting the tree. • ■ planting. ; , If circumstances have prevented the planting being done during the Autumn, while the ground still retains some of the summer warmth,' it may be done at any time when the state of the weather permits, before vegetation becomes excited, which is Olten the-'case in forward seasons bjr the middle of August. "It is therefore desirable," says the Gardener* Assistant, "that the plant ing should take place before that time. If the ground be not then ready, and "from unavoidable causes the planting cannot be finished before.'the, middle or end of September, the' trees Bho'uld nevertheless be taken up in good time before the. rise of the sap, ssy not later than thelteginning of August, weather permitting. They should be faid in a cool situation till planted out where they are intended finally to remain. If they are not kept in a cool place, buds will push, and young roots or spongiples will commence to form; but as these have little woody fibre in'; their early stage, they will be very susceptible of injury from . bruising when the trees are finally planted out. This should therefore be done before young roots»have begun to push-from the plants which have been removed with the view of being retarded in their vegetation. It is only for this purpose that removal can be recommended to be done before the tree can be immediately planted. In all other oases the best plan is not to take it up till it can be replanted with the least possible delay. ■ ' '. ■]■"'■'• "The ground ought to be marked where the trees are to'be planted,. and to the places determined oh some good compost should be brought, say one or Inore barrow? loads to each tree, according as it can be obtained, and according to the greater or less natural richness of the soil. The com post should be laid so as not to interfere with the stretching of the-line, as,must likewise be the soil dug-out of the hole for the reception of'the tree. ' " The noles ought'to be square, wider than the length of the'toots wheis these* are extended at full length, and as wide at bottom as at top, if the nature of the'soil will admit; They should be■: as deep aB to allow of the tree being quite as much in the ground as it Was. before removal, arid deeper at the aides than in the middle; the bottom will thus be convex instead of being flat or carelessly hollowed out like a basin, against the sides of which the roots are turned up, whereas they should slope gently downwards a direction of which the convex form of the bottom will admit. V " The tree should be taken up with its roots aa entire as possible, but all that are unavoidably bruised ought to be cut clean off, for the bruised portions either linger and act imperfectly or rot; in either case it is better to remove them at oncei bo that fresh ones may be produced instead. In planting, the roots must be disentangled and carefully and equally spread over the mound. It should be recollected that a tree having its roots properly disposed will resist the wind better'than onewith its roote twisted round each other, so thafrthey can not extend freely. The roots having been properly placed, fine soil mixed with com post ought to be introduced among them, but no rank manure should be brought in contact with them. The soil ought to be scattered in the direction of the fibres, for these would be improperly reversed by throwing, the soil against that direction or towards the tree, as is frequently done. . It is better to settle the earth about the roote by copious watering than by hard treading; therefore when the roots are little more than just covered with soil, a good watering should be given, moving the I tree gently at the same time. By' this means the small cavities among the roots will be filled up by the washing in of the soil. When the water has completely subsided, which may be in a few hours, or the next day, according to the state of the weather and nature of the soil, the remaining portion of the earth dug oat of the hole should be levelled up to the tree. "The latter must be secured to a stake if it requires such; and a mulching of litter as far as the roots-extend may also be given with beneficial effects."

A Kattlkskake's Bite.—The quick venom of thA rattlesnake na( not killed so many people as the more insidious but deadly poisons round in the air of fool rooms. The aeration of the blood by the lungs becomes impossible some times, and the failing health, growing weak ness, and loss of appetite are harbingers of approaching aeath, For such oases Hop Bitters are the potent and all-powerful remedy to drive all fevers out of tho system, purifying the blood and giving a new and happy lease ot life. Notice."" _ "'■. ■..'..' . - , ,•:_■

CLIPTOMANIA.

Extracts from Society Papers and all the most Interesting sources, . (SBtECTtoBY oub London Correspondent,) '■..}■ - ~~ '• "Henry Irving's Impressions of America,J| -'• narrated in a series of sketches of the American form by his travelling companion, Mr Joseph flatten, will be published in '• May. It will be in two volume*. Since Tennyson's elevation to the peerage, many of the fountry papers have been printing a cut of him which, if it hadn'fc his name under it, would be taken by th{» - average reader for the long-haired Indian herb doctor who occasionally figures in the advertising columns, without his sombrero g ori. ','■;■' ~'■' ' ys4

Twenty bald-headed men wanted to ax* as perambulating sandwiches, and have, the words " horehound honey " burnt on their pates. This is the latest form of advertise ment, and I.understand that the. enterpns ing individual who imagined the quaint conceit has engaged the men—nearly 200 having offered themselves. This is a sad: commentary on the state of trade.— Sti Stephen's Review."

It is calculated by somo American writers that the gross receipts so far during Mr Irving's five months tour in the United States and Canada have been over £SO,OOQ. The outlay has, however, been great, and the current expenses veryI*heavy._ The largest sums have been taken so far in Bos ton and Chicago, in spite of the extreme severity of the winter, and the smallest in Cincinnati and Baltimore;

Mr Arthur Reade, of Manchester, author of ' 'Study and Stimulants," has almost ready for: the press a small work on tea. fie gives an account of its introduction, reviews the evidence of its friends and foes, discusses its influences on mind and body, traces the origin of tea-meetings, and describes the various methods- of preparing tea. The book contains much curious information, and relates many amusing anecdotes of tea-drinkers. .

The Queen's'new book, "More Jjeaves from our Journal in the Highlands," of which the English edition "has now nearly reached its twentieth thousand, has been quite the rage witi the American publish ers of reprints. • Msssre Scribner and Wel ford imported copies of the book and put them into the' market at four dollars. Messrs Wortblngton and.Go., as quickly: as reproduction would admit, brought out $ri edition at one dollar twenty-five cents. But this has been outdone by Messrs Harper Brothers, who have produced a pockets edition at twenty cents (tenpence), and, a. "people's edition'?at fifteen cents (seven pence-halfpenny);;-! '■. Mashers are net as a rule richly endowed with humour, but there was much fun in one of these individuals suggesting the other day, anent the vaccination question, that "What ith weally wanted itha law for compulthowy vacthinatibn oLie'maleth on the leg." The ,naked >rms and shoulders that we now so often see expose the unsightly vaccination marks of our: otherwise attractive damsels on the stage and in drawing-rooms. But stockings- and tights have not yet been abandoned; arid for the present, therefore, itvmight'cer tainly be weH ■to place' the vaccination marks on some other part.of the female body which is not bare to general inspec tion. ■' -;. '';;':'-;- f'. '' ' ■ '■'■ ■ '■■: ■'■

A lawsuit which has already been going ■ on for. three-quarters, of a century is to.lje .■: revived, and a new court has been, added . • for M. Daudet's Btudy to the numerous ex- ( ' isting courts of the Rote en Esil in Parisi > The widow and children of M. Naundorff, the second son of Mi Edmond Na«ndorff, the clockmaker who avowed himself the r lawful son of Louis'XVX, are going to yin- - dicate their claims to the title of the Bour- :| bons; and have serve,! assignations upon :--:' the Comtesse de Chambord, the Comtes de M Paris and de Bttrji, and the Due de Panne. '■Princess Amelie" is already adopting the manners and etiquette of a Queen. The case was heard last in 1874; when the Prin- i cesse secured the eloquent but unsuccessful advocacy of M. Jules Favre.—"Pall MaE / Gazette." '.'"■• Tho opponents of capital* punishment will be somewhat exercised by ; tiie recdnt riot at Cincinnati., "When, in any country . 1,500 wilful murders take place in a. yoar t ' or more than four per diem, and-only. oy*ft; murderers are hanged, ths services of Judge j Lynch are naturally called into requisition. . The worst oi that expedient is that it often I results in the hanging or shooting of the : wrong persons. But even that is popularly g 1 felt to be better tlian allowing wiful. mur,- ; i derera to save their necks. Bad as has been this, business i at, Cincinnati, it will ", probably clear the air, and make matters . worse for rnurderera all over the Union for some years to come. And that is adistinofc gain. : , " The following story, told, of thecircum- . stance that led to Canon Parrar's joiniftg the ranks ofthetotal abstainers, is tosgood. ' to be lost ■:—One day a gentleman addicted to hatd drinking was seated in the smoking-' . room of an hotel, when a dog walked in? : The drinker gave a violent start andßhrank :■ back in his chair, upon which a waiter .■:.■ whispered to him reassuringly," Don't be ■$ ! afraid, sir; it's a real one?' This story was related to Dr. Farrar, and gave him, it is said, an utter loathing,; for 'strong, drinkß . which can destroy the mind and convert a man into a palsied sot. It need scarcely be : I said that the drinker in the smoking-room was afflicted with delirium tremenß. ' , They are Baying "on the other aids" ,■' that Hodjeska, Patti, and Nilsaoa were all . born in the year I—B4o, that is to say, 1840. :> Each of the three ladies denies that she can take the position *bf being the older of tho othertwo, and there is a general tendency on the part of'each to maintain that the others are old enough to be,at least the • mother or mothers of• the speaking third; * The'"case reminds one of the adroit ballet master, who boing tormented by Cerite, TagHbni, C. Grisi, and Ellsler, as to'who shoald have the privilege of going on last in the "ballet i.quatre,".docided that thp eldest should justifiably have the honour, the yo*ngestlgmng:bn'firrt.! *The difficulty X became as great as before, and at last the' ladies ''threw'"for it—with dice, of course; 4 On the present occasion the three ladies in question would do; well to "cut"—with cards, be it understood—as' to who is the least aged of the trio.—"St. Stephen's 'Re- || view'," ;- ''.'. •■ .' ,'.'/ ~-"'■,' "'' '.'£s■% „ The daffodil, it appears, is to be taken soriously in hand. Hitherto it has been a great favourite with the poets, and1 ia, " scarce by any bard unsung.'' "Daffodils ■ with the green' world [they live in" .were one of the^ ".shapes';;of> beauty ", which' ."moved away the p^'! from Beat a','dark ' spirit," and made him say that "a thingof beauty is a joy for ever." Wordsworth's praises , of, the daffodil are equally well ■ mown, but then Wordsworth could be eni thuaiastic about even the meanest flower ' that blows; /An old-fashioned poet "could not but be gay in suoh a jocund (company,'.' ' but the "host of golden daffodils" recently exhibited in the i Royal 'Horticultural Society's conservatory had no such, exhila rating effect on a certain diaciplo of modern culture who happened to attend the con- H ference. . The'daffodil, Mr Frank Miles is c reported to have said, has by no means reached "that: perfection which artists would like to see. This is very sad; but there is hope for the flower still, for Mr- Miles- intends, to ; ''grow some himself,V~ ■ which will fulfil all requirements. The story which appeared in some of our contemporaries laat week anent Lord Cole- " ridge and Miss Mary Anderson originated in one of the American papers. ' Of .coin se nd incident of the kind occurred, ant Tit only remains to be added that no such story hag 1 obtained currency in society, in which the ■ Judge in question is a distinguished orna? ment. Miss Anderson says that she has never seen Lord Coleridge to her knowledge' and has certainly never had any communi cation with. him. After...'lord Coleridge's letter, in which ho described the canard as;: an impudent falsification, it was attempted to shift the imputation from Lord Coleridge to his son, the Hon. Bernard. Coleridge, but ■ the latter gentleman says he has no inten- ; tion of committing bigamy. Some timg i? ago a report found currency .in the same-' manner that a great Hebrew, banker.hadia vited Miss Anderson to dine at his house • that she had declined the.invitation': and that the banker had signed a cheque in her name for a thousand pounds, 'sending^it;; with a request that she woijld " gTace hits table, and that she returned the cheque. ■ (The maiden pensively milked the coat. And, pouting, paused to mutter. •■'l wish you'd, turn to milki you brute!" ; ' And the animal turnedta> butt her. A remarkable series of letters from Gari baldi and one or two other leaders on the^ cause -of Italian unity are appearing at Hamburg. The lady who is giving &em to the world has assumed the pseudonym of Elpis Melena. She had a curious career- The daughter of a Hamburg banker Frau lein Brandtleft her home and. country an# gave herself up to the cause of Italian unitS maintaining a constwt corresponded m£ garibaldi.

'.'■ "fME ADciwuAJifi isWHSINGf STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 14, 1884.

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