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"Don‘t let me frighten you,"‘ she said, as Christine drew near. Her woice, though not musical, was far from being unpleasant. ‘"I had no desire to. intrude.‘‘ And she reâ€" garded the maiden with a gaze so wzarnest and eager that it would kave been oppressive had not the light of the keen blue eye been soft and kindly. _ Refreshments were served, and a_fle'r a time the woman turned to ezt heroine and said : When they had reached the cotâ€" tage, Christine conducted the wayâ€" farer to a seat in the smaller «Frawingâ€"room, and then called Lora. The servant came in, and when she saw the old woman, and met the gaze of the darkâ€"blue eyes, she started as though she had seen aa apparitionâ€" "It is only a good woman who as tired and hungry,""‘ said Chrisâ€" time; "and I have brought her in that she may rest and refresh herâ€" self. Will you help me, please?‘ . "My child, I did not come here ix accident. I came here on purâ€" pose. I came to learn something The girl, without thought of danâ€" ger, gave her arm to the old woâ€" man and led her toward tre cotâ€" tage. She felt less unhappgy in beâ€" ing thus enabled to minister to the mreeds of a suffering creature; and as she felt the pressure of the 4rembling hand upon ker arm, and weceived the grateful murmur of thanks, it seemed as though light was already gleaming in upon the w@arkness which . had_ gathered about her. ‘‘Y.ou do not intrude at all,""‘ reâ€" plied Christine, in sweetest accents. dn her forlorn and lonesome estate she could sympathize with another who might be homeless; and if the applicant was aged, she did not forget that the best friend she had tvef known had been more aged still. ‘‘Take my arm, and come with me. You shall have both rest a% refroshment." _ She had seen Paul disappear beâ€" yond a garden hedge, and was turning toward the cottage, when she found a woman standing in her path; a strange woman it was, aged and decrepit. At first Chrisâ€" tine was startled, but when she came to regard the intruder more closely; she was quite at her ease so far as fear was concerned. The woman was certainly threeâ€"scoreâ€" ‘andâ€"ten, and bent as though with recent sickness. Her clothing was shabby, though worn with an air of grace, such as pride may give to poverty. _ Her face was dark, as though from long suffering and much exposure, and the features were sharp and pinched, with deep furrows corrugating the whole surâ€" face. And yet, with all, her aspect was not unpleasant. At a disâ€" tance, where only general outlines were appirert, she might have been «leemed repulsive; but nearer, to pne who chose to examine closely, there was much that was inviting and benign. She stood in the midâ€" «lle of the path, leaning.upon a erossâ€"headed staff, and had probabâ€" ly been watching the youthful couâ€" ple ere they had separated. | "I am weary, lady, and would rest me for a brief season." Rachel St. Clair.: L l:xié\\:llei After this, for several days, faâ€" ther and son avoided each other ; pad when they met, a casual 0bâ€" server might haye deemed them strangers. In the very next day Paul called at the Brookside Cotâ€" tage, and he was forceed to admit to Christine that matters had gone unpleasantly at home. In the end, che said to her : And Christine, under the bright light of his smile and the inspiraâ€" tion of his ardent pledge, could not fipud it in her heart to turn from. him. And yet when he had left her, she reasoned with hersalf anaw, ard wrought upon herself the convicâ€" tion that she ought not to encourâ€" ‘rge him further. She loved him with her whole heart, but had she & right to sever. him from a faâ€" ther‘s love? Should she accept at bis hands a faith which must come of a broken faith under his own woofâ€"tree? Would it be well for himâ€"would it be well for herâ€"that they should launch forth together with such dawning upon the new life? She, a nameless foundling, with shadows of doubt hanging over her, and he cut off forever from the home of his childhood?! Shs with never a parent known, and he with a parent outraged and forâ€" saken? Would it be well ? Beâ€" neath the solemn conviction that rested down upon her. she bowed in silent, tearless agony, and prayâ€" ed to God for strength. ‘‘But don‘t borrow trouble.. We will have a home of our own, darâ€" Ing, where love shall make joy and peace."" car to the Dregs ; C A DTYE DR CR, SAVED BY THE LOVE OF A WOMAN. XIII ‘‘Well, it‘s past my coniprehenâ€" din‘ ; but, sure as you is born, |‘se seen her before somewhar. D‘ye it’in:k she‘s good ?" "I think gshe is my frierd."‘" * t<Be. keerful, che keerful, Miss Christine. De ole sarpint can take s good many shapes." Christine was not inclined to lisâ€" ten to Lora‘s superstitions fanâ€" icies, and yet she could not but feel that there was something sigâ€" nificant in the recognition, cf which the servant was so positive. That she had seen the old womasa before, Lora was fully assured; though where, or when, she could not say. She could only â€"declare, â€"with_ ‘olâ€" emn earnestness,_ that she knew. the face. ‘ Christiaze borrowed â€"no. trouble from the servant‘s strange vagary And thus speaking, the woman went away ; and very shortly afterâ€" werd, Lora came into the drawingâ€" room ‘"Missas, who was dat woman ?" ‘Why, Tura?‘ demanded Chr‘s ‘tine, surprised by the servant‘s excited manuer. _ ‘‘What did you observe remarkable about her ?" see her ?‘ 5 «‘Never before, to my knowledge, Lora." "It is I who am indebted, my ichild. I would serve you, because I believe you are pure and good, and, moreover, because I am inâ€" debted to Rachel St. Clair. You may call me Endora. I shall see you again.‘‘ s "I don‘t know what it was misâ€" sus ; but sure as de world, I‘se seen her before." "Where ?â€" When t‘ ‘"‘Lord ‘a merey! I don‘t know. I can‘t t‘ink. Didn‘t you nebber ‘"But,"‘ urged Uhristine, as the woman was upon the point of turnâ€" ing away, "you will tell me who you are? I may knowâ€"why I am to be thus indebted ? "If I send to you a respectable lawyer, you will at least receive him respectfully, for the sake of ‘the true friend at whose instance he comes ?" ‘‘Yes, yesâ€"and I will confide in him, too ! "You may confide in him, if he pan inspire you with confidence; not otherwise." The woman marked the emotion, and quetly said : C "I can see villainy in this, if you do not,""‘ she said. A brief pause, and she added : ‘‘But I speak hastâ€" ily. It were well to be sure ere we condemn. As I told you before, I knew Rachel St. Clair; and, if she were living, I think, for your sake, she would trust me. If I send a lawyer to you, will you confide in him? 5 Christine hesitated, not from disâ€" trust, but from amazemeat. The old woman arose from her chair and brought her staff down smartly nupon the floor. _ _ ‘"‘Then you think,"‘ said the visiâ€" tor, "that there may have been villainy in the scheme?‘ _ _ ‘"‘No, no," answered Christine; "I dare not think that. L only think that the last and most earâ€" rest wish and purpose of my fosâ€" terâ€"mother was not permitted to be carried out ; for I know that she bad planned to make me her heir. But it is well as it is. I have her loveâ€"I have the memory of her motherly kindness through all my years of remembrance, and I will not repine." ; onceâ€"long, long ago. I heard she was dead." "Yes,""‘ answered Christine, wipâ€" ing the tears from her eyes. ‘"Did you know her very well?" ‘"‘She was once my friend.""" ‘‘You knew the best and dearest woman that ever lived !‘‘ ‘‘‘That she meant to have done more ?" "Yes, I am sure of it." ‘"My dear child, I sha‘ll probabâ€" ly hear many conflicting stories, nund so would you mind telling me the whole truth, just as you underâ€" stand itâ€"such, I mean, as you are ‘at liberty to tell * "If you feel an interestâ€"‘" "Have I not told you that I knew Rachel St. Clairl Would to God I could have seen her ere she die iBut it was not to be, I have been sickâ€"very near death myselfâ€"or 1 might have been here ere this." Christine had nothing to fear in the telling of her story to this woâ€" man, aad she told it as she knew itâ€"told all, from the death of Raâ€" chel to the presentâ€"â€"told of the inâ€" westigations which had been made concerning the will, and of the reâ€" rEult of the same. And, in answer to questions, she told of Caspar Hugo‘s testimony touching the last meeting between Rachel aad ber attorney. : ‘‘But,‘‘ pursued the visitor, °i I hear aright, she sadly neglected her duty to yourself."" _ 3 "No, no,"" cried the fair girl, imâ€" pulsively. ‘"She did all she could do, and I am sureâ€"I am sureâ€"‘" $.~ I was forced to resort to strataâ€" uUl, Miss| gem; and as it is fair to judge an an take | gct by its motive, I feel that since C ' I only sought my inherent rights, d to l1sâ€" my method. of procedure, forced s fanâ€"| upon me by necessity, cannot be ot but considered culpable. Not a soul 108 S1g~â€"| in New England, outside ofâ€"this f which |preâ€"ent tricy, knows m e for else than . That / T have appeared. My father will beforev{-enter upon the stage as an utter thoughn }»tranger. I propose that, when we l0b say. | Jeave this apartment, we forget ith "‘ol= ) that [ have ever known or seen elâ€" e knew ’ ther of you. You have come hither !in answer to lesal summons, and trouble rou will dircctly seek my counsol Had Lefinston chosen to suspect the concealment of a will, he might have gone on and suspected much more; but, as we have already reâ€" marked, he did not deem t any part of his business to suspect his clients. He had not been retained for that purpose. He lis:ened very patieatly to the end, ard ‘then said : "I think you have a clear case. No flaw appears upon the surface ; and if mothing now transpires to interfere, the court cannot do otherwise thanr give you the proâ€" perty. And now,""‘ pursued ‘the man of law, addressing Caspar, "let us understand one another perfectly. You are to retain your assumed name through the busiâ€" ness t‘ s "CT_ must."" replied.â€" theâ€" clerk. "There is no. telling what wild things might be suspected were I now to. discover myself. When 1 found how close and reticent old Halford was, and how jealously he puarded the secrets of his clients, "The chain upon our Sicde is comâ€" plete,"‘ admitted the lawyer ; ‘‘but how is the business here?‘"‘ _ Caspar explained the whole matâ€" ter as it then stood. C announcing the proposed arrival of bis father and the lawyer, and, by previous appointment, he met them in a private apartment near the railroad station. The first business after. having assured themselves that they were secure from obserâ€" vation, was the examination . by Caspar of papers and verbal eviâ€" dence, brought by Leffington. "It is enough! The chain s comâ€" pleteâ€"not a link missing!‘‘ eried the young man, rubbing his hands exultantly. That the Comptons had been on gaged in looking after their interâ€" iests in Boston, while he had been gathering evidence in and about Now Orleans. He knew thas Casâ€" par had, in a manner not strictly legitimate, gained entrance into the service of Rackel St. Clair‘s atâ€" torney, but that was, in his estimaâ€" tion, a piece of strategy pardonao‘e rither in law or war. How much be might have suspected, had he ,keen inclined to suspect, we canâ€" not say; but it was not his busiâ€" ness to suspect his clients so long as they gave him a fair pretext, and what was, perhaps, full as ‘mâ€" portant in his eyes, a plump reâ€" rainer, with promise of golden inâ€" crease in case of sucscessful issue. â€"she had enough alreadyâ€"neverâ€" theless, it made an impression upâ€" en her mind, and gave her food for perplexing thought. It was a bright, crisp morning in September, early in the month, that two gentlemen arrived in Bosâ€" ton by the Fall River route from New York. The first, he who took the lead, as though best acquaintâ€" ed with the city, was a staidâ€"apâ€" pearing, wellâ€"dressedâ€" _ But why waste words! It was the selfâ€"same individual whom we have knowa ars Alexander Hugo; but upon his luggagse appeared now the name Alexander Comp:on, and th.:t nare be was undoubtediy entitied to wear. _ Various other cognomens which he had found oceasion to asâ€" sume from time to time, had been none of his by inheritance. _ We know him, because we have been cognizant of his secret movements ; but those who. have casually met him upon the street, or in the deas and cetibs where the "tiger‘"‘ l1ss in wait, will not recognize him in this, his proper guiso. . He has been lurking in Boston under a vail, and for a purpose, as we know ; and having, as he is sure, struck the asconding plane, he apâ€" pears upon the scene to accept the Caspar Hugo (we must still knovw him by the name he has thus far worn to us) h 4d teâ€"eived a telegram This is Mr. Leffington who now bears Alexander Compton con pany. He is 2 man ol sixty, of thereabouts, sharpâ€"faced, keenâ€" eyed and well looking. If there has been any deep villainy, he bas evidently had nothing to do with it. He does not look like a mar who would knowingly or willingly take a hand in a game of open ras cality. But he is a lawyer; and ns is nervous and persisteat ; and wi h a basis of, right upon ths side of his «client, he would not be likely to waste respect or consideration ;pon the feelings of opponents. We may say here, without betraying any confidence, that Zenas Leffingâ€" ton did not know that any villainy â€"any direct infraction of the staâ€" tutesâ€"had been cominitted. Ho knew only this : benefits of the good fortune. And he has brought with him Mr. Ze nas Leffington, a lawyer of New Orâ€" leans, who, for a_ consideration, had leat himself, body and soul, to the work. He has met the lawyer in New York. cuidance."" CHAPTER XIV It is surprising that any have fi- tempted it and still more so that Commenting on this, the writer remarks that although time will, of course, build up a fund of 6xâ€" perience, yet for the present 131 who contemplate flying aboug regaâ€" lize that the aviator‘ 8 task is "‘The aviator‘s task is much more difficult than that of the chauffeur. With a chauffeur, while it is true that it requires his constant atâ€" tention to guide his machine, yet he is travelling on a roadway where he can have due warning through sight of the turns and irregulariâ€" ties of the course. The fundamenâ€" tal difference between cperating the aeroplane and the automobile is that the former is travelling along on an gaerial highway which has manifold humps and ridges, eddies and gusts, and since the airâ€" is invisible he can not see these irâ€" regularities and inequalities of his path and consequently cannot proâ€" vide for them until he has actuâ€" ally encountered them. He must feel the road since he cannot seo it Does not aviation call for a high degree of physical courage comâ€" bined with excellent selfâ€"control and cool judgment? Apparently the doing wrong of any one of the many things invites disaster.‘" That the aerial balancing alone is a difficult feat is shown by the experiments of the Wrights, Curâ€" tiss and others with gliders, exâ€" tendingâ€"_over several years. In trying to learn this one phase of the art, both Lilienthat and Pilchâ€" er lost their lives. The writer proâ€" ceeds to quote the following perâ€" tinent passage from a professional paper presented by Major Squier to the American Society of Meâ€" chanical Engineers last December : tion of a highly organized gasoline motor must be atterded to under the conditions of air disturbances, high speed elevation and "How.â€"different is the condition of the aviator! His pathway is beset with eddies, swirls, crossâ€"curâ€" rents, waves, billows, pulfs and gusts of wind that he can not see. that can only be known when he feels them and yet one and ali must be carefully reckoned with if he hkopesâ€" to make a successful flight. All of these things are met at a speed _ of translation through the air of from 25 to 45 miles pervhour. While beset with these unknown difficulties, balance must be mainâ€" tained in a position at a considerâ€" able height above the ground and under conditions intrinsically far more trying than on a bicycle, and with life the possible price of failâ€" ure. Again, the successful operaâ€" A moment‘s pause, and he adâ€" ded, with a smile: ‘‘And could not if he would said the parent, with an answering «emile. THE ERIAL FLIGHT IS A DEâ€" LICATE ONE. "Glance backward a few years to the days of bicycle popularity ; recall your troubles in learning to kalance on the narrow tread of the wheels; remember the bruises and bumps that you. carefully nursed câ€" your own body and smiled at if they showed on a friend‘s. YÂ¥et you were only a few inches higher in the air than if you were walking, and had no obstacles to consider except uneven places in the street. And these uneven places were plainâ€" Jy n sight.., F e "I shall trust my father to claim and receive the property. He will not play me false.‘" 2 FOR WOULDâ€"BE AVIATORS It has always been the case in the world of invention that while one set of authorities is satisfactorily demonstrating the impossibility of doing something or other, another set proceeds to do this very thing. Thus while the English engineers were showing how a smoothâ€"wheelâ€" ed locomotive could not haul a load <on smooth rails, Stephehson accomâ€" yplished the feat with ease. And a few days ago, while many persons were asserting the unlikelihood of any one‘s flying across the English Channel, Bleriot was already on the wing. This ‘feat and the esâ€" tablishment of new world records for speed and endurance by the Wright machine with a second pasâ€" senger on board, have set tongues wagging anew about the wuuse problem of aviation. We have practicable flying machines; those may use them who have learned how. Says an editorial writer in the American Machinist : Pathways of the Air Beset With Eddiecs, Swirls, Currents, Waves, and Gusts. "*It is a serfous question . . . if the enthusiasts have considered, or ia any true degree realize the difâ€" fculties of the aviator‘s task, or are iutelligently planning for suitable instruction in aviation. Such inâ€" struction must be forthcoming beâ€" fore any very large number of the human family can feel SENSITIYE BALANCING AT HOME IN THE ALR FAR FROM EASY. (Io be continued.) \ straw. Churn a fewâ€"seconds gently, unâ€" tii the butter is like grains of wheat, then draw off the butterâ€" milk, and add cold water for washâ€" ing. Repeat this until water runs clegr. m?i}e&hfnl?b of M.gn herrings are , n ferns and arrive on the Open the vent and allow the es cape of the gas a few minutes af ter commencing the churning. Stop as soon as the butter breaks open the churn and add a little cold water. Remove butter to the worker, and sprinkle the finest, driest salt use a thermometer, and in summer churn at 60 degrees. Clean up_ fence rows, sides of ditches and uncultivated corners. It will not only improve the looks of the premises but it will help to keep down weeds on the cultivated land: _Mix the salt and sugar through the butter carefully and set away in â€"a dry, cool_place for six to twelve hours before making up. Keep churning room as near 60 degrees as possible. Never fill the churn more than half full of cream. Churn at medium speed. Always over the granular butter, oneâ€"half ounce to the pound for mild, and one ounce to the pounrd for salt butter, and ene tablespoonful of granulated sugar to _ ten pounds of butter. "The dangers are inovitable beâ€" cause of the surrounding physical conditions beyond human control. However, there are other dangerâ€" ous conditions that can be guardâ€" ed against. Such are the improâ€" per selection and improper use of materials of construction. In auâ€" tomobilse development, men, who did not understand the use of maâ€" terials of construction and enginâ€" eering practice, built machines that would go until they broke downâ€" which was usually soonâ€"yet they actually ran.. That was the imâ€" portant fact. At that stage the exugineering stepped in, changed materials here and there, strengâ€" thened weak parts, reâ€"designed others, and lo! we have the sucâ€" cessful machines of toâ€"day. Such must be the story of airship develâ€" opment. We await with interest the product of the combined efâ€" forts of the airship inventors and their brother engineers.‘"â€"Techniâ€" cal World. + Place the cream in a deep earthâ€" en vessel, and stir well when adâ€" ding fresh cream. Never churn until the last adâ€" ded cream has been mixed twelve hours and it has an acid taste and a satiny appearance. they have succeedsd. To quote fur ther : Never dip the fingers into the pail while milking. _ Milk with dry hands. Carryâ€" the milk to the dairy whilse warm from the cow. It must not be allowed to cool before straining in the creamery, or putâ€" ting through the separator. In many herds where no attempt at checking up individual performâ€" ance has been made, there is freâ€" quently to be found a difference of $30 to $40 in the earning power of the best and poorest cow. Farmâ€" ers need to consider that statement carefully. In the Dominion are to ke found herds, let us say of 12 or 1Lcows, with a fairly good average yield of perhaps as high as 5.500 pounds of milk, where the highest yield is close on to 8,000 pounds of milk. and 330 pounds of fat; ‘but where the lowest yield is only about 3,700 pourds of milk and 150 pounds cf fat.. Such comparisons are only made possible by noting the actual performance of each individual ecow for her full milking period. Weigh and sample regularly and make sure that each cow brings in good profit. R4444 4444 4¢4+ 4+ +4 +0# + ¢%» While a knowledgo of the total weight of milk delivered at the factory is necessary, it never conâ€" veys to the farmer the information he stands in need of as to the proâ€" fit made by each cow in the stable. That information is absolutely necessary to him if he desires to consider himself a credit to his proâ€" fession, a firstâ€"class. â€"businessâ€"like dairyman. Otherwise these satisâ€" fying totals or delusive averages will continue to allow the one or two poor cows in every herd to censume good feed for which no profitable return is ever given. bO4 b4 44 + 4464 0 %% 4e + 4+ 4+ 4 NECESSARY INFORMATION. Most farmers can estimate closeâ€" ly the number of bushels of grain raised, and tell fairly accurately the number of toas of hay grown, but when it comes to the really most important income of the farm the produce of each cow, it‘s all a blank, and they say, "Oh, I don‘t know, I get my cheque each month, that‘s all I care about." HINTS ON BUTFERâ€"MAKING About the Farm FARM NOTES le of Man herrings are ?er »a_g arrive on the mtfl a m%tiog as }ve Epe? otatoes o oug heee cfnr months iipzflzimgz CBeP B months rs packed only in ‘Hear your wife is a great how keeper, judge." "Great housekeeper!_â€" Gee,â€" sh lean‘t evan lay a table!" Mrs. Mulliganâ€""It‘s mesilf thok speaks out me moind, Pat, as yea well know."" Mr. Mulliganâ€""Yis, Bridget; but it‘s better ter think before yez speak, an‘ thin kape si-! lent till yez fergit phwat yez wus goin‘ ter say."" | A dead millionaire‘ obituary noâ€" tice is worth about 2s much to him is his money. \ Most people wouldn‘t wan‘t their own way if they could bave it. Every man has his priceâ€"and most of them are cut prices. [{ You CaNed a Man a Liar, You Had to Pay for It. In the past, if ome Englishman ealled another a liar there was somwmething to pay. The seventeenth century mayor, sheriff and city grandees generally were keen on this point of etiquette. The direct accusation co~t 11 shillings 6 pence ($2.76); the subtle hint, 6 shillings s pence ($1.60). And there was a reduction on repetition. _ Swearâ€" ing, too, was promptly suppressed. Tu 1650 a law was passed laying down the penalty for a firstâ€"class offen>e. The fines were graduated. That for a lord for 30 shillings ($7.20), for an esquire 10 shillings ($2.40), while all "infarior persons‘‘ could have a "few words‘‘ for 3 shillings and 4 pence (80 cents)â€" not provided against. chemical eleâ€" ments of valwe are volaitzed and esâ€" cape into the atmosphere. Here is a Toss of fertilizing value and reâ€" «luetion of bulk at the same time. {f this manure were not allowed to accumulate, but put on the field, ind mixed at onse with the soil, we even put on some growing crop, its value as humus would begin at wrce, its bulk be at its greatest wolume, andthe active plant roots take care of all chemical changes within their provinces. The organic part of the manure pile, mainly litter, will decay when incorporated with the field soil alâ€" most as rapidly as it will in the manure heap. In the latter its deâ€" cay is principally accelerated â€" by moisture and fermentation, and if Every farmer who wants fto keep sheep ought to keep them, and adopt the best measures for their protection. Whenever a good maâ€" jority of farmers become personalâ€" ly interested, by having sheep of their own, effective laws for the iproper restraint of dogs will be enacted and vigorously enforceed. Farmers should not wait for it, but engage in sheep husbandry as the auickest way to secure legislation that will thoroughly protect the inâ€" dustry. s both straw and fern leaves in the same cellar showed surprisiag reâ€" sults in favor of ferns. QLDâ€"TIME PENALTIES. N a Atibe 0 er2