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..li - .^X-A r. c lack to life and love ; OR, WAITING THROUGH WEARY YEARS. CIIArTEJl I. "Happy! Yes; always quite happy ; <l<>ca she not look so ? And clways of Course quite haniilcss," eaid the doctor in auswer to my question, regarding a patient, vhose rooms we had just left- I wa-3 on a visit of i ispection to the (lood Samaritan f^uuatic Asy- lum, and joun^ Dr. Bennt-tt Ab- bot was my ffuide through the in- stitution. Ue was the third assist- ant surgeon there, a gocd looking and goc<l hearted fellow, with face and voice full of kindly syaipatliy, ard he wa.s loved and trusted hy Dearly all his patients. We had made tlie round of the wards, and don© homage to all the eelf-fancied kings and queens, popes and hcroe.3, and had humor- ed the "peculiar whim" of each monomauiac, when at length, at the «nd of a long gallery, that lookeu out upon the shrubberies ard upon the tea beyond, we caite (o the di;or 4il a cell which the doctor Ofioncd, by turuiiig the handle, for it was not locked. And now came- a strange sweet experience. A sphere of infinite peace seeraed to euveloi>c mo, the moment I crossed the threshold of that little room. Its one window looked out upon the evergreen shrubberies and be- j<ind upon the open sea, over which was shining the clear morn- ing sun. A large white china vase of rare exotics sat upon the window sill and filled tlie room with rich aro- ir.a. The room itself was bare enough, Jiut beautifully clean, with white- washed wall, waxed pine floor, ar.d wliite draped bed. On a chair by the wind(vw sat a jrung woman who immediately drew my attention, as the most fragile and spirituelle being I had ever seen or imagined. Her form, clothed in a flowing white wrap- ]>er, was so attentuated' tha.t the wonder was how it still had pov.er to hold th'.' Boul within it. V.fit fac<>r how shall 1 portray it? For it seemed the face of a spirit I Bright golden brown hair <'urled around her broad forc?heiid and shapely head, and fell down be- hiiKl upon her graceful slxjuldcrs. Her eyes wore very large, liglit blue, soft and clear and shaded l)y King lashes. Her <itlier f^-aturcs were small and regular. Her com- plexion was singularly pure white, and transparent like very thin ala- baster- iiut from those light blue eyy, and from that wan, spiritual face, beanie<| a culm and radiant pca<'e, ineffable a-nd indeseribable. "Here is u friend come to I'ee you, Marie," said the young doc- tor. 8ho looked 4t me and held out her little transparent white haul. Khe did not speak a word, hut her wlxile <l(licat(! face lightened and tofK'ued as ^lle smiled on nic with a smile that reached my heart and Beeme<i to o<iinmunicate to me her own heavenly peace. I sat down besi*!)- Ii<»r. .Vr.d the y« ung doet<ir took the third and only remaining <'huir in the room. "You have beautiful flowers! here," I said, referring to the rich exotics. Again her fair, wan face bright- 1 •ned and •â- oftened with that won- derful smile; slio did not spcik. li!<lefd speech di<l not seem to be ).er mode of'eommiinieating ideas. "Is she a mute f" I inquired in a low tone, of the \outig doctor. "Oh, n<i ) no indeed!" he nn- awered. Then turning to his pati- ent he said "Marie, my dear, tell til'.' lady al)out your flowers. Tell her who sends them to you, Marie." "My child," she answered in tone of ineffable triidernes.8. I never be.ird a hutnan \oice so soft, e ) liquid. SI) aerial. The:;;; two Words, "my child," sounded like two notes of an .\eolian h.irp. "She is a go<fd <'hild to send you •u<'h rich (lowers," f said. "Yes," ."he an.swcred dreamily. "Kii« in my angel." "Where dues she liv<', Marie?" I next (MKiuired. She <iponed her light blue eyes so wide that they .venied to blazo with a R4pft fire as she answerpd "Wliv. iluu't .\iiu know'! in Hea- ven ! When I shut my eyes some- times, r see lier home there - - a palace where walls are like mother o' pearl, with windows of crystal Biul <loors of silver, «ith gardens « f cj'lestial fruit and (lowers all j-ouuil, and " her voice, aj s\\f upoke, had gradu'illy snnTc to whis- 1>crs, and soon became inarticulate, Ht^viiin ill nielodious, undistingu- ichable notes. We sat in silence listening to her as we \souid ha^e listened to t'le murmuring <if a lirook, or to the Highing of a breeze, until at last her voice ceased, an<l she sat with folded hands and wide open eyes, gdiini fiif out «ver the nunlit waters, yet seeming to sea no- nothing. "Wo had better go now, if you please," said t.h© doctor. We both arose to leave t-he room. "Good-bye, Marie," he said cheerfully, laying his hand upo •• her head. His voice and touch aroused her from her reverie. "Good-bye, doctor," she answer- ed, but her voice sounded as if it came from afar, or like the dis- tant echo of her voice. I hold out my hand in silence ; for somehow 1 fell into Marie's fav- orite mute way of communicating. She smiled upon me with her heavenly smile, and scv filled my soul with ipeacc as we left her pres- ence. In the hall outside I said to the doctorâ€" "Here is at Iccst one happy in- mate. Is she always sol" And he answered in the words with which this story opened. "She interests me more tha-n any one I have ever seen," I added. "I do not wonder. HerS' is the strangest case I ever met with, ' he answered. "What brought her here?" "Mania, of course. Her mania being that she is constantly at- tended and helped by the spirit of her <hild, who prouipts, in others, all the kin<Incs's that is shown her, causing them to send her flowers for instance, and who opens to her the gates of Paradise, giving her glimpses of the glory within." "Was it the loss of her child that turned her brain I ' The doctor paused for a moment, his fine face clouded over, and then in a deep whisper, he answered gravely : "She was accused of having mur- dered her child." 1 started with a half suppressed Ecreani, and shrauk back with hor- ror. There was silence between us for a moment, and then 1 re-covered myself and exclaimed with irre- pressible indignation â€" "It is impossible! She. never, no, not even in a paroxysm of in- snity, could have committed such a crime-" "It is generally believed that she did, however â€" but, of course, in a fit of desperation." "I do not believe it!" I repeated with all the earnestness of my soul. "Do you remember," enquired the doctor, as we walked down the long passage togetherâ€" "Do you remember the case of that Mario .Serafinne, who was tried at Pine Cliffs, in this State, for infanticide some years ago (" "I re:nembor hearing ar.d read- ing of it, yes." "Well, the woman we have jtist left is that very Maria Serafinne. ' 1 gazed at the speaker in mute astonishment for the space of a minute, an<l then broke silence by e.\elaiming increduously : "What : why that trial took place ,-.t least fourteen years ago, and the girl at the time was said to be si.\- teen years of age. That would make her now, if she were living, thirty years old- And this girl can- not be more than twenty." "That is one of the strange fea- tures in her strange case. For the last two \ears she has been chang- ing back again to youth and al- ni4ist to childhood in appearance, ilut she is in truth that Marie Sera- finne uiio was lric'<l f<r infaiitieitla f<iurteeii years ago, and wIm oweu i.er acquittal to the legal ability, logic and eloiiuenee of that good and great l-^hniael Worth." "You amaze ma! I cannot yet credit this story," I answered musingly. "tNime, I will convince you. 1 will go into the <Irawing room this evening, an<l tell ymi the wholi.> story, as I have learned it partly fiom herself and partly from others. You will acknowledge that it is the strange=.t story you ever heard in your life; but you must of course set down the amazing pi'enomenaof the last two >ears of her life to the fancies of her own nainia." .\nd so saying, the doctor guided me out of the long hall through tlio sbriibiiories, to the part of the building occupied by the surgeon in-charge. 1 may as well state here, to make all clear, that I was a cousin of the surgeon's wife, and then on my first \isit at their house, to spend the Christmas holidays. eousin Eleanor, his wife, was in her nursery, «eeing her children put to bed, and eoothing her teeth- ing babyâ€" duties that would e.Tiploy her for an indefinite portion of the evening. So that I was alone in the draw- ing-room, with the prospect of re- maining so, until Doctor Abboi/t should come in and join me- lt was an old-fashioned, long, low-ceil<?d room in an old-fashion- e<l country house, adjoining whicn the now asylum had been bui.. when the old manor was purchased by the State for the purpose. The doctor preferred' tho old house to any part of the new build- ing, and so, with his family, he now occupied it. I walked up and down the long, low-ccilcd room, now looking from the back window out upon the darkening wintry cky, and sea, over which heavy black clouds were rising; and now pausing before the enormous wood-fire that was rcjar- iug in the broad old fire-place, and that the keenness of the sea air made it ab.solutely necessary even iu this early 'winter weather. A storm was rising, heavy clouds blackened over the sea, and the wind moaned around the house. I closed the shutters and turned from tlie window for the last time, •and went and sat down in a low chair before the fire, with my feet upon the iron fender. I had sat there but a few minutes when the young doctor turned the ,knob of the door, opened it, and quietly entered. "I am true to my appointment, Mrs. Middleton," h© said as he drew a chair to one side of the fire and sat down. I thanked him, and- remarked that a heavy storm was coming up. "That," he said, "would bo a fit and proper accompaniment to the wild story I have to tell." .\nd then and there, as we Kit by the great wood-fire in the old ma- nor-house amid storm and dark- ness, howling wind and beating rain, he told n.e the wcir<l story of Marie fc'erafinre, first cgain remi d- ing me that all which was super- jiatural and incredible in the nar- rative, I might, if I pleased, as- cribe to the hallucination of the heroine. I tell the story as I heard it. (To be continued.) CHAPTER II. That night I went into the draw- iag-rooni, as hy appointment, to hear the story of Marie Serafinne from the lips of the young doctor. 'Dr. Hamilton, the surgeon in chiirgc, was making his last even iiig tour of inspection through the asylum, a duty that would occtipy hiin tor two or three Injurs. My OLD-Tnii: PKNAI/riES. It You Cnlleil a Man a Liar, Yuu Had to Pay tor It. In the past, if ou'e Knglishman called another a liar there was something to pay. The seventeenth century mayor, sheriff and city prande?s generally were keen on this point of etiquette. The direct accusation co-t 11 shillings C pence (i?2."G); the subtle hint, sJiillings S pence ($1.60). .And there was a r<.'duction on repetition. Swear- ing, too, was promptly suppressed. Ill 1G50 a law was passed laying down the penalty f<jr a first-class offen 'c. Tl'.e fines were gradu.atcd. Tiiat for a lord for 30 shillings ($1.20), for an esquire 10 .shillings (ifa.'tO). while all "inferior persons" could have a "few words" for 3 shillings and 1 pence (80 cents). NECESSARY INFORMATION. Most farmers can estimate close- i\' the number of bushels of grain laised, and tell fairly accurately the number of tons 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." While a knowledge of the total weight of milk delivered at the factory is necessary, it never con- veys to the farmer the information he staiKJs in need of as to the pro- fit made by each cow in the stable. Tl'.at information is absolutely necessary to him if lie desires to consider himself a credit to his pro- fession, a first-class, business-like dairyman. OthervN-ise these satis- fying totals or delusive averages will continue to allow the one or two poor cowa in every herd to cf nsuine good feed for which no profitable return is ever given. In many herds where no attempt at checking up individual perform- ance has been made, there is fre- quently to be found a difference of $:\0 to I'lO iu the earning jiower of the best and poorest cow. Farm- ers need to consider that statement carefully. In the Dominion are to I. e foiiiul herds, let us say of I'J or I I cows, 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 yi<'ld is only about 3. TOO pounds of milk an<l 150 pounds if fat. Such comparisons are only ma<lo possible by noting the actual performance of each individual cow for her full milking period. Weigh and sample regularly and make sure that each cuw brings in good profit. 4.^ Mrs. Mulliganâ€" "It's mesilf thot speaks out me inoind, I'at, as yez well know." Mr. Mulliganâ€" "Yis, Bridget; but it's better ter think before yez speak, an' thin kap« si- lent till yez fergit phwat yoz wui goin' tcr say." ♦©♦O^0*0*0-f040*0^0^04» On the Farm ♦o4o-»o>o^o-»-oX>^o4o^o*^ BROOD SOW AND LITTER. It will pay any farmer to keep i* record of the dates on which his sows are bred, that ho may know (â- c a certainty just when the sows will fallow, and be nrepared to take care of the litter. A few days before a sow is due to farrow it is well to place her by herself in a warm, dry place, where she will not be molested, and feed her the same rations she has been accustomed to, as a change in her feed at this time \.ould be likely to up.'^et her or derange her system. When she farrows it is best to let her alone until she comes out, and then give her only a drink of water. U'hen she again comes out, give her another drink- and put a very little feed in it. It is important to be careful that she is brought to a full feed gradu- ally, in order that she may not produce too great a flow of milk before the pigs are able to take it. It must be remembered that this i< certainly the most critical peri- od in the life of the young litter, as a little too much milk from the s<iw at first is almost sure to bring p.Lout white scours, which if oOt checked at once will soon cause death. There is also danger by starting the milk too soon, of caus- ing the sow to becoma feverish, v.hen her udder will become hard end hot, and soreness will result, so that the sow will not let her litter suckle. This may cither kill the pigs or so stunt them that they will not grow as fast as they other- wise would. After the pigs have got well started, say from a week to ten days, the sow may be ftnl all she will eat of a good ration, but un- der no circumstances is it best to make any change in her feed, as bad results arc likely to follow. When the pigs are about three weeks old they will show an incli- nation to eat. At this time they should be given a. little of the same feed that the sow is receiving and if it is to bo nad a small quantity < f milk may be added. Tliis side table must be placed where the mother cannot get to it. and the pigs shouhl be given very little at a time and under no consideration should any be left in their trouga tf sour. Sour or stale feed is an abomination that should never be tolerated. Started gradually, the pigs can be grown very rapidly. If any changes in the fee<l must bo made they should be made gradually. At the age <•{ three months they may le weaned by removing the sow from the yard or lot where she and her litter have been, and the pigs will hardly know when they are \vcane<l. If one wishes to wean the pigs at an earlier age it may b( done, but if the sow is a good milker, it must be done gradually, by removing the sow for a part cf the day at first, then after a day (. r two she may be kept away ior a whole day, and after a little all the time, until there is no danger of a caked u<lder or spoiled teats. After weaning, the pigs should be kept growing as fast as possible by giving them good feed and plenty of e.veicisc. If one lias the railk it would be well to mi.x the ground feed in it; if not. an addi- tion of the 5 to 10 per cent, tank- age will grow them about as well, and make just as large a pig for the age as if fed milk, and at lit- tle expense. It is best to mix the feed quite thickly. Pigs that are fe<I too thin slop have to drink too much to get what real feed they need. As the pigs grow older a little whole corn may be given them. In fact, a variety of feed is always best at this age; but all changes must be made carefully, &o as not ti upset their systems or check their growth. Pigs well bred and properly fed should easily weigh 100 pounds at tliroo monthi of age, and at six months should weigh from 200 to 2!25 pounds each. foi breeders, only those of good form that are hearty feeders should be kept. No profit ever comes from a slow feeder. The greatest care should be given the selection of the breeding ewes. On farms that need renovation sheep feeding is most desirable. Breed only from the bett. Al- ways use a pure-bred ram. The type of sheep that combines a large body with a good fleece is the one for the small flock owner. THE OLDEST LOVE LETTER. Addro.s.seil Over 4,000 Years Arc to the Wriler's "little Ewe." A love letter 4,000 years old has lately been discovered in Chaldea. The lady to whom it was address- ee! lived in Sippara, the Biblical Sepharvani. Her beloved was a resident of Babylon. In chronicling this interesting discovery the C'orriere della Sera of Rome calls attention to the fact that in contrast to the position which women hrld at the present day in that Irient they possessed n antiquity a great degree of free- dom. In many respects the Oriental woman of antiquity was graced with as much privilege as is the modern European woman. Parti- cularly in Chaldea she could parti- cipate in trade, manipulate her own property, be a witness before the court and be the guardian of her own children. Of the position of women in Egypt we know less, but doubtless i'. was much higher than that of the present Mohammedan women. Ill one respect, however, it seems that custom has changed very slightly, for marriage was essenti- ally an affair of trade between the parents of the bridegroom and those of the bride. This is asi-ertained from the le- gal code of Hammurabi, King of Babylon. B. f. 2200. The future husband paid the price of the bride and her father provided for her dower and trousseau. Under these circumstances tJiere was no such courtship as precedes marriage in accordance with Occidental ideas. Still one may believe that many a love letter on papyrus or clay ipa.ssed secretly between the hands of the bridal pair during the inter- val of their engagement. The newly discovered letter is written in clav and probably dates from 2200 B. C. It reads: To the lady, Kasbuya (little ewe), says Gimil Mardiik (the favorite of Morodaoli) this: May the Sun of Go<J of Marduk afford you eternal life. I write wishing that I may know how your health is. Oh. send me a message about it. I live in Babylon and have not seen you, and for this rea.son I am very anx- ious. Send me a message that will tell me when y(. u will come to me, Eo that I may be happy. Co«ne in Marchesvan. May you live long for my sake. Doubtless the summons to come in Marchesvan is based on the writer's wish tliat she may have an ojiportunity to share with him the festivals of that month and the gayety that comes with them. Though lilgypt has so far failed to yield a single love letter, it can claim to have the most beautiful love songs, says the Literary Di- gest. Of all the nations of anti- quity, it may most fittingly bo I tal!e<I "the land of eternity. " j There death was only an incident of life, and woman was man's "be- loved sister" a.s well iu the "hid- den land" as on earth. This beai'tiful side of the Egyp- tian character is shown most dear- ly in the celebrated Song of the Harpist, of the year 2500 B. C, that probably was suns; at the Egyptian festivals; "Graciously grant us days free from sorrow, Holy Father, fume nearer I Ke- loid, ointments and perfumes bring we unto ycui ; blos.soms and lilies do we bring tu adu;:i the neck of your sister- -of her w ho lives iu your heart, of her who sits there beside ycu. Come near finally. Music and song are greeting you. .^nd the days of sadness- these have si.nJk away and radiant joy is smil- ing an<I will smile till the day on which you will pass into the land that loves eternal silence." MITTTON CHOPS. We hear much said about the gootl that sheep do clearing up the pastures; but there is tuchathing at over<loing it. Don't starve your sheep for the sake of trimming up a brush lot. Put slats across the trough to keep the sheep from fouling it with tiicir feet. Give your sheep plcntly of trough room so that they will not push and crowd each other. The breeding ewes should be kept strong and thrifty. Generous ond judicious feeding and cure mean satisfactory profits in sheep raising. No animal responds more gener- ously to gentle care than a sheep. Rough, stony pastures will often cause Iniuonoss in sheep, E.Kamiiio the feet for tufts of glass wedged between the toes. These will cause lameness. As the damp days of fall come on get your sheep out on the higher ground. They will be healthier and th) better. In selecting ew« lambs to keep DOT CONTEST Porticalars for tlie lurorniation of ContestauLs. Number of answers 15,200 Number of correct ans-.ver3 3,102 Number of answers within 20, entitled to consola- tion prize 13,804 Number of "Watches Kiven aa prizes 3 TlierB were lo many more thnn w* expected who came near enough (or a Consolation Prize that the mailing of them was not acccmpiiahed quite up to ichedule time. The last lot will ba mailed. howeTer, on Saturday, October Bth. ELLIS BR08..'*"t:^"„^"o'"- "Trying ou his new trousers. â€" Life. UP-TO-DATE. "Black or green tea, Mrs. Raf- ftrtyr' "Shure, Oi've been readin' that pink tay is all the go. Oi think Oi'll be afther tryin' some of that." Many who want to clean up the world are more an.xious to hang out their neighbor's wash tbau to do their ona. A CITY OF MYSTERIES. Terrible Deeds Committed In Glas- gow, Scotland. Glasgow has been the scene ot probably more really world-famous murder mysteries than any other eity of its size. Here lived Madeline Smith, the beautiful heiress, whose arrest on the charge of poisoning her lover, one Eniile I'.'VngUer, created so tiemendous a sensation. The trial lasted ten days, and ended in the eminently unsatisfactory veridct â€" peculiar to Scottish law â€" of "Not Proven." The luxurious home of Madeline's aristocratic parents was situated in Blythswood Square; and here, too, resided "Pritciiard the Pris-juer." a doctor who killed his wife and her mother by the administration â- f'f tartar emetic. He was one of the earliest of the "slow prison- ers," and one of the cruellest and most callous. Then there was the "Broomielaw Mystery," a murder of the now too- familiar "trunk tragedy" type, the body of a young and pretty girl be- ing found iu a bo.\ in the middle of the thoroughfare in question one foggy November night. Glasgow's mystery of mysteries, however, was that known as the "Saltniarket Affair." An aged dealer in antiquities, living alone with an old housekeeper, was found one morning dead in bid, his throat having been cut from ear to ear, and all around signs of a fearful struggle. Upstairs the old retain- er was also lying dead, shot through the heart. The street door -was bolted on the inside, and the pround-iloor shutters were also se- curely fastened from within. No money nor other property had. so far as could be ascertained, been taken. The terrible deed, it turned out, J-ad been committed by the deceas- etl's own brother, a worthless .scamp, by whom the old gentleman had long been blackmailed. He had lowerp<.l himself to the level of his unhappy relative's bed-. room by a r^pe from above, and, having committe<l the double mur- der, had quietly made off, leaving rverythiiig intact, and inten<Iing later on to clai'u his victim's es- tate as the legal ne.vt-of-kin. This he indeed di<I. and the rc- Eultant inquiries led first to his ar- rest and ultimately to his death at the hands of the public execu- tioner. SHK.VP-SUKAKING. >Vages Paid for the >V»rk hi (he State.4 of .\iisli-alia. In New South Wales, South .Au- stralia, and Queensland sheep- shearers now earn $G for every hundred sheep shorn; the rate is )?5.50 per hun<lred iu Victoria. In the last-iiame<.l State pastoral pro- perties are generally much smaller than those in other States, and. as they have better railway facilities, shearers lose less time in travel- ling. Hence the lower rate of wages. These rales were lixtMl by the Feileral tioverument Arbitra- tion t'ourt iu 1!)07. An ordinary shearer deals with from 300 to iWO )ver week, whieh, ;;t $6 per hundred, means something between $18 and $21 for a weekly wake. But experienced men can do much better. On the Yancannia Station, in the Broken Hill District of New South Wales, twenty co.npeteut men, working as a co-operative company and using machine-shears, sheared in five days no fewer than 10.838 sheep, or IGa sheep per man per day. This was in 1900, and. at the rate then obtainingâ€" $,5--the aver- age enariiiiigs of each man for fiiv» days works out at $40.