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L- m.eusrs sons, PuMuiwr.. } % dfamilj gtwsjajtr: 4for ?h< promotion of fh$ $otifitat, jSociat, ^jriijnUBpl and ?ontmM[?ial Interests ojf the Jtojjlf {iiraVA!icli i3TABLiSHEDT85g. YORKVILLE, S. C., FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1909. KTO. 25. HAH AHA HA* AHA HAH AHA HAH 1 Heron t ? 5 By ETTA 1 L MANAMA UH AHA HAH AHA HAH AHA HAH CHAPTER VI. Hazsl Spsaks. It was my seventeenth birthday. Profound silence reigned in the school. Madame was Indisposed, and had given everybody a holiday. Of all the pupils, I only remained, to wander forlorn and lonely about the deserted establishment, and wish that I, too, had home and kindred. Sergia Pole had been carried off by friends of her father, to some aristocratic Beacon street house?I should not see her again till nightfall. I pictured to myself, not without a pang of envy, the pleasant things that were sure to befall her with those grand Boston people. My heart cried out for a share in the common joys of life. In the raw, dubious afternoon, depressed with many hours of loneliness, I stole into madame's sitting room, and seated myself by the dying fire, as wretched as Cinderella before the fairy godmother appeared. "Who, in all the world, cares for my birthdays?" I mused. "For six years I have been at the school. Will the whole of my life be as colorless and monotonous as the present time? I want home and friends and pleasant things, like other girls?I want to belong to somebody. It is dreadful to be alone." The twilight of the raw spring day was already creeping into the room. The clock ticked monotonously. Dejected and tired, I curled myself up in the same arm chair in which Sergla had first found me at school, and fell? not to weeping, as in the old time, but fast asleep, with my cheek plllofred on its cushion. How long I remained unconscious I cannot say. It was a smothered exclamation at my elbow that flrst startled me?a decidedly masculine exclamation?"By Jove!" And then somebody bent over the arm-chair ana Kissea me on the lips! A more amazing thing could not have happened under the roof of Mme. Deland! I started up. At my side stood a man. young, lean, muscular, with a thin, dark, sallow face, and Iron-gray eyes sharp as gimlets. He wore a long overcoat, and held his hat in his hand. I had seen the face before, but in the confusion and dismay of the moment failed to recognize it. "Sir!" I gasped, indignantly. ^ "I beg a thousand pardons!" he stammered. "I am Francis Heron. I Mim Pole?Ser Illioiwn J v/? *V> av. ? ? gia, you know!" "I am not In the least like Serbia," * I answered, with open scorn. "It Is not possible that any person with eyes could make such a blunder!" There was something peculiarly bright and exasperating in his look. "None but a supremely stupid fellow like myself, Miss Ferrers. I saw your hand on the arm of the chair?you wear a ring of Sergla's?your face was averted?I thought of the story of the Sleeping Beauty?and, 'pon my soul, the deed was done before I had time to realize Its enormity." I regarded Sergla's betrothed and my grandfather's favorite with ill-concealed indignation. "This is my birthday." I answered, coldly, "and the ring on my hand is a gift received from Sergla this very morning. The servant at the door should have told you that your cousin is not here?friends came for her hours f ago, and carried her away to town." "Then I must make haste to look her up," said Francis Heron. "I am the bearer of bad news. Her father, my uncle, is dead at Nice, and Colonel Pitt Rivers a friend with whom he had become very intimate abroad, will bring home the body. I am sent to tell Ser gla this. Will you have the goodness to Inquire if I may see Mme. Deland k- for a moment?" "Certainly," I answered, and was turning toward the door, when he put himself before me with an air of humble entreaty. "Pray, pray forgive me!" he pleaded. "On my honor, when I kissed you just now, I had no idea that the Sleeping Beauty before me was Miss Hazel Ferrers. Perhaps you noticed that you could have knocked me down with a feather, as you arose and turned on me that face which I saw years ago in Judge Ferrers's city house, and I have never forgotten"? I waited for nothing more, but ran to madame's room. Ill though she was, she arose and went downstairs for an interview with Mr. Heron. Sergla did not return to the school that night?I saw her no more for weary weeks. She was with relatives and friends, who would comfort and console her in her trouble. With a i pang of Jealousy I reflected that she did not need me at such a time. She t ' had family connections and a betrothed lover. She was now the possessor ol a great fortune, also. Ay, Sergla would not need me. The next few months were the longest and saddest of my life. The loss of my one familiar friend oppressed and saddened me greatly. Her letters . were fond but brief. She would never | return to the school as a pupil?she was done with schools; but she would come to see me soon, and tell me all that had befallen her, for she loved me as dearly as ever, and missed me sadly, even in the midst of her kindred and consolers. With what feverish longing: I waited for that promised visit! One day, ir the late spring, Sergia came. I was summoned to the reception room, and clasped once more in her dear, beautiful arms. Her mourning dress enhanced het dazzling fairness. She had acquired new grace and elegance in our briel separation. An indescribable air ol finish hung about her. Verily. Sergia had no further need of schools. In this ^ wise she opened her heart to me: "Colonel Pitt Rivers Is now my legal guardian, dear. Papa, you see. was ft very fond of him, and with good reason. In his last days the two were AXA XAX AXA tux AXA XAX AXA X 'SWlFE. 8 S IV. PIERCE. * | AXA XAX AXA XAX AXA XAX AXA inseparable. When papa lay on his death bed off there in Nice, he made a will consigning: me to the care of his friend. Colonel Rivers Is to have absolute control of myself and my fortune till the time when I may marry Francis Heron. Doubtless papa thougrht that he could give the colonel no greater proof of his regard than to make him the custodian of his daughter and her possessions." Absolute control of Sergtfa and her g-eat fortune! I thought that a rather serious matter, but I only said: "What is Colonel Rivers like?" She smiled dreamily. "He is simply, indescribable, Hazel. It is not strange that papa became inordinately fond of him. Outwardly he is all polish and velvet softness; but under that delightful exterior is a will like iron?ne is parucuiany successiui in subjugating other wills to his own. He is elegant, irresistible, magnetic!" "Is he old?" I asked. "No." "Is he still inconsolable for the loss of his young wife?" She laughed. "I believe that In society he is not considered a heart-broken man." "I hope you may not fall In love with him, Sergia! Does he approve of your engagement with Francis Heron?" She colored faintly. "Entre nous, my dear Hazel, no! He does not hesitate to tell me that he considers such a betrothal in the highest degree absurd, and of no binding power whatever. As his ward, I am v lira with him nnw. VOU know. To please me, he has just purchased the queer old estate of Wolfsden, at Black river, adjoining the homestead of Francis Heron, where I used to spend my vacations when a child. My guardian Is fitting up the house for immediate occupancy. You see, he Is willing for my sake to renounce all thought of further travel at present, and we shall pass the summer at Wolfsden. A distant relative of papa's, a delightful, easy-going old lady, has consented to become my chaperon there. With Colonel Rivers for a guardian, and dear old Miss Carbury to look after the proprieties, I feel that I ani amply provided for." "Happy Sergia!" I said. "You have lost a father, but gained In his place a guardian who seems inspired with something more than paternal devotion." She nodded brightly. "To amuse and divert me, Colonel Rivers will fill his house with guests. Then there are summer villas on the river, where many nice people come in the season. So there is no lack of choice society in the neighborhood. Now, my dear Hazel, you will visit me at Wolfsden as soon as school closeB. Don't shake your beautiful head?I shall take no refusal. My guardian has given me full liberty to invite you to his house, for an indefinite stay. I long to have you see him, dear. Really"?her violet eyes shining softly through their black lashes?"he Is well worth seeing!" Not long after this interview with Sergia, I was called one day from the class room, to meet another visitor in madame's parlor. This time it was a sober, middle-aged female, who arose from the sofa and held out her arms to me. She wore a smart silk gown, and a red ribbon in her bonnet?Patty! "Oh, Miss Hazel," she gasped, "what a beauty you've grown to be! I've had you on my mind for weeks and months. Sez I to myself, 'She's a woman now; it's time I went and found her. I've got things in my possession as belongs to her, and she ought to have 'em.' So here I am, miss." "Dear old Patty, where have you been all these years?" I answered, laughing and crying together; "and whatever has happened to you that you look so fine?" "I'm married, miss," answered Patty modestly. "He's in the butter and cheese line?a widower with six; but I was that lonesome after your poor mother's dreadful death, that I up an' sez, 'Tis more the better. I'll bolt the whole seven!' And I did, miss." She drew me down to her side, looking me over with fond approval. "You are handsomer than your mother ever was Miss Hazel, and that's savlnc a pnnrt rtenl How much loneer will you stay on at this school?" "Till Aunt Ferrers takes me away, Patty." "And what will you do then?" "Earn my own living, of course, as becomes a girl who is both poor and proud." Patty threw up eyes and hands. "What! one like you go out to search for her bread and butter in the great * world? Oh, miss, it will never do!" Alarm and distress filled her voice. "You must have home and shelter. If I your Aunt Ferrers can't give it, on account of that dreadful old man, your grandfather, who is heaping up riches ' ior strangers, wny, i win: 1 iicre? I room for you with the butter and i cheese man and the six." I pressed her hand hand gratefully. ( "Dear, good Patty, Aunt Ferrers will I surely provide proper employment for I me?I can depend on Aunt Ferrers." ! Patty drew from her pocket some , papers, wrapped carefully in a cotton I handkerchief. "Here's something, miss," she said, 1 in a trembling tone, "that I've been i keeping for you these six years back, i Your aunt knew, and approved of me I holding 'em till you were grown up. You remember the night at Lake Cottage afore your ma was killed? She gave me her marriage certificate to I pack with other things, and bade me ' see that it was preserved for you, if ' harm should happen to her. Then she , sat down to write you a letter, and she i said the same thing about that. She didn't want you to have these papers I till you had reached womanhood. So i I took 'em In charge, as she asked, and now that the time has come, here they > are." She put the handkerchief and its contents in my lap. "Patty," I cried, breathlessly, "I have seen the gray woman. She came to this school, disguised as a teacher. I made her very angry here; she said ugly things to me at parting." Then I told her the story of Miss Dee. Patty grew pale. "Oh, Miss Hazel," she cried, aghast, "Your mother's foes are following you already. That woman Is deep as a pit. She was as guilty as the murderer himself, for she knew right well when and where the deed was to be done. And she said ugly things to you, did she? Gracious Lord; she'll do ugly things, If so be she ever gets the chance, Miss Hazel!" "I am no coward," I answered, scornfully. "I do not fear Miss Dee. You must not fret about the matter, Patty ?Aunt Ferrers will surely take care of me." "Should you ever find yourself In need of a refuge, Miss Hazel, you must promise to come to me and the butter ana cneese man, saiu nm>, I promised; and Patty, having delivered up the trust which my mother had confided to her six years before, and instructed me how and where to reach her, in case of need, embraced me fondly and went her way. I had neither the courage nor leisure to examine the fateful papers then? my heart was full to bursting. I flew to my dormitory, hid them at the bottom of my trunk, and turned the key upon them. They would be safe there, till such a time as I might wish to unravel the 'mystery connected with my poor mother's marriage. Then I went back to the class room. That very night, about the hour for extinguishing the light, I heard madame's.step in the corridor outside my door. She rapped in a reluctant way. "Miss Ferrers, here is a telegram for you," she called. "A messenger Just brought it." I took the yellow envelope with a sudden sinking of heart?a thrill of nervous dread. It contained this mes sage: "Your aunt, Miss Helena Ferrers, died suddenly today, at the residence of her brother." That was all. Some attendant physician had signed the dispatch. Stunned, overwhelmed by this new and terrible misfortune, I turned to madame, who was regarding me with sorrowful Interest. . "My last friend Is taken!" I cried wildly. "To whom shall I now go? She Is dead; and at seventeen I find myself alone, at the world's mercy!" CHAPTER VII. Hazel 8peaks. "Black River!" shouted the conductor. The train slackened speed, and puffing and groaning, rumbled up to a little station, where lights were shining upon a long, wet platform, and the wind Hummed among' nnea ui icicsia^u wires overhead. I gathered up my wraps and parcels and arose to leave the car. I was on my way to Wolfsden, and Sergia, in obedience to an imperative message received from my friend, a few days after Aunt Ferrers's death. By all our love for each other she conjured me to come to her Immediately. She wrote: "Darling Hazel:?You must not bother your head about bread-winning at present. I should like nothing better than to place my own purse at your disposal, but I Know your pnae, unu have small hope that you will accept favors, even from those who love you. Come, and together we will discuss your future at Wolfsden." So there 1 was, at the Black River station, on a murky summer eve, gazing anxiously about for Sergia, who had promised to meet me on the arrival of the express from town. Immediately I espied her, hurrying across the platform, with a strange gentleman at her side. We rushed into each other's arms; some tears were shed, some words of condolence uttered, during which time the gentleman considerately turned his face away. Then Sergia drew me forward, and presented her guardian, Colonel Pitt Rivers. He was slender in figure, elegant rather than powerful. There was no thread of gray in his chestnut hair and pointed Vandyke beard?no line of care or sorrow on his handsome, smiling face. He had the air of a brilliant, accomplished man of the world. "For my sake," said Sergia, smiling, "you twain must become fast friends at once." As Colonel Pitt Rivers took my hand in both his own, and looked down upon with pvps nf kindlv interest. I did not wonder that Sergia had exhausted so many adjectives upon him. "From this moment," he answered, lightly, "Miss Ferrers may ask what she will of me, and it shall be done. With my whole heart I welcome her to Black River. Now. let us go. Mar- | tin will take care of the baggage." He led the way to a carriage, wherein a frizzled, fussy old lady was seated, with a fat pug in her arms. She leaned and kissed me on the cheek. "I am Miss Carbury, Sergla's chaperon," she said, kindly. "Being very curious to see you, my dear, I asked permission to come to the station with the others." Martin, the servant, stood holding the horses?a pair of stylish cobs. Colonel Rivers assisted me to a place beside Miss Carhury. Sergia occupied the front seat with her guardian. The latter took the lines from Martin, and we went rolling away from Black River station. The night was now falling darkly. The carriage lamps made a fleeting yellow glimmer in the pools of water that seemed to fill the road?a very uneven road, inclining to sharpe ascents ana miry nuuuws. i ne giuamiug lights of a town winked on the right hand and the left. Miss Carbury caressed her pug in the carriage corner, making his collar of silver bells jingle and began at once to converse with me. "My dear child, Sergia has talked of you incessantly. You will be a welcome addition to our little circle of guests. I hope you may like Black River?I do not. Could I have my way, I would leave tomorrow for Saratoga or Newport, but duty to Sergia keeps me here, and the presence of Colonel Rivers makes the place seem safe and tolerable to me." Rivers, on the front seat of the carriage. turned and answered over his shoulder: "Don't try to prejudice our new ar rival, Miss Carbury. To be sure, we have neighbors that are highly objectionable, as well as others whom we all And delightful; but tflth the former class our household at Wolfsden has nothing to do." "Ah, colonel. Francis Heron will never be able to control those dreadful mill people." "Softly!" laughed Rivers; "give Heron a fair show! It seems to me that he Is doing very well." Sergia nodded. "At least, he has rebuilt the mills that were destroyed in my uncle's time, and provided honest work for all who will take it. By the exercise of infinite patience, he may yet be able to civilize his Black River people." Her gruardlan leaned toward her. "And will you aid him in the work?" I heard him say. "Everybody knows that the humanizing: Influence of a young and beautiful woman is simply immeasurable." "I have not the smallest interest in Francis's mlllhands," replied Sergia, coldly. "In his college friend, Mr. Vivian, he will find all the assistance he requires." At that moment we heard another vehicle approaching rapidly from an opposite direction, and Colonel Rivers turned his cobs sharply to the right of the narrow road. As I glanced through the windows, I had just time to see the outlines of a horse in glittering harness, attached to a dog-cart occupied by two male figures. Then came a shriek from Miss Ciarbury, a violent lurch, and our carriage and Its occupants were at the bottom of a roadside ditch. The carriage lamps went out at once, and I found myself in mire and darkness, with Miss Carbury shrieking in my ears, and the pug Punch yelping like a little fiend. The next moment, however, a lantern flashed from the dog-cart, which had paused alongside the wreck; then the two gentlemen who occupied the vehicle came rushing to our assistance. "Heaven above!" cried Francis Heron; "is this the way you drive, Rivers?" "I had quite forgotten the whereabouts of the ditch," answered the colonel, with perfect good nature. Francis Heron dragged me up the bank, swearing in a subdued way. "Sergia!" I gasped. "I fear Sergia is hurt, Mr. Heron; the o'thers fell upon her." "For God's sake, Vivian, look after Miss Pole!" shouted Heron; and Mr. Vivian went down Into the ditch, and drew Sergla forth. By the lantern light I saw her smile once Into his bending face?the next Instant she lay In the hollow of his arm, like one dead. "Have you any brandy, Heron?" cried Mr. Vivian, with lively concern. "Not a drop!" growled Heron, who was wringing the water from my skirts. "Deuce take that screeching Miss Carbury! Why cannot she make herself useful at a time like this? It was a stupid mishap, anyway. Rivers hasn't the first idea how to' manage horses." With imperturbable good temper, colonel Rivers, who was occupied in holding the kicking, rearing cobs, answered. "My dear Heron, we need not put you to further trouble. Martin will be along directly, with Miss Ferrers's luggage; we will appropriate his trap." "That is the most amiable gentleman I ever saw in my life!" I said, involuntarily. Heron shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply. Meanwhile Miss Carbury had thrown both arms around the colonel, and was " * ' '- - ~ M a lover: ne iear? mat i may n*mi into the river, and is holding himself ready for another rescue." The mockery in his tone seemed to annoy Sergla. She made no reply, but Miss Carbury piped cheerfully. "The preaching fellow is really superb to look at. With his princely air and his lion tread, he suggests the soldier rather than the divinity student. I hear that he is going to Africa, to convert the Hottentots." Before any one could answer, the carriage turned into a drive bordered with trees, and stopped at a wide door, thrown hospitably open. "What a plight we are in, to be sure!" groaned Miss Carbury; "and distinguished guests in the house, too! Of course, dinner is quite spoiled by all this delay." A housekeeper, with a bunch of keys at her girdle, appeared in the hall. "Mrs. Steele," said the colonel, "call Jael to show Miss Ferrers to her room, and take all that remains of this pug Punch, and restore him, if possible, to a normal condition." He pressed my hand warmly. "You behaved beautifully in the mini, iVii^g rciicin;?uu stirauio, nw swooning! I shall never forget it. Sergla's maid will attend you, and your trunks shall be sent up immediately." Mrs. Steele, the housekeeper, took the muddy, half-drowned dog In her arms. "Poor Punch!" she said, softly. With a curious Jar of the nerves, I turned and looked at the speaker. begging him to go to xne rescue ui Punch, who had disappeared in the ditch. With superhuman patience, Rivers descended Into the mire, and groped about to find the dog. Seizing him by the collar of silver bells, he brought him to his mistress. "Positively," cried Miss Carbury, in a transport of gratitude, "you grow more delightful every day, Colonel Rivers! I find you too good?far too good ?for this selfish, ill-natured world." I ran to Sergia, who was reviving. Mr. Vivian still held her white hands; as I approached she drew them quickly from him. "I feel bruised and shaken, but my bones are all safe!" she announced. "Pray come up to Wolfsden in the morning. Mr. Vivian, and let me thank you properly for the assistance you have rendered me tonight." "You owe me no thanks," he answered, In an agitated voice; "but I will come?I must come?If you ask me." By this time Martin had appeared with the other carriage. Colonel Rivers left the wreck to his servant, and we set forth again for Wolfsden. As we clattered over a bridge that spanned a river, the colonel, hearing other horse-hoofs following, looked back, and laughed lightly. "Heron and his preaching friend are on our track," he said. "I congratulate you, Sergla, upon the possession of such She wore a lace cap and spectacles. ] Her hair was gray, her face long, pale, t narrow. Was I dreaming, or did I t really see before me a person, who, ] though apparently older by many i years, still bore a strange, sinister re- 1 semblance to Miss Dee? 1 "Come at once, Hazel, and change 1 your wet clothing," urged Sergia, and s like one dazed I went with her up the t stair, attended by the servant called [ Jael. t IT the housekeeper had startled me, t so did this waiting-maid. I watched c her in mute amaze as she set to work i upon Sergia and my bedraggled self. She was far above the usual height t of women, straight as a pin, with black brows meeting above the nose, and eyes and hair like a crow's wing. I The color of an autumn leaf burned g in her brown skin. Altogether she re- t minded one of a gypsy queen. "What a remarkable servant!" I thought a She spoke not a word, her movements ? ?">* ?? nnicoioao na a. snlrit. and her e hands so rapid and deft that I was lost r in wonder and admiration. In an in- I credibly short time she had brought r fresh clothing, and assisted us both to c bathe and dress. As we stepped out into the corridor, o Sergla, said, lightly: d ' "Do you not find my waiting-maid I unique? There was a Jael in Scrip- r ture, who drove nails and things into people's heads. I am sure this girl would be capable of doing as much on " provocation." I "Where did you discover such a f treasure?" I asked. "Oh, she is a native, that Colonel y Rivers, engaged before I came to t Wolfsden. All the servants were in t the house when I arrived." a "Sergla, did you ever look closely at t that housekeeper, Mrs. Steele?" f "No. Generally speaking, I am not f interested in my Inferiors." \ "When you have an opportunity, ex- t amine her face critically, and tell me if she does not bear a striking re- I: semblance to Miss Dee." It Sergla stared. "JHazei: w ny, an a. omic i? imw j the age of your dreadful, ill-omened g Dee creature! You must be dreaming, v dear, or your imagination has grown r morbid with long brooding over a terrible matter." Perhaps she was right. I remained "5 silent, and Sergia, with her mind full r of another subject, burst out: t "You must know, dearest Hazel, that 1< there is a real live baronet in this t house ?Sir Griffin Hopewood, of Hope f Hal^ Kent?one of my guardian's Eng- t lish friends. He Is young and f rly good-looking in a blonde way, and he c vastly admires the American girl of c the period." r At the foot of the stair Colonel Riv- h era stood, ready to conduct us to the g drawing room. There we found Miss c Carbury, with the other guests of the c house?a learned professor, worn with mttch study and bad health; his sis- J ter.iMrs. Van Wert, a young, red-haired widow, very rich and very pretty; J and Sir Griffin Hopewood, the English baronet already mentioned?a flaxen- r haired, long-limbed Saxon, who was r talking to Miss Carbury as we enter- r ed about the dog Punch. h "So sorry," I heard him say. "1 know a trifle about dogs. Will give you i something to fix the beast up." Then he stopped and stared, while Colonel Rivers went through the usual form of introduction. "Oh, come now, Miss Pole," drawled ^ the baronet to Sergia, "you might have given a man a warning, don't you know? It's hardly the fair thing to snatch away one's breath like this." She laughed, apparently understanding his meaning?which I did not?and we went in to our belated dinner. I was seated next to Sir Griffin at the table. "Hope you feel none the worse for your mishap on the road, Miss?aw? Miss Ferrers?" he stammered. I thought it odd that a titled Englishman should consider it worth while to stammer in addressing a little Yankee nobody fresh from school. "Rather awkward of Rivers, ut the roads hereabouts are beastly, don't you know?" I assured him that I was none the worse for the accident. He went on: "Jolly place?this Wolfsden! Colonial style, Rivers calls it. I have been here but a few days?came to America, you see, to do the Far West; but the colonel was good enough to look me up on the arrival of the steamer, and invite me to his country-place. By Jove! f Mtaa irvirrera"?with an audacious 8 glance?"I thank my lucky stars to- ? night for leading me to this house!" I tasted my poup, and answered nothing. "Aw, I am not getting on with you," murmured the bpronei., ruefully. "Let us talk of Rivers?he Is a safe topic. Have you known him long?" "I never saw him till tonight." "A superb fellow?no end of a favorite with everybody, I met him first In Paris?he was very popular there. We played ecarte a good deal together, and he"?with a frank laugh?"was always the winner. 'Pon my soul, he Is good at everything! You should have seen him at Nice?devoting himself to that sick man Pole?he made a good thing out of It. too. Pole left him something In his will. Yes, everybody admires Rivers?your sex, especially. I have noticed"?In an aggrieved tone?"that a widower Is almost certain to get on well with ladles." 8 I glanced at our host, who seemed to J be dividing himself betwixt his blonde f ward on one hand and Mrs. Van Wert 5 on the other. The widow had said 8 something amusing, and Colonel Rlv- 1 ers's laugh rang out deep and musical. r "Plainly his heart Is not broken," I ' murmured. Involuntarily. Sir Griffin opened his blue eyes. "I would like well to see the woman , who could break Rivera's heart," he an- j swered, dryly. ] After the dinner, Mrs. Van Wert ? played a banjo In the drawing room. j "Her latest fad!" whispered Miss t Carbury in my ear. 1 Colonel Rivers sang Swinburne's r song. "At Parting," In a tenor voice j that might have made his fortune in ( opera. f Then Sergla and I went up to the c pretty chintz-hung chamber which had ^ been assigned me. and there, leaning j her white elbows on the toilet table, ] my bosom friend began: c "That pretty widow Is very rich. She i has a fortune In diamonds alone. The t defunct Van Wert was In trade In the c Cast, and bought her many rare Jew>la there. She has a lovely hand and irm?that Is why she plays the banjo. Perhaps you saw?Indeed, you could lot help seeing?that the poor thing is lopelessly in love with Colonel Rivers. 3y the way, Hazel"?with a sort of everish vehemence in her tone?"how ibsurd of any woman to make such a ilmpleton of herself! What Is love but lain, humiliation, slavery? I mean to >e loved, but I will not give love in eturn; I will break hearts, but my iwn shall not be broken, if I can help t!" "A pleasant prospect for Mr. Heron," laid I. She drew her breath quickly. "Oh, I had quite forgotten Francis! may as well tell you, Hazel, that my ruardian grows dally more hostile to hat match." "And why?" I asked, in surprise. "I am hardly prepared to say," she inswered, with a queer little laugh. My cousin falls to meet Colonel Rivrs's approval?he has other views for ne than those cherished by poor papa, le Is determined?absolutely deternlned?that I shall never marry FranIs Heron!" She had put on a robe de chambre if pale-rose silk, like the first blush of lawn. Her loosened hair rippled down ler shoulders, and clung In silky nasses about her hips. ?U k.?* amlllnty one was paic, uui ouuuub. "It is a little odd," I ventured to say, that Colonel Rivers should oppose the ilans made by your father for your uture." "The world is full of odd things," she 'awned. "My dear Hazel, don't fancy hat you have come to a peaceful counry house, where life goes on without . ripple of excitement. As Fouche said o Napoleon?the air of this place 'is ull of daggers.' Plainly, it is your ate, poor child, to be encompassed, wherever you go, with the elements of ragedy." I looked at her so closely that she put ler white hands before her face In aughlng protest. "Something strange has come over 'ou since we last met, Sergia," I said, rravely. "I wish you would tell me vhat It is. I And you the same?yet lot the same." She leaned and kissed me. "Ma chere; there Is nothing to tell. Jou are too tired to talk further toilght. Go to sleep, and do not dream hat our gray-haired Wolfsden housekeeper has turned into Miss Dee. In he morning I mean to examine her ace, and find, if possible, the resem dance that startled you." She arose to pass Into her own hamber, which adjoined mine. As she ipened the door, lo! there was the naid Jael, on her knees, with her tall lead bent toward the key-hole. The rlrl nearly tumbled over on one side >f the threshold as her young mistress sonfronted her on the other. "^Vkat are you doing at this door, rael?'f demanded Sergia. "Ws^ting to attend you, miss," said fael, "with brazen composure. "I have no further need of you tolight. Go downstairs at once!" comnanded Sergia, haughtily; "and the lext time I find you listening at keyloles you will leave my service.". The gypsy-faced maid hung her tall lead, and moved silently away." To be Continued FLOWER8 NO MAN HAS 3EEN. Vn Air 8hip Over Amazon Forest to Be an Adventure of the Future. Everything about the Amazon is luge, romantic and extraordinary, rhe vague and but partly recorded itory of its explorations is full of myseries, excitements and tragedies. It s a river of animal and vegetable ser>ents. The night embosoming forest hat covers It must have a surface, vhlch only birds have ever yet beheld, adiant with a beauty of blossom unequalled In the world. Whatever grows n the Amazon mud strives upwards vlth desperate Internecine struggle o reach this sky exposed surface, and here blossom and fruit. Beneath, vhere men can walk, all is dark; only tere and there a fitful ray of sunlight itruggles through. Orchids blossom vlthin this shadow, parasitic upon arger growths. But It is above, where io man has ever been, that the glory if color must reign supreme?color of lowers, of butterflies, of birds, radimt In scarlet and gold and blue. You can see these bright creatures Itfully In the cavern below, but not in ill their glory as they must behold one mother above. Sometimes, as they lit about beneath, they will chance o cross a sunbeam slanting through a lole in the vegetation; then for an in itant they flash Into view like an exjloslon of burning color. It is thus hat the great butterflies of the Morpho amily are seen to the best effect. No >ne who has only beheld them In the| >eautlfui shop windows in Regent itreet, glories even as they are there, :an Imagine what an effect they proluce In their native haunts as their vings flash and close and flash again n the sunlight as they fly. Some day a wise adventurer will ake a flying machine and be the first >f men to behold the marvelous upper arpet surface of the Amazon forest. iVhen he comes back he will have a ale to tell, but words will probably all him for the telling. Of all the rreat adventures that remain to be tccomplished an air voyage over the Amazon forest is the greatest. Glory >f white polar solitude, glory of sun"aa V*/-* fn rtn n Ko nntlO icio, giui j yjL oca biiciv ca>* wv nv/ttv imongst all these to compare with the mbeheld glory of the Amazon contilent of flowers.?Sir Martin Conway, n Travel Magazine. 1 tsr Anna Wermuth, a woman who vas known for many years as the aundress to the emperor, died In the lome for '.h? Aged, In Vienna, recently. She used to boast of the fact hat she was a born washerwoman. In he revolution of 1848 she took part n the barricade fights, and acted as lurse for the woun<J 1 re .utionlsts. ?"rom her home she directed the work >f the organized washerwomen, and or years, on occasions when the varl>us guilds paraded, always led the vomen of her calling. "She died blind tnd in poverty," according to the publshed accounts, "but to the last day >f her life she was a charitable wonan, and In her time had given more han her share toward widows' and >rphana' funds." iHome Course 1 Mod . XIV.?Some Points ? By C. V. C ! Agricultural Division, 2 Copyright, 1908, by Ami txyftoixxioaoc'toiyaxj In order that the feeds fed to stock! may be used to the best possible ad- | vantage It la necessary that they should be of the proper kinds and fed In the proper amounts. One of the important things to take into account in determining the value of a feeding stuff is its digestibility. Some feeds, such as oat straw, are not more than 50 per cent digestible, while in the case of the corn grain over 90 per cent is used by the animal. Feeds with a high percentage of digestibility, like the grains, are called concentrates, while those with a large amount of indigestible crude fiber are called rough feeds. Every animal must have a certain amount of roughage; otherwise the grain would lie in the stomach in a heavy, sodden mass, which could hardly be penetrated by the digestive Juices, and indigestion would be sure to result. The crude fiber, while indigestible in itself, dilutes the more concentrated feeds and greatly hastens the process of digestion. The ruminants no. xxvn?thxbs is no food bettkb than milk fob young animals. are able to obtain a large share of their feed from roughage. Horses use nnnalriAt-nhlo thouffh owinsr to their smaller stomach they cannot use as large quantities aa cattle do. Swine are usually regarded as grain eating animals, yet they, too, do better for having some roughage. Mature hogs will maintain themselves on a good rape or clover pasture without any grain at all, and fattening swine will make greater gain if fed on pasture. In winter, when pasture Is not available, hogs will eat considerable amounts of clover or alfalfa hay if they can get It and will be healthier and iqgke better gains for having It Another Important quality in a feedstuff is Its palatabllity. Stock will make greater gains on feeds that they like, even though they contain no more nutritive material than those that are not so palatable. Closely related to palatabllity is succulence or juciness. Cows give a large flow of milk on pasture not so much because of its high feeding value, but because of its succulence and palatabllity. Stock of any kind will not make the best use of their feed if given nothing but dry hay and grain. The most satisfactory means of providing succulent and palatable feed during the winter is by the use of the silo. Silage has a high feeding value onH in rhwin. since from eight to i of protein and ashe to use in making rnilk, together with a liberal amount of the other constituents, to supply energy and to make into butter fat. A, pregnant animal is In especial need of protein and ash to use in building up the bones and flesh of its offspring. All animals need larger quantities of the heat forming elements in the winter in order to keep the body warm. Another important point, one that must not be lost sight of in preparing rations for any class of stock, is the cost. It makes no difference how digestible, palatable or well balanced a ration may be nor how rapid gains it will produce, If those gains are put on at too great an expense the feeding operations will result in a loss. For the last two years, for instance, bran and shorts have been so high In price that it is doubtful if they could be fed at a profit. Bran produces a large milk flow when fed to cows, but silage and clover hay are Just as good and cost only a fraction as much. The question of how much a farmer can afford to spend for concentrated byproducts Is always a perplexing one. Something is needed to balance the corn, which is the principal feed on most farms. If nothing else is fed with corn it will not be thoroughly digested and much of the nutriment twelve tons can be raised on an acre. It finds Its greatest use as a feed for dairy cows, but also makes a profitable addition to the ration of nearly all classes of stock. The most important point to consider in preparing a ration is the relative proportion of the different constituents. Fats and carbohydrates are interchangeable and can be considered together, since they bdth go to furnish heat and energy or to build up animal fat. Neither of these substances, however, can take the place of protein, since neither of them contains nitrogen. To build up the musses, organs and other parts of the body which require this element considerable protein must be fed. The ordinary feeds found on the farm contain too little protein in proportion to the other substances. To secure the best results a balanced ration?that is, one in which the amount of protein Is to the proper proportion to the amounts of fats and carbohydrates?must be fed. It can readily be seen that what Is a balanced ration for one class of stock may not be for another. Young calves, colts and pigs require more protein and ash in their food than do mature animals. A work horse needs large amounts of fat and carbohydrates to supply him with energy, but he also needs considerable protein to repair his muscles, which wear out very rapIdly. A fattening steer needs only a minimum amount of protein, since he Is neither growing nor using his muspIas a milk cow needs a great deal n 5 era Agriculture. | oo Stock Feeding. j iREGORY, { Iowa State College. J srican Press Association. > which it contains will be wasted. When corn is cheap this does not matter so much, but when the price goes up to 50 or 40 cents a bushel it becomes an Important consideration. This applies not only to corn, but to other grains as well since all contain an excess of carbohydrates and fat Oats come the nearest to being a balanced ration of any farm grain, but they are usually too expensive to be fed exclusively. Mixing oats with corn does not make a balanced ration, since the oats have scarcely enough protein to balance their own corbohydrates and fats. Another factor which must be taken into consideration is the health of the animals. This will surely suffer If they are compelled to live long on a single kind of feed, especially one that is as low in protein as corn Is. When grain is high in price the saving effected by the purchase of some supplementary feed rich in protein will usually much more thap pay the cost In buying feed to balance corn or other grain the chief consideration should be the amount of digestible protein which it contains. Ashe is also important especially if it is to be fed with corn, which is low in ash. By divldlnar the mice oer ton of a feed bv the number of -pounds of digestible protein In a ton the price per pound of protein Is easily determined. Thus the comparative cost of protein In the different byproducts can be figured out and the one used which will furnish it In the cheapest form. For hogs there is probably no better or cheaper source of protein than tankage or meat meal. A ration of one part of this to ten parts of corn Is an ideal one for fattening hogs. For growing pigs the amount of tankage should be doubled and some sklmrallk added If it can be obtained. Milk Is no. xxviit YtLovkb partcmTm aii mCBLLKNT FOOD FOU SHEEP. an almost perfect food for all young stock, and the farmer who has a large supply of it has a big part of his feed* lng problem solved. Another feed that is Invaluable for young pigs and calves is dried blood or blood flour. Nothing else will stop scours so quickly nor do so much to ward starting along an unthrifty pig or calf. A heaping teaspoonful to a feed is enough for a young calf, with proportionate amounts for the pigs. The reason that these packing house byproducts are especially valuable for young animals Is because of the large amount of ash which they contain. The use of such feeds insures strong bones and healthy, vigorous animals A lack of ash Is the chief fault that can be found with the corn byproducts, such as germ oil meal and gluten feed. For this reason these feeds are not so valuable for milk cows and young stock, although they are all right for fattening animals Oil and cottonseed meals contain more ash than the corn products, but not so much as tankage. They are usually a cheap source of protein. Ollmeal Is especially valuable for keeping the system in tnrta tho hnirsla Innaa anil tha Mftt sleek and glossy. Cottonseed meal should never be fed to hogs, as they often die from eating it There Is nothing better than clover pasture to balance the ration of fattening swine. Clover pasture, with perhaps a small allowance of grain, is an ideal feed for milk cows, calves and colts. The little pigs will learn to eat it also, but will need considerable grain and sklmmilk in addition if they are to make rapid gains. Clover hay and corn is a ration for fattening cattle and sheep that canno*. be beaten. Clover hay and silage with a little corn and oilmeal added is a first class nrl**+A*? far. A fr\Y* slofmr r?Q ftlA TTiv^n ? HIICI &VVU *v? VlUt* J vu???v> for horses clover hay, If not dusty, is the best of roughage. Its liberal use for all classes of stock will reduce th6 cost of feeding and add to the profits. So It is evident that the wise farmer will not neglect to provide a clover pasture that Is ample. To be Continued A Patriotic American Turk. It Is a curious fact that a bluff and Jovial American sea captain has become one of the most prominent and Influential men in Turkey. Formerly he was Capt. Bucknam, of the Pacific Mail Steamship line, but now he is known as Bucknam Pasha. He is a Turkish admiral, a pasha of two horsetails and an ald-de-camp to the sultan. After leaving the service of the Pacific Mail, the admiral took service in the Cramps Shipyard at Philadelphia, and was sent thence to Constantinople in charge of a new vessel constructed for the Turkish navy. He reached Constantinople on the Fourth of July, and, being a patriotic American, celebrated the day with crackers and fireworks on board his vessel. This caused consternation among the Turks, who told Bucknam that all such performances were forbidden .by the sultan. Bucknam was summoned before the sultan to answer for his offense, but he so won the regard of the ruler that he was at once taken into the Turkish naval service. His bravery at the time of an attempt to assassinate the sultan endeared him to the latter. Not only is he a great man officially, but also he has acquired fame throughout the Turkish empire by the invention of a cocktail known by his name. ?Leslie's Weekly. .