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The book slipped to tile floor and Honoria Keller sat back in her chair with a gentle yawn. "That woman was a hero," she said aloud. "The kind I'd like to be. I move wanted to be anything quite as n‘ :h as to be a hero. Dear, dear, that’s what I used to lie under the trees and dream about, while other girls dreamed about lovers. To do something splendid and brave â€"â€"think of that! Ilelgho l” She crossed the. room and surveyâ€" ed her small, trim figure. in the mirâ€" ror, with a queer defiance in her face. "Oh, it's you again, is it? " she cried. "It‘s always you, always! Never somebody tall and fine and liero-ish. You'd make a. pretty-hero. wouldn't you ? Did you think heroes were cut out five feet tall in their shoes? And had round baby faces and dimples ? Dimples ! " She turned away and paced rest,â€" lessly up and down the bright little room. The gentle purring of the sleeping children stole out to her faintly through the halfâ€"open door. Once, when she failed to hear it, she stopped in her walk to listen anxâ€" , iously. Heavy feet trumped by, now and then, in the corridors, but the step she was waiting for did not come. . “He’s late again,” she said aloud, in the fashion of lonely women. “He was late yesterday and day be- fore, and day before thatâ€"world without; end." A sudden bitterness distorted her sweet face. Home! What kind of parody on the word Was this pair of little rooms in a great, noisy hotel? Was there the slightest resemblance to a home about them ? They were bright with gaslight and pretty with the bits of womanly touches her wistful fingers had given them. She had wrested the horror of hotel rooms from them against heavy odds. And how the children had helped! Jed's horse, over there in the Corner, Neil's sorry doll on the couch, the Tiny Onc's rubber dogs and cats everywhere,â€" bless them, how they helped ! _ Honoria Keller had been married eight years and she had never had a home. From one hotel or boarding- house to another they had drifted restlessly. The children had been born in hotelsâ€"that was Honoria’s greatest grief. It seemed like doing the children a great wrong. When Harry laughed at her the hurt deep- ened and widened. It was all Harry’s doings, anyway. When they had money enough, he said, in his easy way, they would have a home. Time enough. Suddenly bright; little sound of pain. the woman pacing the room uttered a sharp The old wound Would not bear opening. She hurried to her usual refuge, the children in their beds. Their little flushed, peaceful faces always calmed her. “You don’t. lay it up, do you ? " the mother sobbed softly. “You know mother wanted to give you a. home to be born in,â€"-Jed, Nell, Tiny One! You don't lay it up ? " For a little while she sat beside them, in the darkened room, touchâ€" ing their little cheeks in turn, with the soft mother kisses that never waken. Then, comforted, she went back again to the light. But the evening wore on, dragged on, with- out the sound of familiar steps out- side the door. Somewhere a clock chimed 10, then 11. then 12. "It was 12 last night,” she said», and waited. Then 1 o'clock rang out in clear note. "It was 1 the day be- fore yesterday," Honoria said. ' They had parted in bitter anger in the morning, but that was too fa- miliar a thing to count. Lately the pnrtiiigs had all been angry or cool- ly indifferent. When had they kissed each other goodâ€"bye in the morning? Honoria caught her breath in sharp distress. “At home we would â€"â€"â€" it would be different if we had a home! ” she cried out a little wild- ly, "How can we love each other this way, without a homo ?” The great house settled into quiet. Somewhere, a great way oil, doors shut; with a final clung, and loud keys cranked in their locks. "He will not come to-niglit,” Honoria Said. But. she waited until morning. She had waited that way before, and in the morning I'Iarry had come. This time it, was different. In the morn- ing a messenger boy brought her a non, from him. "llavc gone away. You will not be sorry. It has been in the wind some time. I Should liked to have kissed the children good-by. Harry." How long it was she sat there with the brief little note in her hands, before frightened imperative little fingers tugged and pulled her back to sendâ€"consciousness, IIonoria. Kelâ€" ler never knew. The weight on her heart did not lift or ease. It seemâ€" ed to crush and choke her. The queer, metallic voice that. answered the children’s wondering questions was not her voice. She did not wonder it terrified the Tiny One. “You isn't like mammaâ€"I 'nnts pa- pa !" he wailed. "lie has gone awayâ€"you will not be sorry.” repeated IIonoria stilted- ly. "It has been in the wind some. time. He. was sorry not to kiss the chilâ€"â€"" She caught her breath as the row of scared little faces im- printed itself on her staring retinas. A sudden wave of keen, pitiless con- SCIOUSHCSS swept over It was all so plain now ! The kind- ly mist had lifted from her mind. . That day somehow lived itself out I and then the next. Somehow. for the children, I-Ionorin. lived. The throb and smart. of her hurt were all she realized at first. Small things made no impression (in her mind. Years afterward she wonder- ed whether on those first days the sun had shone, or it had rained. It was a chance remark she overheard that aroused her from her lethargy. Someone outside in the Corridor made the remark to someone else. "The woman in that room there â€"â€" No. illâ€"Ks been deserted," the strange voice said in what was meant for an undertone. “Yes, sir, deserted? Sounds like a noer don't it '? An' the children’s there too, all right. Just lit out an' 10ft 'cm, as I'm a sinner" “As he's a sinner !" growled the other voice indignantly. ".lt's brutes do things like that. They ain’t ~men." i ’I here was sympathy in both rough H'oices‘, but Ilonoria did not hood. The words, not the tones, burnt inâ€" to her brain. Was that it? Was llarry a brute ‘.’ Dear Lord in lieuâ€" .ven, was she deserted?" l ., v . i he! Ilitrry would not do that ! ' ‘SIIO cried in anguish. “He went awayâ€"we were angry with each oth- er. He thought .[ would not be sor- ry. Not. sorry!" She sprang to the floor and paced to and fro, till the frightened children crept away by themselves. g Ilut the days that went by grew into weeks, and he did not come. :And at last the kindâ€"hearted propri- etor was driven to take the step be 1 had been dreading. Ile went up to No. 2.1 one evening and knocked gently. a weary voice said. "Ahâ€"good evening, Mrs. Keller, good evening," he said nervously. “lâ€"that is, I’veâ€"erâ€"Called on a terâ€" ribly embarrassing errand. I've put lit off and put it off, hoping lieâ€"that is, Mr. Kellerâ€"Would show up again. {I want you to believe it was an awâ€" iful jolt for me to come up here to- night and say it, but, Mrs. Keller,â€" that isâ€"" He caught out his hand- lkerchief and moppcd his face. "There's a bill against your husband for three months' board,” he blurted out. desperately. Honoria. sat looking at him stead- ‘ "Come in, l l ily, letting this new disgrace filter into her brain. She did not flinch before it. “You mean,” she said quietly, af- ter a minute or two, “that Barâ€"- that my husband owes you a good deal of money for our board, his and mine and the children ‘2" i "Yes, that is-erâ€"-a. modicum, a l modicum.” “And that we must go away at once? Of course I see that. Butâ€"- butâ€"" for the first time her sweet voice broke, "but I have no money 'to pay the bill. Wait! please don’t say a word. Please go away and let me think. I‘ must, think. You will give me time to think." But how to think ? Honoria wrestled all night with her problem. One thing was definitely clear. She must pay the bill before she went away. A way,-â€"a. way,â€"â€"â€"oh, to find a way! What was to come after- ward did not matter yet. This mountain must be climbed first. The next morning she noticed a sign posted below over the laundry windows. “Wanted: a. firstâ€"class wo- man to do fine ironing. Fancy pay for fancy work. Apply within." “Grandmother used to tell me I ironed her caps beautifully," Hon- orla. said, a sudden resolve in her mind. "But perhapsâ€"nowâ€"I'm not a. firstâ€"class woma 1," she added with a pitiful little smile. But she applied for the work and got it. She and the children took a cheaper room in one of the. attics and she went resolutely to work to earn the money to pay the bill. That the work was terribly taxing to her slender strength did not. deter her. And little by little she saved the money. Afterward she wondered: now she only worked. The night the sum she was saving had grown to the needful dimensions, her poor sore heart was almost. light. On the way u[. to her attic she overheard some one calling her a hero. It sent her straight to her blurry little mirror. "You don’t look It !" she said to the worn, shabby little figure before her, but she smiled a little and nod- ded to it, friendly-wise. “You were always wanting to be one. and I sup- ‘pose this was the best you could do." That was back. He was terribly thin and (wan. “Dear,” he said, after the dong explanation was over, “how 'could you think I would desert you a like that 7" l “I didn’t," she answered simply. “And I didn't," he said, as if he had not said it already a dozen times. “There was no time to write a longer note that night, when the Head made up his mind at last to send me about his business in such a hurry. And then,"â€"he shuddeer â€"“then the smash on the train and the nothingnessâ€"nothingnessâ€"nothâ€" ingness." . 1 “()h. hush !" she shuddered. f “And when I came out of it," he persisted, "I couldn't remember. I only remembered toâ€"(lay. IIonoria." ‘1‘ “Only to-(lay, dear," she cried _joyfully. “But, Ilarry, toâ€"oay is 5now ! And toâ€"morrowâ€"do you know what we are going to do toâ€"nior- row ‘2" "Yos,â€"wait, let me say it! To« morrow we‘re going somewhereâ€" home, IIonoria.” ! Mayâ€"“Yes, Jack and l are engagâ€" ,cd. “103 3 “00d. ‘\Vas quite rotii:~.:.tic. Do you know our first meeting I was walking down the street one rainy afternoon. when lie stepped l‘D and offered inc his umbrella." I'Ithc‘â€"”I see. he was raue’ht in the ruin." the night Harry came, l' ~~it Etta “Nb @QREN 'I‘IIl‘l FARM REPAIR SIIOI’. ) I often wonder how I used to get along without a repair shop, writes Mr. J. I“. 'lhomas. The building Illt't‘ti not be expensive but tight and1 warm. One end should be rigged up‘ for blacksniitliing. Build a hearth of store and ordinary clay mortar, with a good-sized flue, about nine, bricks to the ' round. An opening should be left at the proper place for the admission of a 5 or (i-in stove pipe. l’rocure a blower or bellows,, an anvil, a drill press, a vise, some (lies and taps, ;} to {:- in. for cutting thiead. a hammer, tongs and two ,or three sizes of heading tools. Steel punches for hot iron are also necesâ€" sary, but these can be made. After some experience, many other tools can be made that come handy: Much of the equipment mentioned can often be gotten secondâ€"hand from machinists or blacksmiths. Col- lect all kinds of scrap iron, bolts, old horseshoes, etc., from about the farm. Much useful iron may often be gotten for a trifle at public sales. Old horseshocs welded together and worked out are very useful for makâ€"i ing nails, rivets, links for chains, etc. I have been using for several. years a heavy farm chain made en- tirely from old horseshoes. As to the actual work in this line, many valuable hints may be gotten from a. good-natured blacksmith. One may need instruction particularly on the working and tempering of steel. For a. time the novice may be disâ€" couraged by his seeming awkward- ness, but after he gets the set of his hammer and the hang of his tongues, seine experience in welding, etc., there will be little repairing that need be taken away from the farm. Put in the other end of the build- ing a bench or table. Provide a crossâ€"cut handâ€"saw, nine teeth to the inch, a square, a smoothing, a jack and a fore plane, a brace with at least seven bits differing in size l, inch, three or four sizes of chisels, a drawing knife, miter square and a hand ax or bench hatchet. A supply of diflerent sized nails and wood screws. This will equip the woodâ€" working end of the shop for all or- dinary repairing. Many new imâ€" plements can be made and ironed. complete later. Now get or make a. sewing or sadler’s horse, procure some needles. wax and thread, har-j ness rivets, etc. Put up a stove, fix up the harness and gather the plows, ‘ barrows and other implements tliatl need repairs. OUR COMPETITORS. I The odds that Canada has to comâ€"1 pete with in dairy products have become such as to leave no room for uncertain speculation or waste of time. Her position near the head of- the procession can be maintained only by unceasing vigilance. Her competitors are yearly becoming more numerous, and the demands of the markets more exacting. Eng- land, the Mecca. of the world’s dairy- men, is being studied like a book, her every demand receives instant at- tention, and when her demands are not sufficiently exacting, her willingi caterers are ready with suggestions) which are no sooner made than com-‘ plied with. The race for first place is a hot one and the competitors are . powerful. At present there is a party of seventeen Russian gentleâ€" men on a tour of inspection of Great Britain‘s markets for agricultural products. The sending of this (com- mission is part of the programme of M. de Witte, the Russian Minister of Finance, and the expenses of the trip are being defrayed by the Govâ€" ernment. An English exchange reâ€" ferring to this commission says :â€" “Thcy evinced the greatest interest in learning how the butter from; Australia, Canada, Denmark, andi other countries is imported into this! country. No detail, however small,‘ was allowed to escape unnoticed, for,‘ it is their desire to learn all they, can about the wants of Bridish con-' ,sumers, and the customs of Britâ€"l iish markets. “Russia has decided to sell her own products to the markets of the world," said one of the Russian ‘gdzitleinen. "Germany and Denmark have a long time been the middlemen for the trade of Russia in England. ‘but all that must stop. Such comâ€" rmissions as this one are to be sentI ialxroad until we discover what is wanted and how to send it, and then Russia. will take care of her ownl trade. Denmark sends four times as much butter to England as does Russia. but at least oneâ€"half of it comes from Russia to Denmark before being ‘ sent over hem. It is our object to do away with the middlemen alto- gethcr." FEEDING CORN [VOIll’il'IlL My corn shocks are of average sizel and when hushed ai'o tied at the top with hinder twine, writes Mr. \V l“. Smith. When ready to house two men pull the bottoms together} with a rope and tie with some twine. The shocks are rolled on a hay frame up a wide ladder which drags behind. This fall I sliiill try the silage waggon. I think two men can lift a shock upon such a wag-gen. These shocks are placed in the barn with a horse hay fork. :Il:(i, ' while still tied. they are lifted bvl hunt] with the .sziiize fort; in the (~utâ€".I tei- platform, ul‘iel. is 1:5‘ ' I ti'r- upper :‘mir .1; I could i 'ih' cutter is run 1:. 'yOUI‘ ‘glass, _and breathed hard, and looked level tread power on the ground. the room for the fodder. and all things to be cut, adjoins the one having the floor and the cutter plat- form. and is t|ll‘.' story. The steel track for horse fork runs full length of this room and over the cutter platform. Beneath the blades of my cutter, which has a down stroke, is a. cylinder which grinds, chews or Jnasticates the fodder after it is cut. My stock out it without waste. ’l'hey al‘o eating it now, and they are by no means starved to it. For bedâ€" ding in stall, sty and coop it is su- perior. The heart of the who]! inatâ€" ter is the masticator. It is not a splitter, a shredder, nor a slicer. I’IiAN WELL. In plrniiiiig a home for yourself or farm animals, let us suggest giving the maliirest thought to con- venience. Foresee the daily steps that must be taken and the extra time iinnccessMy steps will require.‘ Time is not only money on the farm as in the shop or behind the. counter, but the saving of one's self is important. The cares of many a housewife are doubled by inconveâ€" niently planned homes, and many a. man wastes valuable time in feeding and caring for his stock because of inconveniently planned barns, sheds and yards. Home is like a book. whose, pages are made, up of the (lays of our lives. When the comma is completed it tells the story of our life workâ€"whether have. made it a failure. a partial or complete success. GLASS IN POULTRY IIOUSICS. Scientific men claim that glass in poultry houses makes them warmer in- winter both by night and day. The theory they advance is that the light waves are so short that they will pass into the house through the but are there changed into heat waves which are too long to again escape through the glass. They say that thus it is easier for the heat to get into the house than to get out of it again. This being true it is advisable to give the poultry houses an abundance of light. ._.._._¢__..,_ A FEW STATISTICS. There was a grimâ€"looking, middlcfi aged woman sitting by herself in the railway waitingâ€"room the other day, when a man with a pencil and notebook in hand sat down beside her and quietly observed “Madam, I am gathering statistics and I trust you will cheerfully anâ€" swer a few questions." The woman looked at him doubtâ€" fully and somewhat indignantly, and closed her lips more than firmly. "It is asserted." continued the man, as he moistened his pencil with his tongue, “that the crime of Wife- beating is on the increase. You are a woman.” "Yes, sir," she snapped. “And probably a wife ?" “Yes, sir." “Very good. I’ll not detain you long. Of course I shall not use your name in any information you may give me. My statistics will go to headquarters, and there be compilâ€" ed under a general head. Each county will be taken by itself, and in this county I hope to show that: wifchbcating as a crime is scarcely known to the law." "And what do you want. of me ?" she demanded. "You are a wife, madam. You have a husband; Now, then, it is a delicate question to ask, but does that husbandâ€"does heâ€"â€"" “Does he what, Sil'.?” "He may come home out of sorts with the world at large. madam." “Yes.” "He may not have any family cat or dog to kick." v (1N0.I’ “And therefore, ma’am. he may vent his spite on you. He may, in brief, haul oil' andâ€"" “And box my cars, do you mean ?’ "That’s it, ma’ainrâ€"that’s it. What I am after is statistics, you know. If he does thisâ€"â€"â€"" “I'll just give you a few statisâ€" tics," said the woman, as she rose up. "I've been married three times. The first two husbands never thought of laying their hands on me, but the last one boxed my ears three weeks ago." “Ah ! he did ‘2” “lie (lid, sir, and the statistics show that he went. out of a window head first. over a fence feet first, and that he didn’t stop burning hand- springs and cartwheels and somer- saults for a week." “My dear madam, lâ€"Iâ€"â€"" “Look at that, sir l" she con- tinued, as she touched the end of his nose with her fist. "And I wear :1 No.7 shoe, and if it’s statistics you're after I'll give you ” But he was gone, and she sat down red in the face, and said to the passenâ€" gers around her :â€"â€" "lf he'd waited about ten seconds longer I’d have given him statistics on how many men LII‘U annually cripâ€" pled for life by tryin’ to be smart." “COPPERS, SIR." A schoolmaster in a village school was giving the children a lliblo lesâ€" son. the subject being the li‘aling of the lame man, as retarded in Acts, Chapter III. After reading the verse, containing Peter's assertion, “'Silver and gold have I none, etc," ‘the master asked. with the idea of finding out if the children were gm”,ng H10 reason of the healing : “Now, what had Peter got, then?" A vzlm- of hands went up. and “,1 [Wing pointed to o. bright-(wed girl 11‘ sevtai :Il'1.s’\‘.'t'l“;~’) quickly ' "Coppers, sir." pi‘ our daily plans‘ tiltâ€"DE Fania i How a Boy Obtained His Aunt's Good Will and Fortune.â€" A Plucky Deed. Mrs. l-anest Williams, a wealthy Yorkshire willow, could not bear the sight of her nephew, a. boy named Francis Livingstone. The reaSon was that, as he grew from childhood, his features DOCttlllO exacth like those of his father, Mrs. Willianis' brother- inâ€"law, a man who had brought (lis- grace and ruin on his wife and fam- ily. The boy, who was a. quiet, hard-working, clever youth. was miserable at. his AUNT'S EVIDEN’I‘ DISLIKE. At last, at the age of sixteen, be disâ€" covered the reason. He thought over it for some time, and then made up this mind to a. desperate step. In- stcad of coming home as usual from school at tho end of the summer term of 1898. he wrote to his aunt, vasking' that he might be allowed to ‘go abroad for a time to study Ger- man. She gave her permission promptly, and sent him money to do so. Mrs. Williams did not see her nep- ,hew again until Christmas, and then ‘she got the greatest shock of her life. She did not recognize him until he spoke. Eyes, nose, jawâ€"all his features were changed. All the {unfortunate likeness to his father had disappeared. Then he told her 'that he had induced a German sur- geon to operate on his face. The muscles controlling the eyelids had been cut a little, so that his eyes opened more widely ; his upper-lip had been shortened by cutting a piece from the jaw ; and his nose and ears and ears and chin altered in shape by. ’I‘IGHTLY-FlTTING FRAMES. When his aunt died a year ago she left all she possessed to her “dearly beloved nephew Francis Livingstone.‘ Mr. John Magoo, once British vice- consul at San Jose, in Guatemala. reaped an immense fortune by a. plucky deed. During a revolution twenty-five years ago the command- ant sent Mr. Magoo a rude message to appear before him. Magoo kicked Ithe messenger off the verandah. The dictator thereupon seat and had the British representative dragged before him, and ordered him to apologize for not coming before. Magee faced the roomful of armed men with ‘quiet dignity, and told them in plain terms what would happen if they (lid not apologize for their insult to ‘Britain. Where-upon the command- ‘ant triced him up and gave him 50 lashes. Magoo took his punishment without wincing, though he fainted at the end. ! Needless to say, Britain put her foot down very abruptly. One thousâ€" and dollars a lash was the price exacted, and so scared was Barrios, the President, that he gave the conâ€" sul the privilege of building a pier and collecting tolls. When Mr. Maâ€" goo died a. year ago his estate was valued at a million. "KING OF VALOUR' ' Sis the name Madrid has given to {Tancrcdo Lopez. Apprentice to a. shoemaker four years ago, he is now getting $200 apiece for five bull fights a week, which makes his year- 'ly income a trifle over $50,000. Dressed in white, he stands in the centre of the arena, while the savage lblack Andalusian bull charges fu- iriously at him with lowered horns. Everybody expects to see him hurled, {at mangled corpse, into the: air. In- ;stead, the bull invariably turns off, iand passes him. It is said that he .does not know what fear is, and that. ;this property gives him his extraorâ€" klinary power over even the bravest lbcast that lives. [ George Bristow, the platinum mil- ,lionaire, who died a few months ago in Paris, started out in 1873 with a prospecting party of four men across; the Mojave Desert to look for gold. The heat was fearful, dust-storms constant, water scarce. There was i I I no sign of precious metal, and all but. Bristow BECAME DISCOUIlAGE‘D. One day they came to a terrific gorge, running north and south as far as the eye could see. There was no way of crossing it. Bristow’s loompanions insisted on turning back. |Bristow was left alone, with very llittle food, on the edge of the chasm. llle set to work to find a place where ldescent was possible. A day of hard walking, and at nightfall he came to a break in the i'all.’ After a fclnnb down two thousand feet of almost sheer piecipice, he reached the stream which ran at the bottom. There he camped. Next day he found the lode of gold and platinum which has since made his name famous. When he attempted to reascend the gorge walls. he found the task imâ€" possible. lle was forced to travel down the river to its mouth. His adventures were endless. Forced to swim rapids, battered on rocks, liv- ing on moSses and crayfish, he never Idespaircd, and ajrjyed safely, thrqq vet-ks later, at Merriton, at thé ,iiiétltli of the stream. Ilristow’s es" ‘tate was valued at his death at $13,5(m,000. .____.+... Mrs. lie Plainâ€""My husband never leaves me foi an hour without kiss-- ing me." Neighborly Callerâ€""l can ll‘lilfiliy believe il. l‘h'rl‘ybody says your husband is the most consideiu ate. unselfish. sclfâ€"sacriSting man in [itGC Work}. ~