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U Q . . O ‘ . O O 0 O O . I O O Q K. v .1 ‘z. 0.0... 0" O.“.”.“.. ..C 0.. 0.. 9.. 0.00.. ..”.C 0.. o.- 1:. o 4- ~ 2' ‘:' es i e "‘ '0‘ ozv 6;. 0:. o :3. B F a te .“ . O O 9 I ' 50 £0 a: 4' O C C ‘ 0 C O . O O C O O O U C 9.0 9.. 0.09.0... 0.0 o." 0.0 0.00.»:«.oo'0o.o ..0 0.. 0.. 0.0 an} 0:. 0:0 The waiter ostentatiously placed the small bill before her. “One and a penny, please, Miss." 1Qaylnond Ilillyard, handsome and distinguished looking, sitting oppo- site, glanced up with an assumed lazy indifference and resumed eating. The waiter was busy whisking about. his napkin preparatory to beâ€" ing paid. "Some more coffee, please,” said the girl, “1’11 remam a little longâ€" er ” The man disappeared, shortly re« turning with the order. She began to sip her coffee very slowly. Her table companion had ample opportunity of studying her. What he saw was this: A broad, smooth forehead, with dark hair clustering in rebellious curls around her temples; a. pair of deep gray eyes, with long lashes: it short, straight nose; a dear little mouth, and a rather square law, which showed resolution and dtterâ€" mination. The hanun, small, well- kept and shapely, wore devoid of rings. "Let me see,” he mused, "the hat, cost one and Sixpence three farthâ€" ings, and is home trimmed, very neat, and suits her. The blouse was four and eleven off the peg, and the lace round the collar could be bought at any cheap milliner's for seven three farthings the dozen.” "Waiter, one omelette aux fins herbs," he said suddenly to the man who hovered round like a. phantom but. He vanished like lightning. A few minutes later the proprietor strolled up to the table, glanced suspectineg at the girl, coughed once or twice, then said: "We shall be closing very soon, madam. Are you expecting a friend?” “Yes,” was the answer. "I won’t wait much longer." The waiter appeared added the coflee to the _bill. ' “Thank you,” Said the girl, "you needn’t stand here.” The waiter withdrew. Hillyard smiled and began his omelette/ which had been brought to him. “Pardon me, but I believe I am right in saying that you haven’t got 'ihe money with which to pay your bill,” put in Hillyard at last, in a. low tone. "The manager, I fear, is of the same opinion." For a moment her eyes flashed in- dignantly; the mouth quivered. "How dare you speak to me like that?" she said. "What do you take me for?" "I take you for what you arka ladyL” he answered gently. This answer flabbergasted her for a moment. She could not meet his scrutinizing gaze. "Pray allow me the favor of add- ing your bill to mine." he continued, calmly. “You must. admit that you are 'm an awkward corner. and that your friend is a. myth.” _'1‘he waiter, somewhat agitated, "drew near again. "'Cui‘aooa," he again and ordered sharply, and theagentleman with the napkin: disappeared with remarkable celerity. "Really," stammered the girl, "1â€"- Iâ€"don’t know what you mean." "I mean what I say," he answered firmly. .“I will repeat it again if you wish. 1 don't believe you have the money withâ€"” to motioned him to desist. “Hush! hush! You have no right to say that. Don't please don't.” Her earnest entreuty compelled him to stop. "You cannot deny that I am right?" he demanded, in a manner that plainly showed he would have a direct answer. Her face went a deep crimson. “Yes, you are rirht," she replied at length, but wit a great effort. "It was very, very Wrong, I know, but I was soâ€"so hungry, and I thought. thatâ€"" "That it was possible you would meet with a good Samaritan," put in llillynrd, accurately divining her thoughts. "A very risky game to play. Suppose you had not met. me â€"what then?" She laughed uneasily. “But you see I did meet. you.” "Yet you seem very reluctant to allow me to add your bill to mine.” The color flamed her cheeks again. "It must be a loan," she declared, emphatically. "I came in here in sheer desperation. You don't know What it is to be poor, and oh, so hungry." "Yes, I do," he answered quietly. "1 mn so sorry,” she whispered genthr. "I did not. know. I had no idea. I never thoughtâ€"” "Pray don't. apologize," he inter rupted, again assuming his lighter vein. "If you are really sorry you will pass me your bill." . “Believe me," she replied gratefulâ€" ly,'hz'mding him the flimsy bit. of pa- er. "I am truly grateful. Fortune as not been (-00 kind to me of lattes" "Nor said Hillyard. to me.“ i "Dame fortune is a fickle jade, and! has to be treated accordingly. Woo her too . ~ ‘ - tends you. Treat her With indiffer- mice and she will veer round and gown upon yon." "She has. at. any rate, beeI 0 o toâ€"ni ht," said the gr . no u m 7ng consider this hill .1 “Arman... of honor. debt Where can I send you the amount? Itrâ€"it. is not too much, is it?" “Too much for you to pay now, though," he answered laughing. He produced his card, which bore his name and address. She put it Icarefully in her purse. "1 will send you the amount to- morrow,’ she declared. llillyard smiled. "To what address shall I write an nclxm-iwledgnient?" "0h, Miss llelling, care of Mnlley’s ,library, Westminster Bridge road," ‘she replied hurriedly. "'l‘here will be really no occasion to reply," she hastened to add. llillyard made a careful note of ti: address. ' The account was settled. As they quitted the shop the manager bowed and smiled in a manner that baffles description. "May I see you to asked Hillyard. "No, I would rather you did not, thank you." “Then I insist on seeing you into a cab." "No, I reallyâ€"" "Come, I insist." And before she could make further ‘relnonstrance he had hailed a ban- ,Btnll. He put her inside and handed [the man two shillings. “I have paid your fare. Where to?” "I will tell the cabinan, thank you.” "Certainly," he said rather coldly. "If that is your wish." He raised his hat. "Good night." “Thank you, oh, so much for your goodness. Good night." In another moment he had gone. 0 I h . mains to be seen. “Hillyard, congratulate me,” cried lF‘dillngll, a handsome young fellow, overflowing with good spirits, hurryâ€" ing into his friend’s con'ifortable chambers. “I'm engaged.” "I do congratulate you most heart- 'lly.” returned llillynrd, warmly. "\\‘ho is the unfortunate lady?" he inquii ed, ‘ smiling. I “A Miss Cunningham whom I met llast summer at a friend’s house. The Ebest girl in the world, I assure you." ' "They are always that,” answered ‘Ilillyard, quietly. “Uh, you needn't be so beastly sarâ€" castic," put in Fairleigh, "just be- cause you’ve never been in love." "How do you know that?” asked ,Ilillyard. I “Because you’re not a lady’s man at all.” "No. yard. 9 lie was thinking of the girl whom ‘ne had met, at the restaurant. Had he made such a bad impression on lher? He knew she had made a great impression on him. In short, he had fallen in love at first sight. "Here, let me show you her por- trait," rattled on Fairleigh, taking a small photo from his letter case. "There, isn’t that a sweet face?” "Very," declared Hillyard, but {with a touch of bitterness. for he realized that all the sunshine had ggonc out of his life, for the face he (gazed at was the face of the girl thom he had befriended. i "it, is just. my illâ€"luck,” your door?” Perhaps not,” said Hillâ€" he mut- Itered. I "What’s that?” asked Fairleigh, 'sharply. "Nothing, nothing. I hope you will be very happy." "1’m sure we shall. man, I must be off now. =in again soon.” “No'wonder she gave the name of 'Delling,’ "mused Hillyard bitterly. lie extracted a. postal order from ,his pocket for one and five and a. short note, Which ran: "With Miss Delling’s thanks." "Perhaps," he thought, “I ought to tell young Fairleigh. But no; it would compromise the young lady. Better leave it as it is. I may be lwrong.” Then he sat down to write an arti- cle, and by the time he had posted it to his typist it. was 9 o'clock, so he went to the restaurant where he had imet Miss Delling. | Needless to say, he ate his meal in isolation. Three months passed away. Hill. lyard was unable to find any trace of lMiss Belling, thoughho had visited 'malley's library many times. Fair- 'leigh had gone to the country pend- !ing his coming marriage. Hilly-«1rd still kept his secret. lt was a. strange fate that one day led him to visit his typist’s to call for a manuscript which be especially Iwishcd for. But when "Miss Dell- Taâ€"ta, old I’ll look sincere ling" came forward in answer to his enquiry I-lillyurd was completely taken aback. "You have certainly succeeded ad- imlrably in keeping out of my way,” he stammered. “Allow me to con- gratulate you on your engagement ‘to my friend Fairleigh, Miss Cunâ€" ninglinm.” The girl was visibly agitated. "How did you find out my name was Cunningham, and who told you I was engaged?” “My friend showed me your por- trait.” "There is some mistake," she‘whisâ€" pcred hurriedly. “Years ago my fa- ther left America ing with him my twin sister, leaving me with my mother in America. My Ifather died, and shortly after, my “ mother. ‘to find the whereabouts of my sister. iNone will ever know what a struggle i] have bad for existence. Can you often makes me sad :1 good help me learn whether your friend is people engaged to my sister?” " "Where me. I will do all 1 can. lbut it pays. My name is Cunningham, much, she often turns and iaud I have been trying for months with a severe glance, "that the news- returned Hillyard. "Give me three days. This is Tuesday. Will you meet. me at the restaurant on Friday evening at 7‘?” She smiled an assent. They dined together on Fridayâ€"a. happy pair. Fairleigh was indeed en- gaged to Miss Cunningham's twin sister, and all the mystery was clear- ed up. I "But why did you not, give me your proper name?" asked llillyard. "Youâ€"you see you \vere quite a stznngor to me. I thought it was better we should not meet she answered shyly. , "The Fates have thought othenâ€" Wise," he Said smiling. “Fate has brought us together again. This time you will have no hesitation in 11g your bill to mine?" again,” There was a pause. "Dearest," he whispered, ever so softly, "won’tâ€"Won't you add your life to mine, for me to keep always; for better or worse, til1â€"â€"” Their eyes met. It was enough. _..-__.+___. PROTECTED. Brave Act of the British Consul at Chile. In recalling incidents of internaâ€" tional courtesy, when British and Americans have supported each other, a writer in the lioston Transcript tells the following story which came from an American sailor who had landed at a port in Chile. 'l‘ho men had gone ashore and be- come somewhat. hilarious, and one of the police oilicers, instead of warning him not to make a noise in the street, drew his sword and knocked him down. The American got up, and promptly knocked the policeman depth in return. He was arrested, tried, and ccndemned to be shot the next. morning. Mr. Loring, the cxpostulnted with saying that to put, a men to death for such offence ; but they paid no attention to him. On the day specified the sailor was brought out and pinioned, in readiness for execution. ’ The English consul, preparing to American consul, ‘hoist the Union Jack, saw a crowd the authorities, it would be monstrous an in the field opposite, .and realized that. the execution was about to take place. He rushed over to the Amâ€" erican consul, and cried : "Loriizg ! You’re not going to let them shoot that man "” "\‘x'hat can I do 7:” was the anewer. "I have protested against it. I can do no more.” "Give me your flag i” cried anlishmen. With the two flags in his hand, he ran to the field, elbowed his way through the crowd and soldiery, and reached the prisoner. He folded the American flag about him, and laid the Union Jack over it. He stepped hack, and faced the officers and solâ€" .diery. "Shoot, if you dare," he shouted, “through the heart of England and America l” The man was not shot. the +.._.._. THE ONLY WAY. "We have such a miserable cook,” said Dimpleton, “that I’ve got so that I hate to go home at. night. This servant question is gradually upsetting the whole household." Witlierby smiled a pitying smile. "What do you keep her for ?” he asked. “Why, we keep her,” replied Dimâ€" pleton, “because the chances are the next one will be Worse." Witherby laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. "My dear fellow," he said. "that is the whole trouble. That is the key to the entire ques- tion. Householders, as a, rule, are too timid or too lazy. I don't know which. You take anything you can get... and suffer, rather than change.” "But," interrupted Dimpleton, with some surprise, "why should we change if it doesn't do any good ‘25” "The point,” replied Wilherby, "is this. I’ve tried it. and know. My method is troublesome for a while, I keep on changing un- til I just get the girl I want. I never engage a servant for more than a week’s trial. Then. if she doesn’t fulfil my requirements exactly. I try another one. 1 keep this up until I lam satisfied. (if course, while you are doing this, it is more or less upâ€" setting. But it’s the only way." Dimpletcn was thoughtful. "I don’t know but you’re right.” he finally. “How long have you trying this ’I” Witherby siglud. years,” he said. been "About sixteen MILITARY A U’l‘OMOllILES. The development of the automo- bile as an engine of War is at present occupying much attention among military authorities in Europe. The English, the French, the Italians, the Germans and the Russians are all at. work upon the problem. Sev- cral types of military automobiles are being experimented with. In Italy a special {aim of armored maâ€" chine has been devised for the pur- pose of protecting railways in time of war. Some of the German maâ€" chincsiare intended for scouting, and are furnished with drawing THE OTHER VIEW. “It seems to me," said the papers print some dreadful things.” “Yes,” answered the reporter ; "it to think that insist on doing shocking things and compelling about them.” said, 1 tables 1‘ 13,, land, tak- .and maps. Others carry-Maxim guns will or g land can do a; little lighting. lady ‘ us to write ’retail prices. â€"â€"_.. ito eat of the fruit of his own non groost as of his own apple \rees. IDon't sell all the fowl; you tame,- Eat some of them. The leafy branches of the trees on all right for summer roosting places. :but a storm-proof house will be more _ ensign @flREu iassumieran?“ “i - THE DAIRY COW. ,. . . ~ i lhere is money in poultry keeping, I believe the Ayrshire, like any but it will come only to those who other dairy cow, should show first of have qualifications for the business all a capacity for giving a large and capital to work on. ’1 here is no quantity of milk, writes Mr. M. A. business in which experience, brains, Stove“. A larger udder when full, and a certain quality, which for the which milks out well, is, therefore. want of a better term we call gumpâ€" the first requisite. In her general tion. count for more than the pooh make-up she should show that she try keeping. has a strong constitution and ability ‘5:- to mm hwr food, above the niain- TO AVOID FIRE. tenunce ration, into milk. Elle Mam, n b.,,.,, has been set , ‘ _ . on fir should be molded strong WithOUt lie“ through an upset. lantern. The best ing coarse ; comDaCt “ll-“01” 1'0 "1: way to avoid this is to stretch a pony shaped, nnl muscular without 'hcing fat. And with all she should be attractive and pleasing to the eye. A cow might be an excellent dairy cow. giving large amounts of butter and cheese. and yet, be very unattractive. Take, for instance, :1. rowâ€"boned, longâ€"legged, coarse head- -ed. elellumt-eyed cow, with a large ‘uddcr, but unsymmetrical, with teats on one side, for instance. close to- igether, with one teat much larger than the others. with great divisions. between the tents and a hollow space in the middle of the udder, such a cow, in my judgment, does not beâ€" long to the show ring. AttractiveL originator ness or beauty must therefore play; its part in the selection by the judge of prize winning dairy cows. stout wire across your stable at; right angles to the stalls and be- hind the animals over the walk. Put a ring on it first, however. Fasten a harness snap to the ring. Snap your lantern handle into the snap and move the ring along Wherever you happen to be working. Of course make the wire high though to be- out of the way of stock and your head. No kicking the light over, nor setting the born on fire this way. ‘__+._ .â€" FIRST SILK HAT. of the “Stovepipe” Caused a Scare. i It appears that the ban of the silk l A COW. DOSSPS-‘illlg_ an “UTIICHVO hat first was placed upon mankind head. Wllrh eyes WHO apart. {NC by one John Iletherington, a Lon- COVCT'C‘" “71m fine S'HW hair “71d don butter, in the year 1797. It is veins prominent, eyes full 9nd lit'nlv. with horns characteristic of the breed, a neck long nnd sinewy, thin, free from loose skin underneath, thin pleasing to know that. Hetherington was promptly arrested. A contem- poraneous newspaper account of the affair is as follows: at, the junction of the head and “John IIcum.jngton_ Haberdasher ‘tnf‘m‘mfl somowm‘t to form the of the Strand, was arraigned before Slimlmcrs ; WC'IEC'SMFQ‘] showdom' the Lord Mayor yesterday on a showing no surplus flesh, but, W'd‘. enough at the chest to show a good heart action ; a. short, strong, straight back. spine well defn d, ribs well sprung ; the body deep, esâ€" pecially at the flank, giving strength to hold a symmetrical udder :broad across the hips and level ; long from hip to rump : thighs thin and wide apart. to admit of carrying the udâ€" der, tail smoothly set on and long 2 a large, capacious udder when filled with milk, firmly attached to the body, showing well behind and car- ricd well forward, and deep through from side to side, with tests symâ€" metrically plnced and wide apart and of a good size, the udder smooth throughout, with the appearance that the milk fills every portion of it : milk veins prominent and apparently filled to their capacity ; legs short. shoWing strength, and set well apart: skin soft and elastic, rich in color and covered with soft, close, woolly (hurge of breach of the peace and in- citing to riot and was required to give bonds in the sum of £500. It was in evidence that Mr. l-lethecing- ton, who is well connected, appeared in the public highway wearing upon his head what he called a silk hat (produced), a, tall structure having a shiny lustre and calculated to- frighten timid people. "As a. matter of fact the crown stated that several women fainted at the unusual sight, while children ran screaming, and a young man, who-V was returning from a. Chandler’s shop was knocked down by the crowd and had his arm broken. For these rea- sons the defendant was seized by the guard and taken to the lord mayor. In extenuation the defence claimed that he had the right to appear in a. headdress of his own designing." What was dene ultimately with Hetherington is not stated. Not or silky hair, is a show cow, and that it mattered much: he had don such a cow shows health and the fearsome deed: he had inven ‘Strength and dairy capacity, and and introduced the silk hat, and his withal is beautiful, and wnen she ter that. nothing mattered much. ,walks around without any apparent; lotion, with bend a little up and 110â€"3 itices things without being wild orI ’timid, and with graceful movements.l ‘ then she becomes attractive and is , Sea MiSt and L°nd°n Gloom Have. hard to beat in the show ring. Nothing in Common. | The first prize Ayrshire cow at the Pan-American possessed most of these qualities in an eminent degree. She showed great dairy capacity, ..__._+.â€"â€"â€"~ DHFERENCE IN FOGS. The log of London and the fog of the sen alike discompose traffic. and omnibuses and steamships alike have ’much the largest udder of any cow in had to lay t0 f0!“ SNCFY- But “’11.”? the ring, probably a trifle too porn the London fog gets into your inâ€" dant for the Ayrshire type, teats most room and battles even the elec- tric light (though the candle comes out triumphant, curiously), the densest fog at sea. does not disturb lWell placed, body covered with the finest skin, unctuous, loose and elas- tic, with the finest and silkiest hair ,of any cow cili'bited. Size stood the saloon or the stateroom. Wig is with a straight back and not as that? ‘Some did. with their hind legs very The word “fog” has not been true-- ed farther back than the sixteenth century, but the thing was known in the early years of the fourteenth. The commons, with the prelates and no- bias visiting London for the parliaâ€" ments and on other occasions, united to petition Edward I. to compel the burning only of dry wood and char- co-al, as the growing use of sea. coal corrupted the air with its stink and smoke, to the great prejudice and deâ€" triment of health. In 1306 the king imuch under them and a hump in the back. She is wedgeâ€"shaped ; has prominent milk veins ; is compactly built : has an attractive eye, a lens-- tiful head and manners that were queenly and always at tractive. either when standing or walking. If scored [by the scale of points adopted by ,the Ayrshire Breeders’ Association in January of this year, in my girdeâ€" ment she would rank above any that istood at first above her In 'i.e uncut ring of great Ayrshire cows at the prohibited the use of coal; heavy Panâ€"America” Eransom and fines were inflicted for 'â€"‘â€"‘ disobedience; in the case of recalci- FEEDING HUGS. [hunt brewers, dyers and other artiâ€" All farmers understand that hogs hears the furnaces and kilns were de- stroyed. But the restriction was evidently removed, for in 1308 $250 (probably equal to abont 84,000 now) was paid from the excheqper for wood and coal for the coronation of Edward II. â€"â€"â€"+-â€"â€"-~ ELECTRIC MOTORS. The great objection to electric mo- torsâ€"that they will not run for enough without rechargingâ€"is said to be overcome. Recently In England a circuit of ill}; miles was run withâ€"- out recharging. It was done With a. battery of 4:3 fourâ€"plate cells, with a. cupncity of 180 ampere-hours. I'hc carriage was a fourâ€"wheeled dogcart. with two motors of two and a half horse-power each. The secret of the battery which enabled it to make such a record was that in gomg down grade the motors were reversed thus making (lyiiumos for charging ' - A ‘ . the accumulators. In this way the Imake an excellent food fed wrth milk ,curmnt was not only saved, but , a . ‘ ~ '3 r' i and Wheat nndmmgs’ Tm at on new current actually generated, renâ€" make the young Digs grow. ‘. W . . . rapidly, and they will med very “txdeimb the battery strgrigt'rt at ‘th; . tle corn or meal to fit them for the houom “f the guide t an 1 W33 a grow faster and can be kept more Icheaply in summer than during the winter season. Grass and clover claim and generally get the credit ‘for the cheap pork thus produced. lYet few know that grass and even iclover, unless at, its best, are far inâ€" iferior to some other vegetables that inlay be grown and fed. Turnips and; rutabagas are better than gross, but: the best. root of all to feed to hogs! is beets. We always preferred the sugar beet, though all beets contzun ,isome percentage of sweet, and even {the mange! wurzel, which contain the :least, are eaten greedily. The hogs gwill need other feed to make them grow and fatten, and they should shave it. When the beets are young ithe beets, weeded out, where too i’thick in the rows, should be thrown into the pigpen. After they growl llarge enough to cook only the roots will be eaten, as the beet leaves will be mostly trumped under foot. They butcher. ithe top. THE POULTRY YARD. REFORM. Those who keep ducks or geese "if you Woke up suddenly in 31:; ll may add to their profits by making night and found yourself in the, ‘Lhe feathers up into pillows and g0”â€" .n‘ u man-eating iigcr, what would iiu" them at the stores, thus ettin r yin do ?” . _ ‘ a g ‘3 "l'd promise myself to qmt drink- The farmer is just as much entitled lug."