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thought she was dead. L.â€" iflmomWnoâ€"uâ€"oodnmwg r A DYING PROMlSE OR, THE MISSING g CHAPTER XXVIII. Philip was riding slowly home one evening after a duty visit to a dis- tant village, his horse was tired. so he rode with a loose rein absorbed in such‘ thoughts as that kind of mo- tion favors. He was expecting. even dreading, though he 'did not like to own it, a letter from home; this mad dream must end then. He had just received a hint that he might be intrusted with a. mission taking him from Myoerabad for weeks or months. Besides the pros- ect of advancement this afforded im, it would take him from tempta- tions which daily and hourly became more powerful; so he was both sorry and glad. Suddenly the sound of clattcring hoofs and the startled cries of some native attendants rous- ed him from his reverie, and turning he saw a runaway horse, ridden by a lady, thundering along the road toâ€" ward him. The horse's mane and the lady's hair streamed on the wind their furious speed, the rider sat well and was pulling with all her might. Hehad but time to recog- also in the pale face, flashing eye, and firm-set mouth, the features so seldom absent from his mind. when the clashing of elephant bells was heard, and the richly capai‘isoned ele- phant of a native nobleman, preced- ed by Servants and carrying a gay howdah on its mountain of a back, issued from the shadow of some tall trees concealing a bend of the road and caused Miss Maynard’s mare, which was new to India and terrified at these walking castles, to swerve violently and leap a low stone wall by the roadside. Philip, who had stopped petrified at first sight of the runaway and was close by at the swerve and leap, could hear the mare’s hoofs strike on the wall and the heavy double crash of her fall as her hind-quarters» rose to the jump. He turned in his saddle with sick apprehension, then sprang down and cleared the wall, on the other side of which the ground sloped steeply, and saw the mare struggling to her feet at the bottom 01 the little de- clivity, to which she had slid in. her struggles after her tumble. 'Ada, lay at the foot of a. tree; be supposed her head mus-t have struck it in the fall. A red mist came be- fore his eyes. he hastened. blindly to her side. Her hat had fallen off, her face was ‘quite white, her head slightly drooping to one shoulder, her arms “were flung helplessly, one above her head the other abroad downward, the, wild "hair mingled with them; she did not stir a. limb, she seemed not to' breathe; he He knelt down and raised her in his trembling arms, feeling her pulse and vaguely observing. that there was no blood on her, nor any sign of broken bones. He called her. by her name and kissed: her, and it seemed to him that some time must have elapsed before there was a little sigh, a, quiver, then he saw the dark eyes open. , She raised her head and made an effort to rise, his firm clasp relaxed,’ and with a little help she .stood ' on her feet and moved and felt .her' arms. “ _ ' ' “Oh! there is nothing the matter” she said, with a smile and .a gradual return of color. . "flint-you, you look so pale and strange. _I _am so confused and ' giddyl'. '. ‘ My; heada". "Sit down, you are hurt,” he: cried. Then he placed her, ge‘ntly' on the ground with her back against the tree, and knelt by her side -'and fanned her with his cap. ' ' Their servants had in the meantime, come up, water was fetched, the run- away horse caught and brought back, and .‘Ada, -who had been exâ€" hausted by 'her long struggle with, the mare, and =stunned by a blow: which raised a small swelling on her l head, gradually became herself a, ain. “I do think I must. be a kin' of cat." she said laughing, and looking? up with a sort of sliy_confidence that he had never seen before. ‘y‘I always come to life again, whatever hapm pens!" “Why will you he complained. carry a lady.” "She is a darling. A .Hindoo pro- cession frightened her and the ele- phant drove her distracted. Colleen Bawn is afraid of elephants." He took care to have the saddle transferred from the dai‘ling's back, to that of his own tired horse, when he found that: Ada intended to ride home, and himself mounted the Colâ€" leen Buwn, who was too much blown ,1 for any more ruutrips. Ada made" no objection to this arrongmncutd allowed him to lift her into the sudâ€" ride that boast." “she is not fit to l l dle and adjust her habit. which he“ did without looking up. and when this was done, and he was on the runaway, they started hmuewurd a! a Walk. in the last rays of the sink- ing sun. They rode about a mile and half in silence. broken only once or twice by Philip's inquiries if she was warm enough, for the air was sharpening: if the motion hurt her. all of which he did with n col‘tainluir of coxnpun-V clion. as if he had been the cause oil ‘compound become 'him. ‘I did not write .Ji-ssic was '. the accident; and to which Ada r0- pliod in a low tone. as if confidng secrets that must reach no other our. The ride seemed unending, nnd yet the dark. trees of the Maynards' visible with too cruel quickness; when he heard her low replies it was like heaven, and yet he hesitated to speak from a terâ€" ror of hearing her voice. The swift-coming Indian night. hazl already fallen when they drew rein before the veranda, so that they could scarcely see each other. “I must lift you," he said, when she would have taken his hand to spring; "you must not risk any jar." Then she passed in without any good-night, and while the syces were again changing the saddles, Philip explained to Colonel Maynard why he had been riding the Colleen, and then rode off on his own horse. He sat still in his room for some time. not even trying to shake off the intoxication of the last hour. Why should be? It would have to be got rid of soon enough, and it was something to have lived that hour. Home letters had arrived: he was in no hurry to open them; was there not a lifeâ€"time to consider them in, and only this one brief hour to taste the exhilarating sparkles of that one draught of deepest happiness in? Why, he had held her like a child, in his arms, had kissed her unrebukedâ€" but one hour since, and must the chill, hard agony of duty come so soon between them? His hands still thrilled with the anguished pleasure of touching the thick tresses of dark hair. when helping her to gather the disordered mass together, and his heart still at:th with the reproach- ful memory this soft touch called up of the day of his father’s funeral, when Jessie covered his face with the golden mantle of her owu curling hair, and comforted him in his need. And Jessie and he were alone in the world, together, now as then, bound forever by a solemn promise to dying ears. The unopened letters lay on the table before him, their white faces offering a perpetual mute reproach; but the low rich sounds of Ada’s voice were still in his ears, and he still felt the throb of her returning life beneath his hand; he buried his face in his hands and saw the long eyelashes slowly parting and the wonder of the dark eyes in the sud- den flash of returning consciousness. She looked so happy. He would give ‘ the whole world ,that Ada should not love him, yet it would be like death to know she did not. At last he plucked his hot face from his hands, pushed back his rufiled hair and stood up. The letters \vere few, there was none from Jessie, and he was glad, he would feel like a trait- or if he read a letter of hers just then. They were business letters, someon Jessie’s account, one on his own, he read them studiously, hop- ing to cool the fever that consumed The last was from a friend, it had the Marwell postâ€"mark, and was in Mr. lnglcby’s handwriting. ' "Old Iligleby,” he cried, “if he were. but here for one halfâ€"hour!" _‘Yet what would Mr. Ingleby think if he could see into his heart? Many a time he had asked his advice, both as boy and mah, from the days when he went to tea. in Mr. lnglcby‘s rooms and wondered to see 'a growu man out so many slices of bread and ‘ja‘myfuntil the landlady one day told him it was because he had given his dinner away to some poor man or Woman, and grumbled that there was no pleasure in looking after the comforts of such a discomfortablo gentleman. He opened the letter, foreboding no evil and read : “Dear Randal : You will wonder why in the world I am writing to you, and when you have discovered the reason perhaps will wonder why before, unless, in- deedfyou rate me a meddlcl‘ in other men's concerns." He read on and turned red, still on and turned pale. and when he had ytlmugh it was quite illegible, dark];- ,Sloiuwi us it was with blood. There was Slt‘l‘p for him that, 'nighl. n grim! part of which lu‘ spent ,in uriting lcilol‘s illlil arranging ,pupors and things of \ullu-. I Not (lid .‘\illl Maynard sloop much; she was ten happy, .uid the necessity inf “\ng over the (lu,\'>‘ ckus was too lllllu'l‘lllllS. l’hilip‘s fnu- lll‘llllllll: Eon-r her, the gray mos “lilt‘. with ‘lm‘vor mul alight \Viih low, puinH-il itself perpetually on the dark curtain of the night. She bud Si’l‘llll‘il to pass. with the shock of her fall, out of the limits of life into the llliiuitoâ€" blc shadow of noibingucss; whom-c she was (‘ullcd buck by the stormy cxpn-ssiou‘of n strong. dm‘p love, to Ilind luu'sclf cl‘mllod like un infant in loving ill‘lllS, cnfolllt‘d and supported in utter helplessness and peace in ‘the power and tourlorucss of a great and enduring passion. it Seemed to her fancy that life would uevcr have returned to her but for the magnetic potency of that other strong young life upon it; the dccp pulsations of the heart on which she rested seemed to have set her own arrested pulses beating afresh, tho Charm of the fairy prince's kiss had awakened her from the sleep of death. “Young Randal seems to be Ada’s good genius," her father said; “he is always on the spot in the nick of time." "There is evidently Ada,” Mrs. Ross Mrs. Maynard labout terdict on Adu's riding without her father’s brotherâ€"which ,sbe had only done that day in conâ€" sequence of Wilmot,’s failing to turn up at the appointed hour. Would Philip appear at the ruined temple to which they were to make la party that day '2 was Adn's first thought on waking um] rising with the earliest peep of down. He had been asked to join them and had promised to ride over in the afterâ€" noon. if not on duty, as he knew he lli) a fate in it, added; and even murmured something would be in the early part of the day. She hoped he would not come, and yet she knew that she would be grievously disappointed if he did not. They set forth in the beautiful cool mornzng, intending to reach their destination before the midday heat although at this season it. might be borne, and by salamanders like Phil- ip Randal, enjoyed, Ada’s ayah had never knOWn her mistress so concern- ed about her dress before; first one gown was tried and then another, this ribbon was taken and that disâ€" carded, flowers were chosen and then ‘thrown away, because they would be faded before noon. But when these ceremonies were at last ended and Ada hastened, a little late, through the garden to the water side where their little yach‘t was awaiting them, it was not morning costume just received home that caused Mrs. Maynard to cxclaim 2 “Really, Ada, I had no idea that hat and dress were so becoming!” but some spiritual cause, which at once fired and ethercalized her face. She received the attentions of atâ€" tendant. ,(‘aVuliers with rather more of the accustomed hauteur which at once charmed and provoked them, and caused more spiteful things to be said of her than anybody in Myâ€" scrabad, especially by a certain young civilian who was considered the most eligible bachelor at the staâ€" tion; she grew more and more proâ€" occupied as the day wore on. Tiflln was served and eaten, and wise and elderly people rosth in the shade to admire the prospect and smoke; the foolish young,r ones went off in twos and threes to explore the ruins or stroll by the water. “He is not coming," she said to herself, declining; to join any of these small parties and taking a chair by the side, of- her mother, who was made up in a comfortable lounge for a graceful, and as she trusted imporâ€" ceptible, siesta inside one of the tents that. had been erected by scrâ€" vnnts sent. on before. But she lisâ€" tened Still, and soon the color flush- ed over her face, her heart begun the rapid (lruiu music young~ hearts make val. such times, and she drew a little closer to her now sleeping mother, as she heard ilux quick rumor of a horse ccho from the road and over the turf, and wished he had come, and wondered why she hnd been so stupid as not to wander away with the others. And yet when Philip bad dismountâ€" !wnlked to the encampment. speaking 'fo the wise and somciiinrs drowsy lingerers in the shade as he passcd finished, his face was gray contracted 1.1116111. MiSS Maynard chanced. singuâ€" iu lines of pain. His blood lhl‘obbod in his ears with a dull sound like the olrl familiar throb. tin-ob oi the mill, he saw the dark water break to diamond-dust in the slow wheel, Scent of corn and meal, saw the kind faccs in the sunshine and “relight. and rcuiciiibcruil all the pleasant peace of his youth. The yearning. unspoken icllllt’l'llcSS‘. us of dumb animal, in Matthew Mi-udc's eyes, seemed to follow him Meryâ€" whcrc through all mos».- llii‘\l.\ll SL‘Clli'.- the. mingled uppcul and iruu in his dying eyes stuble him to tho llL‘dl'l with perpetual poignancy: again b.- .I'i-ll tbn lrcmulous filiu‘nrs rilux lllrir hold on tho ("iuspcl’l bonds of .lussh- and hilllfif‘li. uml chill b is pm now with their icy touch. llnw young. bow utterly alone um] (lul‘cucwlims‘ underâ€" lli‘lV lust llt' Anti be bud um stood the lmlfâ€"urticulaic cry in letters. I‘lk‘ would read that letter offering: rulcusv again. But could not: he had town it up. Yet llL‘ llzld not torn up .‘\llil Mu}:â€" nurd's lust chier before Lucknow, smelt the homely, some ' ,lnl‘ly enough, to be just issuing from the tent with that calm and. llllOlll- ~bin'rnssed air which is expected of ladies on social occasions, and he of course stopped to speak to her. “I was staying with momma, but Tshe is gone to sleep," she Sulll, tbv which so charmed urc cxploring ibix ‘low liquid tones him: "the rest temple.” "Come with mo," he replied, "I came on the chance of saving; you :thllf“. Let us rim! Sl‘)lll(' IllilL'L‘ where '\\c sl'oll um. be interrupted." The princess ht-vnmc zlppuruut ziii‘ in the gluuo» :lll\.\ .‘tluynrml «lll‘i'ch-‘l upon Philip‘s li:lL‘IL’¢ll'll I‘m-c uwl ~'li\\\’n-l)i‘nl, preoccupied (yrs. when it sni'uuotl into n gnmln .Kmilv :iIui Flh' reflected that u soldier-«u l‘l'illl‘T ,‘Ji‘t‘ill Mil(ll0l‘â€"â€"z!< (3.3::an llnmlul \'.u-~ our (lay to he, might in: brusiplc Wit-n oil Such an occasion :is this. “lluvu you Swl'n lllL‘ “kitm‘l'ull'l” silo l‘l.‘llil'l.L’il. “I! would bu pleasant Wore toâ€"rluy. i don't “mil to climb 'olvl‘ .ill llu' l‘lliiln ul'li-i‘ )Ma‘lvi'iluy'S ,bi'uisiug: and jolring. l iwl ,is if I :llfld had a good lit-ailing.” romance, mingled with an in-, any more , the neat fresh‘ from , [10L ‘ 00. given his horse to n somant. and 3 , . __..a . 7.7. l "Ah! yes," he returned, abstract- crlly. "it was a nasty full; yes." "The fall was unpleasant," she said, with a demure air, reflecting upon the ugrccuhlc manner in she had walked silently on, skirting the rocky ('lllincucus on which the ancient telnâ€" plo was built and passing beneath some trues: which grew down to the water's edge, where their yucht lay ut nuclior, passed and ropusscrl by luutive bouts plying up and down the r broad river in the bright sunshine. The rich lewd country spreading llt“ yond the further bunk was now only caught in glimpses through trotâ€" trunks and bcucath‘ cunopics of‘ lca\0s, a flock of green puroqucts' fluttered out above their heads. other r, “strange bright birds" of that unâ€" familiar laud flow by. and a strange lizard, with a brilliant throat, flashâ€" ed acrons their path: the dark mus- ‘ onry of the old temple was lost sight. , off though the feeling of this decayed witness of a hoary creed, its gloom and grandeur, and the majesty with which it traced itself upon the cloud- less sky, remained with them. Their path now rose a little, soon they found themselves by a tumbling, plnshing caseade, which syvept with many a, light. wreath of spray down the rocks into a dark pool overhung with graceful bamboos beyond which the river came in sight again; and they saw buildings on the further bank, sentinelled by palms, those trees so typical of the languid, graceful East. Surely, all their lives long they would remember those drooping palms beneath the brondw bright Indian sky. "I don‘t know how to tell you," Philip hogan at last, when they stopâ€" ped, Ada sitting on a rook past which the water rushed with a white flash and a sound like the mill- water many times doubled, and be leaning against the rocky wall a lit- tle lower down. "It is bad bows from home.” She looked up; the light died out of her face at what she saw in his. and , “Oh!” she replied gaspingly, rcâ€" ,mcmbcring the bad news he had rc- lceivcd on that night of their first ‘inceting at the ball,” "but there is only' Jessie left.” “Only Jessie,” he echoed, looking gloomily down at the swirling wat- ei's. p “I am so sorry,’ she said, in a voice so charged with sympathy and tenderness that it cut him to the heart; "she is not~ill?” "No. Oh, nol-Ada. I have done wrong. very wrong, I never told you â€"or anyoneâ€"all about Jessie. It never occurred to me that it mat- tered. Still, I think I should have told you, if we had been a, little longer together, becauseâ€"you were-â€" you seemed interested in my life, and‘ vâ€"it is so pleasant to have sympath'yv from you. Not that I ever dreamâ€" ed that it could in any way affect lyou." “Surely what affects my friend afâ€" fects me." she said, uccentuating the word friend. “That is why I told you nothing; we were sworn frinds," he replied. And then, in a few words, he narrat- ed the story of the death-bed beâ€" ithrothal and of the purposcd marâ€" riage deferred by the Mutiny. His: relations with Matthew Meade and; all the rest of his story, even his guardianship of Jcssie. she knew 9.1â€", which i.. bccu 'pickod up, and thcyl - ‘the cucumbers. SOME GOOD l’lCKLE RECIPES. Tho pickling season is at hand, and in may well rcglllutcd home the housekeeper is “doing up things" for winter consumption: Here are a few wcll tried and excellent recipes: Stuffed Peachesâ€"Rub the down off. medium sized peaches and take out the stone, leaving the peach whole. Soak over night in suit water, then fill the centre of each with grated horseradish mixed with a little celery seed and a bit of ginger root. Tie each pouch with a bit of white darn- ing cotton, puck in a stone jar and cover with a hot spiced and sweetâ€" cnod vinegar. They are very nice to eat with meatv Sweet Cucumber Picklesâ€"Wipe the cucumbers and Back then: in jars. To each gallon nllow a handful of salt, and pour on boiling water enough to cover. Let stand 24~ hours and then repeat {our of five mornings, or till the cucumbers taste of the salt. Drain well. Put three pints of vinegar in a kettle with four cups of brown sugar and a tab- lespoonful of mixed spices sewed in. a muslin bag. Boil and pour overl' Repeat everv mornâ€" ing for two or three times, then pack in jars or crooks, heat fresh spiced vinegar and pour over them and soul. Tomato Sweet Pickleâ€"A peek of green tomatoes and a dozen onions“ Slice both; add half a pint of salt and let stand twentyâ€"four hours; drain thoroughly, then put in a ket- tle with two pounds of brown sugar, half a pound of mustard seed and an ounce each of allspice, cloves, ground pepper and ground ginger. Add just. enough vinegar to Cover and cook slowly till clear. Another Green Tomato Pickle.â€" Slice a peck of green tomatoes, sprinkle with salt and let stand Wash with clear till tender in Vine- gar and water, using equal properâ€"- tions of each. Then scald in spiced‘ and sweetened vinegar, using sugar and spices to taste. These are de-' licious. Fruit Sweet Pickleâ€"To seven lbs. of fruitâ€"pears, plums, peaches or, cherries~after it is prepared allow four pounds of sugar and one pint of good cider vinegar, one and a, half ounces of stick cinnamon, and half» an ounce of whole cloves, with a, few blades of mace. Boil the Vinegar with the spices (in a little bag) and" the sugar, pour on the fruit, let stand tWo days, then heat, the vineâ€" gar again, put in the fruit and cook gently till clear. This also is a par ticularly good rule which has beem often tried and found “0. K.” Tomato Soy.â€"Takc a. peek of ripe tomatoes, eight tablespooniuls of mixed mustard, four of salt, two of ground black pepper, half a table- spoonful of ground ullspice, and four- red pepper pods. Cook slowly, three hours, then strain through a sieve. add a. quart of vinegar, simmer ten minutes, then put into small bottles, twentyâ€"four hours. water, then boil ready, but something hall always1 ‘ikept him from speaking of his enâ€" ,gilgelllfi‘nt; perhaps the subject was itoo distatscful. And when he di:l speak of Jessie. his manner was alâ€" lways that of an affectionate elder jbrother. ‘Ada was under the im- ‘pression that she was still a chil(l.i So probably was Philip; for him. she l was always the little playmate ofl his boyhood. the undeveloped slip of‘’ a girl.who had bid .him farewell nearâ€"l 1y two years ago. _ i (To be Continued.) . _..-_v_+__.â€" l l \VHEN JOHNNY GOES MARCHING ; AWAY. ; George licunainlms described in the ,Outlook how the Japanese soldier .gues to war. Mr. Kcuuun bad stark, ‘cd toward the i'uilwiiyâ€"siution in' Yokohama to see a. body of troops' embark for the front. Befm'c licl had gone for he t-ruw a crowd uv'mucâ€" inc; along :1 side. street In the .Ltls‘ii- of a band. i He thought it was a company of irecruits. but his interpreter said : 1 I “'l‘hcsc no troops, those I'l'icudzs gul gin- :énl:licr bun/oi.” ' 1 I Mr. Kcunuu (-ouLiuucs: the. procession turned into our street I: l i saw that it was colnposcil largely oft borchcuiloil men in the dark blue! (ll‘C‘HS of a ll'uilc gild. In the midsti of flu: crowd, under the biggest of the red-ruyi-(l Japanese lluu's, march- erl a single man in uniform; and this ,solitnr) soldier was bring escorted“ ,1” 1h!“ station by u Pl'ucussiou of a hundred and fifty or two hundred» lun-n and women with lin- lul‘gc scurâ€"' ,li-t or purple Hugs. a long “‘hitc; strcumr-r inscribed wzt'. Japanese cligu'iurs. two square transparencies of \vhili- cotton cloth and a band of; music." it is clearly of such cn< illusiusm that Jupuucsc victories m‘u \\'i‘<)ll[_‘,’lli. j l".’\.\ll)I'.\' LADY )llll ‘(TAINEI’JL ll_\ in" this man t'.\]7‘ lady mounâ€" 'lllllzncl' in llll' \vm‘lil E~ \li's. l“;!llll_l‘ullt-ck ‘»\'o!'kuziiu_ in he llimulu"- ax \ln- lmfi Lliullnil iv: :I'l illillllll:' of limp-K [wt (in lbw some occasion lli.‘l husband broke lllv “.‘ox'ld‘s l'I‘i'Ol'Il .)., _ for 525% men by Ill] fret. bf: CllllllllllL: fut-i up ;: mu'mlniu 131.27" I'm-t, .llz's Workman is of ‘ liiml‘zl, and ihr‘rn l5 mulling in lit-r, uppvnraucc Io S‘lqlf'.\l ll'n- strcugtliv 5114- has displayed in some of herl wonderful feats. I i'nnifi'rci .ully, .uud lightly. and be .il chilly svusation. then provide mx'k and keep in a cool place. This' is finely flavored and will keep. Canned Tomatoesâ€"Scam ripe to- matoes and skin them: place them in n. porcelainâ€"lined baking pan as biscuit and set in a. modâ€"n When the juice boils beâ€"' tween the tomatoes take from the oven, fill the cans and seal immedâ€" iafcly. Keep in a dark place, after tightening the cans as for any fruit. you would om te oven. HINTS 'l‘O HOU SEKEEPERS. Cans that have been discolored or that have been used for any purpose aside from their legitimate use, should be put into the wash boiler with water enough to cover them. Add pcuvliue enough to make a. strong suds and boil twcnty minutes. Here is something new as a dis- ('oLn‘ugcl' of mosquitoes. We do not vouch for it, but it is easily tried. Dissolve a piecc of alum the size of' u marble in a bowl of water and wet. lace, hands and neck with it. It is asserted not a. mosquito will come within bailing distance. Sozip ruins the appearance of painted or varnished woodwork. lt‘ may be nccvssm‘y to use it occasionâ€" but it should be done quickly well riuseb off. .\ torn place in a lace curtain can be neatly mended by wetting a piece of net of similar size-J mesh in boiled starch and applying it over the tom plucc. “lion partly dry press withl a hot iron and it will stay in place. By running u thread around it the patch will stay in [lldCL‘ when the) curtain is washed. .\ little kerosene and no soap in the water with which windows are washed is said to give the best reâ€" sults. Soup, tlicy claim, makes glass sil‘l'ukcd. Uponng canned fruit an hour or two Iii-fore iislnc, that it may regain lhv (‘NL’liltluLl oxygen, iinprchs the flavor, it should lll.‘ turned at oncn inlo an i-ill'lllt‘tl ll>ll. Lining a bureau drawer with puprel! :iirml by folds inlo ihu corners is on (way uqu of preventing the (lusi from wiring in the joiniuus. ()n --;:vb .\\‘~.'(I‘,MHL,’ (luv. or at such other Ilmws us l.v:~t sums onc's individual wmh-nivucc, tlm paper.» may lu.‘ l'n‘ um‘ml. .lvoirl slurping." in .in ux‘iclm‘qul'uicnfl that has bcv-n Worn during the day. lithe change from woollvn underâ€" wear to a cotton lllQ’illKll'CFS produces oné of soft, light. flmuwl.