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CHAPTER XXXI. Log of through snowy lanes and across fieldâ€" podahs toward the river’s bank. He had pulled his coatâ€"collar up about his face and crushed his but over his eyes, and with a burning fear of be- ing recognized by passengers as ho strode swiftly along in the pale snow gleam. Ashamed of Jessie. That was indeed a strange experience and yet it was the strongest in all the wild medley of agonized feelings that surged within him. He pitied her much. but he condemned her more. Noth- ing, he thought, with the stern Phar- isaism of male kindred, could palliâ€"‘ ate, much less excuse conduct such as hers; those secret meetings augur- ed deception as well as a frailty that made him shudder; piteous as idea of a self-sought death of despair was, it was still the trace to be hoped for. But he did not think that She had taken her life; averted heads of her acquaintances would not provide a motive strong enough for so desperate a measure, and no more pressing motive could be argued. He did not know what Jessie had known too well that, guilty or not guilty, Mrs. Plummer would never receive a disgraced girl beneath her roof. “She might die on the road first," was her expres- don. In the long watches of the night, as be tossed uneasily upon Mrs. Plummer’s lavender-scented pillows he had thought much of Jessie’s dis- harmony with her surroundings. Red- woods, the scene of pleasant holidays in childhood, had been taken with-. out criticism, but now that he came. fresh to it after so long an interval and habitual experience of more polâ€" ished modes of life, it. struck him that “Wood ways” could scarcely have been congenial to Jessie, the more so as she saw homespun rough- neds in contrast with the refined eleâ€" snoe, almost splendor, of Harwell ‘OUrt. A vague remorse mingled with these thoughts; he asked himâ€" hsve done better for her, and the an- lwer always was, nothing. The fault seemed to lie in circumstance; she had been trained out of harmony with her position in life, she had no nodal status, she had risen from one. . ‘ trast w1th class but not reached another. If he had taken her to India, her isolation would have been frightful; he would have to leave her while he marched to the first Relief of Lucknow, and went through the Rohilcunde cam- fii . 'And if he married her in -$and and left her behind, it would have been far worse. sweet, sorrowful face Would rise beâ€" fore him with gentlc reproach. No evil could be attributed to that sweet and guileless chiid. But he rememâ€" bered that nearly every woman has once been innocent. He had passed the morning, not without some feel- ing of sacrilege, in the small whiw draped room that had been hers, looking in search of some clue to her disapâ€" pearance. His own letters were all there, neatly packeted and endorsed; how cold and hard they seemed to be! One had arrived after her disap- pearance and had never been opened; there was something inoxpressibly ghastly in opening and mailing it. Her favorite books were there, a scant stock; her Thomas a Kempis, the mnyson he had given her on her fifteenth birthday, well-worn and much underlined-â€" Love took up the harp of line, and smote on all the chords with might, Smote the chord of Self, which, bunk: bung. passed in music out of sight. This was dated, and doubly scored. There were long and most affectionâ€" ate letters from Miss Lonsdale; she appeared to have kept every scrap the ‘ one sign of‘ Then J essie'sl over her papers and things‘ September, 1858, ‘ A DY NG PROMISE OR. THE MISSING I l ! f I l of her writing; one or two pencilled; _ notes from Ethel Medwayâ€"not a'line f all except at the word of command ‘2 of writing in the hand he expected and feared to see. There was a commonplace book, dainty and neat. into which she had copied passages from books that pleased her; he was surprised at the extent and judgment of her reading. Some household rt~ cipes, workâ€"patterns, and half a dozen enigmas and cliurades complet- ed Jessie’s stock of papers. A few trinkets, old-fashioned things of Mrs. Mcade's, were left in the little rosewood dressingâ€"case, among them, wrapped in silver paper and inscrib- ed, “For Philip." was llle ring he had given her at their parents' grave, the opal ring. which \lle said was unlucky. "But whatever is this?" Mrs. Plum- mer exclaimed, while exploring a drawer of clothing at his desire. His heart Sank at the sight: for it was a morocco, vel'vetâ€"linell jewelâ€"ruse. fresh and new, bearing the name of‘ a wellâ€"known firm of London jewelâ€" lers in gold letters. and it had mi- dently been put into the far corner of the drawer for concealment. lle wrapped it in paper and set it aside {or futuri.~ 13c. "Dear heart 2 " exclaimed Mrs. l -- Plummer, Soon rolled over the bare, The next afternoon. about “‘9 “111' from the folds of a dress she was vigâ€" aftex; as something white boards dusk, saw Philip walkan orrously shaking before replacing in the dmwer, “how did she come by 'pearls?" "How, indeed!” he echoed, picking it up and cxaming it with heavy fear. It was large, of beautiful lus- tre, and pierced. It must have been worn with that dress and dropped from a string; it was no cheap imi- tation, but a pearl of price, a thing she could not possible have bought. He did not, like Mrs. Plummer to see it; and put it quickly away wonder- ing, with an awed wonder, that women should sell their souls for stones, and be tricked by so poor :1 thing as the flash of a, jewel. The last gleam of sunset was gone when he reached the riverside, and stood upon the bank at the spot where the handkerchief had been found. The place had been a play- ground for them as children. Here :heavy timbers, chained roughry foâ€" ‘ ' t " ' ’ vashcd the country talk, the cold looks and .gether to preVen the“ bemg ‘ away, were laid raftâ€"like, along the river‘s edge to be seasoned; the shore ends half bedded in mud, the others lifted and floated by the full tide. To stand on the end of a timber-balk, and spring up and down, with the water splashing through the cracks when the great beams rebounded from the spring, had then been a heaven-1y pleasure. If one performed this dance upon a long balk stretch- ing into the river far beyond the others, one had the additional happi- ness of the chance of missing one's footing and going splash into the Water, a Catastrophe that once befell .poor little Jessie, whom he had fishâ€" ed out with some difficulty and much laughter on his part, and weeping on hers, and carried home, a piteous little object like a drowned kitten: Near these timbers was a small grove of stunted oaks, some of which leaned over the water; there boys used to undress and. climbing into the tress, take headers from the over- hanging tops. Opposite was meadow whence they bathed at full tide, dry- ing themselves by the simple Process self again and again what he could; of racing round the mead in the sun‘ and wind, shouting and leaping like young colts, as innocent of clothes and as unconscious of their need as unfallen Adam. The meadow was white now, the river was black in the dusk by con- its snowy banks; the edges of the timbers were scaled by great white flak-es of ice, the tide was running up, flowing strongly beâ€" neath his feet,as'he stood on the edge of the floating timbers slippery with snow; the grove was heavy, with shadows. About a foot oeyoui the timbers the channel was deep; he, knew it well, and so did Jessie; a slight. spring from the springy balks and one would be in mid-stream out of depth. No house was in sight but the ark, built on a boat at the water’s edge, the grove would shel- ter one from the gaze of passersâ€"by. Sally Samson, the old Woman who lived there, had seen her from her door. Roger had found the handker- chief on the timbers; but what mor tive had Jessie for selfâ€"destruction '? Roger maintained that the scandal had crazed her, but Philip thought it‘ would take something stronger than more talk to drive a girl who reld secret meetings, received jewels, and was false to her absent lo-er and friend, to desperation. How false Jessie had been, to how solemn :1 troth-plight, to what sacred memorâ€" ies ! False to her dead father all her youth. Yet he did not rt» preach himself for his own passionâ€" ate swerve from loyalty; he had conâ€" quered his heart’s desire and sacri- ficed all his hopes of advancement to keep Mith with this frail, slight crea- ture. Besides, he was a man, and are not men’s temptations heavier than women's ? are not their passions stronger ‘? Must not a man love when under the spell of beauty and fascination he does not seek ‘2 Is it not criminal for a women to love at Do good women feel the beauty of menâ€"slight as it is in the estimation of malesâ€"or yield to fascinations they have not encouraged? ip thought in his instictive male arrogance. drawing conclusions from arbitrarin fashioned premises, such as men lay down for women, blindly wonderingr when the latter spoil thel| syllog'isni by a false conclusion, and not dreaming that either premise can be lulSe. Musing thus, he went along the foolâ€"path toward the black ark, whence one red glow from a little window gave comfortable assurance of warmth and humanity amidst the black and white dcsolation of the snow-wrapped fields and deserted, darkâ€"flouiug ri\er. Thence anofher and broader glow Streamed at his. uppl‘udt'll, as Sully opened her little door at the top of the railed gangâ€" \\3,\ leading to her ark and stood in the LOG“ open air, a quaint figure, familiar to him from early childhood, calling to her .log. “Good owning. Sully." he called out, stopping of 'lw foot of the gang way which pussed'from the bank over the \valcr at flood and over shingle and ‘ So Ph’il~, at ebb tide: "don’t you rememle l'lulip Randal, of Stillbrooke Mill'l'" "Mcade's boy '2 Yes, 1 minds 'en,"l she replied, taking a pinch of 5111111", and surveying him with a critical air. "Growed," she added after a few 5e12â€" onds, when she dipped down into her. ark beckoning- to him to follow into‘ the warm little nest It was an old tub of a bout ten .eet long, shoretl _ up by timbers firmly Sunk in the river's bed, so that the tide could not float it off. A low plank wall rose from its sides some twu feet or three feet high", this was topped by a slant \vooocn roof like an im erred bout. With its tiny windoWs, one shoreward and one ‘ riverward, its little door and ifs‘ stoveâ€"pipe through the roof, if was; exactly like the Noah's Ark the chil- dren used to play with, and if was a thrilling joy to them to go there of a summer afternoon. especially at full tide, when it seemed to float on the river. to draw in the gongway and have ten in the marvellous litâ€" tle house, every inch of space in which had been utilized for Sally‘s limited needs. Philip felt like a giant as he deâ€" scended two steps and sat on the chest by the little grate, which blaz- ed cheerily with burning driftwood and bits of old boats; there was the little dresser with bits of Shining crockery, the curtained bed-place, the geranium in the window, the few pots and pans, the candlestick, the seashells, lumps of coral, and other sea treasures, the Maltese doll once the desire of Jessie’s eyes, and the fullâ€"rigged model frigate, long the de- sire of his own. flow delicious Sally's milkless tea‘used to be in this fairy dwelling, and Sally her- self, what a marvellous picturesque old sibyl she looked us she sat takâ€" ing her snuff, the scent of which seemed to Philip like a memory of infancy, relating the after tale, chiefly of the sea. So she sat toâ€"day in the winter firelight as she used to sit in the summer sun/- glow, the same quaint figure, with lthe same brown expressionless fare surrounded by the flauping white ,Capafrill of her cap. the same bare, brown arms, which, like the face, .seemed carved in old oak; the some ‘dingy crossover shawl, the same :1 not able to send it." .her harm." scanty dark skirt that he remembered in boyhood. Summer and winter, :indoors and out, Sally's attire never ’varied, thus she rowed on the river l in sun or wind. ‘wet or cold. He had brought her a. packet of Isnuff, and some Indian figures to add lilo her curiosities. She received them with a grunt of satisfation; then she rose, and opening a. tiny cupboard above the little fireplace brought forth a black bottle contain- ing some pale, clear cognac which she Poured into one of the old china tea-cups and gave him, and which he knew well had never passed the customâ€"house. While she did this, ,he took rapid stock of the familiar objects in the cabin, and saw on a little shelf with the Bible and Pi]- grim’s Progress, a, railway timeâ€" table, which his quick eye made out to be of last year's date. He talked of old times, and of the Crimea and the Mutiny, and then Sally began, as she always did after a taste from the black bottle, of her stories. He listened silently till she became almost unconscious of his presence, and she rambled on, as she probably did in the long nights and summer days when she sat alone, her mind thrown back on the past. Then, when She paused and fell to staring before her into the glowing wood-coals, he said without pream- ble : "Who was‘in the boat with you and ‘Miss Jessie last October, Sally ‘2‘” “Never a Soul,” she replied, still ‘galing into the fire, her head slightâ€" ‘ly bowed forward and her hands resting on her kneees. “And how long were you rowing to Lynmouth, that fine, calm day 7" he added, keeping his hand before his: eyes while his elbow was on the table, lest she should turn and catchf the eager, pained interest that he could keep out of his \oice but not. out of his face. “Matter of a hour; tide agen us,"‘ she said, a'bsently, being, for so; practised a storyâ€"teller, short of; speech, doubtless made her tales tell, the more. . “And you had to pull well, Wantâ€" ing to catch the midâ€"day boat, no doubt?” he continued, vainly trying to speak carelessly. " : But either some vibration in his ‘voice or his persistent catechising, ‘roused the old woman, and she turnâ€" ,ed and eyed him sharply. ! “Who’s talking of boats?" she l growled. . “Look here, Sally," said Philip, " above! “let all be square, fair, and ‘board. How much did she give you ‘yto put the Plummers oh the scent?” Sally looked at him and took more, lsnufl‘, not unmoved by the apparent- ly irrelevant fact that he sent his :fingers into his Waistcoat pocket and icaus‘ed the mellow think of coin to ibe heard. ' “Pound,” she said. " \Vhat'sl 1; your‘n'?” ‘ “One pound tell," he replied, pro j during the money. ' . “"l‘aint enough," said Sally, ‘ promptly . ‘ "That's a pity," he returnoi, Thirty every I l“there's no more to be had. ,shillmgs are not picked up day." _ ‘ "An, dear, I be a lone 001mm,", moaned Sally, eying the bright gold wistfully. 1 “i am her guardian, in place of her father," continued Philip. “SheL didn't know I was coming home )ut' about if. ed India just as I stepped ashore." and very likely wrote to tell me all; I dareSay the letter reach. "Not she. didn’t want nobody tol know," Sully said. "For the first days. perhaps. she may be “onlng llfnlit’} llc took up the tWo gold pieces and losscd them on the tnble as he spoke. "What '11 _vo do 10 her?" she askâ€" ed, follouing the coins with her men. "See that she wants nothing, poor child! and thatâ€"that nobody does he muttered, brokenly, "Make it Iwo, lad, uh, deary mo! 1 be a lone lorn onmnn. Make it two, dear," she said, couxingly. He clinketl another liulf so\ereign down on the little table and Sally covered thc lln'cl- bright coins with her hard, brown band. "Winter's hard, liviug's hard, "(is hard to be u lone Domain," she mutâ€" tered, clutching lhc gold, _\et staring irf'esolufcly into the lire. "Still border to be alone when young and beautiful and unprotectâ€" ml," added l‘hllip. “It will be the best day '5 Work you (“er did in your life, Holly. if you just tell the whole truth." .. "Ah. rlcury, dour! She begged and prayed and settled the day and hour and tide long aforc. She fixed twice. but couldn't get down here. 'How ‘11 you live away from your folk'?’ I asked. ‘I shan't want, Sally," she says. '1\l_v fortune 'll be made. I'm gvvine where the bruuml is ('()\'0l‘eli with goldf she says." “Did she come alone?" asked Philip. in the deepest, voice. "Alone, as lone as the dead. Once gone, no coming back, I tells her. No good. (lo she must." “What did she take with her? Boxes?" “Box and a bag. Jim fetched it from Cleeve. She give him five shil- lings. Just catclwd the boat at Lynmouth Pier." “Who met her there?" "Man Carried her things aboard." “How was be dressed? Like a genâ€" tleman’s servant?" he continued in an agitated voice. ‘ "Lord knous. A bit of brass tied on's arm. There was a lot more like 'en helping off boxes." “Oh, a porter," he said with lief. Further questioning elicited nothing more of importance, so enjoining re- ticence upon the old sibyl, Philip fook his leave of her, and stumbled out of the tiny nutshell into the night with his worst fears confirmed. What duplicity, what a long course of intrigue on the part of this young, soft, tender thing. What could blame him for having no suspicion of double dealing in that quarter? Why he would as soon have thought of suspecting one of Heaven's whitest angels. Half way across the snowy field, which slope:l somewhat steeply down to the river, he stopped and looked re- back at the solitary light in Sally'sl tiny window. He could just see the dark mass of the oak-grove, the black blot in which the..one red eye of light glowed, and the darkness ofl the river flowing between its ghostly gleaming banks: it was a clear, moonless, Still night, the black vault of sky blazed with the white fire of innumerable frosty stars, the light of which reflected from the snow sufficient to walk by and discern ob- jeCts in outline. He took something from his pocket ‘ and hurled it with the widest sweep of his arm toward the dark river; it glittered in the pellid light, mak- ing? a tiny trail as it flew like the tiniest of falling stars and vanished. It was the opal ring he had given .IeSSle at her parents' grave. (To be Continued.) â€"+____ I BUBBLES. From pole to poleâ€"telegrams. For better or for worseâ€"medicine. Handkerchiefs may be called a cry- ing need. People who go to call on the King usuth back out. Music hath ('hnl'nls, but they are sometimes faler ones. The employes of a (‘I't‘mutol'y have time to burn. A (iisobedient child does not. seem to know its own mind. The first book needed to start a library is a pocketbook. 'l'he vefcrzm ul‘iol’ can appropriateâ€" ly be called an old singer. 1f the mermaid wore a should be of watered silk. dress, it Politeness is a thing some men won’t stand for cum in a strcet car. The conceited fat man certainly thinks too much of hinnelf. The best nay to ge-t along with some people is to keep out of their way. It's an incmnpefenf surveyor who doesn’t know where lo draw the line. The minor isn't the only man who is not appreciated until he's under ground. No doubt. the cannibal: would (on- sitler the fastidious dentist a toothâ€" some dainty. Going loo far 15 not a good \\';:_\' to further one’s plans. Some people think the) are runningr behind if they are not always before the public. Even the redznan might being called a. lobster. To "bank" is not at proper it really should be l'ki|)Ilflll/t'li. object it) llllllll. M’Lubber'ty~â€"“N01~a, me Kit-“cl. 0i hov wan for yez. Av a man is born in Lapland. lives in Finland .m' dies in Poland, phwot is he?" Mrs. M’Lubberty (promptlylâ€"“A car-r- rrpse.” M'Lubbcrfy (disgustedh')â€" “Begorra. somebody must hov vez " The wise man who has anything to, say to a mule says it to his face. But | now and] was‘ told . 5 COST OF RAISING CALVES. ‘_ A great many experiments in :‘Wdlllg of farm animals have been :lnade, but they lune been incompleu 1as a basis for estimating the sbflo- 1lule rest and profits of animal pro- 1ducfion, because as a rule they cover only a smull portion of the animal's ‘llfe. Realizing the importance of ‘more complete data in this respect. smoral of the experimental stations ‘have made records of the amount and cost of food consumed by various an- iinals from birth to maturity. Whilo ithese observations need to be 1‘0- ‘peuted many times under a Variety :of conditions before it would be 8310 to draw too positive conclusions ‘from them, the results already ob- .tained are suggestive and of consid- ‘ierable practical \alue. Mr. W. Clark has recorded data regarding the cost of raising heifer calves. In a number of cases the N? cord covered from birth to maturity â€"tl1ut is, for approximately two pours. One of the calves weighing .at birth 56 pounjs, consumed during .fhe first year 159 pounds of whole ‘lllllk, 2,738 pounds of skim milk, 66 mounds bran, 224 pounds of hay, and lwas pastured for one hundred and ,sixtyâ€"one days. When one year old she had cost $12.86 and weighed 435 .pounds. During the second year the ration was made up of sorghum hay, silage, oat straw, corn stover, and s the little cotton seed and bran. The fpel‘iod of pasture covered two hun- ‘til‘efl and twentyâ€"four days. The cost of the feed was $9.09 and she weigh- ed at tlu: end of the year 665 pounds. She dropped her first calf a few days before she was two years old. l’l‘he total cost of feel up to this time lwas $21.95. THE FEED EATEN by two other calves, which the auâ€" thor believes made a normal growth. cost $11.40 and $13.66 respectively, for the first year. One of these calves weighed 43 pounis at birth and during the first year consumed 92 pounds of whole milk, 1.192 lbs. of skim milk, 322 pounds bay, and 204 pounds of bran, and was on pas- ture one hundred and sixty-five days. The other calf weighed 50 pounds at birth and was fed in much the same way, weighing wlien a year old 350 pounds. Data are £1130 recorded regarding three other calves, which the author believes consumed too little skim milk during the first year and hence did not make satisfactory growth. Furthermore, they were accidently lbred too early. One of these calves dveighed 50 pounds at birth. During the first year 250 pounds of whole milk, 1,195 pounds of skim milk, 180 pounds of bran, 63 pounds of corn meal, and 405 pounds of Lay were eaten, and the calf was on pas- }ture one hundred and twelve days. l'I‘he cost of feed for the first year was $11.65 and the weight when a year old 340 pounds. Aside from lpasturage she was fed during the ls'econd year cotton seed, corn stover, 'oat straw and silage. She dropped her first calf when twentyâ€"two 3months old. The cost of feeding up to the time of calving was $7.61. .making the total cost of feeding [$19.26. The second of these calves weighed 36 pounds at birth. She was fed un- der much the same conditions as the :other, consuming 1,097 pounds of :skim milk the first year, and drop4 ped her first calf when two years old. Her weight when a year old was 350 pounds, and the total cost of feeding for two years $19.48. 1 The third calf weighed 38 pounds ‘at birth. and (hiring the first year ‘was fed skim milk and whole milk ‘in addition to some hay, grain and pasturage, the amo-tmt of skim milk consumed being 1,740 pounds. The lirsf calf was dropped when nineteen months old, and her weight was Ihcn 445 pounds. The total cost of {coding up to this time was $17.21. Considering the test as a whole, the average cost for the first year": growth of these calves was $11.77 or from birth until the time of calving $19.47. DAIRY NOTES. There is much loss by imperfect skimming. Cream is rip'ened before churning in [ll-\clope flavor. Milking qualities of a high an- bred into the cow. ll is the, milk from the fresh cow that produces the perfect butter lluVOl'. ‘l‘o feed cows economically yet sui- ficimuly, givi- only what the cows “ill out up (‘I(‘ull. The amount of butter that can be made is limited by the amount of butter fats in the milk. It is not so much the amount of butter a cow produces as what it “mtg, to produce. that determines the order pl'ullf. A brush Is IIHH'h better than a cloth m clcun milk vessels. It gets m places that a cloth will not l'mu‘h. 'I'he la“ of stimulation hulls good in milkng and if we” followâ€" ed “Ill lwlp l0 make good lmlkers. A cow with a big udder is not alâ€" ways an enormous milker, nor is a thick yellow skin an unfailing Sign of a rich milker. In purchasing ,new dairy impleâ€" ‘mr‘ms two things shoulrl he consider- ed: Will i1 pr'rrvpfibly impr'ne the produrls? Will it cheaper: produc- tion 9