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.paid by his Marian Mayfie Or, The Strange Disappearance CHAPTER I. Deep in the primeval forest of St. Mal‘Y'Si lying between the I'atuxent and the Wicomico Rivers, stands the ancient manor house of Luckenough. ‘The traditions of the neighborhood aSSert the origin of the manor and its quaint, happy and not nnmusicul name to have beenâ€"briefly this: That the founder of Luckenough was Alexander Kalouga, a Polish soldier of fortune, some time in the service of Cecilius Calvert, Baron of Baltimore, first Lord Proprietary of Maryland. This man had, previous to his final emigration to the New World, passed through a. life of the most wonderful vicissitudesâ€"wonderâ€" ful even for those days of romance and adventure. It was said that he was born in one quarter of the globe, educated in another, initiated into Warfare in the third and buried in the fourth. In his boyhood he was the friend and pupil of Guy Fawkts. he engaged in the Gunpowder Plot, and after witnessing the terrible fate of his master, he escaped to Spanish America, where he led for years a sort of buceaneer life. He afterwards returner] to Europe, and then follow- ed years of military service where- over his hireling sword was needed. But the soldier of fortune was illâ€" mistress. l'lis misfor- tunes were as proverbial as his bravâ€" cl‘y, or as his energetic complaints of “ill luck” could make them. He had drawn his sword in almost every quarrel of his time, on every battle- field ln Europe, to find himself at the end if his military career, no richer than he was at its beginningâ€"save in Wounds and scars, honor and glory. and a wife and son. It was at this point of his life that he met with Leonard Calvert, and embarked with him for Maryland, where he after- wards received from the Lord Pro- prietary the grant of the manor "aforesaid." It is stated that when the old soldier went with some com- panions to take a look at his new possessions, he was so pleased with the beauty, grandeur, richness and promise of the place that a glad smile broke over his dark, storinâ€" beaten, battleâ€"scarred face, and he remained still “smiling as in delight- ed visions," until one of his friends spoke and said: . "Well, comrade! Is this luck enough?" ‘ “Yaw, mine frient!" answered the new lord of the manor in his broken English, cordially grasping the hand of his companion, “dish ish loke enought!” Dill‘erent constructions have been put upon this simple answerâ€"first, that, Lukkinnuf was the original In- dian name of the tract; secondly, that Alexander Kalouga christened his manor in honor of Loekenoll, the native village of his campaigns and voyages, and the first lady of his manor; thindly, that the‘ grateful and happy soldier had only meant to exâ€" press his perfect satisfaction withl his fortune, and to say: “Yes, this is luck enough! luck enough to repay me for all the past!" Be it as it may, from time im- memorial the place has been “Luck- enough." The owner in 1814 was Commodore Nickolas Waugh, who inherited the property in right of his mother, the only child and heiress of Peter Kalouga. This man had the constitution and character, not of his mother‘s, but of his father’s familyâ€"a hardy, rigâ€" orous, energetic Montgomery race, full of fire, spirit and enterprise. At the age of twelve Nicholas lost his father. At‘ fifteen he began to weary of the tedium of Luckenough, varied only by the restraint of the academy dur- ing term. And at sixteen he rebelled against the rule of his indolent lym- phatic mamma. broke thr0ugh the reins of domestic government, es- caped to Baltimore and shipped as cabin boy in a merchantman. Nicholas Waugh went through many adventures, served on board merchantmen, privateers and haply pirates, too, sailed to every part of the known world, and led a wild, reckless and sinful life, until the breaking out of the Revolutionary War, when he took service with Paul Jones, the American Sea King, and turned the brighter part of his charâ€" acter up to the light. He performed miracles of valorâ€"achieved for himâ€" self a name and a postâ€"captain's rank in the infant navy and finally was permitted to retire with a bullet lodged under his shoulder blade, 3. piece of silver trepanncd in the top of his skull a deep sword-cut across his face from the right temple over his nose to the left cheekâ€"and with the honorary title of commodore. lie was a perfect beauty about this time. no doubt, but that did not prevent him from receiving the hand of his cousin Henrietta. Kalouga, who had waited for him many a weary year. No children blessed his late mar- riage. and as your after your passed, until himself and his wife were well stricken in years, people, who never lost. interest in the great estate, lve- gen :0 wonder to "'it'h aim-mg his: tribe of iuipoverisln.. l’t'lilllu. 9; AN: ~‘._ Would manor of Luckenough. I His choice fell at length upon his olas Waugh ‘graadniccc, the beautiful 'lcdith Lance, whom he took from ,the Catholic Orphan Asylum, where 1'she had found refuge since the death 1of her parents and placed in one of the best convent schools in the South. At the age of seventeen l'ldith was 1brought home from school and esâ€" .tablished at Luckenough as the Iadopted daughter and acknowledged ‘heiress of her uncle. Delicate. dreamy and retiring, and ‘tinged with a certain pensivencss, the Ief’fcc't of too muCh early sorrow and ,seclusion upon a Very sensitive temâ€" perament, Edith better loved the ‘solitude of the grand old forest of \St. Mary’s or the loneliness of her Iown shaded rooms at Luckenough than any society the humdrum neigh- i'borhood could offer her. And when at the call of social duty she did go .into company, she exercised a refin- ing and subduing influence, involun- tary as it was potent. Yet in that lovely, fragile form, in that dreaming, poetical soul, lay un- ‘developcd a latent power of heroism soon to be aroused into action. “Darling of all hearts and eyes," IEdith had been at home a year when the War of 1812 broke out. Maryland, as usual contributed her large proportion of volunteers to the defense of the country. All men capâ€" able of bearing arms rapidly muster- ed into companies and hastened to ‘put themselves at the disposal the government. The lower were left comparatively unprotected. ‘Old men, women, children and groes were all that remained charge of the farms and plantations. Yet remote from the scenes of con- fflict and hitherto undisturbed by the convulsions of the great World, they ‘orphan thought of such unprecedented misâ€" fortunes as the evils of the war pen- etrating to their quiet homes. But their rest of security was bro- ken by a tremendous shock. The British fleet under Admiral Sir A. Cockburn suddenly entered the Ches- apeake. And the quiet, lonely shores of the bay became the scene of a warfare scarcely paralleled in atrocâ€" ity in ancient or modern times. If among ,the marauding band of licensed pirates and assassins there was one name more dreaded, more loathed and accursed than the rest, it was that of the brutal and feroâ€" lcious Thorgâ€"the frequent leader of foraging parties, the unsparing des- ‘troyer of Womanhood, infancy and Lage, the. jackal and purveyor of Ad- !niiral Cockhurn. If anywhere there was a beautiful woman unprotected, ’or a rich plantation house ill-defend- ed, this jackal was sure to scent out "the game" for his master, the lion. jAnd many were the comely maidens and youthful wives ,ried off by this monster. The Patuxent and the Wicomico, "with the coast between them, offered foe, and the inhabitants reposed in the. fanCied security of their isolation ,and unimportance. The business of life went on, faintly and sorrowfully, lto be sure. but still went on. The village shops at B and 0â€"â€" were Ikept open, th0ugh tended chiefly by women and boys. The academicians lat the little college pursned their Istudies or played at forming juvenile lmilitary companies. The farms and plantations were cultivated ‘hiefly [under the direction of ladies whose lhusbands. sons and brothers were ab- ,sent with the army. No one thought lof danger to St. Mary's. i (To be Continued.) 0.0 ‘ 0:0‘ ‘3‘ {Q o:. ‘.:.§ gm 0:. ‘ 0:: .9? § {0‘ f ! I.. ..O W 0:“ a. y . v o ' i 3 ii iii .3. 05. 3o °:' ozo‘ozficzos-zmtosozm 0:0‘ozo- {A ozosogm CHAPTER XL.â€"(Continued.) “Do you think I could stay if you went?" he said in a low voice that thrilled her. “Do you know why I decided to come back all in a min- ute'.’ Shall I tell you? Because I could not keep away from you any longer; because the vision of your 'face that came to mo every night grew at last into a torture of bug- ering. Irencâ€"” He stopped and looked at her. The firelight cast a vision had changed into i'ozilifv, and in great longing to take her in his arms welled up in his heart. “lrene iâ€"deurestl Have. you forgotten? lAh, she knew whither in} ill).llf .would turn! Irene, I love you, (Lurâ€" Cst! I have come back to ask _\o'i to be my wife." She stood for a moment. Ilmn she ‘raised her eves, and he took her his arms. ‘ As her head full on his l'l'f';l.\i cheek roster! on n \i'liift- flower. gouging} if as his lips mil lit-rs. in her Silt‘ bequeath the , oft counties of Maryland- 110‘ l in ‘ treposed in fancied safety and never. seized and car-‘ ,no strong temptation to a rnpacious: warm glow on the lovely face. the long lashes swept her cheek, the ;bcautiful lips were temulous. The. i "Yes," he said simply, as if an- swering her question. “I went there as I came home. and I found your ‘flowers lying there. It was like, a message from youâ€"from her. I brought one away to remind you, lost you had forgotten. For you are doubly mine, dearest, by your own gift andâ€"hers!" It was a solemn betrothal. The [spirit of Madge seemed to be hover- ing over them. and to consecrati- their love; but there, was no sadness in their joy. and no shadow of doubt, for as he took her hands and looked into her eves there flashed ‘upon him the memory of that day he had come from Cumberleigh Fair, and he had held her hands as he held them now. i * * I i ~I The next morning the hall bore a strong likeness to an old curiOsity .- shop. Huge boxes covered with buffalo hide yawned open, and their contents were spread and littered about on ‘floor and stairs and every available chair. He. had brought presents for e\'el‘_V- 'body. Lion and tiger skins, ele- ,phnnts' tusks, little nuggets of virâ€" 'gin gold. old Dutch pottery boughp iof the Boers, ostrich feathers asseâ€" igais, and Zulu shields of rawhide; itrinkets that had adorned dust), Kafilr beauties; and laughing-Iv, ad- miringly, \vonderingly, the two woâ€" men got surrounded and ln-gnmed in by tho miscellaneous collection, lisâ€" tening to the story which Royce had to tell respecting each. At last the countess declared that she could not have. the litter any longer, and two footmen staggered up to lloyce's rooms with it. When they had gone, and Royce and Irene were alone, he looked round cautiously, drew a skin aside, and revealed a plain wooden box. "Here's something I want to show you alone," he said. "Kneel down so that if mother comes I can cover it up again." Irene laughineg knelt down, he meanly took advantage to ’her. “What is it?” she asked. “Some- lthing very awful and horrible?” “You shall see," he said. “But «wait," and he paused in unlocking ‘it. "On board the steamer coming 1home was a most entertaining man. and kiss He wasâ€"as an American fellow-pas- 'senger remarkedâ€"‘8. truly amoosin' .cuss’â€"” “Royce!” “Full of anecdotes and jokes. Been everywhere, knew eVerybody, yet no- body seemcd to know him. We insed to try and guess who and what ihe was every e\'ening after he had [left the smoke saloonâ€"he used to trot off earlyâ€"but none of us could Shit it satisfactorily. WVell, the day ,before we reached England be solved the riddle. He was telling us a story. He said that a man had sent for him the day before he sailed. The ,man was dying of feVer, and wanted ‘Mr. Birdâ€"that was the passenger’s "nameâ€"to take charge of a box for jhim. Bird consented, and after the Jinan was dead opened the box. ,There was nothing among the con- ‘tents to guide him toward the owu- ,ers, and he was bringing it to Eng- 'land to get it identified. He was a detective. and the man who gave him itho box confessed that he had stolen it from a mate who had died in the lbushâ€"” "Butâ€"but why did heâ€"this Mr. Birdâ€"give it to you?” asked Irene, with wideâ€"open eyes. "Becauswwell, there's the answ« er," said Royce, and he opened the I box. "The Landon jewels! ()h, Royce!" “Exactly,” he said coolly, alâ€" though enjoying her amazement and delight. "The man who died in the bush wasâ€"Jake. Who the other man was we shall never know. But here they are, dearestâ€"" “And here they must remain, Royce," she whispered. "If she saw them they would recallâ€"â€"” He took her face in both his hands and kissed her on the lips. Then he locked the box and gave her the key. “They will be dearest," he said. “on, not for a very, Very long day, Royce," she murmured piteously. “No jewels could ever be so precious yours some day, to me as she is! And while our mother lives they shall lie in their dark little box as if they were still lost. 'And that is why, when Irene be came. Countess of Landon, she did not wear the famous Landon dia- monds till many years after the old countess had passed to rest. G i . l * O One day, some six years later, Lord Rochester arrived at Monk Towers on a visit to his old friend Royce and the Countess Irene. As he got out of the carriage a boy and girl run down the steps to meet lillll. “Well, little ones," he said, as he shook hands with the boy and took the girl up in his arms and kissed her. “So you know who I am, oh?" “Yes, 'oo‘s 'ord 'ochesfer!" she lipsl-tl. “flight,” he said, stroking the igolden curls with his white hand. ".\nd what is your name?" “Madge.” she replicd, His hand Slnppiirl, and his handâ€" some lure ilt‘L'illllL- suddenly grove. "l‘oii'l 'oo lite it?” she :lsko‘l, knittingoln-r lwou‘s ul him \xiiI-i war- [H‘imz “l f'ink it's a pool)" prune. l'in t'ullml ziftv-r .\un1iu- Madge, who died i-M-r so long ago. We put flowâ€" i-rs on ln-r crn‘n- “\fv Sunday mornâ€" ing. I'll show if to .oo, if 'io lilo, and ‘oo (“all on sonn- [loin-rs foo." llx‘ ltulhli‘tl. lsis‘ lips ii:;’ll?ij.' i'uiiir press. .l. "l'm l'ying to grow up li!.._- ln-r," SKIM MILK CALI". The Question is often asked as to how large 0. skim milk calf should be and what weight it should attain ,at different ages. in order to give a satisfactory anSWer to this (picsâ€" t ion we have averaged up the, weights of a large number of skim milk calves that we have raised at this station. We see that at six months of age the average calf Weighs 31'.) pounds. We see that the averagi- skim milk calf consumes 8.38.2 pounds of skim milk, 121.1 . . -. pounds of grain and 381.2 pounds of hay to produce 100 lbs. of gain. The feed (‘Ost of this 100 lbs. "f f-‘(fliu is $2,138, the labor 9]. cents, making a total of $3.59. This 858.2 lpounds of skim milk represents 853.5 pounds of \\'ll()lf‘ milk, which, with an lavcl‘age test of 11.08 per cent., makes .a butter fat yield of 38.9 pounds. The average price of butter fat at the college creamery during the past year was 21.08. Deduct from ‘this the cost of a skim milk calf, $3.56 and we have left $4.61 to pay for the expenses of milking and haulâ€" ing 953 pounds of milk to the creamâ€" cry. These. figures do not tell the whole ,story as to the profit, (‘ows that are milked produce larger yields than when sucking a calf. For instance, ‘the college herd has averaged (S,- l278.6 pounds of milk per cow during The amount of skim by the skim milk the your 1902. milk consumed {calf represents 1,978 pounds of whole milk. Subtract this from the averâ€" age products of the average cow in the college herd and we have 4,295.6 pounds to be credited to raising ‘culves on skim milk. According to the avi‘rage test of the herd, this milk would contain 175,26 pounds of butter fat, which, at 21,08 cents per pound, would amonnt to $36.95. This 4,295.6 pound of extra whole milk produced by the cow that is milked would yield 3,866.1 pounds of skim milk, which at In") cents per 100, Would be worth $5.80, or a total of $42.i5 additional income per cow. Add to this the $17.01, the income from the butter fat secure from the milk furnishing the skim milk for the calf, and we have a total of $5936. Ile- duct from this the cost of raising a calf, $7.43, and we have left 35".- 33 to pay for the expenses of milk- ing and the hauling of 6,273.6 lbs. of milk to the Creamery. According to statement received from_succcssful Kansas dairyman it takes thirteen minutes to milk a cow. Assuming that an average cow will milk 300 days, we have a total of sixty-five hours to be charged to each cow. At 12!; cents per hour this Costs $8.12. It will probably cost 125 cents per 100 pounds to haul the milk, making an expense of $7.84 per Cow, making the total exâ€" pense for milking and hauling $15.- 06. Substract this from $52.33, and we have left $36.37 per head to pay interest on the money invested in a Common cow, besides paying for the labor of the men and boys on the farm. The figures just given represent average. No enterprising dairy- man will be satisfied with averages. The experience in raising calves out lined above indicates clearly that unless the. cow gives considerably more milk then is needed for the calf it will not pay to milk her. CARE OF PASTURE LANDS. In the management of our grass lands we do well to remember that to pasture them off closely is poor policy. And this holds true whether they are in meadow or kept simply for pasture. We make no mistake greater than this in the management of our grass lands; and the drier the climate the greater the evils that arise from the practice. The reasons are apparent to any reflective mind. First, when pastures are eaten bare in the spring, they do not stand the drought of slimmer nearly so Well as if they had not been so out- en. When cropped right down to the ground the rays of the sun’ easily drink up the moisture out of the soil. But if not eaten closely, the grass uneaten acts as a mulch; hence, much more moisture is retained in the soil. The difference in the growth in the two instances will be very marked, and in dry seasons it will be much greater than in those which are moist. It is evident therefore that much care should be exercised with reference to the closeness of the pasturing or the opposite that may be considered proper. Second, when pastures are not eaten closel) in the autumn they spring up more quickly in the spring. This is only what we should expect. Protect the roots of plants that are said the mite, with a. serious nod. “Momma says that if I'm like Auntie Madge ev'yliody will love me. Will yo0 love Inn?” lle nodded again; he could not speak. "l4‘.\"r_\'l)od.\ loved ,\uniio Madge; pupa. inununa. e'vybody. There was “"115 . '(N‘llt‘sl "1",". nun-r anybody so dood us she ‘liltl '(u) it)“: lil’l‘. 'Ul'tl I "Yes." he said. so huskin tint the child was almost frightened. “Alumina!” sin: ('Zlilotl, "1 l‘i-‘s Vul‘tl 'oclivsinr. [ like hint! Ilul why «log; 'lic look as if lii- “as going 1,, (.'y. v h ~:-. I ti-ll l.iiu about Auntie ‘hltltlgn‘fl’n 71in,- l‘.ll(l. valuable by mulching them in the‘ autumn, and the growth will be more vigocous than if they had not been, so protected. RURXL SA NITATION. about the home should inlcf‘est people living in rural disâ€" tricts. Too often it is found that 'little heed is paid to even the most simple means of prevention against disease and frequently a long illness of some members of the fam- ily may be attributed to this Game lt‘SSllt'HS, which, had the proper inca< sures of prevention been adopted might have been aVoided. Sanitation Sanitation should be made a point of study by those who desire to guard against illness. Disease germs lurk within the heaps of ,old ‘rllbbish which are often allowed to iaccumulate about the yards. The re moval of such aceumulations from the premises is conductive to the health of the residents, and adds to the beauty and attractiveness of the home. All articles that are no longer of use can be thrown into trenches and covered with earth, and all garbage can be dispole of in the same way, or it can be burned; anything that produces a bad odor should not be allowed to accumulate. The removal of kitchen slops requira strict attention. They should not be constantly thrown in one place for the earth will soon become rank and foul from the continual soaking, thus giving rise to unwholosoine odor. A good way to dispose of it is to pour it alienater about the fruit trees and lawn plants; in the way the soil is not allowed to becomq Sour, and the waste matter acts as a fertilizer to that upon which it is thrown. BEST BUTTER PACKAGES. The which is the one Some use demands. package to ,vour trade families Want stone or earthern jars. In this case. provide them, but they get quickly out of condition and must be watched. Wooden packages should never be used a second time. Brick butter is very popular and is usually wrapped in parchment paper, which is in turn surrounded by a cheap wooden package, ._.__.+___ A QUESTION ANSWERED. The world is such a. cheery place If we but see it so; 7 There's beauty everywhere we step To set the. heart aglow. The air is full of rhythmic joy. The blue sky thi'obs with love, And every leaf and flower and bird ily pure delight in life is stirred Its ecstasy to prove. The world is such a sorry place If we but see it so; There's sadness in the skies above And on the earth below. The children weep, the birds are mute. ' The flowers droop and die; All sounds are tuned in minor All sights but picture misery; We wonder, wonder why. key. How can we solve the problemâ€"we Who fain the truth would know? How can earth be so beautiful. And how so full of woe? 0 human heart give answer, for In thee that answer lies: "I‘is not for birds, or flowers, or air To make life. either dull or fair Or prove its mysteries. Life's radiance from within must shine, Its harmony express The aspirations of the soul, The powm‘ to cheer and bless. 'Tis love, love only, in the air, The sky, the birds, the flowi‘rs, That glorified the common life, That triumphs over care and strif. In this swrlz-t world of ours. â€"lCniily Hartley in Sunset Magazine for August. .__._+.._.._.. THE MANLY A POLOG Y. It is a brave man who can apolo« gise, It is one of the highest attri- butes of a gentleman. There is an authentic story of a. London merchant who spoke harshly to a confidential clerk. He accused him of havmg mislaid or lost 3. Cer- tain important letter, and as he could not be persuaded that he was mistaken, the clerk handed in his re< signation. The following day he called at his employer's house for the office letters, and among the number found the one which had been missed. The merchant had placed it, with a few others, in his overcoat pocket to read carefully at home in the evening. He said: “I did not‘ know I had done that. You must withdraw your resignation. I will increase your salary." word of manly apology. The incident left its sting But never a behind. The confidence and trust the clerk had in his employer Were lost. So, a year later, when the clerk came into a big sum of money, he refused the partnership that was offered him. He joined an opposition firm, and the profits of this merchant have fallen in four years from $75,000 a year to $15,000. _____..._¢_.. ‘ llalf a ton of coal to each inhabh ‘tant is the average the world over, 1, “1 suppose, madam," said the mellow-c1. "you will want an elec- fi'olinl' put in tho lll‘flIViIlg'l‘OUm?” “'Fni-o.” illl.\\\‘t'l'i-(l llrs. Neurich. "l ‘tlon't know how to play one, but I'll begin taking lessons at own, rcg‘ffi‘d- less of lost."