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In the meantime, how had the morning broken upon Dell-Delight, How about Luckenough? and how at Oldfield Co!- tage? At Dell-Delight the old man had exâ€" pired just before the sun arose. The two physicians that had been summoned the night previous, but had been do layed by the storm, arrived in the morn- ing only to see the patient die. Many inquiries were made and much conjec- ture formed as to the cause of Thurston Willcoxen's improper and unaccountable absence at such a juncture. But Mel- ehjzedek, poor. faithful fellow, having followed his master's steps. did not ap- pear, and no one else upon the premises could give any explanation relative to the movements of their young muster. He had left the bedside of his dying rela- tive at nine o'clock the night before. and he had not since returned-his saddle- horse was gone from the stableâ€"that was all that could be ascertained. Dr. Brightwell took his departure, to answer other pressing calls. But Dr. Weis- mann. seeing that there was no responsiâ€" ble person in charge, and having else- where no urgent demands upon his time and attention, kindly volunteered to stay and superintend affairs at Dell- Delight. until the reameorance of the young master. At Old Field Cottage, Edith had sat up late the night before waiting for Marion; but, seeing that she did not I'oturn. had taken it for. granted that she had re- mained all night with Miss Thornton. and so. without the least uneasiness at her prolonged absence, had retired to rest. And in the morning she arose with the same impression on her mind. guyly looking forward to Murian‘s return with the visitor. and the certain happy revela- tion she had promised. She had breakfast over early. made the room very tidy, dressed Miriam in her holiday clothes. put on her own Sunday gown, and sat down to wait for Marian and the visitor. The morning passed slowly. in momentary expectation of an arrival. V“\Vhat can be the meaning of this?" she asked herself. as she went forward to welcome her visitor. It was near eleven o‘clock when she looked up and saw Colonel Thornton‘s caygiuge _upp_rouc_1_1ing_ the cottage. By this time the carriage had drawn up before the cottage gate. Edith went out just in time to see the door opened. and Miss Thornfou alight. The lady was aloneâ€"that Edith saw at the first glance. “There! I said sol I knew Marian had remained with Miss ’lnornton. and that they would bring her home this morning. I suppose Colonel Thornton and his sister are both wilh her! And now for the revelulion! I wonder what it. is." said Edith. smiling to herself, as she arose and stroked down her dress, and smoothed her ringicts, preparatory to meeting her guests. But Miss 'I‘hox'ton was very pale and tremulous. and she acted altogether strangely. But the lady seized it. and drew her forcibly towards the door, saying in a husky voice: “Come inâ€"comc in!" Full of sur rise, Edith followed her. “Sit down,’ she continued, sinking in- to a chair. and painting to a vacant one by her side._ i'Edrirth took the seat and waited 1n wonder for her further speech. “Where is Marian?" asked Miss Thom- ton. in‘aq agififateq yogge. “Miss Thornton, what do you mean? For mercy’s sake, tell me, has anything hypened?" I do not knowâ€"I am not sureâ€"‘1 trust notâ€"tell me! when did you see 1101' lasi? When did she leave home-2’ this morning?" “Noi last evening. shunt sundown." “And she has not returned? You have not. seen her since?" "No!" “Did she [81! you when" she was gr:- mg?" “Hovw 'do you do. Miss Thornlon? I am very glad to see you," said Edith, col- dially offering her hand, [V‘rGfioodr hesicn!" exclaimed the lady, growing very pale, and trembling in ovgry limb. Edith shy-cg 9p in alarm. VV‘WVheA-e? Why. I believed her to be at your houset" answered Edith, in sur- prisp aqd y'agun ‘n .u, “Oh. God!" dried the of deep distress. “Miss Thornton! {0! tell me what has OCCLII “0h. Edith!" “In mercy. explain : what of Marian?" “Oh. God sustain you. I say to you? my own 11: “Marian! Marmn! “'11 to Marian! 0h! where “I had hoped to find 1 else I had not found C( “Miss Thorton, this i: “Ah! poor Edith! wh: be told is far more C: may Heaven [01' fox-lit! ‘fDid she promise to come back? and when?" “She promised to return before dark! She did not do so! I judged the storm had detained her, and that she was with yqu. and I {er easy." pcnso. on. 1 Move this sus; “No!” 1m c fox-mu: Oh, Hen the lady, in for “em cu: red!" )I‘ ll 11 Murian! :rut pm V0160 iilh Sll‘ “Oh. speak; for mercy speak! What of Marian?" “That Marian Mayfield had been way- laid. andâ€"m “Murdered! Oh. God!" cried Edith. as her overstrained nerves relaxed. and she sank in the arms of Miss Thornton. A child’s wild, frenzied shriek ro- sounded through the house. It was the voice of Miriam. At Luckenough that morning, the reâ€" mains of the unfortunate DruGrlmshuw were laid out preparatory to burial. Jacqueline, in a bewildered stupor 3f remorse. wandered vaguely from room to room, seeking rest and finding none. “I have caused a fellowâ€"creature's deathl" That was the envenomed thought that corroded her heart‘s centre. From her bosom. too, peace had fled. It was neat noon when the news of Marian's fate reached Luckenough. and overwhelmed the family wilh consternation and grief. But Jacqueline! the effect of the tragic tale on her was nearly fatal. She under- stood the catastrophe, as no one else could! She knew who struck the fatal blow, and when and why. and under wheLmistake it was struck! She felt that another crime, another dealh lay heavy on her soul! it was too much! oh! it was too muchl No human heart 1101 brain could sustain the crushing burden. and the poor lost ell fell into convulsions that threatened soon to ter- minate in death. There was no raving. no talking: in all he" frenzy. the fatal secret weighing on her bosom did not then transpire. Before the day was out the whole county was in an uproar. Never had any event of the neighborhood created so high an excitement Or so profound n sympathy. Great horror and amazement tilled every bosom. A county meeting spontaneously convened, and handbills were nrinted. large rewards offered, and every means taken to secure the discov- eiy of the criminal. In the deep, ab- sorbing sympathy for Merian's fate. the sudden death 'of Professor rGrimshew, and the reasonablyâ€"to-be-expected de- mise of old Mr. Cloudesley \Villcoxen. passed nearly unnoticed, and were soon forgotten. Among the most zealous in the pursuit of the unknown murderer was Thurston Willcoxen; but the ghost- ly pallor of his countenance, the wildness of his eyes. and the distraction of his manner, often varied by fits of deep and sullen despair. excited the surprise and conjecture of all who looked upon him. Days passed and still no light was thrown noon the mvsterv. About a fort- conjecture of all who looked upon him. Days passed and still no light was tly‘own upon the mystery. About a fort- night after the catastrophe, however, information was brought to the neigh- borhood that the corpse of a womam answering to the description of Marian. had been washed ashore some mil-es down the coast. but had been interred by the fisherman, the day after its dis- covery. Many gentlemen hurried down to the spot. and further investigation confirmed the general opinion that the body was that of the martyred girl. Three weeks after this, Edith lay upon her deathbed. Her delicnlc frame never recovared this last great shock. A few days before her death she called Miriam to her bedside. The chiid approached; she was sadly altered within the last “Sit down upon the bed by me. my dagghter." said Edith. The child climbed up and look the in- dicated seal. Something of that long- smothered fire, which had once brawd the fury of the British somegs, kindled in the (lying woman’s eyes. “Mirizun, you are nearly nine years old in lime; and much old“ lhzm that. m "Mirimn. you are nearly nine years old in time; and much oldu than that. m thought and feeling. Mirium. your mother has not many days 1.0 live; but in dying. she leaves you a sacred trust to be fulfilled. My child, do you follow and understand me?" “Yes, mammu." “Do not weep; tears are vain and idle. There was an injured queen once whose few weeks; incessant weeping had dimmed her splendid eyes, and palcd her brilliant cheeks. were was an Injured queen once whose tears were turned to sparks of fire. So I would-have yours to turn! She came among us a young stranger girl,‘ with- out fortune or position. or any of the usual steppingâ€"stones to social considera- tion. Yet what influence, what pow- er she soon obtained, and what reforms and Other: murde right by Dr Miria 'l‘ll Iders ‘11 1m p Jun! on n Ml )1 ith and men nucnw )u and 31f] troye {LT in UK she 1r 3011 1011 effected ments c [fold ‘ an: "Child, listen to me! I have a'clue lo Marian’s murderer!" Miriam started and attended breath- lessly. “My love, it was no poor waterman or fugitive negro. tempted by want or cupidily. it was a gentleman, Miriam." “A gentleman?" “Yes: one that she must have Become acquainted with during her visit to “Thomas Truman!" “Yes; and while you live. remember that name, until its owner hangs upon the gallows!" Miriam shudderad, and hid her, pale face in her hands. “Herc,” said Edith. taking a small packet of letlers from under her pillow. “Here. Miriam. is a portion of her corres~ pondence with this man. Thomas Tru- manâ€"J found it in the secret drawer of her bureau. There are several notes en- trealing her to give him a meeting, on the beach. at Mossy Dell. and at olher points. From the tenor of these notes, I am led to believe that she refused these meelings; and‘ more than thal. from the style of one in particular I am induced to suppose that she might lime induced to suppose that she might lime been privately married to that man. Why he should have enticed her to that spot to destroy her life. I do not know. But this, at least. I know: that our dear- est Marian has been busely assassinated. I see reason to suppose the assassin to have been her lover. or her husband, and thatlhis real or assumed name was Thomas Truman. These facts, and this little packet of notes and letters, are all that I have to offer as testimony. But by following a slight clue, we are some- times led to great discoveries." “Why didn’t you show them to the gentlemen. dear momma? They might have found out something by them." “I showed them to Thurston Willcoxcn, who has been so energetic in the pur- suit of the unknown murderer; but Thurston became so violently agitated that I thought he must have fallen. And he wished very much to retain those letters. but I would not permit them to be carried out of my sight. When he he come calmer. however, he assured me that there could be no possible connec- tion between the writer of these notes and the. murderer oI the unfortunate girl. I. however, think differently. I think there is a connection. and even an identity; and I think this packet may be the means of bringing the criminal to justice; and I leave itâ€"â€"a sacred trustâ€" in your charge Miriam. Guard it well; guard it as your only treasure. until it has served its destined purpose. Ans] now, Miriam. do you know the nature if a vow?" “Yes, momma." “Do you understand its solemnity-lts obligation, its inviolability?" “I think I do. momma." “Do you know that in the performance of your vow, if necessary. no toil. no privation, no suffering of mind or body. no dearest interest of your life. no strongest affection of your soul, but must. be sacrificed; do you comprehend all this?" The child was magnetized by the thrilling eyes that gazed deep into her own. She answered: “Yes, momma." “You vow in the sight of God and all his holy angeLs, that, us you hope for salvation. you will devote your life with all your faculties of mind and body. to the discovery and punishment of. Mar- ian's murderer; and also that you will live a maiden until you become an avenger." “I vow." “Swear that no afterthought shall tempt you to falter; that human what may in the changing years, you will not hesitate; that though your interests and affections should intervene. you will not suiier them to retard you in your pur- pose; that no effort, no sacrifice, no pri- vatiou. no suffering of mind or hody shall ,be shared. it needful, to the uG-‘ complishment oi your vow." “i swear." "You will do it! You are certain to discover the murderer. and clear up the mystery.” The mental excitement that had car- ried Edith through this scene subsided, and left her very week, so that when Thurston Wiilcoxen soon after called to see her, she was unable to receive him. “Yes, mamma; I knew it before. and I hayc read of Jeptha and his daughter." “Now. Miriam, kneel down, told your hands, and give them to me between my own. Look into my eyes. I want you to make a vow to God and to your dy- ing mother, to avenge the death of Marian. Will you binc‘x your Soul by such an obligation?” Thurston was {rightfully changed, the sufferings of the last month seemed to have made him old~â€"his countenanm; was worn. his voice hollow, and his manner abstracted and uncertain. “Edith.” he asked. as he took the chair near her head, “do you feel stronger this morning?” The next morning. however. Thurston gepeated his visit. and wus brought to the bedside of me invalid. you have known me from ‘my You know what I am. Will your orphan daughter to me? let the child want." Lugh is quite an old lady ,a is insane. the comma- L‘Oiseau scarcely com- care of themselvesâ€"and sad, unpromising home In feeding all classes of stock the farmer should try to produce as much of the feed as possible on\his own farm. Now. what are the best feeds for dairy cows that most northwest [arms will grow abundantly? Of the coarse fod- l'ers the crop that will produce the most feed per acre is corn. Next comes clover, then clover and timothy and the upland meadow hay. We hope that we will soon be able to add to this list alfalfa. When we come to consider the grains the best of these is oats. then oats and wheat. then corn, oats 11nd peas. or peas alone. Where peas can be grown sluccessiully they make a very rich cow teed. These statements. and those which fcllow, were made by Mr. W. F. Stiles a! the Wisconsin Institute. As the dairy cow does her best in the month of June when on good pas- ture, we should take a lesson from this and give her as near these conditions in winter as possible, both in regard to feed and surroundings. What are some or the characteristics and qualities of the summer feed? In the first placethis feed is very palatible: next. is easily digested; third. it contains all of the elements of nutrition in the right pro- portions for summer feeding, and,‘ last, but by no means least. it is very succu- lent. For instance. in mixed pasture grass there is three per cent. of protein. .2 per cent. of carbohydrates, eight- tcnths of one per cent. of fat. two per cent. of salt. and '75 per cent. of water. Now we have all heard about t++++++++++++t+++++++i Ahaut the Farm ++++++ +++ ++++++++++++++++++++++ \VINTER COW FEEDING. THE BALANCED RATION. What is that? It is the ratio which should exist between the digestible; pro- tein and the 'digestibls carbohydrates. This is somewhui, narrw, but we must remember that. grass is a summer feed. in winter feeding we can add more to the carbohydrates, for it will require more than heat formers to maintain the warmth of the body. By a number oi tests it has been found that in winter it is safe to feed a ration as wide as one to six. This is what. we call a balanced ration for dairy cows in winter. Let us now take these various feeds that we have on our farms and see which is the best way to combine them so as to approach as near as possible all of these qualities of the summer feed. In selecting winter feed one should first select the coarse feeds, as they are usually the cheaper. Of these. hey at the various kinds should be considered first. then corn fodder in its many preparations, and in some cases, but rarely. straw may be used. Then from the grains which are grown on the farm and the concentrated feeds that are on market. the feeder must select those which are the best and cheapest compared with feeding value to feed in connection with these coarse feeds. When the difference in the price is not too great it is always best to feed home-grown grains in preference to the You look at me in wonder; but listen, dear Edith. and then decide. Marianâ€" dear martyred saint! loved that child as her own. And I loved Marianâ€"loved her as I had never dreamed it possible for heart to loveâ€"I cannot speak of this! it deprives me of reason." he said. sud- denly covering his eyes with his hands, while a spasm agitated his worn face. In a. few minutes he resumed. “Look at me. Edith! the death of Mar- ian has brought. me to what you seel My youth has melted away like a morn- ing mist. I have not an object in life except to carry out purposes which were dear to her benevolent heart. and which her sudden death has left incomplete. l have not. an affection in the world ex- cept that which comes through her. I should love-this child dearly. and cher~ ish her devotedly for Marion's sake. I shall never change my bachelor life- but} should like to legally adopt little Miriam. I should give her the best edu- cational advantages. and make her the coâ€"helr with my young brother. Paul Douglasst of all I possess. Say. Edith. can you trust your child to me?” He spoke earnestly. fervently. taking her hand and pressing it, and gazing pleati- ingly into her eyes. “So you loved Marianâ€"J even judge! so when I saw you labor hardest of all for the apprehension of the criminal. Oh. many loved her as much as yont Colonel Thornton. Dr. Weismann. Judge Gordon. Mr. Burnwell, all adored her! Ahl she was worthy of it." “No more of that. dear Edith. it will overcome us both; but tell me it you will give me your little girl?" "Dear 'I‘hurston. your proposal is us strange and unusual as it is generous. I thank you most sincerely. but you must give me time to look at it and think of it. You are sincere. you are in ear- nest. you mean all you say. I see that in your face; but. 1 must rellect and take counsel upon such an important step. Go now. dear Thurston, and return to me at this hour to-morrow morning." Thurston pressed her hand and de» pgrt The same day Edith had a visit. iron Mrs. Waugh, Miss Thornton and olhe friends. And alter consulting with the-1 upon the proposal that. had been mad her, she decided to leave Miriam in th joint guardianship of Mrs. Waugh an Thurston Willcoxen. And this decision v Thurstgn when he ca ing. A few days after this E the world of spirits. And the orphan child to his c home. To be continued hurston if H by-producis of these mills. There Is a flavor and a palatibiliiy to fresh ground grains which is not found in most. 01 the mill feeds, and palatibiiily has much in do with digestibility. This being the case we should see well_ to it that all our crops should be cut in season and PUT UP IN THE BEST SHAPE to retain as much as possible of theix flavor. It has been found by various tests that a cow that is giving enough mill: to make one pound oi butter 21 day needs a daily ration of about twenty-five pounds of dry matter. in this there should be about two pounds of digestible carbohydrates and a halt pound of lat. As clover hay is comparatively rich in protein when possible this should always form a part of the ration. When silage, then give each cow two bundles. or all they will eat of it. If part of the corn crop has been put into the silo then give the cow about forty pounds daily eacln t When fodder is fed. instead of silage. then give each cow two bundles as they come from the binder. These should be given in two feeds. as should also the silage and hay. Besides this they should have all the corn stover they will eat up clean. Now, as a cow's stomach is not large enough to hold all of the feed she re- quires oi the coarse fodders it will be necessary to feed her some grain or mill teed. For most seasons, perhaps. the best mixture‘ when silage is fed, will be three pounds of corn and oil meal. three pounds of oatmeal, and two pounds of bran middlings. When no silage is fed then substitute two pounds of oil meal for the bran. A year like this, when oil meal is $25 and bran more than $15, oil meal is far cheapel than bran. in winter feeding is regularity, not on!) in regard to the feeding. but with all oi the work with the cows. The feeds: should watch and study his cows lndb vidually and know what each one is do ing at the pail and also observe theit likes and dislikes for the different kinds 0' feed. There is as much difference in individuality of men. For this reason it is best to feed as great a varlety as possible. so that if a cow does not re!- ish one kind of feed she may make ug an another. One other point of nearly equal im- portance to the food is to allow the cattle to have all the pure water they wish to drink. Do not compell them to drink from a tank that is half full of ice The feed is all dry, and they should have all the water they want twice a (lay. Get them in the habit of drink. ing before they are fed their grain. All feeds should be fed in the most palatable form possible, for we mustve member that a cow gives us a profit on that feed which she eats and utilizes over that which is required to maintain her, therefore. the more a cow can he induced to eat especially of the coarse iced the more profitable she is in the dairy. As a rule, a cow should have two-thirds of her feed of the coarse tod- ders and one-third of grain, but right here the individuality of the cow must be taken into account if we would teed profitably. lee the cows a handful of salt every other day, or still better. have 11 box in the yard where they can have access to ll at all times. . was some talk Of arson. Proceeding: were actually taken against the owm er of the business, but owing to luck 0! evidences the prosecution fell through. Mr. Bennett had an cmbarrastng habit of bringing unexpected guests home to luncheon, and the family larder was not always equal to the strain. On one such occasion Mrs. Bennett was obliged to re~ enforce the rather scanty menu with something from her store of preserves. A lillle later the guest, who for sdmo moments had been regarding with puz- zled interest his saucer oi jam. looked up to propound a question. “I beg your pardon," said he. "but; would you mind telling me what fruit this excellent preserve is made of? The flavor is‘ delicious, but I can't call to mind any fruit with seeds like these." A story told of a certain trudesmaa whose premises were almost entirely dm stroycd as a result or a mysterious fire‘ The stock was fully insured. and the" Soon afterwards. the shop was reâ€"op. ened with an entirely new stock, and W1 tradesumn advertised In the local news‘ paper for an errand-boy. Among they applicants for the post was a bright; youth who had just left school. “Well, my boy," said the trudesman, “and what do you know?" “011!” was the cool response, “I know: :: lot. For one thing I knows how m keep my mouth shut, :m' if you're think, ing of having another flare up, you'll find me us close as any oyster!" To the youngsler's surprise he wasn’t' Hastily“ seizing a jar of’gooseberry jam, the good woman emptied it into a glass dish a_nd Placed ig on. the_ tabke. Mrs. Bennett teamed forward to in- spect the seven round objects on tha guest's plate. . “For goodness} sake!" she exclaimed. “Those are the marbles I put into tha kettle to keep the jam from burning. I forgot to take them out!” “and wh “0h!” ‘ :1 lot. F keep my ing of 11 find me In some though cu ANOTHER IMPORTANT POINT l'Hl’. 'l'I‘TAHKL'liCllll‘II KNEW TOO MUCH. CURIOUS SEEDS. m 1H 1! th a1 “1 beautiful When and just u‘ch, her S Slu 'hi( ilk