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â€"_ + 'v + ‘ VH1?“ ' H'H+ s+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Diamonds ; @©@@©@@@ OR, ‘CORA BLANCHARD’S MISTAKE. H+ ++++++++H+++++++++ 1++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The next morning we met, but not in the presence of the old man. her husâ€" band. Down in the leafy woods; about a quarter of ii mile from Mrs. Beauâ€" mont's cottage was a running brook and a messy bank. overshadova by the sycamore and elm. This. in the days gone by, had been our favorite resort. “CPO had We built our playâ€"house, wash- ing our bits of broken china in the. rip- pling streamâ€"here had we. watched the little fishes as they darted in and out of the deeper eddiesâ€"here had we conned ‘our daily tasksâ€"here had she listened to a tale of love, the memory of which seemed but a mocking dream, and here. as I faintly tioped, I found tier. With a half-joyful, half-moaning cry she threw _Ihei arms around my neck, and I could ifeel her tears dropping upon my face as she whispered, "Oh, Lottie. Lottie. we have met again by the dear old brook." For a few moments she sobe as if her heart would break, then suddenly drying her tears she assumed a calm. cold. dignified manner. such as I had never seen in Cora Blanchard. Very composedty she questioned me of what I had done during her absence. telling me, too, of her travels, of the people she had seen and the places she had visited. but never a word said she of him she called her husband. From the bank where we sat the village graveyard was discernible. witli its marble gleaming in that direction, she said. “Have any of our villagers died? Mother's letters were never very definite." “‘Yes." I answered. “our minister, Mr. . Sumner, died two months ago.” “Who takes his place?" she asked and. as if a suspicion of the truth were flashing upon her, her eyes turned to- ward me with an eager. startled glance. “Walter Beaumont. tie is to be or- dained next Sabbath, and you are just in time,” I replied, regretting my words the next instant. for never saw I so fear- ful a look of anguish as that which swept over her face. and was succeeded by a cold. hard, defiant expression, scarcely less painful to witness. She would have questioned me of him. ‘I think. had not an approaching foot~ stop caught our ear, sending a crimson flush to Cora‘s hitherto marble cheek, and pmducing on me a most. unpleasant sensation. for I knew that the gray- haired man now within a few paces of v us was he who called that young creo- ture his wife. Golden was the chain by which he had bound tier. and every link was set with diamonds and costly stones, but it. had rusted and eaten to her very heart‘s core. for the most pre- cious gem of all was missing from that chainâ€"love for her husband. who. for- ; tunately for his own peace of mind, was too conceited to dream how little she, t cared for him. He was not handsome, , and. still many would have called him a " fineâ€"looking. middleaged man. though there was something disagreeable in his thin, compressed lips and intensely ‘ black eyesâ€"tho one betokening a vio- lent temper and the other an indomi- table will. To me he was exceedingly ; -potite.â€"rather too much so for my per- fect ease,â€"â€"wliile toward Cora he tried - to be very affectionate. Seating himself at her side, and throw- ing his arm around her, he called her a “little truant," and asked “why she had run away from him." Half-pettishty she answered, “Because I like sometimes to be alone." Then ris- ing up and turning toward me she asked if “the, water stilt ran over the old mill dam in the West woods just as it used to do," saying if it. did. she wished to see it. “You can’t go." she continued, addressing her husband. “for it, is more than a mile, overwfences and plowed fields.” This was sufficient. for Mr. Douglass was very fastidious in all matters per- taining to his dress, and had- no fancy for soiling his white pants or patent leathers. So Cora and I set off together, while he walked slowly back to the vil- lage. Searcer was be out of sight, how- ever. when seating herself beneath a tree and throwing her but upon the ground, Cora announced her intention of not going any further. “I only wished to be alone. I breathe sr much better." she said. and when I looked inquiringly at her. she continued, "Never marry a man for his wealth. Lottie, unless you wish to become as hard, as wicked. and unhappy as I am. John Douglas: is worth more than half a million, and yet I would give it. all if I were the same little girl who, six years ago, waded witti you through the snowâ€" ‘(irifts to school on that stormy day. Do you remember what we played that noon. and my foolish remark that I would marry for money and diamonds! “'00 is me. I've won them both!" and her tcais fell fast on the sparkling gems which covered her slender tingeis. Just then I saw in the distance a young man whom I knew to be Walter Beaumont. He seemed to be approach- ing us. and when (‘ora became aware (ii that. she started up and grasping my arm. hurried away, saying. as she cast backward a fearful glance. “I would rather die than meet him now. I am not prepared." For the remainder of the way we walked on in silence. until 'we reached her mother's gale. where we found her husband waiting for her. Bidding me g00d~iiioi‘iiing. she followed him slowly someone I know,‘ we took our seats just in front of the altar. up the gravcllod walk. amt I saw her no more. until the following Sabbath. It was a gloriously beautiful morning. and at, an early hour the old brick church was filled to overflowing. for Walter had many friends, and they came. toâ€" gether gladly to see him made. a minis- ter of God. During the first part of the service he was very pale. and his eye wandered often toward the large. square, pew -whcre sat a portly man and a beautiful young woman richly attired in satin and jewels. It. had cost her a struggle to be there, but she felt that she must look again on one whom she had loved so much. and so deeply wr nged. So she came. and the sight of him standing there in his early man- hood. his soft brown hair clustering about his brow, and his calm, pale face wearing an expression almost angelic, was more than she could bear, and leaning forward she kept her counten- ance concealed from view unti ltlie core mony was ended, and Walter's clear. musical voice announced the clasing hymn. Then she raised her head. and lu‘r face. seen through tho folds of her costly veil. looked haggard and ghastly. as if a fierce storm of passion had swept over her. By the door she paused, and when the iiewly~ordained clergy- man passed out she offered him her hand. the hand which, when he held it last. was pledged to him. There were diamonds on it nowâ€"diamonds of value rare. but their brightness was hateful to that wretched woman. for she knew at what a fearful price they bought. They did not meet again, and only once more did Walter see her; then fiom our door he looked out upon her as with her husband she dashed by on horseback, her long cloth skirt almost sweeping the ground, and the plumes of her velvet cap waving in the air. “Mrs. Douglass is a fine rider," was all \V'alter said. and the tone of his voice indicated that she was becoming to him an object of indifference. Desperately had he fought with his affection for her. winning the victory at last. and now the love he once had felt for her was slowly and surely dyingout. The next week. tiring of our dull village life. Dora left us. going to Nahant. where she spent most of the summer, and when in the winter we heafd from her again she was a widowâ€"the sole heir of her husband. who had died suddenly, and generously left her that for which She married him â€"his money. "‘Will Walter Beaumont marry Cora new?" I had asked myself many a time. without. however, arriving at any defi- nite conclusion, when a little more than a year succeeding Mr. Douglass‘ death she wrote. begging me to come to her, as she was very lonely. and the presence of an old friend would do her good. i complied with her request. and within a few days was an inmate of her luxuri- ous home. where everything indicated the wealth of its possessor. And Cora. though robed in deepest black, was more like herself, more like the Cora of other days, than I had sown her before since her marriage. Of her husband she spoke freely and always with respect. saying he had been kinder far to her than she had deserved. Of Walter. too. she talked. appearing much gratified when I told her how he was loved and appre- ciated by his people. One morning when we sat together in her little sewing room she said, “I have done what you, perhaps, will consider a very unwomanly act. I have written to Walter Beaumont. Look." and she placed in my hand a letter. which she bade me read. It was a wild, strange thing. telling him of the anguish she had endured. of the tears she had shed. at the love which through all she had cherished for him, and begging of him to forgive her if possible, and to be to her again what he had been yeais ago. She was not worthy of him, she said, but he could make her better, and in language the most touching she besought of him not to cast her off or despise her because she had stepped so far aside from wo- manly delicacy as to write to him this “I will not insult you," she wrote the letter. in conclusion. “by telling you of money for which I sold myself. but. it mine now, lawfully mine. and most gladly would I share it with you." “You will not send him this?" I said. “You cannot be in earnest?" But she was determined. and lost her resolution should give. way, she rang the bell. ordering the servant who ap- peared to take it at once to the oilice. lie obeyed, and during the day she was unusually gay, singing snatches of old songs, and playing several liver airs iijon her piano. which for months had stood unopened and untouched. That evening, as the sun went down, and the full moon rose over the city, she asked me to walk with her. and we. ere long. found‘oursclves several streets from that in which she lived. people. were entering a. church near by, and from a remark which we overheard we learned that there was to be a wed- ding. distant Groups of “Let us go in." she said; “it may be ' and entering together Scarcer were we seated when a rustl< ing of satin announced the approach of the bridal party. and in a moment they had been' appeared moving slowly up the aisle. My first. attention was directed toward the bride, a beautiful young creature. with a fair sweet face. and curls of golden hair falling over her white, uii- covermi neck. “Isn't she lovely 1’" I whispered; but (Lora did not. hear me. With tier hands locked tightly loge- ther. her lips firmly coniprcssi'xl, and her checks of an aslicn hue, she was gazing fixedly at the. bridegroom. on whom I. too, new lookrd. starting quick- ly for it. was our minister, \\':i|tci' lleau- moutl The. words were few which made, them om». Waller and the young girl at his side. and when the ceremony was over (Zora arose, and leaning heavily ujuin my arm. went out into the open air, and on through street after street until Itt'l' home was reached. 'l'lirn.\\'ilh- out a word. we, ptli'tt‘tIvâ€"‘I going to my room. while she through the livclong night paced up and down the long par- lois where no eye could \\‘itllt‘.\‘$ the working of the mighty sorrow which had come, upon her. The next morning she was calm. but very, very pale, saying not a word of last night's adventure. Neither did she speak of it for several days, and then she said. rather abruptly, “I would give all I possess if I had never sent that let- tor. 'l'ho iiiortificalion is harder to bear even than Walter's loss. But he will not tell of it, I'm sure. lie is too goodw too noble," and fears. the first she had shed since that night rained through her thin, white fingers. it came at lastâ€"a letter hearing Walter's. superscription. and with trembling hands she opened it. finding, as she had expected, liis'wed- ding card. while on a tiny sheet was written. “God pity you. (bra. even as I do.â€"â€"\Valter." “\N’altar! Walter!" she whispered. and her quivering lips touched once the tonal name which she was never heard to breathe again. I“l'illll that day (‘ora Douglass faded. and when tho autumnal days were come, and the distant hills were bathed in the hazy October light. she died. But not l'l the noisy city, for she had asked to be taken home, and in the pleasant room where we had often sat together she bade me her iast good-bye. They buried tier on the following Sab- bath, and Walter's voice was sad and low as with Cora‘s coflin at his feet preached from the words. “I am the Resurrection and the Life.” ltis young wife. too. wept over the early dead. who had well-nigh been her rival. and whose beautiful face wore a calm, peaceful smile, as if she were at rest. There was a will, they said, and in it Walter was generously remembered. while to his wife was given an ivory box containing Cora's diamondsâ€"neck- lace, bracelets. pin, and earringsâ€"all were there; and Walter, as he looked upon them, drew nearer to him his fair girlâ€"wife.,who but for these, might not. perchaiice. have been to him what she wasâ€"his dearest earthly treasure. (The End). â€"â€"â€"~r. ELEPIIANTS TAKE A RAMBLE. Break Away From Exhibition Near Paris and Make for the Woods. There is a colonial exhibition going (.11 at Nogent-sur-Marnc. a pretty vil- lage near Paris, France, and from it comes a story quite in the Kipling spir- it of a strike on the part of the lame elephants which are a feature of the Show. There are twelve of the big trusts, and they are attached to the Indo-Chinese village. As they were supposed to be the taiiiest elephants in captivity they were not chained or tied up in any way. To create the it- lusion of a herd roaming the jungle they were turned loose in a corpse sur- rCLuidcd by an unobtrusive ba-rricr when they were not busy doing stunts under direction of their keepers. Nobody knows what prompted the freak. as the elephants haven't told anyone. but one fine day. without warnâ€" ing. the whole herd began trumpet- ing and tticn moved in solid phalanx on the unobtrusive barrier. They went through it as if it was made of jack- slraws, and tramping over the shrub- bt-ries and rockerics and butting down numerous “native huts" which were features of the exliibitionwtiiey.start- 0H across country for the Bois de \‘in- comics, one of the tame forests of‘Pai-is. where they proceeded to enjoy thin- selves as if they were in their native wilds. They pulled branches off big trees and snapped little ones in two and de- voured all the saplings in sight until their keepers. aided by the iemploycs :f the show, made a cordon around them and drove them back to their enclosure with sharp hooks and goods. They were hardly back and the barrier patch- ed up around them when they began trumpeting again. With a rush they once again made their way to liberty. creating havoc as they paSscd. This time the whole village of Nogent turned out as elephant hunters. When they were surrounded in some men: d-iw-lund the animals showed no sign of temper. They let themselves be driw en quietly bag to the Show. When they got, Xicm there the keepers put heavy Chains on the feet of all the \vaiidcrers. .__-,1.__.. . TO MOLLIFY HER. “Do you ever talk back to your wife?" asked the solicitous friend. “Sometimes,” answered Mr. {\feekton. ‘a very little; just to show her that l have not gone to sleep." The length of human life in England has increased by is per cent. for women and 5 per cent. for men during the past seventy yeais. It is mighty funny that the rules of life laid down by the moralists are so scl- dom followed. + I 4. + + + 4. I + + + + + + + + + + + ‘ “i About the Farm; A. um++++++++++++++++¢ NEW METHOD or PIG FEEDING. .\lr. \\'illiaiu Dietrich of the [’nivor- fifty of Illinois who his \\"l~ili‘ lime to swine instruction and experi- menls, relates the following interest- ing and valuable results of his work: A six months' feeding experiment was conducted with nine lots of pigs. [hiring the somnd half of this experiâ€" ment the pigs in lot two gained :0 pounds live weight, while the pigs .‘n lot nine. gained 120 pounds and yet the txw lots. were fed exactly the same kind of food and in the some manner. These widely different. results \vero produced by the way the pigs had bren fed dur- ing the first half of the experiment. l‘i‘otcin food is absolutely necessary ft r the healthful growth of young pigs, but a previous experiment has shown that when the pigs cat too much [my hin that much more of it is excreted without, being used in the body. After 33 days of reduction in feeding the amount of protein excreted decreased +++++++n ,$ gives until it. was less than the amount fed. In the early part of the feeding period the pig makes lean meat out of protein. so protein should be fed at first when the animal needs it for making growth, but at the close of the swine feeding period when you want to put the fat cu the animal this may be done more economically by feeding carbohydrates. But if too much protein food (such .:s we get in oil meal or tankagc) is fed to the youngr pig the excess of protein is not only wasted. but actually pre- vents the animal from iii:il\'iiig the pro- rcr gains for a long time afterwards. If a buncti of hogs were eating nine pounds of corn per day and making one pound of gain. and it were desired to double the gain, the usual method would be to double the feed. or at least to increase it. But at one point in the experiment the pigs were eating eight pounds of feed per day and two pounds of skimmed milk. They were fed the same for five days and gained one- fourth pound. Later when this feed was cut down to four pounds of meal and 1.5 pounds, of skimmed milk, they gain:d one-half pound. One-half of the iced was taken away and they made twice the gain. In this experiment the pigs had all been fed as soon as they learned to eat. at about one month old. They were allowed to run with their mothers up to three months of age. when they ivcre weaned and placed immediately in this experiment. After these pigs had been fed for six months those in l ‘L one weighed 73 pounds and had gained just 23 pounds during the six months of feeding. They were fed in a dry lot of about one-eighth acre and had no grass whatever. They were an twice a day on‘corn meal and water and given as much as they would eat. Lot two was fed exactly the same Kn ccrnmeal and water, but in addition was given a mixture of charcoal wood ashes. lime and salt. and a little oop- peras. and by the addition of these ma- terials they made three times as much gain as the pigs in lot one. Lot two gained 70 pounds and weighed 120 pounds at the close. Pigs in a. wild natural state have acâ€" cess to weeds. herbs, grasses, roots, hugs and insects, of which they eat freely. Under artificial conditions, hog feed does not contain all the nec- essary materials that are in these nat- ural feeds. and better health has been secured by giving the hogs free access to the substances named. The third lot had access to a clover pasture (the experiment started in Au- gust) and enormous results were receiv- eii from this clover. which furnished protein. They made a gain of 100 pnmds where tot two gained only 70 pounds. Lot three averaged 241.pounds per head at the close. Lots five and six were fed Corn meal. bran, middlings and tankage. They “gained about 210 pounds and at the New weighed 270 pounds. A pig under two months on corn or middlings will at- ways cat too much. lie can eat and digest a certain amount of food, but af- ter the food is digested he tias to build ’t into tissue and he can build up into body tissue as much food as he can eat. We limited the amount of food fed to the pigs in let eight of food fed to the last lialf of the experiment, with the idea of reducing this factor of waste. Lots eight and nine were given less than they \vould «at. In lot nine when the pigs were six months old all the protein feeds, that is. tankage, bran. and iniddtings. were taken away and they were fed nothing but corn meal. lot nine had the nitro- » genous foods one month longer, that is. they wore taken away at seven months. Lot eight averaged 209 pounds and lot nine. 305 pomids at the close of the experiment. The pigs in let eight and nine gain- ed 28.6 per cent. more by rating 5.5 [.C‘I' cent. less fccd than lots five and six. Lot. three was the only lot that had clover during the last tjirce months, whom lot nine \‘ “3 fed the some as to! I\\"7. The former made 120 pounds while the latter made 20 pounds of gain. The difference was caused entirely by the way they had been fed during theH preceding three months. This~ series of experiments has shown that alwut right-‘enths of a pound of protein i: il‘) much as a pig can make giod use of. FARM NOTES. “'9 cannot live and thrive on a “hog and huiiiny" diit. and it is just as im- servici-s. portant. or more so. that the farmer] and his family be fed on well-balanced rations of fruits and vegetables along with their meat. ,' You di not always have to ask at man if he is having a good time on the? farm. If he shows you around the‘ farm, visiting the stock and the crops! and the orchard with a proud tread and a cheerful ring in his voice. you may be sure that he is as happy as. a man can very well be on this earth. tie. loves his business. The cleiiiv‘nts of plant food in the soft. (Will only be replaced and made availâ€"t able by the slow but MII'C protrssos of' Nature. (inc can but. admire the ef- forts of Nature, to restore the fertility” to the soil by rcclothing the woriiouti uplands and the naked, gullied hillsides' with the green vcrdure of almost mun~ bit-less varieties of trees. plants and g1 asses. Nature has her own slow, but sure way of restoring to the earth what the improvident husbandman has taken from it. In many sections of the country the only means of ventilation the houses have is through the windows and doors. Almost always these are shut tight. summer mid winter. In the morning the air of such houses is heavy with f< in matter exhaled during the night. Open the windows and the doors. Health. yes. life, itself. demands 2t. i'iurglars are not so much to be feared as impure air. (over the windows with screens. hook the screen door on the inside and sleep soundly all night.l rising refreshed in the dawn. If any- (.ne cai‘rirs you off in the night. he will tring you back in the morning. LIVE STOCK NOTES. About twelve weeks is generally quite. siifllcicnt in which to fatten pigs. anzlt it is wasteful to begin the special fat-t tening procxss earlier. though the stocki must be kept. in good condition, for. when an animal has once been in good] flesh and has lost weight, it costs much more per pound of iiicreaso to bring it up into condition again than it origin~ ally did. l White the kerosene emulsion is com sidered excellent and cheap for the spraying of the poultry-house. in order. to keep down lice, it does not, always. puove efficacious. as some readers have found it lacking in accomplishing the object desired. Better result; have been obtained when a gill of crude carbolic acid was added to cacti gallon of the mixture before diluting with water. It will probably be cheaper and better to use the advertised lice killers. as they are ready prepared and never fail. The crossing of a superior breed upon one that is inferior cannot succeed in“ producing marked improvement unlesst accompanied by better management and, rrore liberal feeding. The use of males. of superior quality upon inferior to- males is advocated by most breeders, being, of course. the least expensive way of improvement. ,It is denied by most successful and experienced breeds rrs that there is preponderance of the influence, of either parent on account of sex. The best-bred animal, however, is believed to have the greatest influ- ence in determining the peculiarities of the offspring. The cases in which the offspring resembles the male are un- doubtedly more numerous than the cas- es of resemblance to the female, for the obvious reason that the males selected for breeding are. as a rule. more hig'rn 1y bred than the females with which they are coupled. l _~_â€"_,r_~.___ MARK T\VAIN THE I’I’IILOSOPHER. , No humorist has ever won perman- ent fame by virtue of his humor alone. The jokes of Aristophanes were excruci- atingly funny in their day. but if our appreciation of this old Attic comedy depended on its power to keep 1's laughing now, the shelves whereon it ‘reposes would be even diistier than they are. Mark Twain holds his place. because he has thought, deeply and seriously. about mankind and its needs“ This thought has been colored. of course...V ty his own situation and experiences.“ Once, when he was young, and the’ prizes of life were fresh and sweet. and the road from success to success stretch-l (:d invitingly ahead, and the Great Di-; vide seemed a long way off, his feet~ irgs wore optimistic. tie looked on the bright side of everything. it everything. was not for the best in the best of all, possible worlds, things were at leash doiiig very well. and this was a prettyiI good world. ' Later, when bereavements came. and disappointments. and the rough edges of life intrude where. their touch seemed a profanation, and fume seemed to have less onctiantment in the possessing than had glowed about it in the winning. and the snow fell: upon the hair of friends. and life 0'- fered little more to look forward to. his thoughts became more sombre. tut the character of his philosophy has never changed. From the first to the last he has fought the good light. \Viied flier he, has fought in the buoyant cer- tainly of victory or in the resigned ex~l pectntion of defeat, he has always boon- on the same side. He has always tried to lighten the Worlds it‘s. to abolish in- jusuuoz, and to help the victims of op- picss'ion. _.._.x«-. (:Os'i‘ OF Tiuv; smbiiin. Acconling to oiliciat estimates, the pay. clothing, arms and equipment fori llrilish infantry soldier of the line at. home represents a yearly money value‘ of $200.75. Barracks. rations. church schools. medical attendance. and iiiari'ied quarters cost about $140 per mun per itflllltlll. ‘ “You must have money to be able to “Li...- “'0 so beautiful on engageiiicnt- ring." “Must have had money, you mean."