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\ xx. Or, The Curse CHAPTER XVI.â€"-(Continu<‘d). “There is one thing." objected Alice; ‘she is always called Miss Lestock. and I should not like to put that on my lot- ter it looks as if I slighted my father and his name." For a moment the doctor hestated. Here was sufficient objection to knock the whole matter on the head at once; but he put the temptation as‘de. and repliedâ€" “If you will wr‘te the letter and direct lit as you please. I will forward it in such a way as to ensure its delivery. Now that matter is settled. let us have flea. I have just been advising our in- valid to write to her mother. Mary." he » ded. as his sister entered. “‘Miss gepton tells me She is still livthâ€"" , Miss Duvard looked inquirineg at her rather. and then doubtfully at Alice. I think." she said. after the doctor had -xpiair'led the state of affairs to her. that Alice would be happier with us. ‘ ban at. Sir John Lestock‘s; and I for he do not approve of the letter at all.’ “Yes. but I cannot stay on with you.“ (interposed Alice. with a flu-shed cheek and moistened eye; ‘I think I have bcen a burden and a trouble to you long enough. You have been kinder to me than any stranger ever was to another before; and have made me feel happier and more at home. than I ever thought I could feel anywhere but with Evan. But I am now getting strong and well again. and must form some plan for my future. Even if my brother were in England (and I don‘t know where he is. or whether he is living or dead). I should still like to try to do something to support myself. I lmow a good deal of one thing and another. and I believe I am quite as well fitted to be a gover- ness as any M-rs. Crickicth ever had. I can teach children. and if my mother does nothing for me. I should like to go to some quiet family. where they would not want. great learning or ac- complishments. but just what I have got. If there were even no salary at first. I should not care in the least. Do you know of any one. Miss Duvard. who would have me? I think I should get well quicker if -I had some settled plan for the future. Do you know any flady requiring a governess?" “Yes; there is a cousin of ours in want ‘of one. And I really think. Charles." She added. “the mild climate would be of service to her. Only. Alice. I do not |like to part with you." “And I don’t like to leave you. in one way. though I do in another." cried the girl. putting out her hand to the lady; who. during all this time had kept her eyes steadily fixed on her brother‘s face. "But you see. Miss Duvard. I must go; it is right; and then. perhaps. you will send me a letter occasionally. andâ€"and â€"â€"you have been so kind to me. and I am so grateful. and though it is not likely I shall ever be able to show you how much I feel about it. still I will try to prove my gratitude. sometime or other.’ “Should you like to prove it now?“ ask- ed Miss Duvard. laughingfy. and yet. so earnestly. that her'ibrothcr roused him. self from a reverie. to listen to the an- swer. "Yes; more than I could tell you!’L “Come here. then. and I will show on how." Miss Duvard said. drawing . re girl‘s ear close to her: “Go and tell Charles that you love him!" she whis- percd wickedly. A burning blush came over Alice‘s lace. and brow. and neck. She could not recover her self-posrssion at all. "What did Mary say to you?" asked Doctor Duvard. coming up close brside her. as his sister. shaking her finger at him. left the room. “Oh! I don't knowâ€"let me go!" she exclaimed. striving to extricate herself from his detaining grasp; but he would not let her goâ€"hc. had a few words to say to her. For he had found out there was a grand middle course open for him to pursue; that convenient medium between matrimony and separation. which usually entails torment. and vex- ation. and doubt. and anx‘ety; and ac- cordingly he told her how he loved her -â€"how ire was situatedâ€"hrw i0-would leave her free. if she wished itâ€"and free. rwhetlrer she wislol it or rot. rr .vidizrgl her mother consented to back. He. told her he could not marry f rr a lime; but that he should work with douâ€" bk zeal. looking forward to being United to her. He spoke of a year of struggle. and then a life of happiness: and said a host of firings. such as men in love do say. And thus the end of all Charles Du- vard‘s good rr-soluli us was. that. Alice CNN-rill and be exchanged prr'mfs ~s of unaltrrubl.‘ affection. Vu v4 of unswcrvâ€" ing constancy: and that in place of mar- rying at once. and takinr: the lost. and rtllo’; worst of lifc‘ together. tlrev worn so very simple. or. the)" thought. so cx< 'trerncly s‘us‘lrlc. as to act-co t3 wait. and add aunih r instance to the numlcr receive her already extant in the \\"<l‘1l_of m. f pv which will ll :r link: or i ls; ©@@@@@@@ 01' The Family §++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++4++++++++++++ was the standing order in Mayfair; when she was out. wiry then she was cut; when she was in. she was “not. at borrncl " Her carriage was scarcely cvcr visible. except occasionally whrrl:ng off towards Br‘omptcn. She “received. 85 must. once a week; st'li sat at the head of her husband’s dinner-table. She had rot retired. altogether into private life. She only kept. h-cr mornings sacred from public invasions. In vain. Mr. Mazrng- ford rrmonstratcd. commandedâ€"Judith either replied with that look winch so irritated him. or else dutifully stated. that. to one of the lood Royal sne Would not appear unless it suited her own special convenience to do so. And. as usual. Judith kept her word. In the. evenings she was his slave; m the mornings. she was her own mistress . â€"or rather. in the mornings. she DJWCd her neck under the yoke of two stern masters. labor and dutyâ€"and worked at. their bidding. ceaselessly. How she did work. her pale cheeks began. after a time. to tell; and then medical advice was callsi in. which ig- norant of the mental cxrrtiorns she was making. confessed itself virtually at sea, by ordering change of air. and horse ex- ercise. The former. it was not conveni- eat to Mr. Maz‘rnrgford she should have just then; the latter. it did not suit Mrs. Maz'rngford's fancy to take; so the lady went on. getting paler. and thinmr. and more interesting-looking. every day. as befitth an authoress. For Judith was writing. Although the world did not know it. and her hus- band had no suspicion of the fact. she had taken up her pen again. with as righteous a purpose as ever was enter- tained by woman. She was spinning her brains into books. to give sight to her sister. Fame she did not want. her art she did not troveâ€"but money she required. and money she was deformin- ed to have. So Judith. after years of idleness. took out hrr papers and manuscripts once more. and commenced writing. that which she had never previously attempt- ed. a novel. She had no chance of writing a really good book. there. in the middle of Lon- don. wlth her mind distracted about her sister. , A natural story could soarcely have been expected from herself or her sur- roundings; and yet th) tale was a strik- ing one. from the very ignorance the author displayed of all the rules and regulations that fetter the literary back. who has ambled along the path of p0pu~ lnr opinion. till he has no thought. or care. or idea of his ownâ€"till he has come to live. and move. and have his bring. at the instigation of a' liberal pubâ€" l'sher. and nod of an oid-eslubli hcd re- view. A rapid ride to Brampton. a half-hour spent. in a. darkened IOr,t.nI__\\" th the dear invalid. a. few hopeful earnest words of affection. and trust of her sperdy r, stor‘ ation to sight. and Judith hurried away back to..hcr .r-hamber. where she wroti. as those alone have ever \vrittrtn who go on blotting f-oolscap against time. and who work with their pen as labor- ers do with their spades. God knows that a plodd-cr along the paths of liter- ature finds those paths by no means flowery ones. it is all vrry “1” to take tr: book-making for amusement; but to write for bread. with idiotcy glbbcring bts’d-o youâ€"with death ly‘ng in the next roomâ€"with thoughts a degree blacker than your ink flowing through your heart! this is no child’s play; these are too often the realities of literature. as a profession! Mrs. Mazirngfcrd knew little ofl’feâ€" that is. literary lifeâ€"or she never would have gone in her carriage to ask pay- ment for a novel. Rich authors are considered. in pub lrshing circles. able to afford the I‘ISW'S attendant on bringing out a new work th msclvcs. Iler shrewd 5 use. however. so rn told her what the eminent firm of Nc-xlcy and hlobelic wrre driving at. Thy talk- cd of percentagesâ€"but Mrs. Mazingford shook her head; of subscribing a hun- dred and fifty copies amongst her ac- quaintancesâ€"on which suggestie’n Ju- (liih at (incc put a somewhat perernptlry mid; of clearing expensesâ€"a plan. the lady said. was not to be thought of; and then the [chic publishers, being at their wits end. held their tongues. “l l‘cflll)‘ do not sec what We can do. madam.’ I‘Cllilil‘lx’rd .\lr. Noxlcy. after a dreamy pause. during the continuance of which he had vuirnty wui‘u‘d for Judith tn speak. “(Inn ya think of any plan. Mr Murboilc‘?“ Mr. Mobolie was unable partner’s hung nutcn. “Publishing. yru soc. is a vary umay. la'n affair." r markd .\lr. r\'ux‘«:). Lilliansly; “rind thr lcfoz'c. in u C . to aid 11:5 ' i way. we dr n-‘l Ctiio to lake the critic c 2: risk of a new \v r‘k. try an author :r~ V\.-‘ unknown in fume. \\'e lkn r r in cu “grind any great um u;rt .f l u \\‘cl‘-l\’no\\‘rr manlyâ€"that k. Iv: : of these pre-cruinently rizlit-ulius thin-1‘s . lain rrlirulr-l‘ 0f 0 lies b05111: “"1"- -â€"lon;.r engagements. CHAPTER XVII. ltl:~~_ .\l 7, ngfzrrd. for wroks. had bren "not at hurls." Day after day. that S\‘I‘ I will . N.w. amortgd y u. \ r r.- comzo on. inalrm " “lixcurc me. sir." inicr'ru t»d tl ~ : 1.. luluyirtii'y. “but i d, I'tut sh -5-3 t t in.” b «k tagging abut the worlvi. 'l would ratln‘r go and ask CUL'h of my a:- Ilr.‘ at once. . much more straightforward and inde- pendent method of iffcct‘ng my object." “'it is so unusual a thing.‘ commenced Mr. Mobelle; but Judith rrga'n interposed with.â€" “i think i can bring this matter to a point at once. i wish to receive remun- eration for my work. You imagine i am a fashionable lady. writing for fame. Read my manuscript. and you will find i am a woman writing for money. i do not say my works is good. but it is not. a ‘fashionnble novel” ;‘ it is not what. you tirirrrk it. I do not know much about haw such things are managed. or what tenns authors usually propose. to pub- lishers. bill I should like you. if you would not consider me too troublesome. to road over my manuscript. and then say whether you can offer rrre anything for it. or not. As to pulrlrshing on my “(Cllunlwit is a thing not to be thought of. if I were rich (‘n-uugh to do that. I should never write at all. Will you oblige me by looking at, the bzok?” Messrs. Noxlcy and Mob. lie were wil- ling to do anything exccpt pay nroncy. and accordingly. after bowing the lady out. they placed the manuscript in- the hands of their “reader.” who laid it aside fur two months. At the expiration of which time he ccndrsccnded to istcn to various hints uncomplimentary to his punctuality. and went through it in an evening. “We regret. madam. that the result is unfavorable." remarked Mr. 'Noxicy, with that. unvarying urbantty which is enough to drive a rejected author out of his srnses. “The reader's report says. that although there is much. merit in the work it is s-rarrely complete enough as a whole to ensure extensive popularity. and accordingly. although we should be glad to meet your views. we fear in this instance it is not possible. if you felt inclined to contribute even a portion of the cxpenscsâ€"«but. really trade is so bad. and we require to be so very care- fill. and the market is so overstocked. that " “You decidedly refuse to accept my book?" finished Judith. who felt her love for the bantling rise as other people looked coldly on. it. “Well. on the terms you propose â€"â€" Yes.” said Mr. Noxiey. with Wonderful direcinrtss. Judith beat a retreat. all colors flying. from the publishing office. and left the firm. thinking what a beautiful terma- garnt she was. and what irritable folks air the literary genus were to deal with. They did not see the tears rain down Judith’s face. They beheld the waters of her soul troubled. and a momentary gleam of anger flashing across the surface. but it was not given to: them to know of the deep. dark pools lying suilenly below. because of the existence of which the woman’s heart was break- mrT Elie had staked her last throw on the result of that day's interview. and lost. They were leaving town next morning. going back to the old Welsh lrills.far from Lillian. ocuiist. publishers. every tlr ng and person she wanted to be near. She was looking forward to rent and taxes. and payment of bills. and all sorts of nightmare horrors. She had reii-cd. as new beginners will. on literaâ€" ture as an El Dorado. and she had seen. us new beginners do. her land of golden prom’sc melt away and disappear. From publisher to publ‘shcr she went, finding difficulties increase at every step. cxcu cs multiply. her pat'encc diminish “in line. htr. Mason. I am wearied." said Judith. as she laid her manuscript down on the desk of a man who was nrwer to the trade than most of those S'Irrv had tried to talk into buying her book. “'i have icon to. I should say. a dozen places today. and lrad ‘no‘ for my auswlr at cvcry one of them. I do not ask you to say ‘ycs'; but let me leave the hook with you. to kok over at- your leisure. I really cannot take it an ay." she added. seeing him hesitate. “Write me what you think of it. and whether you can do anything for me: I want moneyâ€"and. therefore. it. is use less to propovse my crrmtributing any thing to the expenses. Please send your answer to that addrgss." And she wrote Miss liidsd-ale's direction on. a card. and handed it to him. ‘Any note or Ms. left til re. for Mrs. Gilmore will reach me safely.” Arnd. Judith looked so pale. and ill. and care-\v-crn. that th) publisher. in a stn'c of intense bcwiidcrnrint and surprise. found hirmseif in a mist recli- less manner- pnor'nisiug to read six hurr- drcd pages of blotted manuscript through. and hoping he might be able to accopt it. ‘ “I never saw so beautiful a woman.‘ ht,- rnuttered to himself. as ire behold her drive off tit/thin vcr'y carriage which had settled her chances with the (mncnt iirru of Nuxlcy and .\lolrcllc: “it. strikes me though. there is something very in- congru lus b. twren hersr-lf and her state- lncrrls: and then. this confrnrndixl manu~ SCI'i‘lH What a fool i was in. promise to road itâ€"i should like to see what she has to say for herself. tir-rugir; â€"nnd, dimly CnliSClOlh that whrrt the lady thought fit to write might be worth per- uxinnr. .\lr'. Mus n locked the parcel up in his desk. and laid it aside. till he 5h ull find limo to lw‘rk cvcr it..'.’ .\i«-;rr.wlr?ic Juritlr and Iii-1‘ Illlatlfllld “VIII lllrk I43 Wales. dlwn “10 Old prison-tome, urn rngst the trees where .\lr. zrnd .\lrs. lerrrrgflr'd he. .1 such denin of visi'crs. that the w .mpd “..._r '~.,r';.linrt1r:i. n 'r r. if d. l- on tlr‘ quit-b; v. . x f il.(~ trill. I~_"ill M ii)“; {.1» {he .. b '. s Lt'lrl-r :i ill: :will men-o- t‘llix'rnnx tlr r l. quairntanccs to give me thirty shillings! it would. to my mind. be a pen again. and 3 suspense in idleness. she took up her commenced scribbling short tales and magazine articles. and a“ sorts of odds and ends. In the dr. dry winter mmn'ngs. when her husband was outâ€"in thi sonrwlrat nrrm ch~~crful evenings. when county mretings required h‘s presence. or dili- ncr parties. at the houses of mystering old squircs who votr‘d lad'cs a bow. se- CIIJ‘rd his absence from home. Judith sat in her own cspcc'al sanctum writing. Sire had no female II‘liniIS. no conti- (lantes. no feminine attachments Ir amusrmcnts. There \vrs not a solrtary clrord in her nature but was out. of tune; mot a string which. if she vcnlun ed to touch it. ever so slightly. did not vibrate forth a. discord. All the pulses of her heart beat one strain of misery; al' the host feelings of her soul had been turned into gall and bit‘erne=s. . it she played. the occurrences of that night came up to her mind's eye; and often. whon sire was li‘illing forth her I‘l"hcst melodies at the bidding of her husband. for the amurerncnt of his guests and tie gratrllcatixn of his own ll‘urirdrnnte vanity. she felt as through the contrast betwixt the past and the PWSN‘M. the honor. and depth. and truthfulness. and intensity of the love snt- had flung from her. and the shallow tlrruslnoss of the thing she had taken in rt stead. wqud kill her. “i cannot. sirng any more." she often sad. when the resistlcss trio of old re- collections came swelling up and ming~ ling with the stra'n. “I should be very happy to do anything you like. but much singing rains mr‘;" and th- rn her husband frowned. whilst his guests. no- ticing the brilliant color in Mrs. Mazing- fcrd"s checks. and the way in which. almost involuntarily. she la'd‘ one hand on the white lace that coveed the front of her dress. thought. amongst'them- selves that the lady was not strong. and compared notes. and pitied her when thry went away. “Take my advice." said an eminent London physician to her on one Occa- sion. ‘take my advice. and do not sing at all.‘ He was a man who had grown whltc- hair-ed in studying the diseases of frail humanity; his advice was usually corr- sidered a thing to be regarded; and many would have asked him what he meant. by it; Judith did not. however. “Mr. Mazingford wishes it." she re< plied. “and I am his automaton. i do not sing. he doesâ€"4 am merely his in- strument." “Should you wish me to tell him I consider singing injurious to your health?" “No. thank you.” said the lady. laugh- ing; then Seeing one. who had really meant kindly by her. turning away as if he were annoyed. she told her hand on his arm. and detaining him for a mo- ment. addedâ€" “You wished to scrve me. doctor. and i have seemed ungrateful. You misunâ€" derstand my case a little. however; for the pain i complain of it not a bodily but a mental one. i can command it less when I sing. than any other time; and when it catches me too tightly hcr'e."’â€"*she pressed her hand upon the placeâ€"“I slop.‘ » He looked earnestly in her face, as she pau50d. and gravely shook h‘s head. but said. like a wise man. never a word. “I know what you are thinking.” she resumed. “and in one respect you are right; there is consumption in our fam- ily Very few of its members have ever irved to be more than thirty. but you need not be afraid of its touching me; Death is very choice of its victims. and has no fancy for the uliappy.” “Are you so?" “Oh. fie! dortorâ€"with all your skill. and power to tell by the color of my cheeks. and the lock in my eyes. and Uni expression of my face. that the taint was ill. my bloodâ€"have you been so blind as not to dctact the other plague- spo-t‘? Did you never hear the world. which is always liberal of k'nd remarks. say that the llidsdalos were born wrtu fl'rtirrg ira‘urrs and diseased lungs? If i'. should ever please God to give me one hour's rest. and peace. and happi- ness. I believe i shall then dieâ€"but till then you need not be uneasy; for i am strong. very strong. nruch more so than most people. So don't speak to Mr. Mazingfrrrd about the singing: it does me no harm. and itâ€"plcascs h'm." Judith dropped the two last words Out as if she had substituted t'lrem hurried- ly for something else she had intended to say. and turning aside from the phy- sician. w-rnt on her way. The fever of old came back. never again to leave IIII‘. Thus. pen in hand. .iudiih Mazingfo:d beguild the Weary hours of her sojourn at Wavour flail. lrr :oiitude sire perfected herself in an art which some think comes more by nature than by practice. By patent per- severance sire improved herself in the cunning of her trade. and came to feel at last the strength and the power of her genius. ’l'lrus she \vilod away the lime til the. period arrived for Mr. Maz- irgford to rcsruuc his par'ir'urrrenlary drrt'cs. \\'.'th a throb of expectation she ac- companied him to Loildmn. buoyed up with the hope of 54 ring Lillian almost \vcil zgnul. for good rr‘ws of the [)zrtl~ Cir! lr:‘.d bcrr forwardrd by .\l".~'s ilrdsâ€" dale (-\""I‘y “wk. and during the \v'rrrlrl' It the «51‘4" r‘y j‘iii‘ll-.‘_\' up to town she it oh. d [mwurrl to that. llttie gleam of sunslrim '9 'h ‘lid. “if l.;iii;rn's sight ll b rt 20' :‘cd.' .~lr‘ Hillbilly x-x 'I‘illli' "I v.11. try to l0 trill/1121}! :rrld lll :w r‘rll' lil"~t III’Ili I luv» Ii-‘Il. it‘d I w r? .o- tr itcr;.t::r‘0 us u lt’i’lllffilh’lil - lil.1rl:tI '.\'\\i‘.c!rj y lir- f‘rlll' and * p‘cr‘i: qua-Hy t ga-tlr r'.‘ ‘ virili- I. ' _'I'l.‘- ~*." ‘._.rr rv'rl l . v::.:r.rr under mirr'r‘e» at a time. H+.H+,++.+_t+++ +7? + ++_+ ++++I glthrrut the Farm Q++++++++t+c+++++++¢t§ 'l‘IIIi CARE OF FACTORY MILK. The. conspicuous SlICCCSS achicvvd by New anlnnd da'ry products in LII-r‘ mat- ter of quality is largely due to the cure taken of the rnrlk in that Colony. The rcm‘rrks of Dairy Cir-rrrmissiomr l). Cud- dle aze. therr fore. of spxiai in'o cat to Canadian dairylncn at. this season. in his annual report tie says: That there is urgent need for a clean- er and purer milk supply at a great many of the chccso and butter factoa‘lcS. is freely admitted by all Wilde duties bring them into close touch with the dairy industry. A great deal has already been writtrn and said on this subject. but wry little progress has been made trIWOI'dS Improving the condition of the milk. even in the older da‘rylng dis- tricts. The dairymen why are careless or neglectle in the handling of the milk on their farms would appear to be quzte oblivious to their responsibilities in this connecton. or to the bad effect which ill-flavored milk has on the finished ar- ticle. While many of the dairy farm~ ers take every care to do their utmost to deliver the milk in a SOUND AND CLEAN CONDITION. their efforts are to some extent nulli- fied by the way in which others of a less-progressive nature treat the nriik while it is under their control. Pro- vided the good and bad milk could be. made up into butter and cheese separ. ately. the position would be entirely dili. Iclt’nt. for the losses would then fall on those dirac'iy responsible for them. and. that in itself. would soon bring about the needed reform. This is lmptss'bie. however. from a practical point of v‘ew, as the milk received at the factories and creameries has to be mixed with that from the other dairy farms in the neighborhood. Consequently. the stand~ ard of purity is lowered according to the amount or kind of inferior milk rc- celved. Of course. milk tlrat is sour or badly tainted is generally rejected alto- gether and returned. the loss being borne by the individual supplier con- cerned; at the same time. it is found alxsoiutely necessary to take in large quantities of milk of a more or loss in- different character. and in many cases the defects are not discovrrcd until the process of manufacture is well under way. it is in dealing with this class of milk that the most serious difi‘rctiities arise. RrEJ ECT ED MILK. During the past season. large quanti- ties of milk were rejecth and returned to many of the suppliers in every dairy. ing district in the colony, the amount reaching to 6000 pounds to 7.000 pounds in a single day at a single factory. The quantity of milk repectcd. which came under my notice. at one factory. amounted to 15.000 pounds. in three consicutive daysf First of all. this is a serious loss to the owners of the milk; and. secondly. it is a loss to the dairy c'rmpany. because the output of the fac« tory is reduced accordingly. to say no- l-hrng of the loss to the industry gener- ally. The amount of milk mentioned would represent over a quarter of a ton of butter. so it will be seen that the loss entailed is a very heavy one. It is safe to say that thousands of pounds ster- ling are annually being lost to the ppm (iucers owing to the rejection of milk alone. and which. in most cases. could be avoided simply by cooling the milk on the farms. The argument that dilry farmers cannot afford to provide a. suf- flcient supply of water and the necesrmry crol'ng appliances does not. in my opin- kn. hold good. My contention is that. viewed in the proper light. dairymern cannot afford to be without the-so tactil- tics for carrying on their business. 0! course. there are some farms in certain dairy districts where it is very difficult to obtain a permanent supply of cold water for cooling purposes. and perhaps a few where the only available supply within reach is that collected from the roofs of the farm buildings; but such places are of very limited number only. COOLING MILK. in order to cool the milk proprriy. it is necessary to draw a Simply «4' water from a well. spring or creek. and to force it rip to an overheat tank. so that it may run through the cooler by gravi- tation. while the m'lkv is allowed to run over the cooler direct into the cans in which it is to be carried to the factory. \\’cll or spring water will usually give the best results. because it isoolcr than that drawn from sll'OUIIH which are ex- };«srd to the suns rays. The erection of windmills will save time and labor in pumping the water. The water can his) be u:c:l for the stock. and for the washing of the floors of the milking fill (15. ((0. Thu setting of the cans of milk in a. trough of cold water is s'rlrrg'y recom- mr nici to tlr. who ranrmt :nA their way to adopt the me «.f c ~ rilra as this sustcm is much lvcitrr than il-l citing irrn c Trig; l \a .3 at ail. more {Erlk‘fjilth' if tlr- wot-T rs (3' mg d «rrcn cr- twisc. urzl llr: milk s'lr‘rvl ~cl'vl:rl tllrrt-s Uajly. . Ii'u r'v . ff lit. sip rrLl lir- lll .dv to lU'Iiiifi'} ‘Ilr turrurulcrw- if th- rr'g'r’s unit it) ll"l "13133 ltrfll'WC. lillrl ter ‘- v~.‘*:' ilrx rt '. ll: tithcn w'l lirld t at 'lrc sv~ r -- ' .rr‘ 4:? w"! 3,19: l Ill: milk v '. r ’\-:.‘r r «f “1.3 l ‘Il 4 ii i prwvcnt l . l: r: ,k :r'r:r::.~d. Ill‘r: it ‘r-'l.‘ Hf rrlH' : Lr‘il‘. y. ’l‘lri~ :~ :1 .d. In favor of 'lr~ t‘I'Ir- - ’d r" 11. lh- pro’i‘ l f r 1l