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u. + Or, The Curse CHAPTER XXV. _Alice was miserable at Combe Ridgis, and yet she put on a mask of contentment to deceive Dr. Du- vard; she detested the home select- ed for her, and yet fifty causes in- terfered to deter her from writing the. plain unvarnished state of the case to the man who had, assuredâ€" 1.\’a the best right to know every- thing concerning her. When Alice first arrived amongst the Merdun fryâ€"â€"a tribe of un- kempt, black-eyed, brown-faced, untidy, romping boys and girls came to meet her; and from the moâ€" ment of her appearance, evidently regarding her rather as a new play- mate than as a governess, they ha- rassed her life out with all sorts, of elfish tricks, until sometimes the young instructress, in very despair, oxed them all round, when they rushed howling to their mother, ,vsho thereupon desired Miss Crep- ton, or Alice, as they called her, not to be so severe with the chilâ€" drenpupon the strength of which maternal admonition, they set their teacher’s injunctions at defiance, and laughed her commands and enâ€" treaties to scorn; and after she had endured the misery and the unset- tledness of that untidy house for nearly three years, Alice began to think that since Doctor Duvard seemed as far off being able to marry as ever, she would try to bet~ ter her condition, if he could not better his. How far vague ideas of authorâ€" ship, fame, and wealth, conspired to turn this idea into an absolute project, it is hard to say; for very soon after her entrance into Mr. Merdun’s family, the girl found that the gift of the mother’s race had descended to her; that she had a capability of writing easily, if not well ;â€"â€"that authorship seemed to come naturally to her, and that it was not, after all, so very hard 3. thing to “write a book.” First of all, she tested her pow- ers on the children, reading them her own tales as if they had been composed by somebody else. Had Al'ce’s indeed not been a ra- ther stronger head than usually beâ€" longs to the younger members of the fourth estate, her brain would have been completely turned with the praises Miss Merdun and Miss Merdun’s uncle lavished on her pro- ductions. The former took one of the shorter tales to London, and, though unable to dispose of it, re- ported how some most “talented” friends of hers had asked her who the. delightful creature was that wrote it, and declared she must be an astonishing genius; and even whilst doubting, Alice listened, and forgot to remember Mr. Merdun was an idiot and an enthusiast, and omitted to remark Miss Merdun herself did not sem to have found literature a very productive field of labor, and that it was no less true than strange, she was wanting to exchange her brilliant prospect. In London for a governess’s situation with thirty pounds a year at her uncle’s. or a more agreeable situa- tion still, as wife and housekeeper to Dr. Duvard. Very artfully the lady covered up both these designs, either of which would have ben a move for the betâ€" ter, and the latter a change great- ly to her liking; for she wanted to be married, and she wished Doctor Duvard for a husband, and there- fore her advice to Alice to embrace a literary career was not altogether so disinterested as the girl imagin- eo. Alice might have seen a little more clearly perhaps, had she not been looking on objects very close at hand through somewhat vain spectacles; for if she did not rate her own abilities at an inordinate; height, (still she was new fangled with the idea of being an authorcss; and though perhaps every crow does not call its black brood white, 3 et there cannot be a doubt but that most scribblers consider their first poor bantling a very respectable sort of bird. Dr. Duvard indeed was the only individual who threw cold water onl the heated schemes of his wife, that‘ was to be. He discouraged the idea of her leaving Dorsetshire.‘ and spoke of the desirability of her} retaining her present home until she exchanged it for one of his providing; dwelt somewhat mournâ€" fully on the difficulty of getting on in the world. and finally assured her that be ha ' a dislike to Indy au- A SHADOWED nu; i eeeeeeee fl+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++¢l Of The Family ++++++++++++++++++++ thors, and should be very sorry to see her pretty fingers stained with ink. Now all this might have been carefully taken to heart, had not it chanced to come upon the top of a load of petty irritations, and very sufficient jealousnies, caused partly by Mrs. Merdun, greatly by Dr., Duvard’s admiration for Mrs. Gil‘ more, and most of all by Miss Mel“ dun, who had been secretly fanning the flame of discontent in Alice’s breast by a number of friendly comâ€" ments on her lover’s conduct and her own peculiarly disagreeable po~ srtion. She pointed out to Miss Crcpton the fact that, if her fiance ever inâ€" tended to marry, he might just as well commit that folly SOon as syne. “As for his waiting for better means, my dear, it is absurd; beâ€" cause he could support a wife quite as easily as himself; his whole ex- penses if a‘married man would be infinitely less than living as he does in lodgings. If you had a home of your own, it would alter the case; for he then might be afraid of ask- ing you to give up comforts and luxuries for his sake. As it is, however, everybody knows a govâ€" erness’ life is not a pleasant one; and, to wind all up, if I were in your place, I should not feel at all satisfied. Howcvcr, every person knows his own business best, and I make it a rule nevere to interâ€" fere with any one. Only I think Mrs. Gilmore’s handsome face is at the bottom of the delay.” And this final clause, containing, like the postscript to a lady’s let- ter, the gist of the whole arguâ€" ment, Alice, poor child, took it in- to- her wise head to think she was hardly-used. She had no mother to he replied. wifcv-silly one," “No, I could not. I want to be free.” “Free I” replied Dr. Duvard, and be relaxed his grasp, and looked earnestly into her eyes. which, howâ€" ever, sought the ground and refusâ€" cd to be interrogated; “lirccl what do you mean by that?” “I mean,” she. answcrcd, “tl‘nt I wish for a time to be free and independent, andâ€"and able to do I like; and I won’t marry just. yet." â€" “Will you tell me why? he pleaded, and the true love of the i) i man's heart came swclling up with- in. him, as it suddenly entered his mind that she wanted to be released talk toâ€"~no sister to take counsel withâ€"no sensible friend to advise and reassure henâ€"so she communed with her own wounded heart, and found there such cause for sorrow, as caused her to feel herself a very miserable individual, with a long list of grievances, who had a right to cry herself to sleep. This por- tion of the performance she success- fully achieved when day was dawnâ€" ing on the morning following the night on which Miss Merdun had thought fit to state her opinion. Sleep, however, did her no good, for she awoke with a' very uncom- fortable sensation about her heart, as if some great calamity had hapâ€" pened to her; and she set about completing her catalogue of miserâ€" ies, as speedily as might be, by reâ€" newing the literary question with Dr. Duvard, and growing very pct- tish and cross when he persevered in his advice for her to relinquish the idea of “pen work” for ever. He urged her to consider the dif- ficulties every literary man and woman, from the days of the Hept- archy down, had met with in the path she so rashly proposed for herâ€" self. But he did not understand the true position of affairs, and there- fore all his arguments proved ut- terly unavailing; he could not com- prehend Alice’s persistency in her new scheme, until having said, in a very blind sort of wayâ€"â€" “You see, dear Alice, I feel al- most as if you were at home here, as if I left you with a father and a mother till I can come to claim you for my very own; and I should be miserable if you were in any other house than this excepting as my wife; for I know you could not be one-half so happy anywhere as,- here;” she somewhat vehemently answered : “I could not be half so unhappy anywhere else you mean, for I am and have been perfectly wretched, in this place.” Then the truth, so. long and carefully concealed. sud- denly burst upon him, and taking. the poor, tired, weary girl to his' heart, he muttered, “Good Hea- vens! what a simpleton I have been! Look up, Aliceâ€"don’t cry‘ so bitterly; I thought you were happy here. and free from care. and, that I would not drag you down fo‘ overty with me; but if you think you could be content as my wife,I we will be married i1nmcdiately,5 and I will do my best to make lifel easy for you.” l ,gcred to the from her engagement. “Will you tell me why 2” “Noâ€"I cannotâ€"that is Iâ€"â€"” “Are you afraid of poverty?” he asked. “Are you tired of my want of success? Have you grown to despise a man who cannot win the. smiles of fortune? Are you tired of me, Alice ‘1 Oh ! for mercy’s sake don‘t take back your love from mc. lint, if that is gone, I won’t hold you to any rashlyâ€"spokcn engageâ€" mcnt; you were a child then, and l was a fool to think I could ever hope to be loved as I love; stillâ€" stillâ€"” . “A letter for you, Doctor,” here interposed Miss Merdun, opening the door at the moment, and cut- ting right across his sentence; and as she did not leave the room after delivering the missive, he was re- luctantly compelled to let Alice glide away from his side out of the apartment, whilst he remained with his relative, and broke the seal of lthe epistle she had presented to um. He looked at the communication at first carclcssly, but as he. read an expression of curious excitement and anxiety came over his face. “Tell Alice 1 am obliged to go. I should like to speak to her. I shall be back in a minute;” and hastily quitting the room, he went off in search of Mr. Merdun. who, as usual, was not to be found; and failing him, said goodbye, in a very hurried manner, to Mrs. Mer- dun. “Conic, Alice, do be quickâ€"'I must be off,” he cried, from the bottom of the staircase; and his words brought the girl down. fol- lowed by Miss Merdun, who seem- cd determined not to lose sight of her. “I shall only be a day or two away.” he said. “I will tell you all when I come back. I want to talk to you. Youâ€"you don’t want t‘» be free, Alice ’1” He spoke the last few words in a very low tone. and was answered only by a trusting look. “There is nothing wrong, is there?” she. asked, anxiously. “Noâ€"not muchâ€"onothine‘ wrong with me; it’s only poor Mrs. Gil- more. Now, good-bye, mine own, take care of yourself, we will have a long talk over matters when I come back.” And even whilst Alice held out her hand to him for another”good bye,” he was gone. Half disappointed and a little hurt, she turned away from the hall door, and encountered Miss Mer- dun’s black eyes fastened on her. “I wonder,” said Alice, “if Mrs. Gilmore is ill again?” “No, my poor child, she is not iii,” said Miss Murden, with an air of mysterious pity. “What is she then ’1” demanded the girl. “Non est,” answered her friend. “Surely not dead!” exclaimed Alice, the recollection of many an angry thought and evil feeling sweeping across her conscience, and troubling it. “Surely she is not dead ‘2” ' “No, she is not dead,” replied Miss Merdun. “What is she her victim. “Why, she has disappeared, and Doctor Duvard is in despair, and must needs leave you to hunt afterl her,” said the lady. “There, don't; look so pale and frightened; it must‘ have shown itself some time or an-i otherâ€"better before your marriagci than afterâ€"an artful, designing woâ€" man. Poor Charles! he is greatly to be piticd. If he never see her, again. it will be a happy thing forl both of you.” Alice did not answer; she stag- bottom step of the staircase, and sat down, burying her face in her hands. “And he loved her. and wouldi have married me out of pityâ€"chain:1 ityâ€"” she muttered. after a pause. i “No, it shall never be. Miss Mer-l dun, if you will take me. I will go back with you toâ€"morrow to Lon-, (kn. I will try literature. and if. that fail, must take another situa‘, then f” persisted lfrom his engagement, leaving him 'f)CC to marry Mrs. Gilmore or anyâ€" one clsc he chose. telling him she v.41: leaving Combo Ifidgis for over. l-ut giving no address at which inâ€" formation of her could be obtained. \‘Chcn that ridiculous episllc ,rcucbcd Charles Duvard he was ill ‘in bed. Having walked so hurried- lly across the country as to induce la profuse perspiration, be mounted on a cold winter day, to the top of {the coach. where be cooled at his ltiSilre; getting, finally, so chilled. that by the time he arrived in Lon- :(lon, he found he was unable to 'sfand, and had barely voicc left to tell a cabman where to drive him. illbcumatic fever was the result: and when at length, he was able to get so far as Miss Mcrdun's house. he found Alice had left her abode, and that all trace of the girl‘s whereabouts was lost. “Do you mean to tell me,” he said to his relative, “that Alice came here with you; that she has left your house; that she gave you no address likely to find her; that you have no knowledge whatever of her movements? Don't you know we were to have been married al- most immediately. What can have pessessed the girl? I am wretched about her. I don’t know what to do, or where to turn, or what to think.” Miss Merdun did not know either. but she consoled him by remarking that she believed he had brought ‘t all on himself, by his attentions to Mrs. Gilmore. “Attontions to Mrs. Gilmorc‘.H The doctor raved and stormed, and swore, at the insinuation. He told Miss Mcrdun unpleasant truths about herself, and wound up by declaring that she either must hase made Alice’s visit wretched to her, or else was perfectly cogniz- ant of her address, and, in refus- ing to enlighten him, was playing a double and most unwomanly game. (To be Continued.) px(â€"â€"~â€"â€"â€"_ H++++++++++++++++¢+¢++ filier flu Farm d++++++++++++++++++++t THE GOOD CALF. In calf growing there is nothing more. operative against success than ovcrfeeding. The dairy calf‘s di- gcstive organization is not the strongest part of its anatomy, and it must be treated with care and good Judgment. A wholesome hun- ger in the young calf is a good thing apd indicates that he is making use or its feed and may safely have the ration reasonably increased. But It is well to remember always that the calf does not grow and develop by the feed actually eaten, but by the part it digests and assimilates, writes Mr. W. F. McSparran. More feed than the calf can di- gest becomes a burden to the stoâ€" mach and a danger to the digesâ€" tion, not only involving the immedi- ate good health of the calf but seri~ cusly impeding the calf’s growth and thrift. 0n the other hand, a chronic hunâ€" ger is not desirable in calf develop- ment, and while steering clear of the. danger of oveiufeeding we must not run aground in the shallows of underfeeding, for thus we may easâ€" ily spoil the full usefulness of the good cow. The good cow is the ani- mated organization of the vital parts of good feedsâ€"“all flesh is grass.” No feed, no cow; short feed, stunted calf; stunted calf, a cramped cow. . One thing necessary to a good cow is a large and fully developed sto- mach so that the cow has room to store enough feed to make a large quantity of milk. _I may add, incidentally, that, given this capacious storage capaâ€" crty, it is the duty of the good feedâ€" er to see that the storage is well fill- ((1. Hence I like to begin early in the life of the calf to build the bel- ly. The “pot belly” is cried out against as a bad sign in the calf, but if back of the “pot” is health and thrift I give myself no concern over the potâ€"I will make it a place of feed and work. 4 Pretty calves do not always make great cows, any more than pretty sweet boys make wise men. so we can afford to cale aside too good looks in the calf if we know we are building wisely for the cow. It would appear then that in calf' excess and the deficiency. LbC clear Course between the two is ibC; tion.” , Miss Nerdun never pressed hcrv and to find thi< cruirsc‘ and remain in it should be the 1:)£r‘.- v safe. one. i u ' . v . ,‘ H, . , . - ‘ I#I do" I “am to be "mu‘lc‘l- for particulars: from that hour she llL'Cllt study of IllC l)1‘.‘l‘l~“.". .\.,y 11.1111 sobbed out the proud little splnt {kept pouring 13,1th poimns dwwn ‘ “Luge “him is Wurth funnvphm “I won't marry just yet. I only: wish to leave Combe. Ridgis. and see! if I cannot push my Own fortune I in London.” | her throat. and finally. so worked upon the girl. that without reveal»I ing her intention to anyone else. ily. .i’l 1-,x presume to rm ., n cliflrf ibis work to 2‘ «he? uzc-n abs-dum- I. A!) (5119'- milv or lwst me. girls always make good wives, or‘ feeding we have two dangers-thorium feet- )â€" “Yes, but you can push it as. riylto Doctor Duvnrd. releasing himllhc actual work must fall on do iman who feeds the calf. DEFECTS IN BUTTER. i The Dairy Division of Washing- ;lon employs insl’mrtors at large re- luivinn‘ centres t) inspect butter (and give advice to makers as to ,whcrc imprmcmcnts can be made. The work is giving; satisfaction, and is proving of value to the trade. In a recent interview the inspcctor at New York City gave some informa- tion about the work that may be of value to Canadian butter mak- ers. He said: ' “I am seldom called to look at strictly fancy butter. The butter makers who nearly always make high quality and never get any kicks, don’t have any need of my help, and consequently don’t ask for it. Once in a while a single tub is marked in a shipment of these fine goods. and the buttermakcr re. quests that I score the butter. This I am always willing to do, but my work is mainly to help the fellow wo needs it. You will therefore readily sec that I, am called to exâ€" amine mostly creamcrics that have some faults. “The defect; that are most com- mon at present are sour and sum- mery flavors and curdy character. The extreme heat that has prevailâ€" ed in many sections has made it diff funlt to keep down the temperai ture of the cream, and consider-l able of the butter gives evidenceof over lripcncd cream. This is the l cause of much of the trouble, and '5 will be during most of the summer. If it was merely a question of con- trolling the temperature in the creamery, many of the butter mak- ers would stay by their cream vats, but a great deal of the cream is shipped in too ripe, and it is impos- sible to fully overcome that diffi- culty. “A great many of the creameries are pasteurizing at too high a tem- perature, and this produces a sponâ€" gy, light-bodied butter. as well as an oily flavor, though I am inclined to think that the latter is mostly where the cream arrived quite sour. Occasionally I run across a creamâ€" cry that is very heavily saltedâ€"so salty. in fact. that it tastes like brine when one bites into it. There is positively no excuse for this. If bv accident too much salt got into the churn. it can be washed out and made usable. but in some cases it looks as if the excessive salt were put in deliberately.” â€"â€"â€"*â€">x« A SINGER’S D OWNFALL. A Woman’s Pathetic Appeal toil London Magistrate. :5 Marion Salter, once 2a singer of repute, was charged on remand at“, West London Police Court recent-f 13*, before Mr. Lane, with stealing“- a silver salver belonging to Dr. G. l . Turnbull. The salver was missed after she called at the house, and when arrested it was stated she admitted the theft. Detective Churchward said that in the woman’s possession were found press notices showing that she appeared at the principal Lon- don concerts between 1883 and 1392. There were ten previous convictions for felony, including one for burg- lary. The detective said that in- temperance was the cause of her downfall. The prisoner handed to the mag- istrate a statement, in which she wrote : When a woman has been seven days and nights in the streets With- out a bed and with bleeding and lacerated feet, starving, she is ter- ribly tried and fiercely tempted to commit any sin. I have been quite alone in the world for many years. For seven- teen years I was a soprano on. the operatic stage. My voice failed. Bad health and extreme poverty followed. Such work as I am cap- able of I cannot command. I am now turned fifty-seven. The work‘ house is my last resource. Oh, pray be merciful to me and send me there. Prison will only ruin and kill me. The magistrate decided to remand the accused with a view to com- mitting her for trial. 4' . SUMMER DON’TS. Don’t worry about bills for coal. I Don’t quarrel with the ice man. Don’t get exhausted trying to ,l:ccp the moths out of your fur~lln. ed overwiut. l Don't try to crowd into a narron scat beside a fat man. llon‘r grumble about your wife a r HOLIDAYS. "I've got a great deal of plea :urc from ant ' ating the trip," “More, pussii , than you'll gel from the trip inc‘f." "That's What I think. .Qo I‘ve dos cided to stay at llullic uni 5316 the she wrote a proud indignant lcitér gcs‘rims-poiut the direction -â€" andfmonzy.” l x