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:4 ' â€"â€"â€"â€" e+ c+++++++++++++++++++++t ++6+++++++H+H++++ ' CHAPTER XXVII. “Miss Lestock, as she is called. ’ . . answe‘ed Mr. Gartnore “is 111' "MISS Leake would feel obllgcd niece fr 1 ’ ‘l by Mr. Gartmore favoring her with H ' . five minutes, conversation.” And bemg her uncle, you arc_, r5 nmwun uuvnrn nf all H111 narh- So Judith, after a. few seconds" reflection, wrote, not on a sheet of note paper, but on a slip torn off a piece of foolscap, which, dispens- ing with the usual formalities of envelope and seal, she simply twist- ed up and dispatched by the hands of Mary to the ground-floor lod- Then she stirred the fire, and having drawn down the blinds to shut out the coming night, she seat- edi herself ready to receive Mr. artmore, who shortly after enter- d the apartment. She did not rise to greet him as e advanced, a. courtesy to which is grey hairs and position as visi- or at her summons, might well, in- ed, have seemed to entitle him, b t merely inclining her head in her own graceful, queenly style in re- liurn for his elaborate, old-fashion- 'ecl bow, she said: “I thank you very much for ac- ceding to my request.” “Requests from you, madam?" he answered in his formal drawing- room manner, with which, however, there was also mingled. in the pre- sent instance, a dash of the inter- est wherewith Judith inspired every one who approached her. “Requests from you, madam, come so seldom that, even were it not a pleasure to comply with the slightest of them there would be no excuse for refus- ing to do so.” “Will you not be seated 7” she asked. “Pray doâ€"for I have a few words of moment to say to you, otherwise I had not intruded on your time, or broken through the rule of my own seclusion.” J “An unhappy rule, whether self- imposed or imposed by others,” answered Mr. Gartmore, taking possession of the chair indicated by a. gesture of her handâ€"“a. strange rule to be adopted by one so young .andâ€"â€"â€"” He pausedâ€"a delicate fear of ofâ€"[f‘ fendingâ€"a feeling that the word he] f‘ was about to add, though strictly 1 ‘true, could scarcely fail to give her pain, stopped his further utterâ€" V ance. r C Mr. Gartmore now inwardly mut- tered the same sentence as many an one before him had done. “Unless she choose to tell me I shall never know more about her â€"â€"I cannot ask.” Judith gathered his thoughts from the puzzled wistful expression of his face; and after waiting a suf- ficient time for him to finish his sentence; if he preferred doing so, she concluded it as he had intend- “A strange rule to be adopted by one so young and beautiful, you were about to say,” she remarked. “We ha.ve 8.11 our hobby, and philo- sophers tell us it is well to ride the thing to death. Seclusion, in the very heart of busy, bustling, pant- ing, suffocating London, is my whim.” - ~. “Only your whim?” he said en- quiringly, fixing his keen eyes on her face so steadily that even J11- dit~h was compelled to turn aside from the scrutipy. "on. -.-- -,_ ., “Only your whim?” but she nev- er answered. “I sent for you toâ€"night, Mr. Gartmore,” she abruptly recom- mended, after an awkward silence, “to do you a. favor.” The announcement really seemed to produce a startling eflcct upon the visitor. He was unaccustomed to having favors proffered to him in such an unhesitating manner, and his countenance expressed the fact. even though his tongue did “That is, you are of 1 thin ycuâ€" mist thin need ( ever, 1 of thls liev W E ne act, l‘l\' A SHADOWED PATH; lled Stay akc .1ite ‘ which You 2 with M *; but t- nevertt is,” pursued Judith ’5 my opinion that it to be able to assist atures.” true, madam, and she inte Or, The Curse Of The Family art- ETC 18$ madam, and any can do to serv {ll‘é umnt ll] he said enâ€" stands artlculars few ques- ed, I beâ€" as she is ant You a re S In 10‘"- )lll' “And being her uncle, you are, of course, aware of all the parti« culars of her marriage?” “I have heard all the circumstan- ces of that most disgraceful trans- action,” he acquiesced. “Nay,” excialmed Judith, “not dlsgraceful, ,for though her husband might be of meaner birth, he was her superior in every other respect. If you call your niece's marriage with the Reverend Watkyn Creptot} a, disgraceful transaction, I need proceed no further with my peti- tion, for you and I can have no solitary idea. or opinion in com- “You criticize my relations free- ly,” he replied, with a smile; “yet I am not offendedâ€"for my convic- tion of the matter has always been that Adelaide Crepton is a being without heart; that the VVelsh cur- ate threw himself away on her; and that having had chfldren given her bx Iieaven, she had no right to fling the Divine blessing of mother- hood from her. I despise and hate the woman, madam. There, is that confession of faith satisfactorb' to you 2” with the Reverend Watkyn Urepton a disgraceful transaction, I need proceed no further with my peti- tion, for you and I can have no solitary idea. or opinion in com- mon.” “You criticize my relations frecâ€" ly,” he replied, with a smile; “yet I am not offendedâ€"for my convic- tion of the matter has always been that Adelaide Crepton is a being without heart; that the Welsh cur- ate threw himself away on her; and that having had children given her bx Heaven, she had no right to fling the Divine blessing of mother- hood from her. I despise and hate the woman, madam. There, is that confession of faith satisfactory to you 2” ‘Perfectly,” she answered. “And now do you know anything of her childern?” “The Welsh grandfather adopted them, did he not?” “Yes, but grandfathers will not live for ever,” Judith replied. “Did you not read in the papers long ago about a lad being found starving in the streets of Londonâ€"a grandâ€" son of Sir John Lestock,â€"do you not remember it? But no,” she added next moment, “you cannotâ€" you were out of England.” “How do you know where I was?” he demanded curiously. “I know many things you might scarcely give me credit for being acquainted with,” was the replyâ€"â€" “however, my ignorance or know- ledge is nothing at present. The facts are that Evan Crepton was found starving in the streets of Londonâ€"that he fled from his re- lations, that he went, nobody knew whither, that he may now be living or dead, for any information I have on the subjectâ€"while his sister Alice is at this moment lodging two floors above our heads, and you can aid her if you choose to do so.” “How!” Mr. Gartmore did not nronounce the monosyllable en- “Judith Mazingford,” she finishâ€" ed; upon receiving which informa- tion he sat down again, and stared at her as though she had been a remarkable criminal. “You have heard of me,” she ventured, when the scrutiny was becoming painful. “Often.” “Should you like to hear the secâ€" ret history of Judith Mazingford. as known only to God and herself? I can talk or remain silent at your bidding. Which shall it be?" “Talk,” he said, but there was a softer tone in his voice, and a different look in his eyeâ€"and he unâ€" consciously bent forward to catch her words. “You remember Lillian Bids- dale,” she began; “perhaps you knew her husband, too. Mr. Renel- 1e She was my mother, and he my father. I was the youngest of three â€"-the one who drew my life from her death sighâ€"a little helpless infant. And as I lay in the first sleep of childhood, an old Welsh woman, to whom it was given to utter ominous warnings, prophesied that my life would be a wretched oneâ€"that with faces averted from me, and w1th hand upraised against every one, I should pass to the grave ‘battling my way.’ “But I did not seem born to be loved, and to love, to be cared for, petted, caressed. Oh! my life was rich in friends and promise then. Look back at all thisâ€"then cast your eyes round this lonely, deso- late room and pity me.” Almost involuntarily, he did as she bade him, and gazed round the apartment, in which, as he well knew, she had passed many a month of her wretched life. When his glance came back again to Judith, he saw she had hidden her face in her hands, and was weeping con- vulsively. He could say nothing to comfort herâ€"he sat silent, until she hushed vu: ‘Perfectly,” she answered. “And now do you know anything of her childern?” “The Welsh grandfather adopted uuu H ' “I hate authoresses, madam, 1n- terrupted Mr. Gartmore, vehem- ently; “a. confounded set of preten- tious blue-stockings; better the girl was a. dairy-maid than an af- fected, conceited, half-educated sentimental scribbler. I cannot hear literary women;” and the speaker wheeled round in his chair, and looked defiantly at Judith as he uttered the last clause. “That is unfortunate,” she cool- ly remarked, “for I am one of the genus, and I suppose I may there- fore teke your observation as an especial compliment to myself.” “You an authoressl” he repeat- ‘ eu. “Well, there are exceptions to “How!” Mr. Gartmore Old 1 pronounce the monosyllable couragingly. “By assisting her endeavors make an honest livelihood. E has embarked, Hegvfin help her. has embarked, Heaven help her. on the stormy sea of literary adven- ture, and is sinking for want of a strong band to bring her to shore, â€"In one word, she is an authoress, andâ€"’ ’ 1 n ',, all rules.” ‘ “It strikesme very forcibly, Mr. Gartmore,” resumed Judith, “that there was a time when there existed a charm in the name for youâ€"â€" when you Would have done battle fr r a. blueâ€"stocking. and vowed that a woman could be intellectual with- out vanity. In the days when you would have married one who has since blot-ted her manuscripts with tears, you entertained different ideas.” the secrets of my lite, whom 1 ha never spoken to before this hm and yet whose voice and face a as familiar to me as my ownâ€"â€"w can raise the ghosts of the past I fore me, and play with the hidd feelings of my heart, as if you ( Jr During the delivery of this : .r. Gartmore’s face had v ainfully, and at its conclus )se from his seat and appro ndith. demanded, in an ag 311 13‘ H4» She 1t lighted to pain and torture me? You are closely connected with me in some wayâ€"your name is not Leakeâ€"you are either a falsehood or the Evil One, for you have spok- en of things this night which no person ever knew but myself and one long since dead and forgot- ten.” “You have been misinformed,” said Judith. “Millicent Ridsdale is not dead.” “Not der 1!” he cried; “assure. me of that fact andâ€"but it is false â€"shc died years, long years since.” “To fashionable society, yes,” was the reply; “but though I have not seen her for years, I know she is still livingâ€"a solitary broken- hearted woman, on whom the curse of her race descended. She was more fortunate than some of the Ridsdales, though, and she may bless God's mercy for it.” “And who are you that you talk of the Ridsdales, as if you were one of them, and of me, as if you had known me always? Since the first time I saw you, I felt your face was not altogether a new one to me, and yet, until now, I never knew it was Lady Lestock you resembled. You must beâ€"â€"â€"â€"” 11‘ Almost involuntarily, he did as she bade him, and gazed round the apartment, in which, as he well knew, she had passed many a month of her wretched life. When his glance came back again to Judith, he saw she had hidden her face in her hands, and was weeping con- vulsively. He could say nothing to comfort herâ€"he sat silent, until she hushed the sound of her grief, and looking into the firelight with her dark eyes still wet with tears, she resumed. “Then I was loved by a man, who never had a. weakness, except that of loving me; and I was wor- thy of his affectionâ€"I know now I wasâ€"but for the plague-spot. I never varied really in my truth, but I took a senseless pleasure in torâ€"I mentng him. Thus, when he asked me to be his wife, I trifled with his patienceâ€"and, you have heard, no doubt, I murdered him. It is true.” She Was calm againâ€"cold. and immovable as the ice on some polar sea, which covers briny waters of fathomless depths; and Mr. Gart- more, to whom such sudden changâ€" cs seemed inexplicable, regarded her with amazement. “I could tell,” she continued, af- ter a. pause, “at now followed him in his fiig â€"of how I cried alouc return. I could tell wpaning and watching “I could tell,” she continued, af- ter a. pause, “of how fruitlessly I followed him in his flight to death â€"of how I cried aloud for him to return. I could tell of hours of weeping and watching, of praying and sickening forAhis return, of a. anc to life. I 0 undo the I off my sonl waking to Slster )n found Misfortunes cam t. and then it Death moment Lg blankâ€"01 : could tell mu vast. or tak Ell' 106 mor 15â€"" she pa and then hurt awful shock, . restoratxon thickly after is Millicent if 1d used it 9:11 that I, and I alone, could give the blessing back to her. “For her I marriedâ€"not for luxâ€" ury, but for her. It; was the most unselfish action of my life; wrong, ury, but for her. It was the most unselfish action of my life; wrong, I admit, but I never deceived him. It was a regular bargain between us, I gave myself to him, and he was to give her sight, and comfort. There was nothing she wanted he was not to let her have, and I, poor deluded dupe, believed and mar- ried him. If you know Lewis Maz- ingford, you may conjecture how he fulfilled his part of the contract. “So it was useless. He would do nothing for her after all, and Iâ€" when mad with his falsehood and invectives I took the matter into my own hand. Did you ever hear I hum! a nhomm’l I would have forged a. cheque? 1 would have stolen for her; and the money I got was mineâ€"mine by right, if not by law. Heaven knows," she added more vehemently, “it was no sin. My own conscience acquits me. I would do it again.” . “I am glad ygu did do it," said Mr. Gartmore, H++¢++++++++ ++++++§f+t 1+H+++++++M++++++++fi BUMBLE FOOT. Fowls roosting on high perches sometimes injure their feet in jump- ing" down from the roost to the floor. An abscess forms on the sole, which becomes hard and calloused, and a. condition known as bumble foot, results. The disease, if neglected, may extend upward in the leg. afâ€" fecting the joints, and ultimately causing death. A fowl that has once had bumble foot is of little more use. The lameness is liable t? return at any time, and birdS‘ suffering once from this disorder very rarely become profitable pro- ducers again. The best way is to prevent trouble by making the roosting perches low, and all on the same level. The old-fashioned way of putting the roosts up, one above the other, like the rungs of a. ladder, is the easiest way of lay- ing things out for trouble of this kind. The hens crowd up to the top perches on going to roost, and when they come down in the morn- ing jump from one perch to anâ€" other. Hens of lightâ€"weight breeds, such as Leghorns, can make the descent every day of their lives without injury to the jeet, bu‘t without injury to the feet, but heavy-weights, like Plymouth Books, Wyandottes or Cochins, are liable to put their feet out of busiâ€" ness by the performance; and the Scotchman’s adage about the horse holds equally true with the hen, No foot, no hen. My, “v ..V_ Frequent applications of crude petroleum is a good remedy for bumble foot in the early stages of the disease. If the trouble is neg- lected, it becomes necessary to open the abscesses by making two cuts across each other, in the form of an X. The matter is then washed out with warm water containing a litâ€" tle carbolic acid, and carbolated vaseline applied daily to the wound until a cure is effected. The hatchâ€" et treatment is used by poultrymen cf. experience, with rather more satisfactory results than any kind of doctoring. Do not allow the in and sort out the est lambs and 1 Sometimes farmers mm the Farm smalle mestic cessar ‘entlya (To be Continued.) LIVE STOCK NOTES may mu( by the Babcock loes not pay tak: .Oom as a. profit 1y to size. the : stomach than : ‘O on- mall ally t any ( mak poor mar- Maz- how ad fre- d have L bulk )ther er. The general practice is to keep ‘chicks of medium-sized breeds on ‘the floor until about three months old, and chicks of the largest breeds a month or two longer. Unless the floor is kept clean and the chicks well bedded, it is better to teach all to roost early. If suitable wide roosts are used, there is no more danger of crooked breasts than on the floor, and many poultrymen think the general advantages of get- ting the youngsters on the roost, where they cannot crowd and hudi dle in corners, and are not soiled by their own and each other's droppings, more than compensate for what keel bones are twisted. Often chicks can be taught to roost by putting in low roosts and placing with them one or two old hens or chicks that are in the habit of roosting. If this plan cannot be tried: or does not work, a wide board should be placed close to the wall, about a foot from the ground, and the chicks placed on it after dark, night after night, until they will go to it of their own accor .‘ After that, a wide roost, the regula- tion distance from the wall, may be substituted for the board. take him from his natural state and the same feeding will not longel meet the demands of the system. TEACHING CHICKS TO ROOST. Chicks of Leg light-weight breed ing of their own heaviér br until taug or. The m That the Czar’s navy is seething with disaffection has for some time been an open secret to students of Russian naval affairs. Prince Al- exander Lieven, a naval commander and one of the most celebrated of- ficers in the Russian service, has reâ€" cently had the courage to publish a pamphlet which supplements the criticisms of the Douma on the misc management of the navy and the cause of disaffection. The Prince states plainly and without reserve that the Russian navy is not only destitute of disâ€" crpline, but of esprit de corps, and that there will be no improvement in this state of things until thor- oughgoing reforms are carried out in all departments. First of all, he says, it will be essential to secure reliable and competent non-commissioned offiâ€" cers. The non-commissioned officers, he says, were the real leaders of the mutiny on board the Pamyat I Azoff, the superior officers of that ‘ cruiser not having the slightest idea of what was in the wind until they were surprised and killed. The question of non-commission- ‘ ed officers for the Russian navy, he adds, is of the greatest importance for us, for it will cost many more of us our lives if this question is not solved in a satisfactory manner. One makes a great mistake if one imagines that the mutiny has ceas- ed. If at the present moment the air seems to be quieter, it is only 1t AxllwaLAvv ed. If at the present rn01nent the air seems to be quieter, it is only because there is a rnere outward cahn amnong the people. The truth is we are notin a posfiion to exert any influence over our saflors VVe have nothing in common with them, and they on their part allow them- selves to be entirely led away by fleefing pubfic ophfion. VVhen a still stronger popular movement breaks forth the fleet win join the people and increase the danger which threatens the Government. “It is not the (fificers, but the crews, which are the real command- ers of the ships of the Itussian navyf’ .v. Man is the W001 Plato. Man is an epitoI -â€"P1iny. Men were db Shakespeare. Man is a sample _Theophra.stus. Man evel‘ywkler? evelations by emy of lies.â€" Man! Th( are The 110V NREST IN CZAR‘S NAVY. ht ire :l‘t 1nd tear ainly t1 >t the wi great m: 1t men sun In the cit the wonder of nature :s.â€"â€"Carly1e. [‘hou pendulum betwixt a teatâ€"Byron. ,y the greatest scholars 1e wisest: men.â€"Régmer. at man is he who does not :hild’s heartâ€"Mencigs. Leghorn and other eeds will begin roost- wn accord when six ; old. Chicks of the ‘y Prince Alexander Lien-n. epitome of the world.) MAN ten do c'eivcrs ever.â€" 1( is the born enâ€" f the universe not roost who d6es not ~â€"Mencius. like solitary 'reat ads t first part cep- pm 1m!