The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

WWW Love Kept Its Faith; @@@@@®@@ Or, The Girl With the Nut Brown Hair and Dreamy Eyes. WWWMWWVWVWVWVVVWV CHAPTER XXII.â€"â€"(Cont'd) Bizarre though it was, the speech aroused in the girl to whom it was addressed a sense of gratification. “I want David to do right for the work’s sake and not for mine,” she declared. “I wouldn’t like it to be said of him that he’d for- saken the evil way for no better reason than to please me. I’m not saying that under no circumstances would I act as you suggest, Mr. Ritson, but it would noly be when all other measures had failed. “You know, I’m half afraid that I’ve lost some of my womanhood in this contest. from me, and my heart shall be turned to steel, and, if you help me, if you do the thing I’m going to ask, you will have to banish all fear of consequence, and make yourselves less merciful than win- ter’s most terrible sea.” Watching their faces for sign of agreement, of capitulation, Mar- gery had a perfect revelation of the emotion through which her plead- ing successively carried them, in- terest hardening to amazement, this to incredulity, and in the end ,a tempest of worrying perplexity. That a glimmering appreciation of the fact had penetrated the in- nor consciousness of at least one of the salts was manifest when Cameron’s turn again came round. “It’s a hard thing you’ve asked us to do, Miss Margery,” he said. “It’s hard -- wonderful hard ~ ' sounds a bit like mummers’ warkâ€" but we’ll talk aboot itâ€"seeing it’s a leddy an’ yourself that’s asked us. Is there no other way? D’ye think it’ll do?” “I’ve looked and looked for other ways, and I’ve always come back to this one as the best,” she as- sured him. “As for the resultâ€"I don’t know; I can only hope. Just the same as yourself, Captain Camâ€" eron, _when you begin a new voy- age or as a landsman begins a new day. There’s no knowledge of the end, only a little bit of hoping and a little bit striving. “Don’t you see,” she continued, “how it all depends on David! He’s not bad, he doesn’t mean ill. I know it. If I had any doubt I wouldn’t dream of doing this thing. . He’s only a wee bit weaker than we’d thought him, and somebody hates him. And when he sees with his own eyes he’ll want to do right and he’ll grow strongâ€"0h, so very very strong.” “Have you got it all chartered, Miss Manesty. Can you show us 110w the thing’s to be worked ’I” “No. I’m sure it can be done, but after that, it’s a task for sail- ors, and I’ve left the details to you. Cap’n Dan and the rest of you, I’m certain can devise a way.” “And how many of us will need to be in at it?” - “The crew of course.” “Which one?” “That is one of the points you must decide.” “When 1” “There also you must choose. All the risk is yours, none of it mine. The sooner the better.” Cameron rested his arms upon the table and counted off the Gra- ham craft at present in the bar- bor. “Malachi, Obadiah, Joshua.” So Cameron ticked them off, and even while his fingers made their record Margery rose, .the light of victory flashing in her eyes. Lumâ€" bering out of the alleyway to the foot of the table, Goliath stretched out his massive hand, and at the signal a dozen hands were held forth in attestation of loyal, ser- vice. And thus the pact was made. CHAPTER XXIII. Burdened by many tons beyond her easy carrying, the Daniel wobbled reluctantly down the Gut and vanished in the night. On the edge of the Firth the yapping, testy tugboat slacked its tow-line, then‘,hauled it in, screamed from its iifiu threat a rusty farewell, and left her to the will of the winds. When the rim of the sun dropped one ship, Daniel, again upon the sea, the propliet.<lown an’ put your mind at rest... . _ poised upon the bows was staring for we mean no harm to ‘\’Ollâ€"1111’I,l€lgl], “that I’iiiâ€"ei'~â€"Soiiictiiiics iuâ€"l wooden eyes on the I'll come an' explain. through his Pity I’ll put farl l | l l I again about him, and the harbor lights of Allerdale twinkling a league and a half to leeward, the anchor rattled out beneath his feet. Tugging at the dripping cable, the Daniel slung round with the set of the tide, and thereafter three men clambered acrOSS her quarter and soon the clink-‘elank of row- locks in diminuendo spoke of a boat speeding shorewards. More like a figure of bronze or stone than being of flesh and blood, Goliath stood on the poop, his huge hands tightâ€" ly gripping the rail, his ears strained for the rasp of iron until it no longer rang upon the air. By his side, sharing his vigil, was the squat form of one whose name was certainly not entered on the log as a member of the crew. An hour passcd~in silence, save for the lapping of the waves against the hull, the far off booming of the surf, and the vague, indefinable mutterings of the sleeping land. One hour, two and then again the metallic beating of the rowlocks. Galvanized into activity, the men on the poop swiftly separated. One of its units sped to the aft companion, pausing at the top to take the skipper by the hand and utter a whispered plea. In the light that flashed up the well, Go- liath’s eyes rhone as the stars above the Daniel’s masts, his swar- thy brow was thickly studdcxl‘with beads, and when he responded his voice was as that of another man. His companion gone, the skipper hastily descended from the poop, and leaning out over the taffrail, strenuously scanned the unresponâ€" sive waters, over the hills and holâ€" lows of which the boat was speed- ing. New the iron scraped close at hand, not more than a couple of cable lengths away, now the lit- tle craft shot through the veil, now, the water creaming in her wake she rounded under the Daniel’s counter, and now the captain saw. Three men had left the ship, four had returned. Now, too, it became clear that for the skipper’s loss of nerve, for the beaded brow, the quivering limbs and the changed voice, suspense must bear the blame and not fear of a. task to be faced, for when the brig dipped with the surge and David Graham scrambled on board, Goliath had himself in hand again. “Whatever’s the matter?” David demanded of him. “What does all 'this mystery mean? Jerry Dud- geon tells me that you’ve had to put back and that you must see me, but not another word have I been able to get from the three of them. What’s gone wrong; you look ship- shape enough.” “Don’t you see what’s wrong, Master David 7” the skipper asked; and when the other hotly bade him “cease his riddlings and explain,” he started forward, begging his master to 1come till t’ fo’c’s’le an’ see for himself.” Curiosity, a. slight measure of annoyance, and a profound trust in the fidelity which had never yet been betrayed, all conspired to blind him as be obeyed the invita- tion, and when the skipper paused by the hood, and defer-entially, as of old, gave him the lead, he slip- ped down the ladder, untroubled by a shade of suspicion. His feet upon the fo’c’s'lc plank- ing, he glanced around the dingy chamber, but like the deck, had no secret to reveal, and he turned to meet the skipper and listen to his tale. But instead of revela- tion, lusty amazement gripped him hard and tight. The ladder was moving. even as he looked it thumped upon the deck, and in its place, framed in the black patch on whose edge it had rested the bcseeching face of the skipper ap- peared. “C‘asscn, what d'yc mean by this foolery ‘3 Drop that ladder at once," he angrily cried, and the sailor, re« membcring that the youth down there was his master, Graham’s son, almost surrendered â€"â€"almost; but in time recalled the promise he had made. “Now, just. bide quiet for a bit, Master David.” he implored; “sit ( MIX/ll 0f Galloway’s awesome bluff, I do it like this, you see, to save any after that he yawed across the and -ed~gold waters struck the homcwaod track. I I 1 he - y) ROISC, was Jacob. We had tolclincd to think apologetically added ;i “Casson, I insistâ€"â€"” But Casson was gone. The doors snapped together, the hood grated on its slide, and David Graham was a. prisoner, interned in the depths of one of his own ships. “Casson â€" Goliath -â€" Goliath.” The wooden walls hurled the words back in his teeth. “Dudgeonâ€"Blair." Only the gurgling of the outer waters made answer to his call. By turns he clamored for every member of the crew. Overhead the feet of the men pattered along the deck. For the present, escape from capâ€" tivity was his only concern. What a. hateful hole in which to imprison a man who had set his heart on a kingdom, who, one of these days, would rule as one of the Princes of the Sea. Ah, at last! The little lid was flung back, a flood, icy cold but life restoring, rushed through the scut- tle. Deep down in his heart David thanked God for a breath of fresh air. Then he looked aloft, and all consciousness of gratitude fled. The ladd-er was being lowered, now it was in its place, now Casson and hr. were face to face, the- skipper cool, resolute, as though the meet- ing were one of the everyday pas- sages; David, passionate, resent- ful, his nerves strung to their tightâ€" est tension, the hot blood of wrath pulsating through his veins. “I’m mighty sorry for this, Mas- ter David,” the skipper began, but there his apology ended. “Well, keep your sorrow, man," David hotly interrupted, “and tell me what you mean. Why have you lured me here? Why have you carried me away to sea on my own ship? What madness is behind it all? What do you mean to do“.l Answer me, man, answer me, orâ€" or I'll forget that I’m Jacob Graâ€" ham’s son, and ” “Haven’t you forgotten that alâ€" ready, sir?” I The upraised arm dropped limpâ€" y “Now, sir,” Goliath continued. “I’ll answer all your whys and wherefore-s. It’s a hard thing we’ve done this night. and some day, please God, you’ll see that it bears harder on us than on your- self. We’ve brought you here to show youâ€"whquacob Graham’s sonâ€"shouldâ€"do~ theâ€"thing â€" his father asked.” “A pretty tale," David cried. “A deal you care for my father or his son. It’s been lump-love with every one of you, service for what you could get. You have all prat- cd of loyalty, but the moment Slan~ der whispered you ran.” “If you’re thinking of the Habak~ kuk, I’ll own that we did you a great wrong. It’s true that we doubted you there, but we don’t now. Though I reckon even that alsl part of the price for your other 1 s.” “Well, then, whatâ€"3’ “Just this. Once your ships were seaWorthy, now they’re rotting; once they carried a safe load, now â€"if t’ Daniel meets with a storm God help us; once they were well fed, now your men are given stuff not fit for a pagan. We’ve tried and tried and tried again to tell you, but you stopped your ears, and wouldn’t listen, and whiles you hid yours-elf so that we couldn’t come near you. And so we’ve brought you away with the hope in our hearts that you’ll not refuse to look and see things for yourself. “It’s your last chance, Master David. We’ve done you t’ credit of thinking that you’ve been sail- ing in the dark, but now you’ve that defence no longer: All around you there are real, solid, ugly facts, and you may turn them inside out in broad daylight if you will. It’s a bold thing that we’ve done, and no doubt you’re greatly angered; but, Master David, don’t let your anger kill your judgment. There's not a man aboard, not a man in allyour fleet would harm a hair of your head, but every one of them would take his life in his hands to make Jacob Graham's son what Jacob himself would have him be.” In dumb, bewildered silence, David listened to the skipper’s conâ€" fession and appeal. and when the tale was told he had nothing to sav. So he waited without a word and wrestled with strenuous thought. Waited until Goliath laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder and snap- ped the spell. A long, troubled look into the face of his captor, to the deck and sought refuge amid the shadows hanging darkly about the bdw. (To be continued.) ____~& NOT DIFI’ICULT. “Doncher know.” began Sap} “You really ought to try it,” in- tcrrupted BIis Cayenne. “It’s not “for we didn’t want to fetch them such a difficult thing after one gets With the night coastguard, chaps about our ears.” used to it." then] are sunk ‘ and David passed from the fo‘c‘s'lel gwcrc put up in Manhattan. at Ccost of $20,375,000; FOR A COLONIAL MARKET THE SUGGESTION OF AN ENG- LISH NEWSPAPER. No Shops in London “here One Can be Sure of Getting Colonial Goods. A writer in The London Express suggests that the various Colonies of Great Britain, which spend large sums yearly in advertising their products, should establish one or more shops in some great thorough- fare where the colonial products may be well displayed, cheaply priced, and available for one and all to buy, try, and come again. This, he submits, would in the end be more useful than numerous co- lonial exhibitions and regiments of colonial officials in palatial office buildings. CAN’T BUY OUR PRODUCE. There are, he says, at least half a dozen colonial shows or muse- ums permanently open in London, all excellently arranged and disâ€" playing the different products of the colony to the best advantage. One is tempted by the cases of ijams, honey, 'turtle, fruit, meat, and a hundred and one other things, ttasty, useful, cheap, well packed, andrthoroughly available for genâ€" eral domestic use. But go into any big shop in London or the coun« try and ask for any one article of colonial produce, and the chances are a hundred to one, or more, that you will not get it. The colonial representatives, goo-d, worthy, estimable men one and all, fight shy of the retail trade, or else have no power to push the goods which they show and recommend. Their exhibit-ions, therefore, form a trading point of view, defeat their own ends. One’s ‘inouth waters at the delicacies dis- played; and one then finds that lthere is no chance of being protec- tively patriotic, and spending hard cash on colonial products. In de- fault, therefcre, one buys AMERICAN GOODS. The colonies must start their own shops in London first, and then in the more important pro- vincial towns, or, what would be the ideal plan, they should com- bine (if for once agreement were pleasantly possible) and open a large colonial market right in the heart of London, where every coâ€" lonial product would be on sale, and where one might buy dugong and bechesdeâ€"mer from Queeus~ land; honey, mutton, and butter from other parts of Australia; ap- plcs. maple sugar, and fish from Canada; jams, pines, sugar and tea from Natal; mebos, snoek, and van der Hum from the Cape; mealies and tobacco from the Transvaal; rum from Jamaicaâ€"-and so on, right through the whole gamut of colonial produce. - _i‘â€"_ THE M 0 BERN HOTEL. A Town in Itselfâ€"Big Manufactur- ing Industry. The modern hotel is a townâ€"nay, a city, a manufacturing industry, a. theatre, a restaurantâ€"in itself. In one leading New York hotel are 750 bathrooms. Almost any time one can find housed there 1,500 guests and nearly as many servants, while daily as many as 10,000 per» sons can be served in the dining hall. There are in the hctel telephone and telegraph oflices, a machine shop, an electric light plant, an ice plant, a blacksmith shop, silver- smith shop, tinsmith shop, plumbâ€" ing shop, upholst-ering shop, barâ€" ber shops, a fire department, a police force, a private detective bureau, a grocery warehouse, a hothouse, steam laundry, printing office. . In the wine cellar are a half milâ€" lion dollars' worth of aged and ag- ing wines; each year is spent $50,â€" 000\for linen, $57,000 for butter, $12,000 for eggs, $42,000 for fruit, $80,000 for vegetables, $113,000 for poultry, $200,000 for meat and $30,000 for flowers. And the cost of the hotels! Cor~ porations are behind them. In many kings’ ran- soms. In New York city, the nie~ ’tropolis of hostclries, there are in~ vested in the Plaza Hotel $12,500,- 000; in the Belmont, $9,000,000; in the Gotham and St. Regis, $0,000,~ 000; in the Knickerbocker, $7,000.â€" 000; the Astor, $0,000,000; the Brcsliu. $3,000,000; the 61.000.000; in the Marseilles, $1,, 000.000. Within one forty hotels a the following year the number increased to. nine- ty with an investment twice as large, exceeding $40,000,000. year lt++++++++++4 +++ +f§+++ About the Farm u++++++++¢+e+++++++++ DON’T RAISE TOO MUCH STOCK. Nothing goes to the heart of a lover of animals more sharply than a lot of half starved stock. Don’t keep an animal more than the farm \\'lll support in plenty. A well fed and cared for team will do more work than two teams of weakened, straw-fed horses. Two properly fed cows will give you far better gesults than twice as many depend- ing almost entirely upon corn stalks for their sustenance, and the c’ter‘ pal squealing of halfâ€"fed hogs must drive you almost insane. Even chickens, excellent scavengers though they be, cannot be expect- ed to produce eggs during the win- ter, unless fed properly and reguv. larly. Don't starve the land either. If you cannot properly care for the whole farm don’t try to do so. Betâ€" ter by far let a field or two lie fallow than to half fertilize and half cultivate the whole place. One acre of corn planted as corn should be and taken care of as it must be, Will give. you more corn/, more stalks and greater satisfaction than two or three acres we see so fi‘-eâ€"’ quently. Don’t starve your family; don’t starve yourself. You must give, your mind as well as your body,[ nourishment. You must have so-’ cial intercourse with your neighu bors, plenty of proper reading mat- ter, and keep up with the ever pro- gressing movement of the world around you. We do not advocate incessant “gadding,” and the “unsight and unseen” taking up of every new proposition and method that any- one chooses to propose, but thank goodness there is no longer a place in our farming ife for the man who never takes is eyes from the ground to see what others are do- ing, or allows any member of his family to do so. It’s all right to think of the good old days, and tell us how much better they did things when you were a boy. But the world moves’ onward and those methods will notI answer now, and we do not pro-3 pose to adopt them. Then the farmer raised for his own living, now the market is the world and his competitors the civil- ized nations. The secret is intensive effort, whether in dairying, breeding or general farming, and it’s the same in life off the farm. The Jack of all {trades has given way to the master of one. But we have only made a fair be- ginning in this country yet. The day will come when the product will be twice what it is today. O+v049vv¢ t + + + + q. + + 4.. e i l FARM NOTES. The days of groundâ€"hog farming are over. There is no hibernating among the young men who have attended the agricultural college and have learned to seize oppor- tunity by the foretop and ‘to have something to sell every day in the year. ' Tillage means stirring the land for the land’s saks, not merely for the purpose of preparing a seed bed or of killing weeds. We till to make plant food more available; to preserve meisture; to prevent: injury from insects and diseases. If we can accomplish these things bet- ter by other means, these other means should be adopted. The best for one man is not always the best Scrvillc, ‘ for another. Many breeders, especially with a favorite sow, are too good to them and feed them, or rather overfeed, until they get them out of condi- tion. The pigs will get out of con- dition at the same time and lots of trouble will ensue. A breeder who will look after his sows and their pigs closely, feed them regularly, moderately and intelligently, will get them started in good shape and keep them growng continually, and will be able to show something to his neighbors that he will be proud of later on. Slack one pound of lgood lime in about three-fourths of a pail of :water (eight quarts). stir it thor- [oughly and let it settle. Drain 4 ff the water and about a pint of the settlings into a fourâ€"gallon stone jar. and set in the cellar. or other cool, dark place. Put the clean, ’fresh eggs daily into this limewate", taking care to drop them in care- fully. so as not to crack them; cover, and they will keep good a year or more. No matter which end is down. and have no eye labour. turning them.