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In the little drawingâ€"room of the cottage at Westbury Floris sat, with her head bowed upon her hands, looking into the fire. A silence that could be felt broodâ€" ed over the house; the old clock on the stairs, whose ticks she could remember as far back as she could remember anything, even that had bepn'hushed by sympathetic hands. Motionless as a carved figure she sat, the firelight falling fitfully on her pale face, showing like marble ovgr the_deep black dress. A week hafid assed since she left Ballyfloe and t at long night jour- ney, and she was now alone in the world. To the poor, weak, tired mother the long day of peace and rest: had come, and the girl who at this mo- ment needed her more sorely than she had ever needed her, was moâ€" therless and solitary. Alone ! alone I All day long the word seemed to echo in her benumbed heart, unâ€" til she. longed, like the Psalmist of old, for the white wings of death to hear her to her mother’s side. And yet friends had been very good to her-the friends of her old past girlish life had done their very best, but how poor is the very best that can be done in such an hour! No sympathy, however tendt‘r and thoughtful can lighten the darkness of the hour of bereave- ment, or take off the keen edge of the great trouble. One gleam of consolation alone ierced the gloom, and that, was tho Enowledge that she had been in time 110 see the poor mother before she diedâ€"in time to hear her very last yvords and receive her last bleed “’8: There had scarcely been time fo: more than that, and. Mrs. Carlisle had died in the full comforting as- surance that she should leave Floris with a happy future before her, Almost her last words had been of Lord Bruce, and her belief that he would make Floris happy; a} most her last thoughts had been '.-f the glorious future that awaitel her as Countess of Norman. And Floris could not summn heart to tell her the truthâ€"cnu‘d not find strength to destroy the comfort the poor dying woman drew from the conviction that her child would be provided for. And now, as she sat looking into the fire with dry, burning e_ec~, Floris was thinking of him and the brief happy past. Throuâ€"gflva'll the week sh; had been expecting some word f")m him. It could not be anything that would not add to her misn‘y, fur what could he say that would ex plain away what she had 5e 5*: that fateful morning? But still she; had expects! and lopgedrfor it. She had thought that he would write one line, perhaps, aduil‘t‘ng his guilt and imploring her for- giveness; and she would hava serif. him her pardon and wished him 1“ happiness. If he had diedâ€"~if they had brill diedâ€"the silence between them coyd not, have beep‘moxe compleLc ' But no line had comeâ€"no, not a single word. There was no friendly spirit tr) tell her that in that moment he was lying between life and death in the vast solitude of the hills, uncons:1â€" one of anythingâ€"ignorant of all that happened to her and to himâ€" self! To her his conduct seemed black as night, black as the sorrow that had befallen her; and in her heart echoed the dreary word, “alone!” It is to be presumed that even middle-aged attorneys retain a, So she sat in the red firelight, letâ€" ting the hours slip by with weary feet, so lost to the world that when the servant stole in with hushed footsteps and spoke to her, she did not hear her. ~“A gentleman -â€"~ Mr. Morrel, miss,” she said. And Mr. Morrel came in. Floris rose to receive him and held out her white hand. The little lawyer took it and 100k~ ed at her with a. sympathetic pity, which was so strange an emotion to him that it made him quite em- barrassed. The girl came up and touched her with pitying V respect. Fighting Life’s Battle; CHAPTER XXII. OR. LADY BLANCHE’S BITTER PUNISHMENT sense of the beautiful, and the love- ly young face, never lovelier than now in its clear pallet, and with the sad, wistful light in the elo- quent eyes, touched him deeply. 1 7“I an; sofi'y to intrude at 52) Vlate an hour, Miss Carlisle,” he began; but Floris stopped him with a faint smi] e, #51 am very glad to see you, Mr. Morrel. I was getting veryâ€"loneâ€" 1y}: .. . .. 1-. 'u “Yes, yes,” he said, in his old sharp way.” How well Floris re- membered it on the occasion when he came with Lord Norman’s ofier. “No doubt~dreadful loss.” “For me, yes,” said Floris braire~ ly, and with a steadfast look in her eyes; “but not forâ€"forâ€"my mo- ther. You were a kind friend to her, Mr. Morrel,” she added, with that gentle sweetness which atoned for much of her pride, and was the secret charm which bewitched all who came in contact with her. "UNBEO; all in the way of busi- ness, Miss Caixj1i_sle; nothing more, I assure you,” he responded, hur- riedly. “Always found your poor mother anxious to avoid giving trouble andâ€"andâ€"might I ring for a light for you?” __ . N. ‘ 1 “Thanks,” said Floris. She had grown so used to the grim dark- ness that had surrounded her that she had become enamored of it. The girl brought the lamp, and Mr. Morrel sat down and fidgeted with his gloves. Out of respect for Flor- is he was dressed in mourning and had thought fit to don a hatband which would have been considered deep enough for the loss of his own father. Floris had asked f0“ some tea, and she gave him a cup now as simply and quietly, almost as cheerâ€" fully, as she had done months ago. There are some proud natures who, like the Spartan boy, will hide the fox that gnaws at their heart, and Floris was one of them. “Will you take some more suâ€" gar? I am sorry there is no cream.” “Don’t mention it, Miss Car- lisle,” he said. Her fortitude amazed him, and pleased him, too, for he was going to try it to its utâ€" most. “When I was here last, Miss Carlisle,” he said, coughing and aheming, “I promised to look into the late Mrs. Carlisle’s affairs, and â€"â€"ahem!â€"I have done so.” “Yes?” said Floris. She had sunk into the easyâ€"chair and sat looking at him, her lovely eyes dreamin fixed on his dry, wrinkled and not unkindly face. “Yes, you have been very kind, Mr. Morrel; I do not know what I should have done without you.” “Not at all, not at all I” he said, waving his hand, deprecatingly. “All in the way of business, miss. Only did my duty. I was your fa- ther’s legal adviser before you were born; in fact, I have had the Car- lisle business in my hands ever since I entered the glorious profes~ sion of the law.” Floris inclined her head; though her eyes were fixed on his, her thoughts were wandering miles awayâ€"to Ballyfloe, to Lady Betty, to Bruceâ€"ah, yes, to Bruce! “I don’t suppose any one knew more of the great lawsuit, Norman vs. Carlisle, than I did,” he went on, sipping his tea. “A wonder- ful lawsuitâ€"and wonderfullyâ€"most romantically concluded,” and he bowed to Floris. Her face flushed for a moment at the name of “Norman,” then went pale again. Romantically con- cluded indeed! If he could but have guessed how romantically, even the dry old lawyer as he was would not have been so complacent. “But to return to the business in hand,” he said, with a. little cough. “1 have been going into the late Mrs. Carlisle’s affairs, and I am sorry to say that they have not proved as satisfactory as I could desire, no, not nearly as satisfac~ tory,” and he shook his head. Flbris turned her sad, wistful eyes upon him; for a momeAnt. Since her mother’s death there had been one or two interviews, in each of which he had talked and she had listened, but understanding lit~ tel or nothing. ’ “I am very sorry,’ she said, more for his sake than her own. “Yes, so am I. I had hoped that, upon examination, the estate would have come out pretty flour- “She had no idea. as to where his words were drifting. II 35a “Iâ€"I beg your pardon.” she said meekly. “Yes, I understand. You mean that I am not asâ€"rich as you thought I should be?” He looked at her curiously. “Exactly; that is what I was trying to convey, Miss Carlisle. The estate has been so much encum< bered and entangled that your mo- ther scarcely knew how she'really stood.” ishing. It was rather a confused and tangled businessâ€"the lawsuit had entailed a great loss, and there were several mortgages; but I had hoped that we should have been able to clear them offâ€"I am afraid I don’t make myself plain,” he broke off, for Floris’ gaze had set- tled on the fire again, with a far- off expression. “And having gone into matters I find that the prospect is not near- ly so inviting as it should be,” he continued, smoothing out his gloves and frowning at the teacup. Floris watched him with listless attention. “To add to our difficulties,” he resumed, having arranged hls gloves to his satisfactoion, “the principal mortgagee has chosen this particular time to foreclose. He could not have chosen a worse, be- cause prcperty is at a very low ebb in the market, and a. sale would not do more than realize a half of the money lent. I am afraid I scarcely make myself understood?” “Poor mamma Floris, slowly. “I have endeavored to persuade him, the principal mortgagee, to waive his claim to foreclosure, but I have not succeeded. He wants the money, and in simple langu- age, Miss Carlisle, he must have it.” i But in truth she did not realize all that his legal phraseology im~ plied. “Yes, oh, yes,” said Floris again. “Therefore it will be necessary, indeed, inevitable, that the estate should be sold.” “Yes,” said Floris. “Please sell it allâ€"all but the cottage. I would like to keep this and live here.” Poor Mr._Morre1 coughed and knit his brows. , They say that lawyers always dread having dealings :with female clients, they are So long in underâ€" standing exactly how the land lies; and certainly Floris was long in understanding. “But, my dear Miss Carlisle,” he said, leaning forward; “I am afraid this cottage must be sold." It had come at last! Floris sat up and looked at him. “The cottage must be sold! But â€"â€"but Mr. Morrel, I wish to live here. I wish to live here asâ€"as my mother did!” He frowned and brushed an im- agigary crumb from his coat sleeve. “I am very sorry, but I am afraid this cottage must be sold, Miss Car- Iiale. Of course I am aware that, placed as you are, this is merely a, matter of arrangement. You are to be, if you are not now, the posâ€" sessor of immense wealth, and can buy the cottage for yourself.” “I don’t understand,” said poor Floris slowly. Mr. Morrel grew desperate. ‘ “In one word, Miss Carlisle, we find that your mother’s estate, if sold, will barely pay off the mort» gage upon it, andâ€"~and that if you were not the betrothed of Lord Norman you would be penniless.” Mr; Moirei, driven into corner, pullgd himself together. Floris " rose, white _and calm, dreggfully calm. "What?! What did you say ?” she asked, ygry quietly. ‘ “That is the Ei ple English of it, Miss Carlisle,"$e said. “We find that the liens on the estate are so great that to meet them every- thing must be sacrificed.” FIBris stood, leanirig her hand on the table. ‘ “Butâ€"but there is my own mon- ey 2” she said faintly. Mr. Morrel wagged his head. It was certainly hard work hav’ ing to do business with a, lady, and a. young one, especially. “You forget, Miss Carlisle, that your own little fortune) went in pay» ing the costs of the lawsuit between you and Lord Norman,” he replied. "Mr. Morrel,” she said, quietly and calmly, “you are laboring un- der 3 misapprehension. I am not the future Countess of Norman.” ' She shuddered at {he soufnd of the name. “Thenâ€"then I am penniless ‘1” she said. He smiled. “Well, yes, if you put it as blunt- ly as that, you are,” he said; “But,” and he smiled unctiously, with quiet enjoyment, “that is a. small matter to the future Countess 0! Norman 3" Floris turned deathly pale, but her eyes never left his face. , “Yesv, oh, yes,’ said Floris, calm- “Notâ€"not~â€"not the futureâ€"â€"but, I)? murmured “All the world knew’ 'of it. per- haps,” said Floris,vsteadily, though her eyes wavered and her lips quiv- ered. “But not all the world, 'it seems, knows that the engagement in broken off.” “Broken off I” he exclaimed, star ing through his spectacles aghast at her words. “Do you mean to say, Miss Carlisle, that you are not en- gaged to marry Lord Norman?” V Floris shook her head. His amazement and consternation al- most amused her. my dear Miss Carlisle, all the world know; of your engagement!” “Yes,” she said, “theâ€"the en- gagement is broken off, Mr. Mor- rel. You must not take Lord Nor- man into your calculations.” “But that is just what I have been doing!” he said, stolidly. “I was under the impression that you were betrothed to the earl, and thatâ€"that in shortâ€"good Heavens, my dear young lady, how did this happen ?” and the poor man rubbed his knees in a state as nearly ap- proaching agitation as a lawyer permits himself. - In despair and misery Floris laughed, actually laughed. “What does it matter?” she said. “Results are all you lawyers care for? Mr. Morrel, and I have given you the result. There is no engagement between Lord Norman and myself. It ceased before â€" be- fore my mother’s death.” “Great Heaven!” he exclaimed. “Dear me! good gracious! Then â€"â€"then you are actually penniless!” She smiled. “Yes, I suppose so,” she said, so calmly that he stared at her. “It sounds very dreadful, but I suppose it, is not so bad as it sounds." M§§+ ++++ 0-H ++ it Q § Ov‘H’. Fall calves can be more profit- ably raised than those dropped in the spring, according to reports from the Irish Department of Ag- riculture. When it is considered that the mortality of calves is greater in summer than in winter the figures for the South of Ireland being 9 per cent. and 0.5 per cent. respectively, a substantial induce- ment is held out to breed more fall calves. This success with winter- raised calves may not be duplicat- ed in this county yet it is common observation that flies and heat do the spring calves a lot of damage, and its frequent neglect during the first winter just after weaning proves a distinct loss to its feedâ€" ers. Fall calves suffer less from flies and make good use of the grass, suffering little inconvenience from the withdrawal of milk in the spring. During their first winter, they have the support of the milk and by the next winter they can shift for themselves far better than can the freshly weaned spring calf. M+H++HH++ H ++§+++§ FALL CALVES. Now that far-sighted dairymen are becoming impressed with the improvement in quality of their herds to be secured by saving home-bred heifers, the subject of winter calfâ€"raising is engaging their attention. Winter high prices for milk and its products induce increasing numbers of dairymen to freshen their cows in the fall. as they have found that the silo goes fax toward reducing the cost of production so as to leave much of the extra. milk receipts for profit. Winter-raised calves are a. sucâ€" cess and less costly than those nursed on grass-made milk. Their production fits in well with the plans of dairymen who are alive at; once to the profits from winter dairying with the aid of a silo the difl‘iculty of buying springers of good quality and the certain in- crease in milking capacity in herds replenished by well-sired home» grown heifers.â€"-Breeders Gazette. The Michigan Poultry Breeder says that at this period of the year some of the hens will be guilty of eating their eggs, and it is one of the most annoying vices that can exist in a flock. It is a. habit that is acquired, one hen becoming ad- dicted to it and teaching the others. Hens will never eat their eggs, however, unless induced to do so from some cause. If fresh shells are given them or an egg becomes broken, they learn that they have a. source of food, and take advan- tage of their opportunity. The vice cannot be cured; that is, if the hens once begin to eat eggs they will always do so if they can. The best remedy, however, is to get rid of them; begin with a. new flock. About the Farm HENS THAT EAT EGGS. (To be continued.) By arranging the nests eggâ€"eating? may he sometimes prevented, but}. does not destroy the desire. Get a' soap box with a top and compel the! hen to go into the box for a. nestlk at the end, so as to compel her to! walk in. The box should be just large enough for her to sit in, andl not stand up comfortably. FiX' the nest ten inches from the floor. or so she cannot stand on the floor and eat the egg out of the box. If: she cannot stand in the box she will not attempt to eat the egg when on the nest. A surprisingly large quantity of poultry coming to market is not fasted before killing and often ar- rives with crops full of food and protruding. This distended crop is decidedly unsightly and percep» tibly lowers the appearance of the birds. Why will not people learn that a bird’s crop gorged with food is a handicap to its sale? More over it distinctly lowers the quality of the flesh as well. It has been de- monstrated that the flesh of poulâ€" try that fasts for from twenty- four to thirty-six hours before kil- ling is more delicate of flavor and of better keeping quality than those which have food in process of digestion at time of killing. The digestive process carries with it certain ferments that affect the flea vor of the flesh. The question as to whether the calf should come in the fall or in the spring is to be determined by the comparative profit of the sumâ€" mer’s or winter’s market. The win- ter's milk cost more money, but it brings more. It costs more in feed, in shelter, and about the same in labor, and the relative price of milk fed must determine whether the calf shall come in the fall or in the spring. As farmers settle down to dairying as a business they will more and more aim to make it an all-the-yearqound business, and hence will have calves coming all the year around, with a. greater proportion of fall calves than here- tofore. This will give creameries permanent work which is essential to their profit, and will bring dairy- ing down more and more to & legi- timate and profitable business all the year aroun-‘l. Designed’for Women Who Wish tc Navigate the Air. A London firm has already do- sign-ed and had made what it call- an aerial costume; in other words, a, dress to be» worn by women aero- nauts. It is of the best» sheepskin~ in a. beautiful dull raisin red, though of course any other color could be chosen. ' The sleeves are caught, in at thex wrist wit-h an elastic band and over‘ these long stiffened gauntlet glove; am to be worn. The coat is lined throughout with a soft thick camel fleece in the natural color. The divided skirt- is extremely full and is lined with satin and caught a’ the knee into fairly wide band which go under the high boots. 1 For headwear the newest type) of; motor bonnet is the style 511 gest ed. It; is of the cottage sin-per composed of leather to match the‘ suit, and has rather a deep front,1 which is lined with ruched satin‘ and generally worn folded back ‘in front a few inches- It can. how ever, be turned forward when nec essary and makes a capital shadv' for the eyes from the sun. At th neck the bonnet is put into a doe sort of shaped collar which button over with two small horn button; at one .side of the front. 1 The'coat is cut; to come just be- low the hip line, says the Queen, buttons down the front and is close fitting. The. buttons are of natur- a} colored born; but here again a. wide diversity is possible, for these horn buttons are now to be had in any color to match the leathers: Moreover, it is quite airtight, and owing to the way in which the collar on the bonnet overlaps that on the coat, the gauntlets cover the lower sleeve and the high boots: come over the bands of the divided skirt at the knee there is not a cre- vice where the wind can slip in, as it would certainly be apt to' do when one is whistling through the air at the rate of a mile a. min;- ute. The whole effect of the outfit. is". neat and smart in the extreme, yet‘ the pretty and becoming-bonnet, gives it a picturesque appearance.‘ The entire thing is designed to be‘ thoroughly practical and comfor- table and to take up as little room and impede the movements as lit- tle as possible. _ _' . . ' l When a man begins :10 blow in his money a. lot of people get wind of it. ~- A I SPRING OR FALL CALVES. FAST BEFORE KILLING. AN AERIAL COSTUME.