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It contained in addition to her book, a packet enclosing halfâ€"a-doz- en dried specimens of what‘ she knew at a glance were rare flowers, and a note. It ran as follows: With an unusual tremor, Floris opened it. The man’s mannerâ€"his words, had affected her curiously. She found herself going over them in her mind with a wild sense of having heard them before, or rather, hav- ing heard the voice before. She said nothing to Mrs. Sinclair of the meeting, but set to work that even- ing with a. strong determination to forget the Whole occurrence. In the morning, a messenger from one of the hotels brought; a packet and a; note addressedito Miss Lillian Wobd. “I have a friend who will be very glad to have them,” she said, simp- ly. “I am her assistant, and tne book was for he} use, not mine. Will you send them to the Violet Villa ’2 “I will,” he said. Floris went home in a strange condition of mind. “Madam: I send the book which I found. and £328 flowers. It would Herspoke with such gravity and respect that Floris could not find it in her heart to refuse the offer. “You are fond of flowers, study them, madam?” “Yes,” said Floris. "I judged so from the contents of the book. I also am fond of flow- ers. I have a collection, a. poor one, but there are some rarities among it. Should I be asking too much if I begged you to accept of two speci- mens, madam?” He bowed. Floris was about to rise and give him good-day when he spoke again. “Send it to Violet Villa,” mid Floris, “if {fan please.” “There was something else of yours, madam, which fell into my hands. A book~~â€"” “Yes,” saidFloris, quickly. “It was picked up close by the spot where I fell; and they gave it me under the impression that it be- longed to me. I. will restore it you if you will tell me where I may bring it.” He stooa beside her silently a. moment, then he said: ‘Floris inclined her head. If af- fected her, this knowledge that she had been watched and waited for by this strange man. “I would have returned it soonâ€" ei,” he said, “but the policeâ€"they are always fond of mystery â€" de- clined to give me your name. Perâ€" haps they were right, yes, they were quite rightâ€"~you had suffered enough annoyance. Not having your name, I was forced to wait and watch for you. I have seen you twice before, but not alone, and I Wanted to see you alone and thank And he took from inside the breast of his coat her handkerchief. “My handkerchief l” she murmur- ed. “I had forgotten it.” And she held out her hand. He was looking at the handker- chief with a strange, intent expresâ€" sion in his eyes, and it dwelt in th in still as he turned them on her and held out the handkerchief with a reluctance which, though not marked, Floris did not fail to no- tice. “I saw you for a. moment as the blow was struck, and at the hospi- tal they gave me this.” “Yes,” he said in a low voice. “You stanched the wound in time; they said at the hospital that my recbvery owed everything to that.” Floris looked down. “I did very little; I was too frightened. Bdt”â€"~with another up- ward glance~“how did you know it was I?” “Oh, it was nothing,” he said, quietly; “but it might have been worse but for you, madam.” “For me 1” with a. quick glance of surprise. “I am glad that you are better, that you were not badly hurt. I mean,” she added, glar'lcing at his arm, “that you were not; killed.“ It was said so coolly, with such an utter lack of resentment against the man who had attempted his life, that Floris gazed at him with re- newed interest;- CHAPTER XXVI.â€"â€"â€"(C.)nt’d) Fighting: Life’s Battle; 0R, LADY BLANCHE’S BITTER PUNISMBNT for “I?” exélaimed Floris, flushing, bufigvoidjgg higintgnse gaze. Mrs. Sinclair having bade him adieu, had turned to her books as if there was no one besides herself in the room. “Yes, Miss wood, ymf. Oh, do not think me so blind as. not to be “Yes,” he said. “You have driv- 8'1 me away I” “You are going to leave Flor- ence?” said Floris, for want of somgthing better to say. “Yes,” he answered with a. touch of sadness in his voice; “I am go- ing. I wanted to say ‘good-by’ in- stead of ‘good-day.’ Miss Wood.” Floris l6oked at; the paper spread out on the desk before her. Thexi he came and stood beside her, with his hat in his hand, and wafi‘tpd until she loglitedrup. As before, he devoted himself to the old lady, and did not venture to address Floris until just as he was leaving. “Are you going, Mr. Rdymond '2” sherisiaidr poldly. Floris vi'as in the libraliy with Mrs. Sinclair, and scarcely looked up when he came and made his bow; Two days pissed, and on the third 0533M _Raym9ndicarme again. ‘ He did not speak a, word to her for some time, but confined his at- tentions to Mrs. Sinclair, listening rather than talking, his wellâ€"shaped head with its close, ironâ€"gray hair, bent with respectful interest. “Well, well; it was through lyou l” said the old lady, impatientâ€" fly. “At any rate, I am much obliged to you. I don’t know when I have enjoyed a visit more. He doesn’t know very much about botany, but what he does know he knows thorâ€" ;01ighly; and he has traveled. There ‘does not seem to be any place that he does not know. Ah, that is where men have the advantage over us poor women ! He is coming here to- morrow to tea, and will bring some specimens with him.” i She ofliciatedvab the tea table, and gave him a cup of tea, then took a book and went to a, remote cor- ner. Mrs. Sinclair greeted him warmly b11~t_Florj§ merely inclined her head. The next evening as thclamps came in. Mr. Oscar Reymond was announced. “That’s a. wonderful young man you have discovered, my dear 1" she said, with unwonted enthusmsm. “I discovered!” said Floris, ele- vating her eyebrows. When she heard the servant let him out of the house, she returned to the library to find that Mrs. Sinâ€" clair was even more fascinated than she herself had been. On the morrow he came; and was shown into the library, and as the door was opened for him Floris passed out into the drawingâ€"room. “My dear girl, where did you get these? Who gave them to you? Where did you say? His collection ! Whose?” - Floris explained. ‘ Accept them! Rob the man of such treasures! Impossible, of course! But I must see it! If the rest are anything as good as this it muAt be priceless? What is his ad- dress ’2” Floris named the hotel. “Write to him at once, and ask him_ to call,” said the old lady. Floris hesitated for a. moment then. she went to her writing table and wrote a short note, thanking him for the flowers and book, and requesting him to call on Mrs. Sinâ€" Clair. She signed the note, of Course, with her assumed name, Lillian Wood, and she resolved that if he should accept the invitation, she would not appear. The old lady listened'indifferently enough until Floris came to the flower part of the story, then she woke to interest, and seized the specimens and uttered a. cry of de- light. Floris sat and pondered over this note for some moments; then she went. and bodily carried both flow- ers. and note to Mrs. Sinclair. afford me a. deep _satisfact-ion if you would allow me to offer you the re- mainder of my collection, which I hold as useless unless it prove of value in your eyes. Yours very truly, OSCAR RAYMUN D. She panted for breath, like a deer hard pressed by the hounds and held at bay. “Iâ€"I will not listenâ€"I cannot be- lieve. Oh, go~please, go,” she panted. ' He took up his hat. “Will you meet me in the square, under the limes, toâ€"morrow1 at sev- en?” he pleaded. “If it be the last time, meet me there. A soul trem- bling ’twixt evil and goodâ€"I beg for one last word." His voice grew hoarse and broken but still the nameless fascination held Floris bound as in a chain. I stand before you a different be- ing, reformed, purified by my love for you. I beg, I implore you to hesitate before you cast me off. Such as I am, my love for you has made me. For Heaven’s sake have pity on me.” “I love you with all my heart and soul! Send me away from you forever and I shall love you still. While I live I shall carry your im- age in my heart. I am a, changed man. I am Oscar Raymond 11b longer. I can scarcely recognize my- self! A month-ago I waS-all that you had _been told I was; but now “I love you,” he repeated, and Floris, as she listened, wondered why the words did not ring and re- echo in the ears of Mrs. Sinclair as they did in her own; but the enthu- siast was absorbed by her books and heard nothing. She could not lift her eyes to his, sh9_cquld not speak. A kind of mystic glamour seemed to enwrap her as in some subtle shroud. His Handsome face, the dark eyes glowing with passion of intense love seemed to sink into her soul. Floris was silent. The , witchery, the fascination which this man could exercise by voice and manner was insensibly stealing over her. “Bear with me 1” he pleaded, humbly. .“Though I know I risk ball by thus prematurely laying my 3heart: bare before you, I must speak! I must bare it! Miss Wood, Lillian! I love you!” Floris rose, pale and trembling. “Youâ€"â€"youâ€"â€"â€"” “I love you,” he said, white and trembling, even as she was. “There I have said it, and let; it stand. It has been on my mind~on my lipsâ€" no hoperof winning you, and yet Jurust say it. But, before I go, will you let me plead on my be; half 2” . “I cannot tell you how your cold- ness and avoidance of me affects me,” he went on, “but I cannot leave you forever without telling you that the change which has been wrought in me is your work, and has been as much your doing asâ€" a" that writing beneath your hand.” “I cannot“ listen,”‘v murmured Floris, slowly. Floris tried to rise, to speak, but she could not; the soft, musical voice held her bound and enthralled and as she listened came the old, old questions, “Where had she heard it before ’2” The soft, penitent voice, the hum- ble, pleading words affected her more than she cared to Show. “A month may be a, lifetime, and this month has been a, lifetime to me! I have learned that all my past life has been wasted, and of no accountâ€"worse than wasted, seeing how great a. barrier it has raised beâ€" tween such as I am and you.” Floris remained silent. Her heart beg-j; fast} and furiously. l “How '1” she asked in a low voice, ‘though she might have safely shout- ed so far as Mrs. Sinclair, absorbâ€" el in her books, was concerned. “In this,” he said, humbly. “You have heard stories about me; you have heard that I am one whose character is so bad that I am not fit to breathe the same air as yourâ€" self.” Floris bowed her lids. "You do not deny it,” he went on. “Would to Heaven that I could say they were false. But I cannot, least of all to you! But”â€"he sighed, and his voice grew strangely soft and sadâ€"“but it is possible for even such as I to repent and change. And I have done both. Miss Wood, the man who stands before you is a dif- ferent man to him whom you saw engaged in a vulgar brawl a month ago.” “No, do not say that! I know so well that you are glad this is the last time you will see me. And yet you do me wrong, believe me!” able to see that my presence is disâ€" tasfieful 120 you!’_’ U “M_r.1Ra.};mond!” she said, very rebukingly. “It is true,’? ,he continued sadly. “I know that you will be glad when I have gone. .You have avoided me so plainly thatâ€"+7 he paused. Aâ€" va-gtie feeling of remorse seiz- ed Floris. “I am very, very sorry,” she quietly murmured. It will be soon time to long for attacks of roup among the poul- try. Rainy days, damp houses and yards, and, more than all these, the drafts through the house, reach- ing; the birds on the roosts, are tnc firedisposing cause. This last can 9 easily guarded against, looking for cfacks and broken windows oeâ€" fnre the cold night winds begin to blow. There are many old meadows which would be much improved by having a. good scratching in‘ the spring when the grass begins to start, with a light sharp barrow, and then the application of from 200 to 400 pounds of commercial for- tilizer per acre. 1 In bone manures, some farmers like to see pieces of bone, looking like plums in a plum pudding and they regard their appearance as evidence of the good character of the manure. They are nothing of the sort, and very likely have been purposely put in to catch the farm- er’s eye. In a properly made bone manure the bone material is ground fine, and so changed in appearance [-7 the action of the acid that the bones cannot be seen. Superphosphate may be a. light grey or a brown; its tint simply depends on the color of the raw material from which it is manufac- tured. The farmer need not trouâ€" ble about the tint so long as the percentage of phosphate of lime is up to the guaranteed standard. Similarly, potash, salts and espe- cially kainit, is subject to consider~ able variation in color. It may be light grey or yellow or light red, but the tint of crlor has absolutely nothing to do with its fertilizing value. Sulphate of ammonia is a subâ€" stance which is very variable in apâ€" pearance; it may be red or white or yellow or blue, Without any real difference to the quality. The appearance, smell and color of artificial manures are no guide as to their value; the only true test in buying is chemical analysis al- though the best test is made by the crop itself. 'My experience of over forty years, as a breederclcarly demon- strates to me that the get of any sire, whether equine or bovine, has a, tendency to generally resemble the characteristics of the dam of that sire more than that of any other ancestor back of its own paâ€" rents; consequently in breeding dairy cows of difierent classes I have always endeavored to obtain a bull to head my herd from the best milking or butter cows to be obtained and generally with the best results. Reference is made to this opinâ€" ion of an experienced breeder and widely-known writer who says:~â€"â€" The bull is not developed like the iother animals mentioned, but he inherits his development, he acâ€" quires it through his dam, and his sire’s dam and his female ancestors. Although the good milking quality of a cow is not transmitted to her son so that he gives milk, it is transmitted through “the son to the son’s daughters, influenced in que- lity by the fact that the son did not exercise it. The site’s dam is, therefore, as close to the sire’s daughter as is the daughter’s own dam. While most farmers salt the‘r It has been a. matter of question, as a writer says, whether the pro- duce of developed or undeveloped animals were more likely to repro- duce the qualities for which they were bred. It is, however, now conceded by all intelligent breedâ€" ers that the only correct and safe course to pursue is to breed only from developed animals. In factâ€" the more highly developed the ani- mals are the better and the more generation of developed ancestors, the greater assurance of success, for inheritance is stronger when the possession of great capacity is found in several members of a fam- ily than when it appears only at rare intervals. ' “Iâ€"Iâ€"will meet you,’ ’ sh'e pant- ed. 1 BREEDING THE DAIRY COW ARTIFICIAL MANURES. FARM NOTES. (To be continued.) 1 “Well, ma’am,’ replied Jane, in- stinctifiely drawing her hand across her mouth, “I can’t say but \vhat it do tickle a, bit; butâ€"gie me. that before the scrubbing the master gies ye-he fairly makes yer fame sore.” ‘ “Jane, I cannot imagine how you can allow your bean to kiss you with such a, heavy moustache; I should think it must tickle very much.” “\Vell, ma’am,” replied Jane. in- Mrs. Jollie was a lady who was fond of a joke. One evening she chanced to meet her cook in the company of her sweetheart). Now Jane’s “young man” boast-ed of a hirsute adornment; on the upper lip of the first quality, while Mr."Jo}- iie kept his face clean ahaven. Theâ€"following morning the lady said to her: ‘ But I am quite sure that none of the old ladies would ever do any- thing to merit dismissal; they live apparently in the most} delightful bonds of sisterly love, taking any donations you may ‘give them for the maintenance of a donkey and small carriage, in which the infirm inmates may take an airing. Every applicant must prove her- :self to be of “an honest life and :conversation religious, grave and discreet, able to read (if, such an one maybe had), a. single woman, her place to be void upon marri- age, to be fifty years of age at, least, no common beggar, scold, haunter of taverns, inns or alebouses.” Once in, She must bear prayers read by the governess twice a day and be very regular in her attend- ance at church. Furthermore, we must never be found guilty of athe- ism, heresy, blasphemy, neglect of duty or misbehavior in the perform~ ance of it, or she will be expelled, sent out into the cold wofld again far from the haven of peace'arn rest. At Rising then, more than at'any place I know, we can fancy our- selves back in early Stuart days; having around us these "bedes wo~ men” dressed in the identical cos~ tumes of 300 years ago. Nothin has been changed in the fashion 0 1their clothes, nor in the deer little lrooms they inhabit. As for the in- mates themselves, surely they are pretty much the same as were those first fortunate old creatures who profited by Henry Howaré’s charâ€" ity and offered up their prayers for his benefit. For in this world of change nothing changes so little as the human heart, and the kinship of humanity runs through every age. The rules under which admittance is obtained were drawn up by the founder. ’ ‘English Home Where Fashion Hal: Not Changed in 360 Years. The beds ’house (which mean: praying house) was founded in the reign of James I. by Henry 110wâ€" ard, the eccentric Earl of Northâ€" ampton, and the Howard budge it still worn by the inmates on Sun- days and holidays. Nor is this the most curious detail of their attire, for the old ladies are garbed now just as they were in the first days of. the foundationâ€"blue gowns, scarâ€" let cloaks and high peaked hatg, like those worn by Welsh women, writes a London cori'eapondent. WOMEN OF THE BED-E HOUSE. er be mixed with nitrogenous ma~ nure until the latter is mixed with earth or some other absorbent o! nitrogen. In all decomposition there is a. resulting production of, ammonia, which becomes a total loss or evap- orates in the atmoephere if not abâ€" sorbed by some substance which-has the power of absorption. Land plaster has that power, and kainit has even more of it. Dry earth is also a. good absorbent, and the drier it'is the better it is, as water alone, while holding a' certain amount of ammonia in solution, parts with it to the surrounding atâ€" mosphere. Lime and ashes Iiberate ammonia, the ashes or any material containing potash, more than the lime. Therefore, they should nevâ€" stock with some degree of regular» ity, there are too many who defer this till they have nothing else to do. Very many do not realize the? ‘great importance of a constant aup-g plypf salt {or live stock. In some experiments that were made in ance it was found that a ,lot ofa steers which wore given free access’ to salt at all times made a much larger gain on the same ambuht of food than did a similar lot which: were not given salt at all, and an- other lot which was salted once a, week did but little better than: those which were not giygn any. A COOK WANTED.