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

About four in the afternoon I reached BIetchley, where I sat. down under a. hay-_ rick near the road, and pieced together a letter to mv sister, telling her briefly that I had left. Black Jack, and bidding her send me a. few lines in care of the General Post OflicekLongiou. VARIHY IS. IHE yuan-1,...“ ‘uu. vmv This done, I continued my journey. I should have been better pleased to see Alice and take her advice; and as she was in service at Redford, not more than eight miles from Bletchley, I felt sorely tempted to visit her. But I was so shabby in my coarse working dress, and had so low pence in my pocket, that I could not flgd in my heart_to go ang asknfor. her. I posted my let2er, and walked on. About. eight o’clock I passed through a small village a few miles south of Ched- dington, and here I bought a. pint of new milk and a roll for my supper, after which I turned from the road along a. meadow footpath, and coming to a hazel rove, stretched myself upon the bracken y a bramble bush, and was soon asleep. could not afford a. lodging that night, as I had but. Sixpence left, and a long day’s march still lay between me and London. I was awakened early by the shrill pip- ing of a blackbird. and sat up, feeling 1d and stiff. and wondering where I was. he grass and ferns were wet with dew, and the dewdrops sparkled on every leaf and twig: a cloud of gnats and hover- !lies flew round me, making a drowsy um: the air smelt of the grass and the eaves and through the slim branches of the trees I could see a. blue-skirted, brown-armed mower whetting hisuscythe. And now I was to meet my first experi- ence of Christian charity. I was passing a pretty little house just beyond Box Moor, and seeing a lady in a white mus- lin dress and a white sun bonnet trim- ming a rose bush in the garden, I made hold to ask her for a drink of water. we] She was a young girl, as fair and as pretty as the flowers she tended, but I suppose she had never known want or trouble, for she turned her light blue eyes upon me very wldly and said, in a. sharp tone, “Certainly not. The servants have to fetch every drop of our water from the well, and we have none to waste 1113011 tramps.” The preparation of appetising and nourishing food is often a perplexing matter, but variety in food is essential and the troubles of the housewife have been greatly lessened by Bovril which is the most convenient form in which a complete food can be prepared. In a minute you can have comforting and nourishing bouillon or Bovril Tea. Bow-i1 Sandwiches, thin bread and butur with 130le spread lightly between, or hot buttered toast with a little Bovril are positive delicacies. Bovril is excellent for gravies and soups and a little used in reheating meat adds I choice piquancy and improves digestiiblity. I turned away from the garden gate and limped on without. a. word. I felt more sorry than hurt, I felt more ashamed for her than for myself, and I remem- bered the lady who gave me the lily, and the gentle look she gave me with it, and I began to understand dimly why that look had moved me so strongly. It was the light of love that had shone in on my dark soul from those great sweet eye-3., The light of the love that. is of no sex, no nation, and no creed; of the love that is Christ-like in its humanity and divinity; the love that hopes all, believes all, pardons all, and glorifiea all. So I blessed the lady of the lily, and fared on. And so I trudged on refreshed and rest ed. and feeling less friendless and more hopeful than at any time since I left Halesoweu. That night I slept in another brickfield within sight of London, and at ten o‘clock next morning entered the great city. and walked on. wondering and bewildered by the bustle and the noise, until I stood at. th_e foot of Ludga-be Hill. But after tea this apparently uncouth laborer set to work with cheery kindness to doctor my crippled feet. He ran soaped worsted through the blisters, rubbed them with soap, gave me a pair of well-darned wooilen socks to wear, and when, about. 31x in the evening. I resumed my jour- ney. stood at his door and'barked out after me, "Good speed. sonny. Slow an’ eaayfioesj’c. A big ’eart hears a big ’iil." But my progress was painfully slow; and it was well on in the afternoon ere I had measured fifteen miles of the dusty road, and found myself passing a. row of mean little cottages built at the edge of a brickfield. At the door of the first house a SIOut, swarthy woman of middle age stood knitting. and I asked her, although her face was by no means inviting, if she would give me a, cup of water. She looked at me steadily for a. mo. ment from under her great blue cotton hood, then said, in a deep, rough voice, "Aye, marry, why not, boy? Ye looks th‘ .ved coom fur, and it be hot. it be, my these l‘opads vara‘rymdgostyi” "I thaxiked her, and skid I hid not pass- ed a stream for many miles, and was very thirsty. “Whyv sure-1v.” said the woman, "and belike ye’ll mom in fur a while, an’ I’ll vet ye a coon 0' tea; wheerby it's joost. now ready. in manner 0’ speakin', an’ my 'oosband ’11 be in fro’ the brickfield orgy minutg, Nor would she take a. refusal, so that I found myself directly seated in a cane chair at the rough deal table, with a. cup of tea and & plate of bread and butter before me, and the wood woman stand- im: bv my side knitting, and uttering words of wonder and sympathy as I told her of the distance I had come, and must yet 20 before I reached London. ' “Aye.” she said, "but Loondon's no good lace, boy. an’ ye’d be better back at oome. But, ve must not goa theer whiles ,ve rest yersel‘. and’ ye’re lame too, as I see, poor boy; awe, but it be a. long rooad ye ’ave to tyav_el.”_ And then the husband came in and bade me welcome, and took his tea, and con- verned with his wife in short mumbles and gruff growls, interspersed with muttered "Aye. wells." and “Dear ’earts,” and “Nay, nivera.” as he learned the history of my pilgrimage. As I stood in the Bundle of Ludgate Cir- cus and watched the human river flow THE WHITE LADY; CHAPTER III.~â€"(Cont’d) OR, WHAT THE THRUSH SAID. SPlBE 0F UFE round in converging and diverging streams, the embers of my hope died out. and a sense of utter loneliness came over me. All that vast city round me, all those teeming millions of fellow-creatures so near to me, and amongst it all I had not a friend, not one soul to speak 10: For an hour I stood and wan-419d the crowd. No one noticed me. ‘50 one seem- ed to notice anything. Everybody was eager, and self-contained. and in a. hurry. On all the faces there seemed to rest the same grey shadow of care, in all the eyes there seemed the same cold light of sus- picion. and at length I became conscious of a strange feeling. half shame and half fear, as a grim fancy grew upon me that if I dropped dead there in that street the men and women I saw would simply step over me without looking down, and that my death would make no more lasting impression on that awful human river than the fall of a stone into a. troubled stream. This was my first experience or London. and it has clung to me. Even at this day I could not pass that spot without shiv- ering as a. man shivers when a. clond covers the sun. London people are much like other people I know, but the sight of a vast and busy crowd is terribly de- pressing. The huge grey columns of Rus- sian infantry. which used to come down upon us in the night outside Sebastopol. did not. appear to me nearly so hostile or tremendous as the people in the London streets appeared that day. It was With a. alum face and a heavy heart that, I oon~ tinned my wallg towards the post. office. I stood looking blankly at the paper after I had read it. Alice ill. Come at once. Condition serious. Yes. and I had passed within a few mxles of Bedford. And now Redford was full forty "miles away. and I was hungrv weary, penniless, foot- sqre, and almost shoelcss. Dear Sinâ€"Your sister, Miss Alice Homer, is very ill, and wishes to see you at once. Please come quickly. Her condition is serious.â€"Yours trulyL There velas a. letter for me, hddressed in a strange hand. I went out under the portioo to read it: I looked at the nostofilce clock. It was twelve noon. I put the letter into my pocket, and asked the way to the nearest. railway station. There I found a. map. and by it discovered what route I must, take. I also begged a bit of string from a porter. and. having fastenedmy broken boots together as well as possible, I set out on my walk at a. few minutes to one. With the exception of the short rest, near St. Albans, I never halted once from the time I left the city until nearly midnight. By this time I was just beyond Hurling- ton. about twelve miles' walk from Bed- ford, and being fairly exhausted, I‘thx‘ew myself upon a. patch of grass by the road- side with the intention of taking a. full hour’s rest. But before I had been there many minutes I felt a great spot of rain upon my face, and, looking up, noticed for the first time that the sky was en- tirely overcast, and that a chill wina was puffing up the dust in the road and caus- ing the tree under which I lay to shiver and sigh. It was still very close and hot. and what with the heat, and the crowd, and my lameness, I made very poor progress for the first four or five hours. But I did not try to force the pace. Anxious as I was not. to lose one single minute of time. I was yet well aware that it would tax mv powers to the utmost to get through it all, and that my only chance was to go steadily so as not to break down before the end of the journey: V I left. London bv Highgate Hill, pushing on thence through Finchley, Mill Hill, and Elstree to St» Albans, which place I passed about six o’clock, and feeling very faint. sat down by a bridge across a little brook to rest and bathe my feet in the (>001 water. While I was sitting there two little girls came along the road; They were poorly but cleanly clad. and were eating bread and apples. They glanced at me with some apprehension and hurried by; but when they had gone some little way stopped, and aft-er a few words of talk the bio-crer of the pair, a round-eyed, ruddy-faced child of seven, came slowly back, and, approaching me timidly, held out to me her piepe of breAad. Then came a low rumble of distant thunder. The big rain-drops splashed down thicker and faster, mud a faint- flash of lightning showed across the fields, re. vealing for an instant, a ilhouette of poplar tree and steeple against a. back- ground of coppery c10_ud. Within a minute I was in the ‘hack of one of the most tremendous storms i have ever seen. The rain fell in torrents. The road become a muddy stream, the footpath almost too greasy to walk upon. I was drenched to the shin before I~had gone a furlong. The water ran down my breast. and back. trickling from my fingers and face, and through the holes in my boots. The thunder burst .over my head, pea] after neal, with sudden detonations. like the explosion of heavy shell. and the light- ning rent and flooded the sky from end to end with blinding sheets and dazzling zig- 239‘s of flame. Twice the bolts struck trees close by me, tendinv and smashing the boughs and sending- the leaves and twigs about me in showers. Once the lightning seemed to blaze right in my eyes, so that I could not see for many minutes, and that time a. thunderclan exploded, as I thought. within a yard of me, with a. noise like the discharge of a great gun and a shock that made the earth shiver. But through it all, for two' awful hours. I limped and staggered along with head bent low, teeth and hands clenched. and I took it without speaking, and she, never looking in my face, ran off to her sister, and both went skipping and laugh- ing down the rroaidr toggthelj. It was a little thing. but it meant much to me. I ate the breadvabout four ounces -â€"took a drink from the stream, and re- sumed my journey. There were still thirty miles between me and Bedford, and but for that crust I think I should have died upon, t1_1e rrgad. And I did not want to die. Alice was ill, and longing to see me. I must get on. With painful distincmess I recalled the weary hours of illness when I had lain at borne, weak and querulous from fever and hunger, counting the ticking of the clock and listening for my sister's step. And she had never failed to come, nor to comfort me by her coming. And now she lay sick. amongst strangers, listen- ing for me. I looked along the dusty road, now half covered by the blue sha- dows of the hedges, and I tightened the strap round my waist and tramped dog- quly on. There was going to be an am In. For a few moments I knelt there in the dark. thinking what I had 1-H,th do. but =1 sudden idea that the lighuxing might, kill me before I had accomplisned mv vask decided me, and I scrambled up and stag- gered_ forward. CHAPTER IV. "HELEN ARMITAGE in my mind nothing but the thought of Alice, in and miserable, and hoping against? hope for thg isoungi of_m_y yoige. A little after twoâ€"I heard a clock strike in a, village I was nearingâ€"the storm sub- sided iuto hollow rumblings and fltful flashes, though the rain fell, if anything. more heavily than before. I was not hungry now, not thirsty. only faintrand giddy. and so tired that I could hardly force myself to drag- one foot behind the other. I stopped for a minute, and, tak- ing OK the muddy remnants of mv boots. threw them into the road, and went on bal‘efooted, and suffering severely at every Step. until at last, more dead than alive, I passed the first villas on the south side of Bedford, just as the clocks were chiming the quarter__a.ft~er five. It was broad daylight, the rain had ceased. the skv was blue and almost cloudless, and the air wan rich with the Seem; of the summer flowers. I had ac- complished my task. The night and the journey were over, and 1 way in Bedfqrd. I found Mrs. Armitage's house a few minutes later. It was called Fern Lodge, and stood in a. pretty garden just oil the main road. I stopped and leaned upon the gate. The blinds were drawn; the door closed. Nobody seemed to be stir- ring. There was no light visible in any window. The gravel all around the porch was strewn with the yellow petals of the tea roses beaten down bv the storm; on the left. a bed of scarlet poppies hung their dripping blooms like wet flags, and in the little thicket of laburnums a thrush was singing cheerily as thrushes only do sing in the early morning. I don’t know how it was, not why. but now, when I stood for the first time With- in sight of the house I had come so far to find, the conviction suddenly came up- on me that; I had come in vain. "Too late. too late, too late!” seemed to be the bur- den of the thrush’s song, and the rain- drops on the roses looked like ’oegrs. Well, I must know the worst. I went round to the side-door and rang the bell. The door was opened immediately by a stout, middle-aged woman in a servant's dress and cap. She started back in alarm when she saw me. and would have shut the door, but. I put my bare foot. over the threshold and managed to croak out the wordfs, “I am William Homer. M" sister â€"A1ice+is sheâ€"P” "r‘fi’évwbhé‘h' apbeared bewildered. "111 v0 and call missia,” she said, holding the door irresolutely in her hand. “First answer my question,” said Iâ€"“Is my sister dead?" Having read my, answer in the servant‘s eyes, I did not wait to hear it from her lips. My sister was dead. What could mere talk avail? Without a word I turned away from the door, and limped down the gravel path, between the quenched flame of the popny bed and the ra-invcrusherl sweetness of the mignonette. The thrush still sang in the tree. I heard his note, "Too late, too late!” All around me the world was hushed in the tranquil still- ness of the early dawn; all above me stretched the liquid blueness of the sum- mer sky. I seemed to feel those things as in a dream. I reached the road, turned to look at the house again, saw all the picture as through red glass, heard a strange buzzing like the song of swarm- ing bees, felt the earth heaving under my feet like the deck of a ship at sea, and then something struckme across the tem- ples and I knew no more. *"Iv‘hew;7c;<;inamxrlobked at me, and I saw the answer in her eyes, and it. was, Yes. a élasé of water sheyheld in her shaking hand. ‘ I hid minced. and ‘had ,fallen heavily on my face in the road." ga'shing my fore- head deeply. ‘ When I recovered consciousness I was sitting on the path, with my back against the garden wall. and the servant kneeling beside me staunching my wound with a napkin, and Dressing me to Vdrinl; from "Are you better?" said a voice, which sounded a long way off. I turned my heavy eyes and saw a tall, grey figure, like the shadow of a woman, standing be- tween me and the trees. I tried to speak, tried to rise, and fainted again: After a blank space of time, whether of minutes or of vears I could not judge, I found myself once more. I was lying on my back, and staring at the ceiling of a strange room. It was a yellow ceiling- and upon it was a raised pattern of flow- ers and leaves in gold. The sunlight glin- ted on the edges of the mouldings and hurt my eyes. I shut them and lav silent for a while, wondering where I was, try- ing to recall my own name, until there fell faintly on mv ear the sound of a bird's song. which said, “Too late, too late, too late!” and I _realized at once that Alice was dead that I was lying on the sofa in the drawing-room of her mis- tress’s house, and that, the portly man in black, sitting on the edge of a. hand- some chair and holding my hand in his, was a doctor. I wetted my lips, and pushed the glass away. My first feeling was one of shame. my next; feeling one of pride. I remembered my soiled and shabby dress, my shoeless feet, my weakness and my destitution, and my heart burned with the thought that these rich people should see m" mis- ery‘ and perhaps regarded me coldly as aÂ¥burden on itheir charity. I struggled into a sitting posture, snatching my hand away from the doc- tor, and said rudely, “What, are you do- ing? Let me go.” The doctor smiled good-humoredly. “All right," he said; “no one will de- tajn you. Get up and march." I lay back upon the cushions and closed my eyes. I did not want to see lthe fine lady of this fine house. I remembered the young girl who had refused me a. drink of water. I wished that the lightning had struck me dead rather than that I should live to see the cold glance that told me I was an intruder. I tried to do this: but struggle as I would I could not drag my heavy limbs from the couch. My back seemed broken, m" arms hum: down like bars of lead. I sank back. helpless, and tears of pain and mortificapion filled, my eyes. '7 “Clara” said the docforf in a. rich, thick voice, “ask Mrs. Armitage if she can spare us a. moment, of her time." And then I felt a cool. soft hand strok- ing my face, and heard a. woman's voice, such a low, sweet voice, saying. "Poor fellow! what an awful thing! and he is but a. boy. a mere bov.” and I looked up and saw a. tall lady‘ dressed all in grey. and with grey hair and grey eyes, who was leaning over me with a look of new the sadness, just; as my sister did in the years when I was still a child. Thev fed me, and nursed me, and clothed me. those kind neople. in spite of mv re‘ peated protestations; aund when my poor sisterwas laid in the earth, I felt com- forted by the assurance that the last vears of her life had been made bright by love and tenderness, and that in the valley of the shadow of death kind hands had upheld and sweet. words cheered her spirit. I went through the funeral ceremony calmly and without emotion. I had no pang of anguish at the thought of my sister's death. My spirit seemed to be steeped in a strange, unnatural tranquil- ity. I saw the yellow earth piled up at the graveside, with daisies peeping through it where it lav the thinnest. I heard the dull droning of "he parson’s voice, and the joyous trills z (1 cadence}; of a skylark’s son~ filling up the paunes in the solemn service. I looked up at the glistening skv and thought that the fluttering bird might be my sister’s soul CHAPTER V. glorifying in its release from the muddy flesh. I heard the parson beg forgiveness for the sins’of our dear sister departed, and felt tempted to laugh. It was "ro- tesque; the idea of a mere‘man in:er- ceding with God on behalf of the white- souled, golden-hearted Alice! What was there to pardon in her blameless life? What mortal spirit could deserve a. bright- er crown. And then the earth rattled on the coflin, and the parson closed his book, and the lark sang out a. fitting requiem, one of joy and triumph for the death of a wo- man and the birth of an angel, and we moved away in silence through the sheeny grass, and amongst the lichened tombs where so many of the strong and the frail lay deadâ€"forgotten of the sons of men. That night Mrs. Armitage came to me as I sat in the garden watching the swal- lows play. and laying her hands upon my shoulders said, "My poor boy, you have not yet felt your trouble, and when it comes upon you it will not be well for you to be alone. I have gone through it all myself, and I know the bitterness of the trial. You will stay here. We will find you work. Promise me that." But I shook my head and answered 'bhat I must go my wayâ€"I felt that I must press on. The good widow reasoned with ~me in vain. I would 20, and I would accept, no help in money except one sovereign, and that but as a. loan. So she said. "God bless you, my poor boy. Be good, my dear, be good." and I set out once again for London. In the loneliness of the great city my grief began to make itself felt. Day after day as I went from place to place seeking work, or lay on my bed listening to the distant roar of the traffic and the tolling of the bells, the shadowy cloud of sorrow assumed more definite shape, and the two awful ideas that I was utterly alone. and that I should never see Alice againâ€"never never, never-took such hold upon me that I began to hate my life, to shrink from contact with my fellow-creatures, and to brgod upgn theithought pf death. One night, as I sat in the dismal coffee- room of the place where I lodged, with my head in my hands and blankness in my heart and eyes, I gradually became conscious of a boy’s voice pleading for "just one chanceâ€"just this one,” and of a grufi voice, known to me as the waiter’s, answering, "no," and "no," and “no.” The waiter brushed an imaginarv crumb off the table, and set the caster ntraizht. “Where is the lad?" said I. “He’s gorne out, a-lookin’ fer a copper,” he answered. “It’s rather ’al‘d lines, it is. ’Cos ’e’s only an ’apenny short of 'is price, ’e is; an’ ’e'a been a hour a-tryin’ to col- lect it in the Strand. ’e ’ave; which no- body down’t. give nothin’ away as they wa_{1ts ip London. they down't.” The idea that he might have given the boy the halfpenny did not seem to have occurred to the waiter at all. I asked him to call the boy back and send him to I got if) and called thé 'waiter to me. "What’s the matter?” I aaked. _ The waiter shrugged his shoulders. "0w. It’s nothin’,” he said; “only a. boy as wants a. bed, an’ ’as no bra-e +0 nav fer it. ‘Common enough, that. there in our busmess.”’ Then I counted my money. I had two shillings and a penny. Unless I found Work to-morrow. I should be soon desti- tute. But this was a cheap house. and the beds only Sixpence, so that I was still rich enough to entertain a. guest. The boy; came back in afminute with Take A Scooptul 0! Eachâ€"- Side By Side Take “St. Lawrence" Granulated in one scoop~â€"-and any other sugar in the other. is one of the choicest sugars ever refinedâ€"with a standard of purity that few sugars can boast. Try it in your home. Analysis shows, “St. Lawreqce Grqnulated" to be “99 99lxoo'to x00! Pure Cane Sugar thh no xmpuritics whatever" Look at “St. Law- rance” Sugar -â€" its perfect crystals â€"â€" its pure, white sparklcâ€" _ its even grain. Test it point by point, and you will see that ST. LAWRENCE SUGAR REFINERIES LIMITED. III».......--- Refi1 Absolutely Best CHAPTER VI. "Most every dealcr sells St. Lawrence Sugar.” He had no parents. His mother had been dead five years. His father, a, soldier. dis- charged as unfit for service, had died in Dover workhouse a month ago. The boy after trying to enlist for a. drummer. and being rejected. owing to a defect in his left hand, had lived upon the charity of the soldiers in the Shorncliffe Camp un- til the provost had expelled him, when he set off and tramped to London. the waiter. His name was Harrv Field- inu and he apneared to be about fourteen years of age. He Was very thin and pale, and his clothes were covered with white dust. I asked him to sit down. ordered him some tea. and waited for him to tell his story. He had walked twentyfive miles that day along the dusty roads without food, and had sold his waist/mat. and necker- chief for fivenence to a Jew clothes~deal~ er. He told me, with the ghost of a smile. how he had spent an hour in fruitless efforts to persuade the Jew to Rive him another penny; and how the waiter in the coffee-room had sent, him out to beg for the same amount. “But,” said he, with a sigh, “I could only get a halfpenny, and he wouldn’t let me until I had six- pence,” From Shidzuoka comes a graphic account of a bloody combat be- tween an eagle and a dog. says the Japan Advertiser‘ A few days ago, at about 8 a.m., while one Ano was engaged in farming at the foot of a. hill called Awagatabe in a. suburb of Shidzuoka, he saw his "favorite dog scamper away in unusual ex- citement. The farmer, struck with curiosity, followed in the direction in. which the dog ran and was amazed to see the animal jumping about and barking furiously in a. thicket near the bottom of a. large pine tree. On closer scrutiny he found the dog was waging a, savage battle with a, large eagle nearly five feet in height. The bird would descend upon the dog and atth it with its powerful talons, while the dog would spring awav alertly trying to bite its enemy. The exciting com- bat continued for some time‘ but at last threaten-ed to end in the de- feat of the dog. The farmer fetvched'a hatchet and rushed to the lsuccor of his pet, raining upon the eagle repeated blows. The dog. encouraged by this heln. attacked its antagonist with redoubled vigor‘ and after a while the eagle fell to the ground quite exhausted and covered with blood. Anvo took the captive home in triumph and has since been keep- ing it in his house. The eagle proved to be of enor- mous size and is said to be attract- ing great curiosity among the vil- lagers. §ugac (To be oqntinued.) Absolutely Pure MONTREAL