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HERN FARMS Crops Fully as Important as Cotton and Corn. ABLE AS WINTER FEED SFarmer Should Make Growing ;pber a Big Part of His Farm Selecting Piece of Land for Purpose. (By G. H. ALFOIDI).) pestion of forage crops is not problem for southern farm aest every farm crop grown weed for forage. There are. _ many plants that will pro in abundance. Mrmer should make the grow sage an Important part of his as. Each year a large be.d should be selected espe the growing of forage crops. are of fully as much im pa cotton and corn, but they neglected crops. crop should be consid value. Prepare the land manure heavy, plant in feet apart, when the leaf as a dime, thin to 15 Inches Ml te often, and you will raise gsatity and find that the crop u ýgtable for winter feeding. the earliest spring feed, sow ao or wheat in the fall. Sow per acre on fertile soil, Sanured and well prepared. p eps usually produce feed by ea March and furnish good egt ia the dough stage. white, burr and red clovers i able winter crops to plant. and October are the best hfr seeding, and to be sure srop plant on fertile soil and seed bed, using plenty of sad 200 pounds of acid phos par acre. Sow from 15 to 20 et eed per acre. The yield a thoroughly prepared fertile about one and one-half tons The corn crop planted on rstbble will never fall you. as 20 tons of silage corn Is on clover sod. scels every other crop in amre, in feeding value, and earicher, when grown on it is well adapted. $rge yield of hay, sow one wheat or oats and 15 pounds -r red clover per acre. The 0 eat when the clover is in It is easy to make two y per acre on fertile soil, boys are milk and fat pro 'eteb and wheat or oats are Ar graing and hay. More being seeded each year to sad the farmers all like sprang sown oats furnish make a capital hay when e obugh stage. At Baton two and one-half acres In oats at the experl for grazing on Septem SOteber 29 seven Poland weighing in total 276 ine put on the oats and eIr dearn the winter. On I? the pip weighed a total or an average gain of per pig per day for 110 October 29 to January 1 at sheep were pastured on 1st. produce more green for at south during the winter taa any other one plant or eat plants that can be ,t bas been demonstrated by t station that an acre of bae sown to rape will pro porkwhenused as a hog * the same acre planted to t Down Corn ·tat Shairt 62 tbs. ad Park Per Acre. $5Nvm per 1* to. Mas ell aultivated. It can be SPeat deal cheaper than oorn. MN sores should be planted ftrm every year. Oeats ryre, and barley make a for graznlg and hay. in September or October had, it may be grazed al the bfom November 1 to March hay may be harvested the of May or the frst of June. hardly an end to the sum SOUITE PROFITABLE -pehrers Are Only Producers SThat Yield Profit With *t Cost of Feed. FO)RSER, Colorado State Bsee Inspector.) knew what a great source I- found in the keeplng of t how interesting the work Seid't be an unused square P-ound on any farm in the Staes. -- the only producers known that yield a profit a-lth -0 feed. They find their own they multiply so rapidly that than pay for the small in of housing them, and the f equipment is almost tri may be made profitable Aidrea of the farm, or by members of the family It on succesafuly in con Ith the keeping of poultry l fruit lna the latter case, f baad to be a great help frit ad better fruit mer crop that can be grown for for age. Every farmer is entitled to his choice, and while sorghum and other crops produce an abundance of high class feed per acre w't must tot fail to keep in mind the fertility of the soil. It is possible to have a rotation of very fine forage crops that will im prove the soil. ('ow peas, soy beans. peanuts, alfalfa, the vetches and clovers furnish grazing and hay and rapidly Increase the fertility of the soil. At the Louisiana station corn with cowpeas grown in tihe, corn and pea nuts gave 450 pounds of pork per acre. The peanuts were planted after oats, which, during the winter, fur nished grazing that gave 200 pounds of pork per acre and a crop of oats be sides. The peanuts planted after oats gave an average of 400 pounds of pork and this added to 200 pounds from pounds of pork per acre and a crop of oats besides Sweet potatoes give from 400 to'750 pounds of pork per acre. If we take an average at 500 pounds and add to this 200 pounds from grazing the oats which preceded the sweet potatoes. we have 700 pounds of pork per acre e for one season, plus a crop of oats har vested. At the Mississippi delta station, aft er the corn wks gathered, pigs were turned into the pea field, and made a gain from the peas of 170 pounds per acre. They had no additional feed. f Comparative Value of Fertility in Farm Produce "n. IG@ Use Cot. Tont Ti otbv $*, 1M Liba. 0.11 im LI.. l__ f l o I. Fat sd FalHogs >112 S Lbs. Si I Butter The results obtained when turning hogs, cattle, sheep and other stock into velvet beans after the corn is harvested are more than satisfactory. The soy bean is probably the best annual legume to grow for forage in the cotton belt. Whether used as a hay, grain or for grazing it is a very valuable feed for live stock. Soy-bean hay is practically identical in feeding value with alfalfa, and yields from two to three tons per acre. The grain is more valuable than cottonseed meal as a supplementary feed in the produc tion of pork, mutton, wool, beef., milk and butter. A bushel of soy beans is at least twice as valuable for feed as a bushel of corn. Spanish peanuts will produce good crops on comparatively poor land. when well fertilized and cultivated. Prof. Duggar at the Alabama station found an acre of Spanish peanuts pro duced 600 pounds of live weight in hogs. This was after the tops had been cat with g mower and saved for hay. The growing of peanuts after oats and on other land, and the use of the mowing machine or the thresh er and hay press, will promote the raising of good live stock and add much to the fertility of the soil. Cow peas without grain usually give better results than other crops. 'One season a crop of peas grown on bottom land produced 483 pounds of pork per acre. Peas furnish most excellent grasing for all kinds of stock. SMilo malsie, Kaffir corn, millet and other crops furnish excellent forage, Sbut a crop of corn and cow peas, soy beans, peanuts, or velvet beans can be grown on the same land at the same time and furnishes a world of valuable feed and increases the fer tility of the soil at the same time. This being true, let aus call particular attention to the importance of cow peas, peanuts and soy beans planted in the corn at the last working as a factor in the production of large quan titles of cheap forage. All kinds of stock can be taurned into the feld after the corn is harvested and will soon be rollian fat. Every farmer who keeps as many as ten heed of stock should )uild a silo. The coot is small. Pbr filln the silo corn is king. The yield of corn on fertile sotl is seldom under tea tons per ·are, sad oftea as high as 0 toas per acre. No man can make the best se of forage crops without adequate fae ing. Around every field ran a wovem wire fence 30 inches high, with two I strands of barb wire above. Also use several hundred yards of the hurdle or portable fence to divide the ields into lots of any sise. This fence is simple ad cheaply made and can be I stored under a shed until needed. Garden Fertilizer. You cannot beat rotted stable ma nure for the garden fertller. Bees are little trouble, and require only occasional attention. They are easily handled and readily controlled. Best of all, they give a real service In hard cash,. and that counts most on the farm. Full Value of Manure. Great value should be placed on the liquid excrement. Some arrangement should be made for its entire preser vation and use, either by the use of Sabsorbents or otherwise. Each man I should work out his own plan for this i purpose in conformity with his sur roundings. And where it has not been done, a careful study of this makter may prove Interesting, profitable and of sanitary value. Profit In Hogs. The farmer who makes the great eat weight in the bshortest time, year after year. always feels that hogs are profitable stock to keep. Prune Gooseberry Bushes. Gooseberry bushes shoald be pruned every year La order to keep them -beurl wL Iit SYNOPSIS. Frn arr,. a LL t I tllhaniltoi "g r"'s hoNt.e in .itt buirg. but ftinds i: abs.ient conducting the t ,ir at ia :;tlttb ILpt-e tint. She repairs t her in search ,of bitrl. laugIIas t'li'l'g t tl- l ice.r\l , aind is asked t.. !esaV . b1hn Lhton. superintendlentl If schools. esc.~ T: 'ran from the tent. lie yells her Gretery is a wealthy mlan. deeply interested in charity wtork. and a pillar of the 'hllrch. Ashton bittoll.es -reatly interested in I'ran and while tiak zg leave of her. Illnds her hand and is Peen by napphlra 'lintoln. sister of Rob *.rt ('linton, chairman ,of the sch,oil i.,aard Fran tells G;regory site wants a home with him. Gra-re Noir. Greg'ory '. private secretary, takes a violent dislike to Fran nadvises her to go away at once.. an hints at a twenty-year-old secret. and Gregory In agitation asks Grace to leave the, room. Fran relate. the stonry of how (;regory married a young girl at .~prlngfield while att,.nting .ilietg; and then deserted htier. Fran is the hitld ofT that marriage Eiregor% hId ntrt lried his present wife. three w'ars nefore tle dIeath *f Fran's motnher. Fran takes at !licntg to Mrs. Gregory. (;regors explains tIat Fran Is thte daughter of a very dtear friend who Is dead. Fran agrees to the storv. Mrs. Gregorv insists on her nitkling Iter home with them and takes I er to ter amis. It is decided that l'Fran illitst go to school. Grace shows persistent i nterest in Gregory's story of hisl deald friend and hints that Fran may he an Intlpster. Fran declares that the secretary nmost go. hrace hbegins nagging tactit's in in n ffort to drive Fran from the Gregor} hornot. but Mrs. Gregory remaitns stantl in it r friendship. Fran is ordered ,.fotre Super 4ntendent Ashton to he pnisthehd for in subordination in school. 'lhairnman C'lin ton is present. The affair enlis n Fran leaving the school in companv of the two men to the amazement of the sandal mongers of the town. Abhlbott. hile tak ing a walk alone at midnight. flin.i Fran on a bridge telling her fortune hv cards. She tells Abbott that shae is th,' f:tlnausllt !ion tamer. Fran Nonpareit. She titPe of crrcus life and sought a home. CHAPTER XI.-Continued. As he looked into her eyes. all st nse of the abnormal disappeared. "1 have the imagination, Fran." he exclhi.med Impulsively, "If it is your life." "In spite of the lions?" she asked. almost sternly. "You needn't tell me a word." Ab bott said. "I know all that one need know; it's written in your face, a story of sweet Innocence and brave pa tience." "But I want you to know." "Good!" he replied lth a sudden smile. "Tell the story, then; If you were an Odyssey, you couldn't be too long." "The first thing I remember is wak ing up to feel the car jerked. or stopped, or started and seeing lights flash past the windows-lanterns of the brakemen, or lamps of some town. dancing along the track. The sleeping car was bome-the only home I knew. All night long there was the groaning of the wheels, the letting off of steam. the calls of the men. Bounder Broth era had their private train, and moth er and I lived to our Pullman car Aft er a while I knew that folks stared at us because we were different from oth Peer Littile Neparelll" Murmured Abbtt WIstfully. er. We were show-people. Then the thing was to look like you didn't know, or didn't care, bow much people stared. After that, I found out that I had no father; he'd deserted mother, and her unele had turned her out of doors for marrying against his wishes, and she'd have starved if it hadn't been for the show-people." "Dear Pran!" whispered Abbott ten derly. "Mother had gone to Chicago. hoping for a position in some respectable of ice, but they didn't want a typewriter who wasun't a stenographer. It was winter-and mother had me-I was so little and bad! . . . In a cheap lodging hoise, mother got to know La PETRIFIED FALLS IN ALGERIA Remarkable Mineral Formation Which Puzzlas kSclentists Called "The Bath of the Damned." With ala the beauty of a cataract of living water, there is in Algeria a re markable petrified waterfall which re cently has been engaging the attention of scientists. This is the Hammam-Meskhutin which means "The Bath of the Damned." and is located 62 miles from Constantine, on the site of the ancient town of Cirta. This solidified cascade is the production of calcareous de posits from sulphurous and ftrrugin ous mineral springs, issuing from the depths of. the earth at a temperature of 95 degrees Crtligrade "The Bath of the Damned," even from a near viewpotit, looks for all the world like a greet wall of water dash ing into a swi lng pool at its foot, yet its gleaming. graceful curves and the. apparently sv rling eddies at its base are as fixed and immovable as i crved from the face of a granht~ BY JOHN B]EM 1DGE ELLIS / 1 , ILLUSTR2ATIONS BY' OBB. --ME-BSMV ELL CO. t(;onizett. and she persuaded anothlier to wait v ith her for the season to opentt up, then go with Bounder Brothers the. were wintering in ('hicago Ii was such a kind of life as Iother had I never dreamn"d of, but it a s more convenient than starving, andt she thought it would give her a chace to find father-- that traveling. all ove. the country. La (Conizetti was a lion tamer, and that's what nothet lb,:rned. and those two we.re the onels whio could go Inside Samson's cage.. The life was awfully hard, but she got to like it, and everybody was kind to us, and money camie pouring in. and she was always hoping to run across ;,clue to my father- and never did." She paused, but at the pressure of Abbott's sympathetic hand. she went on with renewed courage: "W\\'hen I was big enough. I wore a tiny black skirt, and a red coat with shiny buttonls. and I beat the c:rum in thle carnival band. You ought to have se-n me -so little. . Ab bott you can't imagine how lit'!e I was! \Ve had about a dozen small shows in our company, fortune-tellers. minstrels. magic wonders, and all that -and the band had to march front one tent to ths next, and stand out in front and play, to get the Arowd in a b,'nch. so the free cxhibition could work on tl!r nerves. And I'd beat asway, in nmy red coat . . . and there were always the strange faces, staring, star ing--but I was so little! Sometimtes they would smile at me. but m: ther had taught me never to speak to any one, but to wear a glazed look like this-" "How frightfully cold!" Ai,bott shivered. Then he laughed, and so did Fran. They had entered Littlt-burg. He added wickedly: "And how dread fully near we are getting to sour home." Fran gurgled. "Wouldn't Grace Noir just die if she could see us!" That sobered Abbott; consid,,ring his official position, it seemed high time for reflection. Fran resumed abruptly. "But I nev er really liked it because what I want ed was a home-to belong to some body. Then I got to hating the bold stare of people's eyes, and their fool ish gaping mouths, I hated being al ways on exhibition with every gesture watched, as if I'd been one of the trained dogs. I hated the public I wanted to get away from the world clear away from everybody like I am now . . . with you. Isn't it great!" "Mammoth!" Abbott declared, wa tering her words with liberal imagina tlon. "I must talk fast, or the Gregory house wjll be looming up at us. Mother taught me all she knew, though she hated books; she made herself think she was only in the show life till she could make a little more--al ways just a little more-she really loved it, you see. But I loved the books-study-anything that wasn't the show. It was kind of friendly when I began feeding Samson." "Poor little Nonpareil!" murmured Abbott wistfully. "And often when the show was be ing unloaded, I'd be stretched out in our sleeper, with a school book pressed close to the cinder-specked window, catching the first Ilight. When the mauls were pounding away at the tent pins, maybe I'd hunt i seat on some cage, if it had been drawn up under a tree, or maybe it'd be the ticket wag on, or even the stake pile-there you'd see me studying away for dear life, dressed in a plain little dress, trying to look like ordinary folks. Such a queer little chap, I was-and always trying to pretend that I wasn't! You'd have laughed to see me." "Laughed at you!" cried Abbott in dignantly. "Indeed I shouldn't." "No'?" exclaimed Fran, patting his arm Impulsively. "Dear little wonder!" he returned conclusively. "I mat tell you about one time," she continued gally. "We were in New Orleans at the Mardl Gras, and I was expected to come into the ring riding Samson-not the vicious old lion, but cub-that was long after my days of the drum and the red coat, bless you! I was a lion-tamer, now, nearly thir hiany centuries have, of course, gone to the making of the deposits. and the springs were well known to the an cient Romans. The name Hlammam Meskhutin was given to the stone cataract in an allusion to a legend that the waterfall ,was petrified by Allah, punithing the impiety of unbe lievers by turning all the m nbers of a tribe into stone. At night,. so tie story runs, its stone dwellers of ':re remote past are freed from tt. .r strange fetters, come to life and I sume their normal shapes. More Treasures Leave England One of the 'best preserved m:- r pieces of Elizabethan interior d a tlon in England is doomed to - mantled in order to adorn th :: sion of some American macn West End firm has acquir'-, stock and barrel, the Elizabern.,n building, with its Queen Anne add tions, known as Rotherwas. the sar of the Bodenham family, situa.. about two and a bhalf miles fro' Hereford. The mansion had descen ed In unbroken line from Georg, Bodamham who ivHed in the reign of Iett l . qll' oldi. if 'Ou'll I Ise -,e lift \el;i. And ul hat was I safinug yoi kee.p looking s., itrindly. 'on 1tial l mii. iorget mIyself. Goodness. Allhor it', arl mtuch full talking to you I '\e Inever mn.ntionted all ilin to ont. a,1ul iin this town . . . . V,-II ih. seise I was tO have come Into the ring. riding Samson. Everybody was xa~t ing for me. The band nearly hble.v t Sself black inl he face. And .at t Uio 4' (llt think wa. the ma t.-r"' "'Iid Samson balkl" : "No. it waslit that. I % us lII)Ig on the cage floor, with rmf hlead on 'tan son SamlllrOll the Second imade uch a r gorgeous aild animated pillow' and I was learning geology. I'd just found r our that !he world wasn't mIade it; atv Sen I ilted States da.s, and it was such surprising nuws that I'd forgot º ten all about cages and lions and tents --if you could har" seen me lying l there -- if .rou just could!" S"Hut I c.an'" Abbott declared. "Y:our long black hair is mit:rgled with his tawn Inlllln, and your cheeks are• I blootnin g "And m} feet are crossed." cried t Fran. And your fett are crossed; and t those litt!e hands hold up the look." Abbott swiftly sketc hed In the de ills: I "and your bosom is rising and falling. I and your lips are. parted--like now sbhowing perfect teeth-" "*Dressed in nmy tights and fluffy lace and jewels." Fran helped. "with bare r arms and stars all in my hair Iut the end came to everytlring when r --when mother died. Her last words were about my father-how she hoped t some day I'd meet him, and tell him she had forgiven. Mother sent me to her half-uncle. My! but that was mighty unpleasant!" Fran shook her r head vigorously. "He began telling me about how mother had done wrong r in marryting secretly, and he threw It up to me and I just told him . I ut he's dead, now. I had to go tack to the show-there wasn't any other place. But a few months ago I was of age, and I came into Uncle Ephrain's - property, because I was the only liv - ind relation he had, so he couldn t help I my getting it. I'1l bet he's mad, now, that he didn't make a will! When he said that mother-it don't matter what he said-I just walked out of his door, that time, with my head up high like this . . . Oh. goodness, we're here." They stood before Hamilton Greg ory's silent house. "Good night," Fran said hastily. "It's a mistake to begin a long story on a short road My! But wasn't that a short road, though!" "Sometime. you shall finish that story, Fran. I know of a road much longer than the one we've taken-we 1 might try it some day# if you say so." "I do say so. What road Is it ?" Abbott had spoken of a long road without definite purpose, yet thereeas a glimmering perception of the reality, I as he showed by saying tremulously: "This is the beginning of it-" He bent down, as if to take her in his arms. But Fran drew back, perhaps with a blush that the darkness concealed, cer tainly with a little laugh. "I'm afraid I'd get lost on that road." she mur mured, "for I don't believe you know the way very well, yourself." She sped lightly to the house, un locked the.door, and vanished. CHAPTER XII. Grace Captures the Outposts. The next evening there was choir practice at the Walnut Street church. Abbott Ashton, hesitating to make his nightly plunge into the dust-clouds of learning, paused in the vestibule to take a peep at Grace. He knew she never missed a choir practice, for though she could neither sing nor play the organ, she thought it her duty to set an exatmple of regular attendance that might be the means of bringing those who could do one or the other. Abbott was not disappointed; but he was surprised to lee Mrs. Jefferon in I her wheel-chair at the end of the pew occupied by the secretary, wh;e be tween them sat Mrs. Gregory. His sur pi rise became astonishment on discov. ering Fran and Simon Jefferson In the choir loft, slyly whispering and -lb-I Henry I. to Count Iubienski Ioden ham. who died last year The superb paneling-Ellizabethan. Jacobean and Queen Anne-of thirteen of the apart ments is now to be taken to New York. Rotherwas is mentioned in Domesday ihook.-London Glob" Age and Celebrity. "In a fe.'. days." says a lett.r In a Vienna iapir. ".\dlina P'atti, 1uorn in 'Madrid of Italien parnt.s., will r0 a(h the age of s.-ve:it Since her seventh years. when sh. n made her 4lrst a:tp-.ar. ance on the concert state. sihe has been known the world over, andti al though she is now the Itaro:n.ss ('eIr strom we know her still as I'atti She. was only a lithth girl when, in 159 she appeared in 'Lucia di lammer moor.' and as Rosin, in 'The Itarb r. but she nve'r, in the course of her long stag" c.areer. receivt-d greater applaust' than s.he did on those occa 'iors. I heard her when she cam' to I Vietmna for the first time. in I ;: I remember it so well. and al'o my en thusiasm, that it seems difficult to think of the singer as seventy years old-except when I look in the mirror ilin!g ans)i,. n it It1 [e ,. .o If wiull'.-r off duty l" thlil" chlinir was In the throes of a .slo Ablt,,t. as if I phrioti. ci |l what he -had sta'n. -lwl a. .otred *ho '1ii" :' ', t"'rsl' k:- ottle ex' ll l"s h .t4Ad nsi~ I and litr t :q' . shi\edl elfash "lirl-s.h. UGrace, following Fran's eyes. foulnd the cause of the odd smile. and b. ck oned to Abbott. ilainilton Gregory, following (;r"e's glanclll- for hei saw nIl onre buti hi : at the practic.es, i ince she' inllspired himnt with dtlepe5st f.i \tr- felt suddllnlvy as if he had lost aome, Sthing; hII had often-i experielncelt th l same sensationl on s','illg Grac'e ap proach, d bi s~oe unlattached g' utle man. (;race miotiioned to Aiaisitt t, s.it be side her, with a conrutlllration of at tenrion that slow ed her purpos,, of reaching a ldelialte goal unsuspected by th,' other. "I'in so glad isisn has taken a place in the lchoir." Abbott whispe:ed to (;raire. "AAnd look at Simon Jeffl rson who'd have thought it!" Grlac-e looked at Simon Jefferson; Ishe also looked at Fran, but her conm pIre.ssed lips anid rel..roving -eye ex pressed nane of Abbott's gladness. Ilowever. she responded with-"l an so glad you are here, Professor Ash ton, for lI'm in trouble, and I can't de cide which way it is my duty to turn. 1Will you htlll in.-? I am going to trust you--it is a matter relating to Mr. Gregory." Abbott was pleased tlhat she should think him competent to advise her re specting her duty; at the same time he regretted that her confidence re lated to Mr. Gregory. "Professor Ashton," she said softly. "does my position as hired secretary to Mr. Gregory carry with it the obli gation to warn him of any misconduct in his household?" The solo was dying away, and, sweet and low, it fell from heaven like man na upon his soul, blending divinely with the secretary's voice. Her ex pression "hired" sounded like a tragic note-to think of one so beautiful, so meek, so surrounded by mellow hymn notes, being hired! "You hesitate to advise me, before you know all." she said, "and you are right. In a moment the choir will be singing louder, and we can all talk to gether. Mrs. Gregory should be con suited, too." Grace, conscious of doing all that one could in consulting Mrs. Gregory,. "too," looked toward the choir loft, and smiled into Hamilton Gregory's eyes. How his baton, inspired by that smile, cut magic runes in the air! "Mrs. Gregory," Grace said in a low voice, "I suppose Professor Ashton is so surprised at seeing you in church it has been more than five mouths. hasn't it? . . . that I'm afraid he isn't thinking about what I'm saying." Mrs. Gregory could not help feeling in the way, because her husband seemed to share Grace's feeling. In stinctively she turned to her mother and laid her hand on the invalid's arm. "They ain't bothering me. - Lucy," said the old lady, alertly. "I can't hear their noise, and when I shut my eyes I can't see their motions." "I have something to tell you both," Grace said solemnly. "Last night, I couldn't sleep, and that made me sen sitive to noises. I thought I heard some one slipping from the house lust as the clock struck half-past eleven. It seemed incredible, for I knew if it were anyone, it was that Fran, and I didn't think even she would do that." It was as if Abbott had suddenly raised a window in a raw wind. His temperature descended. The other's manner of saying "That Fran!" ob scured his glass of the future. Mrs. Gregory said quickly, "Pran leave the house at half-past eleven? Impossible." "How do you know," Abbott asked. "that Fran left the house at such a time of the night?" The question was unfair since It suggested denial, but his feeling for Fran seemed to call for unfairness to Grace. "I will tell you," Grace responded, with the distinctness of one in power. "At the time, I told myself that even Fran would not do that. But. a long time afterward, I heard another sound. HAD NO DELUSIONS AT ALL Sweet Angelina Did Not ilve the Sweet Response Henry So Ar. dently Expected. ILove s young dream is indeed a beautiful thing. Sweet Angelina and Hienry thougnt it hardly po:,ible such blis- could be theirs as they bat on the river bank in tbc cool of an Aug I.t eveni.I. They ·'t olI at week-enit. for he was a toile r in the city, and be : .und it cheaper to lodge near his And now the blessed week-end qtenIt aV home wvas h-re, and he could -ee nothing but uninterrupted happi ness till Monday morning. He slipped his arnl roun:d his sweetheart's waist. "iarest'" he said lHer a.:e was fixed on th,- water. "l)am!inql" he murmured again. i drawing I'r towards him "Can you gl:ess why I come home every Satur day " "Yes." was tb.e scarcely whispered answer "What is it, dearest?" ha asked, fro nt t h , '.u T(I I \t" 'ht 'o sy -win d o w . I looked ouit. 'hIt 1 1. ,' was bright, hibt Ihe r.' Ia' a r-iy d;trk shadow about the fro'ut gate. I heard voices. One was that of I'ltan. The' other was the voice of "'hr tone vibrated in its I!ltte'tsit) -"the v ice,' of a mian!" "It was not F'ran's voice," Mrs. ICr.v) ryv dteiatr.d , a: ',.tly Sii bit nl ii a%;.s i1it Abbott in e.trid, athter it-. t'inl . "I do not kow. I I;!sh now, thlat I had celled out," responlldd Grace. pay ing no heed to M.rs. Gregory. "That is wt:ere I n.ade my mistake. The man got away. Fran came running into the h,-s. aand closed the door as soft ly as s'.e 'todh- after she'd nntocked it Troai: lthe outside! 1 conclOd.td it "rtsid be he at to watt till morning, be for. I said a word. So this morning. before breakfast, I strolled in the yard. trying to dcti:d. wh:at I had better do. I went to 'hle gat,. and there on the grass---what do oI! st;u;pose I found?" Abbott was bevwildered. Mrs. Greg ory listened. patle with apprehension. "It was a card." Grace said, with awful signiflcance. "a gambling card! As long as I liharv' ived in the house. nobody ever dared to bring a card there. Mrs. Grregory will tell you the same. Iut that Fran. .... She had been playing cards out there at midnight- and with a man!" "'1 cannot think so," said Mrs. Greg ory firmly. "After an.iking up my mind what to do." continued (;race evenly, "I took her aside. I told her what I had seen and heard. I gave her back her card. But how can we be sure she will not do it again? That is what troubles me. Oughtn't I to tell Mr. Gregory. so a scandal can be avoided?" Abbott looked blankly at Fran, who was singing with all her might She caught his look, and closed her eyes. Abbot asked weakly: "What did she say?" Grace answered: "She denied it. of course-said she hadn't been playing cards with anybody, hadn't dropped the card I found, and wouldn't even ad. mit that she'd been with a man. If I tell Mr. Gregory about her plating cards with a man at that hour, I don't believe he will think he ought to keep h-r longer, even if she does claim to be his friend's daughter." "But you tell us," Mrs. Gregory Ia. terposed swiftly, "that she said she hadn't been playing cards." "She said!" Grace echoed unpless antly, "she said!" "That card jou found," began Ab bott tiy, "w to gate to- But why bad he leaned over the gate? Grace coldly answered, 1 do not know one card from another." "Let me try to deserlbe IL" "I hope you cannot describe the card I found," said Grace, the presentimeat that she was on the eve of discoverles giving her eyes a starlike dlrectness,. "I suspect I dropped that card over the fence." he eonfessed, "for I had the king of hearts, and last night, albozt that time I was standing at the gate--" (TO BE CONTINUED.) anxiously waiting for the sweet re ply that he felt sure must be hovering on those pretty lips. "It's --it's for your clean clothes, isn't it?" she queried softly. Turkish Slaves. Abdul lHamid's view that the slave in a Turkish household Is much better off than a servant girl is fully support. ed by Mr. lIu'kett Ferriman In "Tu key and the Turks." The chief points urged are that the owner is rnsponsible for the slave's maintenance and cannot turn her adrift, that she is treated as one of the family, has light duties, and is taught accomplishments, and that she has chances of lrich marrlage. An Englishwoman, go lness and cornm. panton in a house on the Itosphorus, was asked by some English visitors who were the charmingly dress'dt giris they saw "e'rvants," she artld, roan !ng to spare the girls' fIniz.es Ilut when the visitors had go:e, the girls bitterly reproached her for "sitarning" them. "You are a srvat. YTu are paid, we are not. \Ve are slaves, not servants. Why did you tell a falsehood to shame us"