DIVINE LOVE, The world la led by unseen power Through darkness, four and light; Mon a destiny Is not obseuro, Kr God In man 1m rUlu. •Hie Inner life Indeed reveals . L The spirit’» sovereignty. In every storm. In error, sin, Is God’s divinity. A deeper love than earthly lovo Stirs in the humun soul: It lights tho stars, it rules tho sox 3t reigns from polo to polo. O brother, live for It alono, Nor be deceived by fato: For fate Is God. and God la love, And lovo is heavon’s gate —New York Sun. SCARLET FORTUNE. lir H. HERMAN. CHAPTER IV—Continued. The result of the young lady's solf-eomraunings was that sho dawdled about hor toilet, that sho took an unconscionable long time In dressing, that sho hovered ovor her lunch, and persisted aftorwards in continuing an animated discussion with Lord Gwendalo, who was pleased to find his daughter intorestod in a subject which interested him, and for which sho had not shown any previous sympathy. Lady Kvclyne resorted, in fact, to a dozen little schemes,' and as many of tho recognized privileges of hor sex, for the purpose of avoiding the duchess garden-party, whore she know she would meet Mr. Maclane. Not that she had taken a sudden dis like to the young man, or had re solved upon a broach of their en gagement, but hor volatile mind had discovered a novel and pleasant at traction, and fluttered around it with that delightful indecision, which is the cream of excitement in tho lifo of a young lady of fashion. It was nearly as enticing as the tasting of some forbidden fruit. Lady Evelyno knew that hor duty bound her to Mr. Maclano, and that no imago but his should obtrude it self on her waking thoughts. There was something spicily charming about feeling a kind of stolon affoo tion for one man, whilst, in promise, bound to another, which pleased Lady Evelyns, and made her fingers tingle with a nearly voluptuous sen sation. The marchioness was already wait ing in the drawing-room, dressed for the garden party, when her daughter was stilt in the dining-room, con versing with her father about mat ters for whioh, at any other time, she would have evinced not the slightest interest, and the details and particulars of which she now seemed most anxious to acquire. Lady Gwendale was a patient lady, and well accustomed to her daugh ter’s foibles. When sho found that Lady Evelyno had made no prepar ations whatever for the function of tho afternoon, she ordered her car riage and drove away alone. Kvelyne was happy when she found that her strategy was success ful She skipped upstairs to her own room, and threw herself into an armchair, whence she oould look out upon the lawn and the green trees beyond, and lose herself in a de lightful revorie, whilst her maid brushed and lcopt on brushing her luxuriant hair. It seemed entranc ing to her to abandon herself to this day-dream, and a full hour or more passed before the young lady was aware of the effluxion of time. Even thon it was only a message from Lord Gwendale, which brought hor to a senso of the everyday common place. My lord, being for the nonce particularly pleased with his daugh ter. sent up to know if sho would accompany him in a walk through the parlu It had been so long since the piarquis had thus honored hor \ that she accepted tho invitation with alacrity, and tlio balmy summer af ternoon saw the pair among the crowd of promonadors by the side of tho Row. Unlike her fathor. Lady Evelyne boasted of a large circle oi ■ acquaintances, and though she had hoped to find time, dur ing the walk, to indulge in the musings which had proved so pleasant to her earlier in tho day, her attention was now fully occupied in saluting and returning salutes. Sho stopped to exchange a few words with my Lady This, or to ask a ques tion or two of my Lady That or, agaiir to talk banalities with the young Lord So-and-So, while a con tinuous smile played around hor pretty lips. Under the influence of this airy occupation, her previous purpose vanished into thin haze, and was momentarily forgotten, when, on n. CIK^ilnn of. nf » _ .. gentleman who was leaning against the railings, Lady Lvelyno’s lace turned pale, and her heart went pit a-pat in an alatum, which—whether it was painful or pleasant—the young j lady knew not. j It was a handsome face, bronzed ! by the sun, and two or three scars 1 gave it a peculiar charm, without ! Sv disfiguring it The bright dark • eyes flashed in animated conversa- ! tion with a gentleman whom Lady ! Evelyn did not know, whilst the brown, nervous hand twirled a small, dark moustache, with unconscious dandyism. Lady Evelyne looked the gentle man straight in the face, but he gave no sign of recognition, and continued V* an apparently agreeable converse. Lady EveVyne’s fingers tightened and SV her hreath became tardy. She nerv ously gripped her father's arm. ••Look there,” she whispered. “Purely that is Herbert Chauneey?" My . lord put up his double eye glasses and stared at the young man, who avoided the old nobleman's Va; glance wttta well-bred ease. Lord : Uwendale did not know what to make of it, for surely that was the young earl of Cleve. It was true my lord bad forbidden the young man bis house, but why this absolute want of recognition P “Really, ray dear,” stammered the marquis, “I—I—I do not know what to mako of It This is Herbert Chauncoy. I am sure it is Herbert Chauncoy. Ho seoras purposely to avoid us; lot us walk on.” Lady Evelyno, however, was not to lie thus easily frustrated. She walkod right up to the young gentleman, and, with her face beaming with the sweotest smile, she said: “Surely, I cannot be mistaken. You are Lord Clove?” “That is my name," tho gentleman replied affably, but his manner showed that he believed himBelf speaking to a total stranger. ••nut uon t you know mo:" Lady Evolyno continued, in umazoment. “I have not that pleasure.” Lord Clove roplied, as pleasantly as be fore. Evolyno felt a ball min# to her throat. “You don’t know me!” she ex claimed, In half-suffocated wonder. “You don’t know Evelyne Wyntor?” “I am very sorry,” the young man answored in an oveu-tempored, com mon-place manner, “but Ido not" Lady Evelyne stopped back and bowod stiffly. She looked the young man up and down with a withering glance, which seemed to produce no impression but a faint and curious astonishment “Thank you, my lord,” she ex claimod. and rejoined her father. Yet, she could not help turning her head. Lord Cleve’s face had assumed an expression of puzzled anxiety, and her quickened ear caught the words —barely whispered, as they wore, to tho young man’s companion: “Evelyne Wynter? Evelyne Wyn ter? Ought I to know her? Do I know her?” “Let us go homo, pa, dear,” she whispered, when she was again lean ing on Lord Gwendale’s arm. “Let us go home. I do want to cry.” CHAPTER V. When Lady Evelyne walked away, a flashing picture of proud annoy ance. Lord Cleve followed her dis appearing figure with hungry eyes. Ho had long ago grown accustomed to the failing which marked his everyday intercourse. “I suppose I knew her once," he Baid to himself, with a sigh. “God! how hard it Is not to be able to re member. ” His companion, a member of the firm of solicitors who had served the house of Chauncey for generations, had purposely avoided interrupting the little scene which took place be fore his eyes. Solicitors are pro verbially cautious, and Mr. Archi bald Quonthelm was polished cau tiousness personified. He was fully aware that Herbert Chauncey had been shown the door by Lord Gwen dalo, and he did not, at that moment, care to solve the question whether or not Lord Cleve’s present 'conduct was an intentional quid pro quo for the marquis’ abrupt termination of the former engagement, or whether it was simply the outcome of the young man’s affliction. But when Herbert turned to him, with a pallid sadness iu his face, and asked him, “Can you tell me, Mr. Quonthelm, if I ought to know this young lady?” he felt himself absolved from the consequouces of an abrupt explana tion, and roplied: “Certainly, my lord. You were once engaged to be married to her.” “You amaze me,” Herbert an swered. “I have no memory of the thing at all. Most likely I oared very mu^h for her once, and perhaps she cared for me—perhaps she cares for me still. She must have thought me very rudo. What did she say her name was—Evelyne Winter? I won der what Lucy would say if I were to broach the idea of marrying." A wistful little laugh tripped in the wake of tho words. “Lot us follow them, Mr. Quent helm,” Lord Cleve suggested to the solicitor, and the two pushed iheir way through the little knots of pedestrians towards the point where Lady Evelyne and her father had dis appeared from view. “Do you know, that was a pretty girl,” Lord Cleve continued, “and I admire my own taste in having once thought well of her. Not as pretty as Lucy, though. I have never seen any woman half as pretty as Lucy.” Ho stopped for a moment and looked into his companion’s eyes. “Nor a millionth pait as good,” he added, with serious emphasis. I’m sure I do not know one-eighth of what she has done for me—and never shall know, I suppose—but thus far my first mem vry curries me, lutu wnca i recovered from my wounds, her face beamed upon me like an angel's, and she has been my untiring good angel ever since. The search proved fruitless. The marquis and his daughter had left the park by Apsley gate, where the great Piccadilly season traffic gaped to engulf them. While they were standing by the edge of the sidewalk, consulting with one another whither to turn their steps, a peculiar incident attracted their attention. Two gentlemen were endeavoring to shoulder their way through the crowd, so as to be able to reach Rot ten Row, and in their efforts they found themselves face to face with Lord Clove. One was an elderly man, tall and squarely built, with long, sparse, grey hair, and a face cleanly shaven but for a small grey tuft at the chin. His was not an agreeable iseo, but scarred and. freckled. A cruel face, with thin, whitish lips and ugly square jaws, and with shifty, small, cold, greyish-brown eyes. The second man was much younger and not so tall as the other. His reddish-brown hair was cut shorta anti his board of a similar color, cropped close. He resembled the older man, so that he might have been taken for his son, but his features were of a more pleasant typo. Both wore of unmistakable American extraction, though dressed according to the latest London fashion. The younger man's gaze was the first to meet Lord Cleve’s, and he turned a greenish pale under the bronze of his skin. Ifd staggered back a pace, and excitedly gripped tho older man’s arm. The latter, thus directed, also looked full at Herbert, and his face became an ashen white, while his teeth seemed to rattle. Lord Cleve stared at the two men with ill-suppressed and amused inter est. At that moment the crowd swayed a little on one. side, and the young nobleman was by it borne away from the two Americans. “Did you notice those two men?” he asked his companion, when they wore strolling along the less-crowded footwalk of Piccadilly. “Something shocked them, for they were both as palo as sheets.” “The younger of the two,” replied the lawyer, “is Mr. David Maclane, a very rich American, who, 6trange to say, is engaged to be married to Lady Evelyne Wynter. The elderly gentleman is his uncle.” “Maclane ?” was Lord Clove’s startled exclamation. “That is Lucy’s name. Lucy’s name is Lucy Maclane. These men seem to know me, and to be shocked and surprised to meet me. I must ask Lucy about this. You must excuse my excitement, Mr. Quenthelm.” ho added with a frank smile. “That poor broken head of mine can bear so little, and at nearly evory step in this Old World hive I come across something that surprises Me—something I ought to have re membered, and which has gone from my memory. That gentleman, you say, is engaged to marry Lady Wyn ter. To tell you the truth, Mr. Quenthelm, I prefer the lady’s ap pearance to that of her intended husband. ” “You most probably met Mr. David Maclane and his uncle out on the Western prairies,” the lawyer sug gested. “Their wealth consists of vast gold and other mineral deposits in the Rocky mountains, and I have been credibly informed that up to some few years ago they were far from rich." “I never came across them that I know of," Lord Cleve replied, “and I don’t remember ever having been in the Rockies. Mine was a prairie life; at any rate, as far back as I can rec ollect Gold was found, I know, in large quantities, about Pike’s Peak and elsewhere, but it never troubled me. The hunt for gold had no en ticement whatever for me. You see I have not been over-strong, and the excitement would have been more than I could well have borne. You smile,” he added. “I look a sort of juvenile athlete, do I not? I am sound enough in wind and limb, but I can’t bear much here.” With that he touched his forehead, and a sad smile spread over his handsome face. “Miss Lucy Maclane is staying with you, my lord?” Mr. Quenthelm asked. Herbert’s face brightened, and the smile became a coutented one. "Lucy never leaves me,” he said. “She is too fond of mo.” "You lived all these years on the prairies together?” was the fur ther inquiry. “Quite so,” Lord Cleve replied,and noticing an expression of cynical in credulity and satirical bonhomie on his companion's face, he shook his head, and added: “We lived together as a brother and sister might, neither more nor less. Ah! you find it hard to beliove this, but it is so. I would have married Lucy a hundred times if she had consented,but now I would no more dare to ask her than I would a seraph or a fairy. ■’ [TO BE CONTINUED. ] Part of the Recital. Tennyson’s wonderful poem, “The Revenge,” was first published in the Nineteenth Century in 1878 or 1879. On the eve of its publication, Tenny son invited between thirty and forty of his most intimate friends to his house in Eaton Square, in order that ho might recite this patriotic piece to them. As the poet proceeded in his rich and sonorous tones, the favored fow hung upon his words. When ho reached the last lines— “And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot shattered navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags. To be lost evermore In the main-” the feelings of all present were strung up into excitement and en thusiasm, when, to the amaze ment of all, the laureate added, with out the slightest pause and without the least change of tone in his voice, “and the beggars only gave me three hundred pounds for it, when it wan worth at least five hundred pounds or more.”--Argonaut. Bills* of Various Lengths. English speaking countries have four different miles, the ordinary mile of 5,280 feet, and the geograph ical or nautical mile of 6,085 feet, making a difference of about one seventh between the two Then there is the Scotch mile of 5,928 feet, and the Irish mile of 6,720 feet In fact, almost every country has its own standard mile. On* Blotter Explained, Mrs. Wickwire—I don’t believe a man’s love is as steady as a woman's Mr. Wickwire—Of course it isn’t When a man is really in love he can’t think of anything else. But a woman can hold her attention to keeping her hat on straight even when her lover is kissing her for the first time. In all countries more marriages take plaoe in June than in any other month THE JFAKM AND HOME. ROTATION FOR FRUITS AS WELL AS GENERAL CROPS. May Become ■ Necessity for Old Or* charcla in the Fight Against Disease and Insects—Soar Slop—Farm Notes and Home Hints. Fruit Rotation. Crop rotation has become quite essential to agriculture in order to keep up the fertility of the soil, but very few seem to consider it neces sary to extend this same plan to the fruit trees, .vines and shrubs. Never theless, it is pretty well known now that the continuous growing of any one crop of fruits in one place tends to concentrate all of the blights, diseases and fungi that injure our plants. Often the only way to destroy these diseases is to kill off all of the plants and trees, and to burn root and branch. By trans ferring the orchard to another part of the farm we can often obtain better results than if we devoted all our time to spraying and picking off in fected leaves. We generally select the best soil for potatoes and wish to grow them there continually, but in time blight and rot make it impossible, and w'e have to move the potato field. The same is true with onions, sweet pota toes, cabbages and other vegetables. Now the same holds exactly true with raspberries, blackberries, cur rants and other plants. We can in some instances keep down the dis eases by continuous spraying, but in time the diseases become so general that an extra wet season is sure to make the fungi get the better of us. Our strawberry beds should* be changed every few years and placed in new localities where diseases will not make their life precarious, says the American Cultivator. Raspberry vines, currants and gooseberry bushes cannot be moved so easily, but new orchards have to be planted every year or so, and these new ones should be planted as far from the old ones as possible. Even in the apple and pear orchard something in this line can be done. Old orchards as a rule suffer more from blight than young ones, and grubs and insects increase rapidly in numbers. If the new orchards are planted right along side of them they are infested with the insects and diseases early in their life. Grape vines require a change probably more than any other fruit, and every new vineyard planted should be separated from the old ones. If the land is planted with other crops for a couple of seasons the germs of diseases will get out of the soil. We can ward off disease fairly well with spraying, and it is right that this should be kept up persistently, but with the present increase of in sects and diseases in old orchards the future must bring about such changes that it will be absolutely necessary to adopt a system of rota tion in our ffait crops the same as now practised with other crops. It is also a question to be considered whether such a change would make a vast difference in the soil product iveness. We know the rotation for field crops makes the soil richer, and improves it so that the crops are larger and better. Do not all fruit trees, plants and vines draw from the soil certain elements which must be supplied in the cheapest way by a rotation? Soar Slop. I have never yet been able to get any of the sour slop advocates to tell me why the sour, fermented, rotten stuff they recommend as the food for swine is better than pure and sweet food. It is just an old-fash ioned idea handed down from father to son from time immemorial, and has no more foundation than the jail out of which the prisoners used to dig- with the ace of spades. The principal elements of nutrition in corn is contained in the sugar and starch found, and when we soak this corn until it sours we change these two elements into a new one (acetic acid) and losd the greater part of the feeding value of the corn by the change, for certainly no one will at tempt to maintain that acetic acid (vinegar) has any value as a food. Soaked corn, if fed before souring, is preferable as a food to dry, hard corn. It softens it and the juices of digestion act upon it more readily, digestion is hastened and at the same time more perfect. But let it remain in soak until it sours and we ruin all the good we have done had we fed it at the proper time. A brood sow requires a specially arranged pen for the safety of the young pigs. It should be at least eight feet square, and have safe guards around the sides so that the little pigs may escape under them when the old sow lies down, and escape being crushed, as many are, for want of this guard. It consists of a board fitted to the side of the pen at right angles thereto, and eight inches from the floor, supported by upright pieces at distances of two or three feet. The feed trough should be built close to the floor so that no spaces may be left for the pigs to crawl in and get fast. The trough should be shallow, so that the pigs may not get in and be drowned. A second apart ment should be provided, so that one of them may be kept clean, which the sow will be careful to observe, for a pig is a .cleanly animal when the facilities for cleanliness are af forded. Wind Breaks Sometimes In|nrlo««. A tree circulation ol air, especially on low ground, is often a better guarantee against injury from freez ing than is a wind break. It is in cold still weather, rather than when winds are blowing, the frost set* ties down into valleys, and there does great damage to vegetation, while that on higher land exposed to wind escapes. Animals feel cold most in the wind. They are giving off warmth from consumption of air and food, and the wind brings cold air to the surface of the skin as fast as that in contact with it can be heated. The most intense cold very rarely is carried by winds along the earth's surface. It comes from the upper regions of the atmosphere in times when the air is still except for cold air setting down and the warmer air rising. Hence it often happens that tender fruits like peaches often escape winter killing when planted on side hills, while their buds will be blasted when the trees grow in the sheltering lower lands in the valley. Yet for a resi dence the valley might well be the warmest—American Cultivator. 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