I IN6I
L ( r
N6ERNATIONAL PflESS AsG’N
-JC
CHAPTER XI.—(t'ontlnaoil.)
He approached the irate, nnd was
About to knock, when he saw a Utle
figure Hitting along1 the path before
him. Ho recognized Dolores. Why
was she roaming abroad alone on the
roads at this hour? Was she watch
ing for him? The young man hast
ened townrd her, then paused at the
•ngic of the wall to look at her.
Dolores stood in an open space of
the path, waving a fan. Her shadow
was projected on the ground behind
her in a long, wavering line. The dog
Ploriosat beside her, gravely looking
on.
The girl’s face and arms, bathed by
♦he moonlight, had the purity of ala
baster in contrast with the luxuriant
masses of het black hair, and her eyes
were dreamy, ns if she moved in a
reverie. She talked to Florio in a low
tone, and occasionally laughed. Now
t Ahe advanced, mincingly, with skirts
outspread, and profound curtsies,
wielding the'fan, with naturnl grace,
in her right hand, ns if at r.
presentation. Again she abandoned
herself to a gliding dance measure,
wreathing her arms above her head,
with the glittering fan held higli in
the air.
The childish vanity of smile and
posture were obvious She imagined
in rself to bo once more at a ball and
in a tlreater.
The spectator found tlie mere con
templation of her light movements
bewitching, but he longed to clasp her
In his arms.
‘’Dolores!’’
She started, and eame toward him,
with an exclamation of pleasure.
ITlorio barked sharply.
"Areyou glnd to see me again?” he
inquired cngerly, seizing her hands.
| “Oh. yes!”
"Did you expect me to-night? I
feared I should not bo able ta get off.”
"1 always expect you.”
Thou there was a moment of soft
silence between them, during which
„ he twined her arm around his neck,
pressed her little head against his
r m
“ARB YOU GLAD TO SEE ME?”
Inroad breast, and showered kisses on
her hair. 4
Dolores drew* back half troubled,
half ashamed, and, inspired by an in
Ctinct of coquetry, once more unfurled
her fan, making of the fragile weapon
a barrier between them.
"Look at my new fan,” she said, in
* coaxing accents "The garden is too
•mall, so I eame out here to play with
it in the moonlight”
. “Have you met any one on the
■goad?”
"No one. The people are all in the
town at this hour.”
"The fan is very fine. The grand
■duke sent it to you at the door of the
theater.”
Dolores elevated her delicately
srehed eyebrows in surprise.
"You noticed the messenger, then?”
‘Of course 1 saw him,” warmly.
"The prince broke my old fan, and
he was very kind to remember the ac
cident,” innocently.
Lieut Curzon looked at the rich toy
carelessly. The moonlight shimmered
' !on pearl, tortoise shell and feathers,
with a pictured design worthy of
■Conito Nils, or of Rudcaux. on one
aide. Tiny points of silver, or
Ctecl, sown over the surface, glit
tered in the moon's ray, as if
diamond insects hovered and escaped
with every turn of the happy owner's
■flexible wrist A subtle perfume ema
jnated from the downy margin.
**I will give you a dozen fans if you
fg.wish,” said the sailor, in a slightly ag
grieved tone.
’ Yes, bo was piqued and irritated to
behold her cherishing the quite un
warrantable gift of another man.
Dolores smiled, with a sudden, daz
ding gleam of snowy teeth between
; red lips, and turned her head, archly.
At the same time she clasped, provok
fngly, the princely souvenir to her
bosom.
"A dozen ftans would be too many,
Coly what happiness to take up one or
••other at pleasure. No! You must
. . wot touch me again.’*,
She leaned toward him, and passed
■the fan, playfully, over his curling
■ .i \ y.'■/ ’« .*>■ ■ ’ ;•*
hair, with a caressing movement.
The young man stood before her in
all the unconscious pride of his
strength, and the moon shone on his
golden beard, open brow, nnd straight
features, which wore an expression of
hauteur and vexation at the moment,
while his blue eyes dwelt with
fascination on (her slightest ges
ture. Dolores paused and con
templated him. “Ah, how good and
noble you are!'' she sighed.
lie drew her onco more close to his
side. “Dolores, you are u woe bit
ilighty to-night, but you must be rea
sonable-”
I am reasonable, and not at all
flighty.”
“Listen to me, darling-”
"I listen!"
“Yon belong to me. Yon are to be
my wife. Wo will live and die to
gether.”
“Shall wo ever grow old, like grand
papa?” meditatively.
“Wo must grow old in our own fash
ion,” he replied evasively.
Dolores recoiled and unfurled her
fan. “Let us always remain youmr,”
she insisted, with a return of fantastic
gaiety.
“Dolores, givo me that confounded
fan!”
“No! No!”
“Then you do value it more than
any gift of mine?”
The girl frowned, pondered a mo
ment, closed the fan, and placed it in
his nand without uttering a word.
Ilis strong fingers closed over the
frail treasure.
“Would you mind my keeping it?” he
teased.
“No," with a softness which was
alluring, tempting, almost feline.
“Would you care if 1 broke it and
cast it uway?”
"No.”
The muscular hand crushed feathers,
substance and pearl stick before he
was aware of it, and then he flung the
wreck on the other side of the road.
Dolores cast a bewildered glance at
the broken fan, but mudo no attempt
to recover it A tear rolled down her
cheek.
“You are a good little girl not to
scold me for such clumsiness,” ho said,
with real, or assumed -contrition for
an ebullition of temper. “I did not
intend to crush the thing. You shall
have another to-morrow.”
His arms were around her, his cheek
rested against her face, bis mouth
sought her trembling lips in a long,
ardent kiss.
For a time she yielded passively to
his embrace, then she slipped away
and paused a few paces from him. She
trembled and grew pale, her black
eyes flashed. Then she burst into
passionate sobs.
“You were cruel to break it!” she
exclaimed.
She fled away swiftly, closely fol
lowed by her .little dog, and Lieut.
Curzon heard the gate shut behind her.
He waited irresolutely for a time,
then departed, tantalized yet triumph
ant, with the shy, half-unconscious
kiss of Dolores still lingering on his
lips. Lovg had come to him with a
smile and a song. He would make all
right on the morrow with the pur
chase and presentation of a new fan.
Little did he foresee the events of
the morrow.
A cloud swept over the moon's disk,
like a veil. The gate of the garden
opened, a figure emerged, noiselessly,
glided along the boundary wall, groped
in the path for some object, and as
swiftly withdrew.
The splendor of the night deep
ened. The white hamlets slept, as if
they were the tombs of the inmates,
and the sea heaved and sparkled in
the track of leviathan about to rise
from the depths. Hursts of maudlin
song and jest were occasionally audi
ble in the port, while the ships of the
harbor dreamed above their reflectioni
in the tranquil waters.
ChAPTEB XII.
Kxpulalou.
Il
'OULI> NOT
leave the poor fan
lying out there in
the road,” Dolores
1 confided to her
pillow when she
awakened the nest
^ morning.
Then she sought
the fragments beneath the same pil
low, where she had placed them on the
previous night before going to sleep
The moon had become hidden by
clouds at the opportune moment when
she had returned in search of the
treasure. There was treason to Ar
thur Curzon, and even defiance of him,
in the act, For the first time in her
young life she was required to ponder
on the unreasonable and exacting
character of man. The garrulous
moods and prevalent crossness of
grandpapa was a different matter.
Her admiration of the handsome offi
cer, and the affectionate gratitude
awakened in her heart by his
geniality and generosity, were mere
surface ripples of sentiment as yet in
her nature.
Her slumbers had been broken by
' •••'“ .^v' .*-«-*■. ■ -•
•• ■ aft - >
• *1. - >V -if*- -‘y r
agitated dreams and feverish starts of
wakefulness, when she lind listened to
those confused and intermittent sounds
below stairs, which indicated that
Jacob Poultry was roaming about the
Watch Tower.
In addition, the Cavalier of the pict
ure seemed to stand on the threshold
of tier chamber and reproach her for
some fault. 11 is voice was muffled,
vague and monotonous, like the
rhythm of the distant sea. tSiie could
not distinguish his words. Wliat had
she done'.’ Dolores could not under
stand.
Stic rose, made her simple toilet, and
ate her frugal breakfast with a
healthy, young appetite. Her grand
father had been up for hours. He did
not notice her. 'The amenities of con
versation were rare between them.
The girl took the fun in her hand,
und contemplated it with sadness.
She shed a few tears over the wreck.
Ah, how beautiful it had been only
the previous night, with the
moonlight sparkling on the span
gled surface,' The fingers that
crushed the pearl and tortoise
shell structure must have been very
strong, and the anger of Arthur Cur
zon deep. Did she not feel some
sweet, feminine docility of subjection
to the muscles of this Samson?
Tie was jealous,” said Dolores,
aloud, and a dimple deepened in her
soft cheek.
She glanced at a little mirror; al
ready she was a woman. The discov
ery frightened and enchanted her.
The broken fan still claimed her sor
rowful tenderness and regret.
"Wliat shall I do with it?” she de
manded of the Knight of Malta, paus
ing before the picture.
The Knight was mute.
She went out into the garden, ir
reselutely. A bee from £is hive in the
“Ills ARMS WERE AROUND HER.”
rear of the Tower settled on her wrist
She did not fear the insect. The bees
made famous honey.
“What shall I do with the fan?” she
repeated, obeying1 a childish impulse
to question Fate.
The bee was mute, and, after bask
ing, a downy, golden body, on the ex
tended arm for a moment, spread gos
samer wings, and flew away, as if
about to keep a business appointment
in the kingdom of the thyme.
“What shall I do with the fan?” the
girl inquired of the pigeons, the flow
ers, the dog.
The pigeons ceased to coo, and
looked at her with bright eyes; the
flowers swayed on their fragile stalks,
and hung their heads, languid with
their own fragrance.
Florio bounded through the reeds,
and again emerged, uttering a sharp
bark, as if to claim her attention for
the retreat which he had discovered in
the middle of the clump of plants.
Dolores caught up the little animal,
and bestowed her usual caress, a kiss
on the nose. “The very spot!” she
exclaimed. “I will bury the fan,
Florio knows more than the pigeons,
or the bees.”
She glanced about in search of her
grandfather. She had once offended
him by digging at the roots of hb
flowers and attempting to bury a
broken doll. Now she would ask him
to accord her a tiny corner for the
fan's grave. The gate was half open.
She looked out, and beheld the old
man traversing the path in the direc
tion of the high road. He was* evi
dently bound on some er
rand. She must await his
return. When would he return
though? Surely there could be no
harm in hiding away the fan among
the canes! Her life had been so
meager of incident, that this one ac
quired importance in her estimation.
Impatience overcame all scruple .
She once more sought and found a
broken, rusty knife, and, kneeling,
thrust her arm through the barrier of
stems to scoop out a little hole in the
earth. The clump of canes should
shelter the spot.
The task was rudely interrupted.
A claw-lilie hand grasped her shoul
der, and she was dragged back with
violence.
Jacob Dealtry had entered the en
closure, and discovered her occupa
tion. Ue pounced upon his grand
child in an accessof fury. “Yon jade!
You devil's imp! Wliat are you about,
now?”
The words seemed to hiss in her ear,
awakening puinful memories
“1 am not hurting the Hovers in
the very least, grandpapa,” she pro
tested, in an aggrieved tone.
She was older and stronger than
when she had attempted to inter
the doll, and need not fear to
confront him in a tit of anger. She
must learn to brave him. Neverthe
less. the rage of the old man made her
quail. She rose to her feet, trembling
in every limb, and averted her head.
The crisis was terribly brief.
One moment a white face confronted
her, with the pinched features drawn
and contracted, and a pair of gleam
ing eyes projecting from the sockets.
And the next she was thrust out of the
gate, with her dog, and the bolts
drawn.
(TO BE COSTUCCED.)
■; * ‘ -5' , -T. n--. ' '
O' "V ' . ■
DAIRY AND POULTRY.
INTERESTING CHAPTERS FOR
OUR RURAL READERS.
How Successful Farmers Operate The
Department of the Farm —A Few
Hints as to the Care of Live Stock
and Poultry.
HE GRO WING
' poultry should be
pushed to maturity.
Unless the pullets
are well matured
before cold weath
er, they will not
lay before spring.
If your are rais
ing turkeys and
ducks for the fall
It la the large fowls that bring the most
money, and they should be forced In
growth a3 much as possible. The faster
they grow the better the meat, and the
larger they grow the more money they
will bring. Do not feed corn; the ob
ject tow is growth, not fat. Bran is
an excellent food for growing fowls, but
it should be well scalded or it will cause
bowel trouble.
Do not induce the hen to wean the
chicks early. The chicks that remain
with the hen until they are well feath
ered will grow faster and thrive bet
ter in every way than when the hen
leaves them early. As a rule, old hens
will not wean their chicks until they are
pretty well grown, and for this reason
old hens make better mothers than do
pullets.
Be sure to keep the growing pullets
free from lice, as that pest in itself is
the cause of more deaths among grow
ing poultry than anything else. If
growth has been checked by the pres
ence of lice the young fowls will al
ways be less vigorous than they would
have been if they had not been infected
with them. Thick, sweet cream is bet
ter to grease the heads of young fowls
afflicted with lice than melted lard; it'
will kill the lice and not injure the
fowl, as lard is apt to do.
A very critical time for growing poul
try i3 the time they shed their downy
covering and before they are fully
feathered. At this time they should
be well fed and kept well sheltered at
night and during damp weather. They
are more liable to roup at this time,
and exposure to cold and dampness is
apt to result in this fatal disease.
Lime water and sweet milk will as
sist in feathering. A diet that will
greatly assist in feathering is prepared
as follows: To a pint of boiling sweet
milk add two well-beaten eggs, let boil
until the consistency of jelly, add a
dash of red pepper. When given to
the fowls place in a cool place in the
shade to prevent its becoming sour.
Grit of some kind is as essential for
young poultry as for adults. It is one
of the requirements of nature. Place
grit where they can get at it and see
how eagerly they devour it, and you
will be convinced that it is a necessary
part of their bill of fare. The lack of
grit will cause indigestion and bowel
trouble. A constant supply of it within
reach all the time will cause them to
consume more food and thereby make
a more rapid growth and reach matur
ity earlier..
It is important for growing fowls
to have shade, where they can retreat
out of the hot sun. The extreme heat
of the sun is debilitating to growing
fowls and will retard growth. Duck
lings are very sensitive to the heat of
the sun.—Farm, Stock and Home.
Caro of Ducklings.
These little animated, orange feath
ered—downed, we should say—objects
have very little need of a mother, ex
cept to brood them at night, and except
they are hatched quite early, when the
weather is cool. A good-sized hen can
care for a large flock of them—as many
as fifteen or twenty, perhaps. When
first hatched, it is better to confine
them in a low, movable pen made of
boards, say six inches wide, and any
length convenient. The pen may be
made either square or in the shape of
a triangle. In either case it is a wise
plan to nail thin boards across the cor
ners, thus affording the ducklings a
shelter and refuge from sudden storms
and the sun. If the coop be placed
where some tree will throw its shadow
across it so much the better. This is
especially necessary after the latter
part of May. Water, in shallow ves
sels, should be plentifully supplied, and
in order that one may be perfectly sure
that the birds will be all right in the
morning, an empty barrel should be
placed on its side within the pen, with
a nicely-fitted and ventilated cover for
a door, and the ducklings closed within
this temporary yet quite serviceable
structure, otherwise one may be miss
ing 1n the morning. It is better to
keep them within this enclosure un
til they are large enough to get out, by
which time they will take care of them
selves. The enclosure can be shifted
about, so that the ground need not be
come befouled.
Ducklings are not very particular in
the matter of food, as they will relish
and thrive upon the coarsest fare, pro
vided only that it is always given fresh
and sweet. The following is a for
mula for a model food for young duck
lings: Ground white oats, sifted, three
parts; sharps, four parts; bran, one
part; ground oil meal, one part. When
using it, first mix the different ingred
ients in a dry state, then take only
a sufficient quantity of the mixture for
one feeding, and after salting it slight
ly, Ecald thoroughly with boiling water,
and when cool enough, feed. It should
not be wet enough to be sloppy, but
only sufficient to soften and swell the
broken grains.—Mark Lane Express.
Liming Egga.—In liming eggs the
most tedious and ticklish part of the
work is puting the eggs in the pickle.
This may be greatly simplified by using
a tin basin punched full of inch-holes,
nrd large enough to hold six dozen eggs.
The edges of the basin should be cov
ered with leather, and it should have a
handle about three feet long. Fill the
basin with eggs, put both under the
pickle and turn the eggs out gently;
they will all go to the bottom without
breaking. This basin will be found
equally useful in dipping the eggs out
when it is desired to remove them from
the pickle.—N. Y. World.
Look out for vermin now. there Is
nothing that retards the prosperity of
a flock of fowls like these pests, and
this la the season they multlpiv.
Oleomnryarlnn vs. nattrr.
These arc some figures given oat by
the Produce Exchange, Chicago:
In 1894, In the United States, there
'■were manufactured 70,000,000 pounds of
oleomargarine, equal to the product of.
600,000 cows, of which, in Illinois, there
were made about 60,000,000 pounds,
equal to the product of 450,000 cows.
During the above period, the agricul
tural producer for the raw material en
tering into a pound of butter received
sixteen (16) cents, while under the same
conditions, for the raw material enter
ing into a pound of oleomargarine he
received three (3) cents. This difference
represents a loss of thirteen (13) cents
on every pound of oleo sold and con
sumed as butter—over $8,000,000 In the
United States and $7,500,000 in Illinois.
It is a conservative estimate that
eighty (80) to ninety-five (95) per cent
of the oleo consumed is consumed as
and for butter at the price of but
ter.
Every pound of oleo thus consumed
takes the place of and destroys the sale
of a pound of butter.
It is further true that it is the yellow
color or the shade of yellow color ar
tificially given to oleo that enables it
to be sold and consumed as butter at
the price of butter.
In other words, it is the means where
by the fraud is committed and the pub
lic deceived.
The consumer is thus defrauded and
cheated—but everybody is a consumer,
therefore in thi3 connection the terms
consumer and the public are one and
the same thing.
But legislation seeking to protect the
public from fraud is not class legisla
tion, and it is further true, that legis
lation against fraud is not class legisla
tion.
Whenever a pound of oleo is sold at
the price of butter, a fraud has been
committed—committed not only on the
producer who is deprived of an oppor
tunity to earn sixteen (16) cents and in
its place has an opportunity to earn
only three (3) cents, but also on the con
sumer who pays the sixteen (16) cents
and gets only the value of three (3)
cents in return.
Therein lies the fraud. *'
An Ideal Dairy.
Probably the most Ideal dairy In ex
istence Is that of the Princess of Wales,
in which not only she, but her various
daughters, have learned to make the
most perfect of butter. The walls are
covered with tiles presented to the
Prince of Wales, who placed them here
as a surprise to the royal dairymaids.
They were made in Bombay, and' are tf
a deep peacock blue, the rose, sham
rock, and thistle being intertwined,
with the motto, “Ich dien.”
A white marble counter running
around the room holds silver pans of
milk from the Alderneys grazing with
out. Above this on broad bracket shelves
of marble is a collection, in every
imaginable material, of cows, bullocks,
and calves; Italian and Parian marble;
alabaster, porcelain, terra cotta, and sil
ver—all gifts. A long milk can, paint
ed by the Princess Louise to match the
Indian tiling, stands in one corner, and
opposite is the head of the Princess’
pet Alderney, with a silver plate re
cording her virtues. Here the Prin
cess sometimes churns in a silver
churn, and in the next room the butter
for the family is made and sent up
fresh every morning when they are in
London. The day’s supply is made up
into little pats arid scrolls all ready for
the table, and the Prince requires a
special order of pats. Not a grain of
salt is allowed in them, and they are
made the size of a half dollar and the
thickness of three, with either the
crown, the coat of arms or the three
feathers stamped on each.—Ex.
How to Keep Cheese.
Cheese must not be kept in a warm
and dry place. The best place is a cel
lar such as would be called dry, which
will anyhow have some moisture in it,
and some is necessary to the
proper keeping of cheese. Dark
ness is preferable to light, and
a low temperature, but not
lower than 55 degrees, is desirable. The
cheese will become moldy on the out
side; the mold is permitted until the I
surface is covered, when it is scraped
off and the cheese is washed with water
at 80 degrees and all the mold is re
moved. It is then wiped dry and
greased with sweet oil, or butter, un
salted, to HU the pores in the crust. It
is thus left for a few weeks and this is
repeated. In this way the cheese slow
ly changes its character, improving all
the time in flavor arid texture. It be
comes fatty by the charge of some of
the caseine into a kind of fatty matter,
and a peculiar mild aroma is produced
quite different from the intolerable
3mell of the coarse kinds of semi-putrid
cheese known as Limburger, or some of
the overcured German cheese. The cur
ing described is that practiced with the
Brie and the Roqueford cheese, as well
as that finest of all kinds, the English
Stilton. As a rule we do not give requi
site attention to curing our cheese,
at*! hence its want of high quality. The
curing of cheese is a slow process that
requires skillful control, or it becomes
decomposition.
The secretary of agriculture has Is
sued a bulletin relating to the exten
sion of the trade in American agricul
ture and other products in the world’s
markets, Germany being the country
treated of in this bulletin. Consular
reports from German commercial cen
ters are appended to show the feasibil
ity of extending the market for Ameri
can products in their respective fields
of observation. During the six years
ending December 31, 1893, the foreign
commerce of Germany increased 8.7 per
cent, as compared with an increase of
one-tenth of 1 per cent in that oi
Great Britain, a decrease of 3.6 per
cent in that of Prance during the same
period, and an increase of 3.3 in that
of the United States for the six years
ending June 30, 1891.
A Lockjaw Remedy.—A writer in
Clark’s Horse Review gives his ex
perience in curing lockjaw, in which
he says: “If a nail is picked up, get
it out, of course, as soon as possible,
then get a half pail of hot water—as
hot as the horse can possibly stand it
—pour in plenty of vinegar and also I
plenty of salt. This is all, only it
must be so hot that at first when you
put the horse's foot into it he will puli
the foot out of the water; put in again
and keep on doing eo until you can hold
the foot in steadily. Hold It in half
an hour or longer and repeat it again
after two hours. Do this four times
the first day. In nine cases out of
ten it will save the horse."
Sworn Tfi,.
^g*Maonredre^fii,ltJ10'1' •
by the victim «f >»«n i
ivL IS re oreadfui tt,. 1
by the victim of inXI, ,"*11
Tbe chronic form of r
is sufficiently p,,'s *.!!»
start with Uostf-ii.lv!1 !\ At:
Start i’l, I.. y painful
start with Hosteller* •ir**t
avoid becoming a lif. 2,r'c*kta
ters will remote
plaints, dyspepsia i*
ness and neural?].^
hasten convaleicencc.r'aie^J -W
. A -on.W..tWp 1
A means of forecasting T3
Iroma cup of coffee l 1 4
Leeds Mercury, which asi "7
officFnriOVen m6re trustwonhviL
Official guesses. Drop
sugar carefully into t)Fe LnS
cup; if the air bubbles
center of the cup it will h!* “ V
rise rapidly andY, £
rain alld.?; W
Weak am
Because of a depleted cen.-fe,,
blood. The remedy is t0 *
purified, enriched and *
which will be given by H(»v, i
'rilla, the great blood purifa
tone the stomach, create an aiM
give renewed strength, Eeraeabji
Hood’s Sarsapa
Is the only true blood purifier pra
in the public eye today. $1; sj
