f CHAPTER VI.—rCosTiNUKD.l The governor's hoyden daughter had i\. a warm heart under all her careless guise, and she soon had Agnes fed, dressed in sf suit of her own clothes, and snnglyltueked up In bed in her f- own chamber. The weary girl fell asleep, and when V She woke she found it was past sunset p and Helen Fulton was sitting by her pillow. "Papa has come,” she said; “so get up and brush your hair, and let me put this cluster of rosebuds In your j curls—papa is not so old that he has , lost all taste for beauty.” « : Agnes submitted quietly, and was led down to the library by her young host j§K*$s. ■ :sp The governor was a tall, wcli-pre f‘served man of 45, with a pleasing ad dress, ^keen gray eye, and a face ratheehandsome than otherwise. Helen . led Agnes up before him. “Papk^his is Miss Agnes Trenholme of Portlea. She has come here with a apeclal errand to you." t ■ The governor greeted her court eously. “X am pleased to see Miss Trenholme. ? I know Mr. Ralph very well. To what J am I Indebted for this agreeable sur prise?’’^ Agnes wjrpllowed down the sobs that Were rising in her throat by a brave: Cr, effort She had wondered what she ~ ihonld say to this man when at last she ; •hould get an audience, and now that the time had come she had forgotten •verything, she had Intended to urge. Her courage, so brave and strong) had •u balded to positive weakness. She ■lipped down to her knees on the rug bJftfe hirii*and burst into tears. /'My child.” he said, kindly laying Ids hand M her. head, “what means this •motion9 Speak out. Surely you are not :• afraid of em.” , i :• z X i . mo, Diu i leei so urea, ana bo neany (Hopeless! And I dread that you will re fose me. Mt yon, moat not! Indeed you Shust notlfor I will take no denial! I MU atayfkere at' your feet until you ^tant m/request!” "Yqij, forget that you have not made §' - m“l time to ask ad much of you! I (pve traveled nearly 200 miles alone, feraving the dlapleasure of my friends, •ad the scorn of the world—I have come to ,ask you to spare his life—the ; Ufe of tynde Graham.” t*h«*gowet>nor’s brow grew dark, iff “Miss Trenholme, he la a murderer!” “I tell you he la not! Never call him thifWt You wrong him. He Is Innocent. ; 1 tell you, before God, that If you let Mas gods the gallows, some time you will rfpent In dust and ashes the mur der you yourself have committed! He ■ever did that dreadful deed. He would aot bave harmed a single feather of the lowest bird in the woods. I do not •ak yon to pardon him—O no, I am eontent with asking his life—a little respite from death until God sees fit to bring the real aasaaln to justice!” “M* poor girl,” he said, sorrowfully, ; **! regfet that thla has happened. I pity You. f«r I suppose you love this unfor tnnat# young man; but 1 cannot grant yo-jr request. From my soul I believe Xynd#Graham guilty!" “D^'not say so. You crush out hope In ms heart! O, 1 cannot, cannot go back over that weary road without the paper I want! Look at me. Governor S’ulto*. A few little weeks ago I was feappy amk care free. Now see the , change tmf terrible grief has wrought. Your daughter pities me; her Innocent fef*.'t .feels for me! You do not know to what,strait she may yet be reduced. Be merciful to me aa you would want mercy shown to her!” neien crept, into nor lamer a arms, *nd laid her soft cheek against his. "Papa, it will not hurt you to let this nan live, and it will make her so happy. I’ll go without a new bonnet this Winter, It you’ll do what she want*” And she pinched his cheek. "Madcap! Helen, how can you trifle •oV asked the governor, trying to frowns "This Is too solemn a thing to Joke upon. I believe that death should he the fate ot all murderers." The thee ot Agnes grew stern as his •wn. .Her voice had a steel-1 Ike ring. “Aid so do I, with my whole soul! It 1 thought him guilty. I would not speak a word to save him. I loved the girl as fondly as I could have' ed -an own sister, and I would give {JkoH my life to have the real murderer . Mjtori.Jor his crime. But In this case ttelaw has fastened on the wrong per son, and a curiously strong chain ot MGlKiumstantial evidence has so closely i wound Itself about him, that It Was lm ' pafcdHe for the fnry. to 40 otherwise ' ## Mm.jBut for ai\ that he is ~:Oh, Mr, give me arepriete, If * little year! ilahy J‘' he hevogted tn a year." § A ’ A „"*t M Ungoeeibler , - ’'Only-lor one year! O, sir, I will hot 'age until you yield!’’ She looked > wg.lbMChM face, her eyes streaming §& with tears. ’ stele an arm sroun^htt seek. RifeySs, ■jar m ,V -/f..'.', sv.«;, it. ■* ■■ “Papa, If you don’t let her have the paper ahe wants. I’ll never, no, never, kiss you nor pull your whiskers again as long as I live! I swear It by the book!" Insensibly h!s stern face softened. Agnes was watching him closely. She saw the change, and her heart leaped Into her throat. She caught his hand and pressed It to her lips. u “You will make me happy!" she cried. "Oh, sir, God in heaven bless you; and some time you will thank Him that he taught you mercy in the cause of Jus tice!" The governor rose, put Helen away from him, and drew toward his writ ing materials. He wrote rapidly a few moments, signed his name at the bot tom of the sheet in bold characters, and afflked the great seal of the state. He then folded the document and gave it into the waiting bands of Ag nes. "There," he said, "if I have done wrong, I hope heaven will pardon me, but no man in his senses could resist two such women. I have reprieved Lynde Graham for eighteen months, aud if in that time nothing turns up in his favor, ho shall be executed! Take it and lose no time. Remember if you do not reach Portlea by 10. o’clock on Christmas morning, this paper for which you have dared so much will be a dead letter!” She stooped over him and touched her lips to bis forehead in utter silence. Only God knows how much at that time she revered Archibald Fulton. The groom brought her horse, fed and refreshed, to the door, and assisted her to the saddle. Helen went out and took her hand. There was a suspicious moisture in the eyes of this wild girl that the damp fogs of night did not put there. • “I love you, Miss Trenholme," she •aid gently. *T admire so much your courage, and your faith in the man you i love. I do hope you will be in time. And some day I mean to know you better. Good-bye.” The groom loosed the rein and through the gloom rider and horse vanished from the sight of Helen Ful ton. CHAPTER VII. . DV. PULTON need* ©d not to have urg ed Agnes to use ex pedltlon; she re quired no Incentive to haste, beyond her own terrible anxie ty. The good old gentleman be thought himself of hia want of gallant ry in permitting Her to leave alone on so dangerous a journey, soon af ter she departed, and he Immediately dispatched one of the servants on horse back to escort her. The man was toell mounted and he overtook her a few miles on her way and they rode to gether until the evening of the 24th, when she dismissed him. She preferred to go on alone. She halted until after midnight to rest her horse, and then set forth. She had seventy-live miles to ride before ten In the morning. Between the hours of ten and two! . The fearful words of the sentence rang constantly In her ears. What If she were not in time! O, what if she were not? The thought was agony. She urged on, her jaded horse by every tasans in her power. Ten miles from Port lea, it seemed as if the animal was about spent. He trembled, staggered and was about to fall, but Agnes sprang •Off and soothed and encouraged him with voice and hand, and then by-and by mounted again and went on. O, how heavy her heart was! Despair had al most seized her. If Jove gave out. then all was over. She seemed, even then, to hear the JeerB of the cruel crowd, the mocking shouts, the heartless laughter.. □ iui uei uunro siuggereu on, DUt nlS 1 breath came hot and thick, and the foam stood upon his flanks liltancvlf i fallen snow. ■ < 1 1 She looked at her watch. Half past 10! If she should be too late! The world ■ whirled round before her. There was a ■ great roar In her ears, like the rush of ! the sea upon the rocky coast. It grew ■ so dark she could not see. She grasped the neck of her horse for support, her confused head falling on the pad of the saddle. Only for a moment. The anxiety within brought her to herself. She looked around her. She was very near Forties. There were many people mov ing to and fro. A great crowd filled the streets. 8he took a road to the Jail yard. The crowd was terribly dense, but Ag nes saw nothing save that horrible frame work of timber, raised high above the stone walls of the Jail, and standing on the platform, a very prince among them all, the tall, erect form of l*yndo Graham! She was In time! Her heart swelled almost to bursting. “Yet h little more, Jove, and it Is done!’* she cried; but the* poor beast Could do no more—he reeled and sank on his knees, with something that sounded like the sigh of a human be ing In despair. Agnes sprang from the saddle and dashed through the excited crowd. They parted before her, and she reach* ci at last the foot of the scaffold. The '■y V v-vr y- *; rope was already adjusted, the carpen ter stood ready, waiting the sheriff's word to let the drop fall, and the sig nal would have been given in another instant. The voice of Agnes rang out, over and above all the confused noises of the motley gathering: “A reprieve! A reprieve!” She held aloft the paper—they saw the great seal of the state. "A reprieve from the governor," she said, and fell senseless, even as she spoke, into the arms of old Dr. Hudson, who rushed forward to receive her. The sheriff read the reprieve aloud, j and then removing the rope, he led the prisoner down the steps of the scaffold. In all his captivity no one had ever heard Lynde ask a single favor, but now be said to the official: "Grant me this. Miss Trenholme has saved me a little 'longer to life—allow me to pass near enough to her to touch i her clothes." j The sheriff stared, but Indulged the ! wish. Graham went up to where she | lay, a gread crowd around her, and Dr. ! Hudson and a brother physician ap j plying restoratives. He stooped down I and looked into her face. Oh, how very white and deathly she looked! Graham lifted the soiled mantle she wore, and touched the hem reverently with his lips. Then he turned away, and went back to his dreary prison house. Agnes was taken to the residence of Dr. Hudson, and cared for as well as could be. But she had endured so much, both mentally and physically, that life hung upon a thread, and for days she lay in a stupor so closely resembling ! death that at times those who watched 1 her could not tell whether or not the breatn still lingered. * j Mrs. Trenholme braved the displeas- j ure of her son ,and came down at once ; to nurse her, and when, after ten days 1 of stupor, her disease culminated In j brain fever of the most violent type.! she wrote thus to her son: j “Ralph, Agnes is sick unto death. If j you could sit beside her as I do, and ; listen to her unconscious ravings, and j through them learn how terribly she I had suffered, you would forgive her. • Oh, Ralph, by the memory of your dead ! father, I implore you to come to us! “Your Mother.” But Ralph, still haughty and unre lenting in his cruel pride, answered: "Mother, it is useless to plead for her. She has brought our honored name to disgrace by the course she has taken. I cannot forgive her! Ralph." But that night, when he retired to' rest, no sleep came to Ralph Trenholme. I He saw the pale face of Agnes as he had j last seen It. She laid a little cold hand > on his arm and with a sweet, sad voice j asked him to pardon and love her. He' started up, his brow wet with a chill perspiration, his heart beating loudly. But at last he slept, and, sleeping, a vision came to him. He stood in the summer house at the foot of the gar den. The time was June, for there were roses in bloom at the mouth of the ar bor. Directly, there floated upon the roseate air the face of Marina. He saw the blue eyeo, and felt the thrill of the golden hair as It swept against his * cheek. | “Ralph," she said, “dear Ralph, put aside vengeance. It belongs unto God alone, and he will bring it to pass! Also put aside wrath, and go to your sister. She is calling you, and I, your guard ian spirit, bid you obey the summons!" ;to he continued.) Laboacherc'a Little Joke. Notice—Several influential dowagers have combined together to charter the steamship Frisco, 6,000 nons, for the purpose of conveying a cargo of disap pointed British girls to America, with a view of disposing of thorn advantag eously in the states. Attention is earn estly requested to the circumstance that presentation at court is desirable, since importance is attached to this social formality across the Atlantic, and ladies who have attended a draw ing room may, therefore, be expected to obtain more satisfactory terms than those who have not. The steamship Frisco, according to present arrange ments, will sail from Southampton for New York on October 15 next. All in quiries as to terms, etc., should be ad dressed to the secretary, 223 Belgrave square, S. W. Office hours, 10 a. m. to 6 p. m. upon week days; Saturdays, close at 2 p, m#—London Truth. Safe There. When Col. Ingersoll was in England he visited St. Paul’s cathedral for the first time. As he was contemplating the tomb of Wellington the guide said: "That, sir, is the tomb of the great est military ’ero Europe or the ’ole world hever knew—Lord Wellington’s. This marble sarchophagus weighs 42 tons. Hinside that is a steel receptacle weighing 13 tons, and hinside that is a leaden casket ’ermetically sealed, weighing over two tons. Hinside that is a ma’ogany coffin, ’olding the ashes of the great ’ero.” “Well,” said the colonel, after think ing a while, "I guess you’ve got him. If he ever gets out of that, cable me at my expense.” The Sultan's Trouble*. As if, the sultan’s cup of bitterness were not full to overflowing, with the spirit of revolt stalking through Ar menia and Macedonia, and even in the shadow of his palace at Constantinople, now comes a petition from Crete re questing the powers to intervene in the affairs of the iBland and put an end to anarchy, accompanied by murder and rapine, of which the Cretans are the vic tims. In a little while it may no longer be necessary to partition. Tur key; the empire of the Ottomans will fall asunder through sheer rottenness. At t Safe Distance. | Clara—All the girls are taking box i lng lessons. Aren't you scared? j Young Bachelor—No; I always keep ! away tram bargain coasters. FARM AND GARDEN. MATTERS :OP INTEREST TO t AGRICULTURISTS. Com* Up- to-Date Hints Abont Cultiva tion or the Soil snd Yields Thereof— Horticulture, Viticulture mud Flori culture. BULLETIN FROM the Indiana Experi-. ment station says: Young fruit trees are very apt to be injured during the winter by mice and rabbits gnawing the bark. This is especially true if the orchard has been neglected dur ing the summer season. A heavy growth of grass or weeds about the trees makes excellent nests for mice during the winter, and where rubbish heaps have been allowed to accumu late in the orchard, especially if it is near a forest, rabbits will almost in variably congregate. Under these con ditions the young trees will almost cer tainly suffer from the ravages of one or both of these pests. It is Important, therefore, that this matter be attended to at once. There are various remedies recom mended for these evils; the first and most Successful of which is clean culti vation. If this has not been followed then remove all loose mulch, dead grass and rubbish of various kinds from the immediate vicinity of the base of the trees. This will destroy the nesting places of mice, and will go far towards- protecting the trees from injury. Then, in addition to the above, make a smooth, compact mound of earth, a foot high, about the base of the trees, just before the ground freezes. These two precautions will be all that is necessary to insure pro tection against mice. Rabbits are not so liable to injure trees where there are other small plants, such as young grape vines or nursery stock in the immediate vicin ity of the orchard, as they seem to de light in cutting oil the young tender branches in preference to gnawing the bark of .older trees. It Is always safe, however, to protect the trees, and a favorite method Is to wrap the trunks with closely woven wire screen, such as is used for screen doors. This may be cut into strips eighteen Inches to two feet in length and wide enough to completely encase the body of the tree. These may be tacked on or the edges woven together, and if they do not fit too closely may be left on for sev eral years. Instead of the wire screen, ordinary roofing tin is sometimee used. Sheathing paper is also used with good effect, placed on the tree in a similar manner. If one is located near a slaughter house, a very convenient as well as effectual method is to wash the trunks of the trees with blood or ran cid grease. This, however, is liable to be washed off by rains, and would need renewal several times during the win ter. These and doubtless other rem edies will prove effectual if properly applied. By giving this matter imme diate attention, much damage to the young orchards may be prevented. Jas. Troop, Horticulturist; Education on the Farm. The farmer’s profession can he ele vated above Its present standard only as the children improve upon the meth ods of their parents. President Chad bourne of the Massachusetts Agricul tural college once said that the way for young men to rise in the world was to stand upon the shoulders of their fath ers. We miss half the wear and tear in life when we acquire the faculty of profiting by the experience of other men. It proves nothing, that some fine ly educated man has*failed in farming, or that some uneducated men have suc ceeded. Education will help a man, but It will never make one. When it can be proved that a majority Of educated men upon the farm are failures and a majority of the uneducated successful, we shall all begin to question the pro priety and value of education for the farmer’s profession. But until that Is proved we shall believe that the farm er's business stands upon the same basis that supports all other kinds of business, that the general education which is useful to the doctor, the law yer, the man upon the board of trade is just as valuable to the man who tills the soil, and that professional training in schools of agriculture will have the worth upon the farm that the knowl edge and discipline of the law school has in practice before the courts. One thing more. The circumstances of a farmer’s life are such that he is brought into closer, because more con stant contact with his family than men engaged In other pursuits. His part nership with the companion of his life is, in a business sense, certainly a very close one. Side by side they often per form the same kinds of labor, and the silent partner not unfrequently bears the heaviest burdens. Many of us in the rush and amid the distracting cares of our business, forget that woman's strength is not man’s strength, that a ceaseless monotony of toil takes laugh ter from the Ups, roses from the cheeks and health from the body. No sensible man would desire that farmers’ wives should be transformed into useless orna ments; but it should be the aim of farm ers who would do honor to their profes sion to make their mothers and wives and daughters something more than mere household drudges, to give them an opportunity, as far as means will per mit, to satisfy those fanciee and tastes, to cultivate those graces and those tal ents that are the beauty and tho charm of true womanhood.—H. C. Adams. Farm Ownership. It does not require the compilation of figures to show that there is a change gradually working Itself through the ownership of farm lands. It is a fact open to general obserratlon that the farms of the country are gradually dropping into the hands of tenants, and in our opinion it is that much vjrorse for the country. No one will dispute that the farmer has many advantages in working land owned by himself that pan never accrue to him while the la»d is owned by another. One of the lead ing causes to be assigned feu* this state of things is the fact of a desire to over reach one's self in the possession of lands. To make use of a significant Western expression, it comes of biting off more than one can “chaw." We have long advocated as the best policy for farmers to pursue in this matter that of cutting down their possessions in lands, rather than that of extending them. When'the farmer makes up his mind to this order of things it will be some time before the sheriff closes him out. In the course of the next ten years we look for a stronger pressure than ever before brought to bear upon this matter of reducing the size of the farm. A new style of farming is gradually to come into vogue that will necessitate it. The extensions of irrigation systems and the growth and expansion of the subsoiling idea are destined to lead in the direction of intensive farming In the West. We are aware that it used to be fashionable to spread one’s self out over a large area in his farming operations with a view of reducing the cost of production of crops. This day has passed. Things hav'e changed and if the farmer of today expects to con tinue to own his own land he must give more attention to each individual acre and see that it does its share.—Nebras ka Farmer. Bite or a Hogj—It is a serious tiling to be bitten by any animal, for even though there may be no poisonous glands, the saliva in the mouth of ani mals that bite is always more or less poisonous. The bito of the hog is more apt to be serious than that of any other domestic animal. It requires'skill and activity to handle large numbers of hogs without endangering those who hold them. The hog i^m omnivorous eater, and is not at all particular about get ting particles of dirt or excrement with its food. Old hogs, which are most apt to bite, often destroy mice and snakes, and though they get no venom in their mouths, it will poison wherever such saliva reaches abraided skin. No one who has a sore on his hand should be called upon to assist in butchering hogs, as he may be infected from contact with the saliva without being bitten. In all cases of bite or cut a wash of some anti septic should be applied. Diluted car bolic acid in the proportion of one to fifty of water is good, as is also a weak dilution of corrosive sublimate in pro portion of one of the poison to one or two thousand parts of pure water. These poisons thus diluted do no harm, and they will prevent poisons from working in cuts and bruises of any kind.—American Cultivator. Price of Smutted Wheat.—It was not pleasant to the millers to have the public know that they were making choice milling wheat of that branded "rejected” by the inspection depart ment, because it was even slightly smutted, and at a cost of not over half a cent a bushel, though they were buy ing it at 6 to 12 cents below what would be its market value if not smutted. The disclosure of the scheme seems to have had one good effect, it has already brought the price of smutted wheat, if otherwise good, up to within 5 cents a bushel of the same quality if not smutted, and there is an evident desire on the part of millers to buy the form er, at the narrower margin, which'is not strange, all things considered. Much of the smutted wheat is otherwise of very fine quality; it would seem that smut, like death, “loves a shining mark,” and selects the choicest wheat for its victims. If such wheat can be bought for even 5 cents below Its true market value, and can be made pure at a cost of half a cent a bushel, the com petition for its possession will natu rally be sharp, and the margin of price between smutted and unsmutted will naturally grow smaller and smaller —Farm, Stock and Home. Clover and Alfalfa for Hogs.—In most of the soils In the Central West red clover must be relied on chiefly for the green food of growth. But where the soil is very deep and porous alfalfa does finely. On such soil alfalfa will supply forage for 15 to 20 hogs per acre for tho season. This is specially fine for pigs and growing shoats. It has been found that pigs will gain 100 pounds each dur ing the season from May to September, and 100 pounds of pork cannot be pro duced so cheaply on any other feed. The pigs will come out of the field in au tumn in capital condition to fatten with corn or small grain. The alfalfa in a hog pasture could be mowed once or twice during the summer, or whenever it begins to get hardy and woody. This will provide plenty of young and tender herbage, which is more nutritious, weight for weight, than forage from the older plants, and if the swine are pro vided with this food in its most nutri tious condition, their growth will be most rapid.—Ex. Blood Tells.—Recently 308 American beeves were sold in London at 7 cents per pound, an average price of $97.58, the herd bringing tije snug sum of $30, 054.64. The Polled Angus in this ship ment brought full $i00 each; the Here foras came next, add next the Short horns. The average weight was 1,360 •Hinds. These beeves, it le said, reached their destination without loss and ac tually in better condition than when placed on shipboard. This shows that the cattle were carefully managed up to the day of sale, and that the breed ing, and treatment were profitable. H. B. Gurler thinks the first move for a dairy farmer who has not tested hts cows, should be to have them tested, and become acquainted with them indi vidually. Weed out all the unprofitable ones. Then select a bull from some [