INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION.
CHAPTER V.
r
V.
HE public 'vagon
ctte In which Mar
jorie was to jour
ney home ran dally
between Dumfries
and Annanmouth, a
small seaside vil
lage much frequent
ed in summer for
its sea-bathing, and
‘ passed within half
a mile of Mr. Lor
raine's abode, which was just six
Scotch miles away from Dumfries itself.
Tlie starting place was the Bonny Jean
Commercial Inn an establishment said
to have been much patronised l»y the
poet Burns during his residence in the
south of Scotland; and hither Marjorie,
after leaving her tutor, proceeded with
out delay.
The wagonette was about to start;
and Marjorie hastened to take her
.place. The vehicle was drawn by two
powerful horses, and could accommo
date a dozen passengers inside and one
more on the seat of the driver; but
today there were only a few going—
three farmers and their wives, a sailor
on his way home from sea, and a couple
of female farm servants who had come
in to the spring “hiring.” All these
had taken their seats; but John Suth
erland stood by the trap waiting to
hand Marjorie In. She stepped in and
took her place and the young man
found a seat at her side, when the
driver took the reins and mounted to
his seat, and with waves and smiles
from the Misses Dalrymple, who kept
the Bonny Jean Inn, and a cheer from
•a very small boy on the pavement away
they went.
At last the vehicle reached the
cross-roads where John and Marjorie
were to alight. They leapt out, and
pursued their way on foot, the young
man carrying a small hand-valise,
Marjorie still holding her school books
underneath her arm.
Presently they came to a two-arched
bridge which spanned the Annan. They
paused just above the keystone. The
young man rested his valise on the
mossy wall, and both looked thought
fully down at the flowing stream.
"It’s many a long year, Marjorie,
since we first stood here. I was a bare
footed callant, you were a wean scarce
able to run; and now I’m a man, and
you’re almost a woman. Yet here’s
the Annan beneath us, the same as
ever, and it will be the same when
we’re both old—always the same.”
Marjorie turned her head away, and
her .eyes were dim with tears.
“Come away,” she said; “I cannot
bear to look at it! Whenever I watch
the Annan I seem to see my mother’s
drowned face looking up at me out of
the quiet water.”
The young man drew closer to her,
and gently touched her hand.
vjjon’t greft, Marjorie!” he mur
mured softly: “your poor mother’s at
peacd with Ood.”
. “Yes, Johnnie, I ken that,” answered
the girl In a broken voice; “but it’s
sad, sad, to have neither kith nor kin,
and to remember the way my mother
died—ay, and not even to be able to
guess her name! Whiles I feel very
lonesome, when I think it all o'er.”
“And no wonder! But you have
those that love you dearly, for all that.
There’s not a lady in the country more
thought of than yourself, and wherever
your bonny face has come it has
brought comfort.”
As he spoke he took her hand in his
own, and looked at her very fondly;
but her own gaze was far away, fol
lowing her wistful thoughts.
“You’re all very good to me,” she
said presently, “Mr..Lorraine, and Solo
mon, and all my friends; but, for all
that, I miss my own kith and kin.”
He bent his face close to hers, as he
returned:
“Some day, Marjorie, you’ll have a
house and kin of your own,'and then
He paused, blushing, for her clear,
steadfast eyes were suddenly turned
full upon his face.
“What do you mean, Johnnie?”
“I mean that you’ll marry,'and-”
Brightness broke through the cloud,
and Marjorie smiled.
“Marry? Is it me? It’s early in the
day to think of that, at seventeen!”
“Other young lasses think of it, Mar
jorie, and so must you. Our Agnes
married last Martinmas, and she was
only a year older than yourself.”
Marjorie shook her head, then her
face grew sad again as her eyes fell
upon Annan water.
“I’m naebody’s bairn,” she cried,
"and shall be naebody’s wife, John
nie.”
“Don’t say that. Marjorie,” an
swered Sutherland, still holding her
hand and pressing it fondly. “Thero’s
one that loves you dearer than any
thing else in all the world.”
She looked at him steadfastly, while
his face flushed scarlet.
“I know you love me, Johnnie, a3 if
you were my own brother.”
“More than that, Marjorie—more, a
thousand times!” the young man con
tinued passionately. “Ah! it lias been
on my mind a thousand times to tell
you how much. Ever since we were
little lass and lad you’ve been the one
thought, and dream of my life; and If
L . b "•
| I’ve striven hard and hoped to heroine
j a painter, it has ail been for love of
>'oti. I know my folk are poor, and
that in other respects I’m not a match
for you. who have been brought up as
a lady, but there will be neither peace
nor happiness for me In this world un
less you consent to become iny wife."
As he continued to speak she had
become more and more surprised and
more surprised and startled. The
sudden revelation of what so
many people knew, bnt which she
herself had never suspected, came upon
her as a shock of sharp pain; so that
when lie ceased, trembling and con
fused by the vehemence of his own
confession, she was quite pale, and oil
the light seemed to have gone out of
her beautiful eyes as she replied:
“Don’t talk like that! You’re not
serious! Your wife: I shall be ‘nae
body’s wife,' as 1 said, but surely, sure
ly not yours.”
“Why not mine, Marjorie?" he cried,
growing pale In turn. “I’ll work day
and night; I'll neither rest nor sleep
until I have a home fit for you! You
shall be a lady—O! Marjorie, tell mo
you care for me, and will make me
happy!”
“I do care for you, Johnnie; I care
for you so much that I can’t bear to
hear yon talk as you have done. You
have been like my own brother,, and
.now-”
“And now I want to be something
nearer and dearer. Marjorie, speak to
me; at least tell me you’re not angry!"
“Angry with you, Johnnie?” she re
plied, smiling again, and giving him
both hands. “As if I could be! But
you must be very good, and not speak
of it again."
She disengaged herself and moved
slowly across the bridge. He lifted his
valise and followed her anxiously.
"I know what It is," he said sadly,
as they went on side by side together.
“You think I’m too poor, and you would
be ashamed of my folk.”
She turned her head and gazed at him
in mild reproach.
“Oh, how can you think so hardly of
me? I love your mother and father as
if they were my own; and as for your
being poor, I shouldn’t like you at all
if you were rich. But,” she added gent
ly, “I like you as my brother best.”
“If I could be always even that I
should not mind; but no, Marjorie,
you’re too bonny to bide alone, and if
any other man came and took you
from me, it would break my heart.”
“What nonsense you talk!” she ex
claimed, smiling again. “As if any oth
er man would care. If I were twenty,
it would be time enough to talk like
that; but at seventeen—oh, Johnnie,
you almost make me laugh!"
“Tell me one thing,” he persisted;
“tell me you don’t like any one better
than you like me.”
“I don’t like any one half so well,
except, except—Mr. Lorraine.”
‘Won are sure, Marjorie?"
“Quite sure.”
“Then I’ll bide my time and wait.”
By this time the village was In sight,
and they were soon walking along the
main street, which was as sleepy and
deserted as usual. Even at the tavern
door not a soul was to be seen; but the
landlord’s face looked out from behind
the window-pane with a grim nod of
greeting. A few houses beyond the
inn, Sutherland paused close to a small,
one-storied cottage, in front of which
was a tiny garden laid out in pansy
beds.
“Will you come in, Marjorie?” he
asked doubtfully.
Marjorie nodded and smiled, and
without another word he opened the
garden gate, crossed the walk, and led
the way into the cottage.
CHAPTER VI.
S they entered the
door a loud hum
ming sound came
upon their ears,
mingled with the
sound of voices.
Turning t o the
right, they found
themselves on the
threshold of a
room, half pp ior,
half kitchen, i one
end of which was a large loom, waere
an elderly man, of grave and some
what careworn aspect, was busily weav
ing. Seated on a chair close to him
was a girl of about fourteen, dressed in
the ordinary petticoat and short gown,
and reading aloud from a book. At the
other end of the room, where there was
an open ingle and a lire, an elderly
matron was cooking.
Suddenly there was an exclamation
from the latter, who was the first to
perceive the entrance of the newcom
ers.
“Johnnie!” she cried, holding out her
arms; and in another moment she had
folded her son in her embrace, and was
kissing him fondly.
The young girl rose, smiling, book in
hand; the man ceased his weaving, but
remained quite still in his chair.
"Yes, here I am, mother; and I’ve
brought company, as you see!”
“Hoo’s a’ wi’ ye, Marjorie?” cried the
matron, holding out her hand. "It's a
treat to see your bonny face. Sit ye
down by the fire!"
"Is that my son?” said the weaver.
iii a deep, musical voice, but witlioat
turninK his head. HU inflrmit]r whs
now apparent—be was stone blind.
John Sutherland walked across the
room, gave his sister a passing kiss,
and . placed his hand affectionately on
the old man’s shoulder.
"It’s yoursel’, my lad: 1 ken you noo.
I feel your breath about me! What
way did ye no write to tell us you were
on the road hame?”
“1 was- not sure until the last mo
ment that 1 could start so soon, but I
jumped Into the train last night, and
down I came."
"Who’s alang wi’ you?" asked the
weaver, smiling. “I'll wager it’s Mar
jorie Annan!"
“Yes. Mr. Sutherland." answered'
Marjorie, crossing the room and Join
ing the little group. “I met Johnnie in
Dumfries, and we came home together.”
The weaver nodded his head gently,
and the smile on his face lightened into
loving sweetness.
“Stand close, side by side," he said,
“while I tak’ a long look at baith o'
ye."
"While you look at us!" echoed Mar
jorie in surprise.
"Ay, and what for no? Diana think,
because my bodily een are blind, that I
canna see weel wi’ the een o’ my soul!
Ay, there you stand, lass and lad—my
boy John and Marjorie Annan; baith
fair, baith wi’ blue een; John prood and
glad, and Marjorie blushing by his
side; and I see what you canna see—a
light all roond and ahune ye, coming
oot o’ the golden gates o’ Heaven!
Stand still a wee and hark! Do ye hear
nothing? Ay, but I can hear! A
sound like kirk-bells ringing far awaV
As he spoke he sat with shining face,
as if he Indeed gased on the sweet vis
ion he was describing. Marjorie grew
red as Are, and cast down her eyes;
for she was only too conscious of the
old man’s meaning, and, remembering
what had taken place that day, she felt
constrained and almost annoyed. John
Sutherland shared her uneasiness, and
to divert, the conversation into another
channel, he spoke to his young sl3ter,
who stood smiling close by.
Marjorie, uneasy lest the old man’s
dreamy talk should again take an‘awk
ward turn, was determined to make her
escape.
"Good-bye now, Mr. Sutherland,"
she said, taking his hand in hers, "I
must run home; Mr. Lorraine will he
expecting me.”
And before any one could say a word
to detain her, she was crossing the
threshold of the cottage. Young Suth
erland followed her as far as the gar
den gate.
“Marjorie.” he said, “I hope you’re
not angry?”
"No, no,” she replied; “but I wish
your father would "not talk as if we
were courting, Johnnie. It makes me
feel so awkward, and you know it is
not true."
. “Old folk will talk,” said John Suth
erland, “and father only speaks out of
the fullness of his heart. He is very
fond of you, Marjorie!”
"I know that, and I of him—that is
why it troubles me to hear him talk
like that.”
There was a moment’s pause; then
Sutherland sadly held out his hand.
“Well, good-bye, just now. I’ll be
looking ye up at the manse!"
“Good-bye!” she answered. “Come
soon! Mr. Lorraine will be so glad
to see you.”
So she hastened away, while Suther
land, with a sigh, stood looking after
her. He had loved her so long and so
silently, and now for the first time In
his life he began to dread that she
might not love him in return. To him,
just then, It seemed as if all the world
was darkened, the blue sky clouded,
all the sweet spring weather touchd
with a wintry sense of fear.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
ORANGES WITH HORNS.
Some Strange Varieties of the trait
Grown by the Chinese.
The Chinese are very fond of mon
strous forms of fruit and flowers, and
any departure from the normal form is
usually cherished and highly valued.
In their gardens they have numerous
forms of monstrous oranges—some
will produce fruit with points like
firgers, and are known as the Hand
Orange. Another form, says Meehan's
Monthly, has a long horn projecting
from the apex, and they are known as
the Horn Orange. Another variety,
which botanists have known by the
name of Citrus aurantium distortum,
bears a fruit in the resemblance of. a
cluster of sea shells. To one ignorant
of the laws of vegetable jnorpfiology,
these spells of wandering from the
normal type are very mysterious, but
when it is understood that all parts of
the orange, as well as other fruits, are
made up of what would have been
leaves or branches changed so as to
constitute the various parts of the
seed and seed vessels, and that a very
little difference in the degree of life
energy will change them into various
different parts that come to make up
the fruit, the mystery In a great meas
ure Is solved. There are few branches
of botany which give the lover of fruits
and flowers so much pleasure as the
study of morphology.
A Good Idea.
"1 see from the war news,” remarked
Mrs. Snaggs, ‘'that several magazines
have been captured.”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Snaggs. “I sup
pose the object is to prevent the ed
itors from Ailing their pages with war
articles for the next twcnty-Ave years.''
—Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph.
The countries relatively richest In
horses and horned catle are Argentina
and Uruguay. Australia has the most
sheep; Servia has the greatest number,
of pigs to the population.
DAISY AND POULTRY.
INTERESTING CHAPTERS FOR
OUR RURAL READERS.
Mow Somnulnt Fanners Operate Till*
| Department or tlie form Few
Hints ns to the Care oC Live Stork
nod Poultry.
Ituttrr Colors and Health.
The attempt to
imitate bright yel
low coloring, natur
al in some milk,
has led to many
obnoxious prepara
tions, so that to
day a beautiful yel
ULLKTIN 21, State
of Michigan Dairy
a:ul Food Commis
sion.—
low butter or cheese or occasionally
milk must be looked upon with
some suspicion, as this coloring is
no sign whatever of the quality of
the product, and in many cases
is a mask for inferior rather than
superior products of the dairy. Anuat
to, tui'merlc, saffron, carrots and the
yellow coal tar products (anilines) are
among the fa'vorltes used in these col
orings. Annatto is a coloring matter
obtained from the seeds of an evergreen
plant of the Blxlnea family, and is a
native of South America, and the West
and Bast Indies, where it is used for
flavoring and coloring soups and other
dishes. Spanish saffron or crocus Is
a powerful stimulant and narcotic em
menagogue and may lead in delicate
persons to very serious results, espe
cially in cases of expected confinement.
Not only this; Us effects upon hyBterla
and other nervous affections has led
in careless dosing to serious cases of
nervous prostration. In the hands of
inexperienced persons this is a risky
coloring to say the least. In the use
of some of the coal tar colors lies the
greatest risk to the health of consum
ers, although the majority of these
colors are, from a sanitary standpoint,
I comparatively harmless substances, a
few of them are decidedly poisonous.
There are seven coal tar colors posses
sing marked poisonous properties; of
these five are yellow or orange and two
are green. Tho names of the poison
ous colors are: 1st. Martin's yellow,
naphthalene yellow or Manchester yel
low. 2. Saffron substitute or dinitro
cresol.’ 3d. Picric acid. 4th. Metanil
or gohlen yellow. 5th. Orange No. 2,
Beta iiapbthalene orange, and aurantia
or golden yellow are classed as bus*.
picious.
Greens, 1; resorcinol, 2; naphthol
green, “B.”
These coal tar colors taken Into the
stomach In large quantities produce
serious disturbances, such as nausea,
vomiting, headache, etc. It seems to
be fairly well established that the
quantity one would consume as used in
butter at an ordinary meal would not
produce any especially harmful results,
yet with three meals per day and the
continued use of these poisonous col
ors there is an open question whether
its continued use even In minute quan
tities Is free from serious objections as
an article in food. Most of the butter
colors, used are in liquid form held
in solution or division in oil or glyce
rine. Some of the favorite formula
consisted of:
(1) Annatto, Turmeric, Olive oil, Saf
fron.
(2) Annatto, Saltpetre, Fish oil.
(3) Saffron, Turmeric, Cotton seed
oil,
Columbia butter color, Hansen’s con
tained coal tar colors.
Improved butter color, Wells, Rich
ardson & Co., coal tar color.
, Concentrated butter color, Perry’s
coal tar color.
Annattome .Annatto
Spanish Dairy Color...Annatto
Thatcher’s Orange.Annatto
Two of the above coal tar colors gave
toning, dressing and sorting, as well
as in packing them as the trade de
mands, much better prices would be re
ceived. Beginners who have succeeded
fairly well in raising a flock are often
at sea when it comes to preparing them
for market. Rhode Island turkeys are
famous for their quality. In the best
markets in New York city, Pfovideuce,
Newport and Boston they lead those
from other sections. In the same mar
kets they often bring ten or twelve
cents more than those from all other
states except Connecticut. About New
Years a leading New York paper quot
ed R. I. turkeys at twenty-eight cents,
and everything else In the Jurkey line
at less than seventeen cents. Many
growers are interested to know the rea
son. It Is not their fame In the past,
or because they are scarce, that they
sell for the most; It is on account of
their superior quality. Much of this
high quality is due to the plump com
pact breeding stock used, and to the
way R Is managed; also to the care
taken in growing and fattening the
young turkeys. The pains taken in
dressing and preparing them for ship
ment, however, probably does more
than all to give them their high stand
ing. Of course you can not dress a
thin, flat bodied, long-legged bird so
It will sell with the best; but the
plumpest, best shaped and most attrac
tive bird In every way, previous to
killing, may be so dressed that it must
be classed with that which Is interior.
Again, the handsomest young turkeys
that are perfectly dressed If packod
along with ill-dressed ones, or with
tough old tome and hens, must be
classed with the latter, and go for less
than they are worth. Too many send
nothing but "fair to poor” stock to
market. In many cases It la simply
because they do not know how to pre
pare It so it will bring all that can be
got for It.
Ttae Kn lndutrjr.
Ask any thrifty housewife regarding
the value of the quantity of poultry and
eggs used In her family, then multiply
that amount by the 14,000,000 families
In-the United States alone, and you will
be astonished at the magnitude and
value of the great poultry Industry.
While some families may nse but a
small amount, many others use a very
large amount of poultry and fresh eggs,
says Oklahoma Farmer. Their use is
a question of advanced civilization and
knowledge of the hygienic value of
foods, as shown by the much greater
usfe of poultry products In large cities
and towns by the most enlightened peo
ple of the world. Notwithstanding the
enormous quantities of eggs raised In
the United States, the amount Is not
large enough for the consumers of
them. Id the past three years nearly
8.000. 000 dozen eggs have been Import
ed, paying a duty of 8 to 5 cents a dozen
for entry. The foregoing fact, and the
more important one that the price* for
choice poultry and eggs are higher now
than ten years ago, shows that the
business la not overdone. The value
of the poultry products Increased from
8118.000. 000 In 1880 to $148,000,000 In
1895. The demand for fresh eggs and
choice poultry Increases faster than
the supply. In European countries
where larger proportions of egga and
poultry are used than with us, the
supply is furnished, not by large farms,
but by the multitude of people who
live near cities and towns. There are
thousands of suburban families In the
United States who may learn a lesson
from this. Enough strictly fqpsh eggs
ought to be raised by them for home
use. Those having a suburban home
with some land can.easily raise a good
ly niftnber of eggs to Bell in town each
year '4nd thus add to their income.
i -—-.
Tlie Wolf and t!»«> Lamb.
The wolf is the most wary of dll
wild animals. Traps, poison, every de
vice by which other beasts of prey are
inveigled to their destruction, he can
always steer clear of, says Nor’west
Farmer. Ten years ago he would not
fee live. In Scotland, to scare tit*
crows, farmers put up what Is there
called a potato “bogle”—a suit of old
clothes eo stuck up In the potato field
as to make the crows believe there is
a man inside them. Thus far Jimmy ■
lias outwitted the thieves, and ho now
keeps two or three of these watchmen!
In the field with entire satisfaction aai A
to results. A little sulphur dusted
| into the old duds might he useful, a*
the smell of it would perhaps add to >
the effect Should the wolves get to
recognize the difference between the
sham man and a real one, there is still
another resource open to the shepherds
He can take the place of the scarecrow
for a <few hours and try a rifle. Suf
ferers from the wolf should give this!
plan a trial anyway. One man keeps ;
stag hounds that do good work. Last
spring a few hunters made good money
by tracking the dams to their dens and
digging out the young brood. Somo
sheepmen advocate an increase in the
wolf bounty, but it would take special
pressure applied to their local repre
sentatives to work up any movement iq
that direction.
Advice to Horse Owners*
Suppose that your horse has faliea
lame; don’t Immediately resort to your ' *
favorite liniment, says a writer In
American Horse Owner. It is a cardi
nal rule to first have the shoe removed
and the*foot examined. Numberless:
mistakes have been made by neglect
iug to observe this rule. The writer
has known many cases of foot lame
ness in which the horse has been,
treated for foot lameness in the shoul
der, the tendons at back of leg, “th*
back sinews,” the pastern, the fetlock,
the coffin Joint, in fact, every conceiv
able place but the right one. Pain in:
the foot will often cause a sympathetic
swelling in the leg, which may be easily
mistaken for the seat of trouble. Until, *
the shoe can be removed, keep the foot
as moist as possible by means of water
or stopping with clay or cow dung;
This, besides allaying possible inflam- 7
matory processes, will facilitate exam
inatlon of the toot by softening of tha
horn. , A mere cursory examination of
the hoof when the shoe is removed will
not da It must be a thorough exami
nation by thinning the whole of tha
sole. Corns, pricks and bruises of tha
sole are usually amenable to treatment
by poultices and fomentations. Of
course the smith will, or Bhould, take
the very greatest care when thinning J;;,
down the sole, not to cut entirely %
through the horn and eo let "the flesh”
out, for this would probably consider
ably complicate matters, and possibly
prove worse than the original trouble.. .
it the animal does not speedily show
signs ot Improvement after 48 bourn*
treatment, professional advice should
bo had.
Keeping Snmner Better.
In reply to an article bn the over
production of the dairy industry, a
Minnesota paper says that in 1850 the
United States contained a population
ot twenty-three million people, and
there were <,385,004 cows, and in 1880
with a population in this country of
fifty million souls, there were only
12,443,120 cows, and even la 1896, with
a population of over seventy millions
of people, the number of cows were
less than fifteen million, which shown
how 'much faster our population in- Tsg
creases than are the dairy Interests,
besides in 1850 only twenty people out
of every hundred of our population
lived in towns and cities, while now 7
the figure Is twice that, and this fact
largely Increases the demand for dairy
products. There is a strip of country .
extending from the Atlantic ocean to
the Rocky Montalns, within which to 7
made nearly all we know as dairy
products. It takes , in the states of
Iowa, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota.
Nebraska, South Dakota end New
York. Outside of this strip of terri
tory It seems to be Impossible to pro
duce either butter or cheese at n profit.
QUEEN OP HEARTS, A SUFFOLK MARE THAT HAS BEEN A PRIZE WINNER IN ENGLAND.
-•..——- r ----:-= ' = =3
reaction for Martin’s yellow and one
for methyl orange.
Notnb on Turkovs.
Success in securing a large number
df little turkeys depends upon the win
ter and spring management. It is,
however, one thing to raise a large
flock and another to put It in the best
shape for market. Many old and suc
cessful growers are not well up on this
end of it. If their methods were im
proved. says Samuel Cushman in Farm
Poultry, and more care taken in fat
go within touch, of a barb wire fence.
According to his method of reasoning,
it must be a new engine schemed for
his destruction. Now he cares no more
for barb wire than for the prickles on
a rose bush, and from all quarters come |
complaints that half a dozen strands
of wire are of no account when a lamb
is on the other side. He has this year
killed more Iambs than ever before,
and goes under the wire without a mo
ment's hesitation. But a well-known
sheepman tells us that there Is still
one way to scare him, which In his !
own experience has so far proved ef- j
Even New England consumes moro
butter than she produces. And when
butter can be exported to Europe at a
reasonably low price, there is always '
a market tor it there. For these res
sons the profits of the dairymen in tho
dairy country seems to be assured.
Air the cellar during the warm days,
throwing open all windows and doors.
Selling butterlne for butter is get* . /'
ting money under false pretenses.
Fall growth of wood should not ba
stimulated In trees. ^ SI
