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Exeter Times, 1908-03-05, Page 2r• $ A Broken Vow ♦ -OR BETTER THAN REVENGE. t + $+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++4 ++++++ C1Lai E t l.-ttwitinuel). Sire rentonibered distinctly how her tat'.ar had come to her roam, on that tight which had teen the night of her :nether, 'and had stood --a tall, gaunt, grey tlgure--beskfe her bed, and had toll tier gently enough what she was to do. Iter nether way d.°ad, so far as she, was oonorrnel; never rr..nro w•as ger name to b mentioned, even in the prayers ed her daughter. It Is tut just k sny that the girl, having built up foe herself some :maga of 'a God M Mercy, forgot that part of the injunc- ticn and prayed for the uniutppy woe tren, w'th many tear3 through all her life afterwards. More than that, sho was to remember in her prayers to call down the wrath ref O•.d upon a man she had rather lee.] than not --one R•aand Ewing; and Loy' ehe did heartily' enough, for had he net stolen her mother fro:n her? There was another skin to the quota - tern; a kale which touched Daniel Ver- ,r:oy 'almost as strongly as tfhat which poncerned his wife. Daniel Varney had been rich -i's false friend oemi:ara- ,tively poor. The specious Roland Ew- ing had lured \'arney into speculations of one sort and another; had got from hien in their brief triendshtp various large sums of money, for which he had ,never really 'amounted. It was to be all right; 'big fortunes were being made every day, and n substantial return would soon be shewn. Wtih his bright senile and its pleas ng monitors he had ellaye,t the other's suspicions. [t was only after the fight that Daniel Varney dkoovered that ho had been let in trrore heavily than he had suspo: ted; h's credit pledged for largo amounts; a great portion it his for'tune swept away. Much In all this that was never to sb' forgiven -never to be forgo'ten. Living alar:.;, save for lea daughter. Daniel Varney had plotted and sehherned to find some way of vongeafce--nome- lidng 'that should bring down disaster upon this man Who had robbed and wronged hien. Not content with plot- ting and planning that. for himself, ft.0 dragged the girl into the business and made her lite from that time a thing of vengeance too. elor-,h•' came to dis- cover, in subtle, cunning fashion, that Me time vies to come when the gdrt oould strati Where he could not. And Ito had mida that discovery through the inn (ee'tt pralling loiters of a little child. Roland Ewing had had one redeem- ing quality -his love for the baby he had left behind in England. Ile never forgot her. Even while plotting his vH i nits his letters to Ms litllo Lucy were the most beautiful things in his life. And it happened that, being of a roving disposition, ho had asked per- mission of his friends, the Varneys, to use their address for his correspondence sr. ilial the child's letters were always addles*ed to him there. Ito never wrote to her, however, after the time of his nigt; and incidentally it may be mentioned that he was rover heard of again by anyone who knew him. He draftee out of lite, in some n:ysterous fashion, after deserting the unhappy woman who had fled with turn. When, a few years later, airs. Varney was dying, she wrote to her husban.f; but he did net reply. When sho died he saw los her burial; he vi,ite or her grave. But that was all. Now oomc'e the appalling part of the story. For fifteen years little Luce Ewing, grow.nr; from childhood to Wo- marihaod, continued her letters to her father. Finn in her love for lilm, and In the belief that the time would co:ro when he would return or would write to her, she set forth in those innocent letters the whole of Ler life. 'There t was, to be read l.y the roan who hated the mere thought of her and of her name; and ho did read them. For fif- teen years he hat the letters, and read the story .et forth innocently for ether eyes to read. T&•ll:ng himself that he was justified, Varney ripped open each letter as it carie, and laid bare the re- cord of the young life growing up far away from him. And out of that built up, day by day, and year by year, his scheme of vengeanoe. Daniel \'arney theught it all out care- fully, and with a certain horrible in- genuity. The child who had 'been ren- dered motherless by Roland Ewing should cone In t!ano to wreak venge- ance on Roland Ew ng'e daughter. Little Lucy's innocent letters had given the man not only the clue to her charac- ter, but. had given him en intimate knowledge of her life -her friendships -her changes of address --everything about her. Those letters had, by his arrangement, been sent on from place fo place as he wandered about; and he had deliberately planned that the girl should grow up until life was open- ing before her fairly and beautifully and sweetly; then the sword was to fall Ard his own daughter, bred up i'. the knowledge of what she was to tco, and trained from girlhood to do 1' should work out the scheme. Tine shadows foil in the quint room, and a greater Shadow fell also. It stole In so girietly that the woman who eat tooling did not know that It had oome, until, calling his name and getting no reply, she walked across to where he lay, and bent over him. Theo was nothing to frighten here there; only the great stillness In the face of a roan sleeping the last quiet sloop. Having been trained throughout all her life to stifle every emotion, so she stifled now whatever she felt, reverently covered her dead, and moved away and pulled down the blind. Going le another room, she took from a desk "a letter - the last written by the girl Lucy Ew- ing in London. Calmly she read 't through, smiling bitterly as She read: 'My Daring Father, "I am quite sure that you have for- gotten how old 1 am. if you count the ytars only half as eag••rly as I count them, y.,u must knew that I ani twenty today. It le a weneerful age, dear --such a long way to °eek beak -such a long may to look leeward, 1 hope. Or. this day that sees ane a woman grown, 1 send Les poor shot of paper Hutt rung across t1:e e.,u, and acids, wide' lends -to line you; 1 leas it, be- ause your dear eyes will rest u) -on it there. You know, of course, ttiat I am :not rich; but that doers rot matter. Some day, out of the groat world, illy father is conning back to me -the brave, gallant, h:,udsemo father I remember ire well, teen after so many years. 1 have your tortratt that belougol to niy mother; 1 keep it always. 'And there es a se ret I want to breathe to you -just as I have breathed every kecret of ray heart you, in all my lite, in how many hundreds of sheets of paper! Someone has Leen very kind to me -someone Who is poor en•1 lintel -working, and who is one day g.ung 10 be very great, and very fam- otte. Ile lives here In the same borne with tis, and dear old OJl••y and I look niter him. And there is no one like hint in all the wide, wide w^orhl-ex- eept only you. \\'hat a beautiful 'thing :fk is -.isn't it' " Olive Varney hake eff there and su1- donly pressed the letter between her tants and walked swiftly back to the mono where the deed man lay. Stand- ing there, grim and silent bcshto tun, she held out the letter, and in the dim roam recited slowly the vow the dead man had made her lake. She remem- bered every word of it.. just as he had spoken it to her so often: "Even es he robbed and ruined me and mine, so in the tamp to come you shall rob and ruin her who bears les name. You shall trick her. as he tricked me; you shall humble her te the dint, as he humbled me; you shall bring his child lo want and shame and misery, as he has 'brought rile and miner Solemnly she tore the leiter into frag- ments, and dropped them at her feet; set her heel upon them, and savagely ground them into the floor. Still with no trace of emotion upon her, she cov- ered her face for a moment with her hands; then turned, and went bum the room, leaving tho dead alone. And so started upon her strange 'Gurney. (Ifo be Continued.) -eta- The Sacrifice r,il.\PT11 XXXIV.-{Continued). It was dusk when he left her at her ew•n door. "Good -night, Lora, and thank you," he said. She started at the familiar tone. "Good -night," she replied. "Ault wiodersohen?" lw asked. "To -morrow?" "Yes." Upstairs her uncle was silting and 'grumbling at her absence. "By Jove, child, you have stayed out long enough!" She stood before him and looked at him, and the look silenced him, her eyes were so full of teams. "Eh, what has happened to you?" he asked. "You look He did not know exactly what to say. "Nothing particular, uncle. I have ben taking a walk with my good friend from home." "With the doctor, then?" "Yee, uncle." "t:i,; no doubt you find ft liVell.'i' Men with yeur otd uncle," sad the gsn- eral p!aylu!ly. "A man like that has all the class cs at his fingare' axis. and can tell you where Nero had his shoos ,soled, and where the lovely Agrippina bought her head-dresses." "Ah, uncle, we wore not thinking ab.,ut impo-.al I1o111e," she replied. "So much the worse' What wen° you thinking about' Is that the way you improve your rnin.!s by travel?' A fele days went by, which the doc- tor spent chiefly w.th prem. They went out togelhrr and took their meals together. but they did net mention eId times again. Al length to earn:• cone evening .to say rr,,.'.' v-•. The general had taken cold during Oh excursion to Tivoli the day before, and wry in list wall rot unrat sin. Lora was sitting in the diL4ky sul.rttn, into which loo myon sent a broad strip of silvery blue light thniugh the window; opposite her was the doctor. "Greet theta all at home for me," she said, putting her hand in his. "Give my love te my mother, and oto to •yours -if she cares le hear anything about mo now." "Alt, lora," he said gently, "sho for- gave you your—" "Br••ak.rn fa'th-" site finhhcd for hen, and she added hastily and in a !ow tone. "and yet 1 was true to you, Er- nest, in every fibre of my heart." It was the first time she had address- ed him by his first name. "Loral" he said, almost hreathle.s. She got up and went to the window and he followed her. "I was Irue lo you," sho repeated. "A thousand times 1 have prayed to God to grant me the opportunity of telldng you so." Ile so`.zcd both her hands and drew her toward him, and by the clear light o' lb3 moon he locked ielo her eyes with an anxious, gnesh:oning look, and she felt hew his hands trembled, but her wide eytm looked up at him, clear end pure as a child's. "And I was true to you, lora," he murmured. But she broke nwny from leen. "No," she said, "don't speak of It, for Kate is dead, send -i have no right Oilier to reproach you for that, for you :knew I was lost to you." "Perhaps you will believe Katie, if you will not believe me, Lora" Ito said, taking a better out of his pocket and giving it to her. "Read It. read It, 1 insist upon it, and .hen los lenient, and let the secret remain with us." Tho moonl'ght was so clear that sho could decipher the well-known charac- ters without difficulty; she went to the window and rend U. At length the hand which held the letter fell, and site laid her head against the pane and cried quietly. He stood behind her, waiting till sho should turn round, to draw her to hien, never to let her go. But as she did not stove ho saki gently, "Lora!" Then she turned her tearful taco to- ward him. "No. no; not yet, Ernest.' And she kept the letter cMsped tight in both hands, which looked dazzlingly white against the deep black of her mourning dress, for sho still wore mourning. Ilo'slopped back. "Good-bye. :.ora; auf wlodereehen. Como seen." "Auf wiedersehen," sho murmured. "Soon! Never to leave nim!'' She bent 'her head silently in assent and motioned him to go at once. And he went obediently. Ile knew it was their last separation -their last .remmrintton. Most people know that if they have been s;ck they need Scott's Emul- sion to tiring back health and strength. But the strongest point about Scott's Emulsion is that you don't have to bo Lick to get results f rem it. It keeps up the athlete's strength, puts% fait on thin people, makes a fretful baby happy, brings color to a pale girl's cheeks, and pre- vents coughs, colds and consumption. Food in concentrated form for sick and well, young and old, rich and poor. And it contains no drugs and no alcohol. ALL DRUGGISTS: 6Oo. AND 51.00. CHAPTER 'XXV: It was auor,..n are .. ,.as foggy end runny, a genuine Noveneer The Frau PasOrin had coffee vi -roes in her oos.-y little parker; the Frau Ma- jerin and Aunt Melitta von Totten were silting there in the Twilight and chat- ting about family news, of course. 11:s excellency was expected; the ole gen- tleman wished to see L ra as the young Frau Doctorin in her 4 -ow• cs'abl shinent. Helen had also written 'that she w.'s beery happy in her little Homo, and Ru- delph, at the wish of his young wife had exchanged int.° the cavalry. Tho Frau Pastoral looked innpnt'ent- ly al the clock. "They are running ,nbout down there In the fog, and wall forget whero they are." she said with impatience, going to the window to peer out Into the gmwing rtnrlcneaa. They were coming up the garden -Neil, arra In arm, under a g'gan'ic old-fa'h- loned umbrella. The old lady tripped to the doe. "Game M here first, 'before you go up -stars," she cried, "and 1 really mu t felled your taking my urnbre la on all occasions. I gave The boy a brand new one of silk for e wodebng present.' And her eyes sparkled as she spoke. Lora kissed her mother -in -low on the forehead. "Lot us be." she said simply; "we got engaged ureter the old umbrella.' "Wherie 'have you been?" asked Frau von Totten. "To the church -yard, mamma; we had not been there together befere." The, majorin nodded silently. They had been walking a long lime '-for the first walk together since their marriage. A week l'efore, they had been married in Berlin, in the char: h of St. Alatthew, by a friend of Lori's uncle. "Ile was bound to have a Totten any- way," said Aunt Melitls to herself, when she heard of aeries engagement. Tho old lady was quite nervous and broken; she was sufh rang from en re- titled curiosity. How it happened tool Lore's fIrat marriage was dissalvcd. irow it happened that a man who had [cupid a du'I for Katie should be mar- rying Lora in so short a time. was a mystery to her as well ns to many tethers. The even'ng before, as they were rem - ng tack invent Perlin. lora told hiir hue I ani the et-. i'y of her short married life. They were sitting c}_'sc logeth U' in a so.o-d-cl ass carriage, with her hand in his. and when she stopped, chr Jc d by anger and sorrow, he k ssed her and said. "Don't, don't; it is alt over new." And to -day they had gone at once to Katie's grave, carry'ng a wroath to her, a mute s g'+ f hearty forg veness. I' ret they had to drink collo° with Ilse • ld i d es, and Lora sat Teed) her mother awl s'rokod her white hair and her !lin et eeks. "You mus' come to sea us very ..iten, mamma." "Yes. child: it is my only comfort theft you ere happy rit-r all." A Stale In'er, th y were a'o:ie in their own ooaey Ilttle t,• me. 1 era's litt'e nar'or is rest lo Er' es►'s study. A hanging Innnp is sus•, tided term the ' e 11 g. ca ling its light upon lee table below. A book lies en the table. will) a piece of work beside it A dark carte is spread out over the barn 0 or. the firs is crackling pleas- ant'y in 'he olive-green p ncelain stove. end the s mplo red curtains aro closely drawn. '1'h -'y are s'tt'-ng by the table. and the y ung husband picks up n took -ft 's a work on Rome --and begets to seed nIo••d. "D ' vou remember." she asks quick- ly. "Iiow we ate our dinner together 1,1 G coma's salol'o7' "Ah." he crwys. looking grave and tl cnrghl'u!. "what is Rome and all its salons, large and small, to our West - entree anti our little borne?'' She lenges out vavlr. It is the first time he has heard that laugh lately, ar"d ee 1 oe: de netted. \V'th that am'ie she Is h`s clearrning Lora of old. And the rain bests again -.t the pane, 1 awl the wind 'how's round the house and thorny!) the bran^h-s of the trees, f,weeping away the Inst of the leaves. But whet :natters it? Iter° within 11 1- rosey and pleasant. for love dwells here. and with it is happiness. TIIE END. Pineapples are so plentiful in Natal that at eerie n s'o ons they are fed 'o p gs. A pineapple that costs in Atrica f,r e'en cents w-euld cost in London or Pars S?. LITTLE BILL AND BEN OF BABYLON --THEY GIVE A BUBBLE PARTY r -- THE KING'S LAUNI)11V Mo! 101114444V0441101.41.1 !The Farm *}'1144+'1+)444+ar'o'+a FA1IM MADE \!ANLIIE. Farm made manure is not a thing that tins a fixed value as to its t rttlia- rng a ntent. tt varies greatly respect and it begins to undergo chervil - cal change as soon as it Is made and gains nothing, but loses much by be. alit t. low• greatly it changes was neverkep:,aspectedball i1:Et chetnisis became interested in the matter and began W make analyses of manure under vari* ens aond,tions. Even manure made from the same food and under the same conditions as le olenate at:,1 temperature varies (•.r a young and growing animal will take MOM cul of the feed than an animal that has attained full growth. Also an animal that is being merely fattcnc.l will take very little of the manurial elements front toed for the carbon taken can hardly be considered as a mantels a: ekonitert, as an animal that has reached full growth is casting off as much nitrogen, phosphonous and pet - as num as he is taking in. fl Is eve'• dent them that the manure made will contain apparently the same amount of fertility as the food had that was fed the animal. 'I'h.:re may be smati loss in the nitrogen tluiough vohliliz- allot. Even in the case of growing animals only the minor part of the manurial elements goes into the budding of the body. This remount rif nitrogen utiliz- ed fs only alout ono -fourth, and passes through into the manure. About one- third of too phosphoric aced in the keel 11 retained in the animal for body building. This leaves two-thirds ma- nure. Of the potash in the food only about fifteen per cent. is utilized. The other eighty -live per cent passes through the animal into the manure pits. Manure varies greatly according to the length of Eine it is kept and the season dur;ng which it is stored. On many farms the practice is to allow the manure to accumulate through the win- ter Pill spring, when it 1.s hauled out on to the land, and the manure that accumulates in the barnyard during the - rest of the spring and through the sum- ma' is not hauled out till fall. It is frequently allowed to increase in quan- tity for six months. As it is kept in a pile the farmer thinks that all of its manurial qualit:es are preoorv'cd tntaat, but the loss tri fertility during the sum- mer tendon is very great. Of the sev- enty-five per cent. of the nitrogen .n feed that gets into the manure pilo more than half will te lost trim spring Se fall by being di,sipatod into the air in the form of gas. Nitrogen is the most expansive element in manure and as a commercial product fs worth fif- teen cents a pound. This loss of halt of the nitrogen no curs even when the manure is kept in a solidly packed pile under a 3)3914 -- that protects it teem the rain mud the sun. How much greater must bo the loss whore the manure is left loosely piled, and when long exposed to every rain that falls and to the scut and wini? As a matter of fact, about all of the nit- ron gels out of tit under limo cir- cumstances in the oourso of an ordinary summer. In the part of tho year when manure is not frozen it, stead be gotten ill to the land and under the surface of the sell as fast as possible after it is mad.'. If it is to spread to grass lands it steeled b• put on in the fall, winter, or very early spring, when: the loss from drying Is smell and when the soaking rains and the melting snows work much of it into the ground. Through the wrong handling of barn- yard manure, farmers every year WA millions of dollars' worth of valuable fertility, for we have to consider not only the plant fool In the manure, but the other equally Important office It performs in liberating and increasing the bacteria to make available the. food already dormant in the sell. On this account it often happens that a small quantity of manure thoroughly and evonly sprend by a manure spreader. produces -greater results than nnrih larger quantiticls spread by hand. H0! THE ROYAL LAUNDRY, JUST THE PLACE FOR OUR BUBBLE PARTY. HO YE IMPS! WHY BOTHER Ye THE LAUNDRY' MAIDS, GET YE T QF THEIR I DO YE NOT HEAR MY COMMANDS." FARM NOTES. De careful In turning a heated horse to a cold wind when driving; it is dan- gerous. ilreast blankets are valuable in heavy kerning. If all the reople would Le moderate is their wants and try to live within their incomes, there wafted bo no pani_s and the distress caused thereby. It Ls poor management to work a horse on half rations of poor feed. 1I the practice is kept up for n lo'ig ter- ie,d, the shrunken muscles wal 1eeomo ".get," and it will he almost impossible to get him fleshed up into normal con- dition. Linseed tncal is Here soothing and sting to the digestive organs than t'• 'need meal and it is often pre - :r• , as n food to assi<t in halancin ratan, because et its beneflc al effe assisting in the digestion of oto. d. But c ttenseei meal has b ed by some butter pr•xluc(rs, to.,, ase hey believed !boy found i1 trr.eflcin' le laver and sotidily in butler. in lM eadera'o quantif y 1,f 1'. to three feu ds per day mixed witty other feeds: Or yttung calves linseed meal is the safest feed, roUoneeetl meal having proved less digestib'o and even .tnngeroua when fed in any caned -rattle quantity. bottense'cd meal has raved twelve per cent. higher manurial value. Superphosphates n»ed on grain pre - duce as much gr wtti in two m' nth•t ns otherwieo would have revered twice the time. From lack of a proper seta ply of other food the growth stop*. and th4 farmer oomplatn. 11 Is net ttie phosphate, however, which anuses the troulie, but the nliserce of nitr- ge'tt.