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Bound for I Halifax. Madcliuo Harding Iiiy still iiiid cxvlju; her face litwl no fear in it, no longing to grusp at. life as it slipped away from Ikt. Sl>e was 12 yews of age, anu kIiu had kno\vn very littie lunipinoss. Nur had that little coiue anywiiere near the real- Jziition of ner chiUlisili dreams. On 7./1C wliolo, when she knew that her time was nearly uii, she felt glad. The only regret was that she could do no more for others, nud thut iK)me few might miss her as unfriend â€"until they found' one in her place. The. unci was very neur. when a ro- marknble thing ha|>j)encd. A slow, fujnbliiig foot.slcp ascending tlie stairs was followed by the apipear- <«ice of a stranger in the doorway who, ia a. hoarw tone, and glanc- ing lit the nurse in charge, said: •'1 want Mrs. Edward Harding." His hair was long and as white as .snow; .so was hi.s heard. His eyes weie Ijig and hollow aarl they had a hurslines-s which nindo the nurse shrink back when they lixed her with « stnre. "1 want Mr.s. Edward Harding," said the unknown, tor the second tinie; but without mov- ing; a step forwai'd from the door, which a startled maid servant had thrown open for him. "She is here," respondcKl the nm'se. The old man turned to the ked, and his voice began to quaver as ho Hpoke. "Mrs. Edward," he Siiid, and his hand shook us he laid it on the ciounteri)ane, "it's n;câ€" the man you savi'd from a lot of misery! Me, Chillies Brown, that .swore he'd come back to prove he was grateful. Oh, you poor thingi" he added with a low sob, as light was given him to understand that this was a dying .woman, "have I come just too late for you to know me? To bo glad I've kept my word? Can't you speak to me? Can't you give mo just a look out of those eyes that never turned awa.v wlien I was in the very worst ot m.y troujjle?" But not a word caine; not even a glinunor of recognition flitted acre's that still, calm face. Then the white-haired man sank down on his knees by the bed. ".She's dead, or next thing to it," ho moaned, "and I'm too late! It's ju.-^t my wretched liicJi. And I've come so far and i knew slic'd be glad, and now nothing matters." Ho tore open a piu:ket he had car- riod in his hand and a little bundle of hank -lotes fell out upon the counterpane. "I was so pleased to bring them back," nnirniured the man, "to s'liow her I kept my word! Ami now I don't care for anything." With which remark he ciuictly fainUtl, there, where he knelt, on the lloor. 'Ihi; brothers of the dying woman were looking anxiously at him wlwrn he recovered con>:ciousness. But )ic toUl them nothing, answered nothing that they as-ked. and with n diized look ujion lii» fa'.:e gathered the hunk notes together and ret)liic- c:l tlieni in his breast pock«t. Then, will) a glance at tlio iifiilcsB form of the woman who in tiome unrevealed trouble had probably befriended him, )ie went away. lie Wi-.s seen at the funeral, walk- ing behind the mounier.'s. 'Ilien he fijially di.'-app<'arod, and the little incident was soon forgotten by the very few v ho had known anything about it. 1 was one of tho^o few; the why and beeanse rtS that fact has noth- ing to flo witJi the pre.sont story. A week or two Inter I took the Iran from London to Livcriiool, and on looking roujid tJie comi>nrt.- nient at my felb)W traveler.^, 1 rec- o:^nlzr'il the old maji with white hair and bi'iird, who s,p<>k(' of himself a» "(harbs IJrown" when Mrs. Ed- ward Harding was dying. Ills eye.m wrre lix"d upon the wln- riow by which he had tai<in his s-eat, but 1 nni certain t.':ut ho saw noth- inB--unlc.sK, indeed, he had some ii.ciiUil vi.vioii of his own past or his future. Att4?r a while wo two hart the car- riage to ourselves, except for one el- derly Uuly whose capacity for sleep- ing soundly through a railway jour- ney was nothing less than nMound- lifSv-.l took a Vacant place nearer to him, aii<l f«!'. the sake* of getting into conversMtioiii jjsked where he was bound for. "DonTid for HiUifnx," anuwered tlio old man, ijuietly, and then" added, "for ('ana.da. you ln'.)W." "A fine country, und fuH of po.':- sihilitJeS," I said. "1 )iavo »uno- timos thouglit 1 shduld like to ei:ii- errate." ] do not think he was llHtenlng; he had fixed his I'yes again upon the helped nny Init deserving men; aii- Bwered me. After nn interval 1 made another attempt, asking if ho had ever before croffled the Allan- tic. "VcR â€" five years ago," ho paid. "And I ramo hack a few weeks since to find the only trim friend I ever pome«wd. Hut 1 came too late." Another tdlenrc. o.nd then as If moved by womo strong and Irresisti- ble Impul.so, the strange old mnn nindo mo ftCtiuaintcd with his life Htory. Told l)iia(l.V, It was this: He hacl been a f.niall farmer. like his father before )dm, In one ot the N.iulhern comities of Fngland. For years all wrnt fali'ly well; ho morrlod. had â€" â-  â€" â€" ii â€"â€" â€" 1â€" â€" l aMM (^dldren, and was contented with his lot. Suddenly, and' from no ex- plainable cause, a run of misfortune set in for Charles Brown. Crops fuilcHJ, times weix) baid, his wife and two children died within a week of each other by infectious fever, and at the year'ti end bo found himself heavily in debt und on tlie road to ruin. Then, Jike many another unhappy creature, he ti"icd the consolation of drink, whicJi, <ui a matter ot course, led him from bad to worse. Final- ly he resolved that to make away with his life was all that remained to be done. "And it was sheâ€" the lady who didn't live to .see I'd kept my word â€"that saved me," he said. "I had asked one aiul another to give me a helping hand to get out of Uie coun- try to somewhere that would open a fre.h chance; but it was no use. One â€" a parson ho was. too, who had married mo and my poor Annie and baptized our childrenr-siiid he never helped any but dcserviub men; an- other had too man.v claim.'^â€" he was the nobleman of whom I rented m.v fiuni. It was the same all round. No (me ready to start a man afre.^h, and that was how I made up my mind that, as there seemed no way to live, the best way out of my dil- liculties was to die. So I clearotl out of the old home, selling my stock, and all that was left me, and then, with a few clothes done up in a bundle, and a matter of twenty shillings in my pocket, I made for the sea. It wa."* only a walk of a. few miles to where the boats start- ed to cro.ss the channel, and I meant to take my passage at night nnel ju.st pitch myself overboard when 1 'got half way." "And this lady â€" how did she help you?" I asked. "I'm coining to it," answered the old man. "As I've begun, you shall hear my story to the end. A dark night it was, though not stormy. There didn't seem to be many pas- sengers and the few there were had all gone below, or at least I thought so. r 'Now'-s your chance. Don't be a coward!" said 1 to myself, and T got away to the stern of the boat, where there was no one to look an<i I was just going U) tjike the leap when I felt a hand on my arm and saw the ligiire of a wojnan rising up from a corner where I hadn't known there wasi anybody. " 'Don't be desperate,' she said in a quiet, kind sort of way. "At any rate, tell me just what the trouble is. I'll help you if I can.' "At fust I wouldn't; but she be- gan persuading me, and at last I found myself toUing her everything as though I'<1 known her all my life. " 'In your place, I would not give in without another try,' she said when I'd meide a clean breast of everything, 'iuid I believe that for a new life there's nothing like a- now country. Why not go to Can- ada?' " "Bocaui* I can't,' I answered, ami then 1 pulled out tl.c few shil- more years I'd squai'c.l up every ter paying my ticket from Dover. 'That won't take me to Canada,' 1 said, 'nor to anywhere else that 1 know of, Better let me drown zny- self, ma'amfâ€" there's no coin wanted in the next world, I'm thinking, Kupposing there is a next world.' " 'Oh, I .can't let you be a cow- uixll' said the lady, and so kindly! There wasn't any quoting texts, or preaching at me, or telling ino I was a miserable sinner. I expect she knew it wasn't the riglit moment for anything of that sort. 'I live just a .short railway distance from where we Kihall lajid,' slie said, 'and though mine is only a little home, I have a .s-pare room where I shall be plea.sed for you to sleep for 'a night or two while we arrange things. " 'I am not rich, but in three days I could lend "you enough money to go away to that big country where men like you are wanted, awl are sure to get on. Will you go? When you grow rich you ciui piay me back.' " " 'Will I go? Yes, that I will!' said I; and I felt a big lump' come in my throat that choked back all the thanks that my heart was full ot. "So she took mo to her homo and made mo feel as welcome as though I had been one of her own friends, and in a week's time I was gone.â€" Willi a right good will, loo, to siuc- cecd and make something better of my lite." "And did you" succeed?" I said. "Yes. I've nothing to complain of," answered the old man, "except that she didn't live to hear all I had done. But I had paid her back before the year was out; and in two more .years I'd squared yp every debt I'd left behind me. And then, when money kept on coming in, I wrote to her that I was going to give my.sclf a trip acro.ss the 'big herring pond, to show her I'd not been ([Uite unworthy of her kindness, and to ask her if there was nny oth- er fellows as unfortunate as I had been who could be set going by a few of my bank notes. But I was too late." "And now what arc you going to do?" "I'm juart going hack again," an- swered the man. "There's nothing else I can do. I've liecn reading over some of Mr.9. Edward Harding's lettersâ€" she used to write to me every now and then. And I think that's what she would advise it she could speak to me. And the money I have here"â€" he touched the hrenst pocket of his coatâ€" "i nd what I can make, shall go to help those that are down on their luck. Sxime as I j was when she held out her kin<l hand to uie aboard that channel steam- ier." I I had taken a fancy to this Charles j Brown, and I lingered a day or two in I.iverr>ool, and linally saw him on board thr- sWp boun(! for Halifax. "I'd like a few llowors put on her grave," were his last words to me. "If you should bo over there, per- haps you wouldJi't mind seeing to it. I'd likoto show her Just a little of wiluit I feel â€" only somehow t fancy »he kriowa all about it." "1 believe Bhe doe3." was "toy. an- swer as wf; clasqied hiuids. -.• ,' . CAKE OF MANIIIIE. During the warm season, when' the farmer is too busy with his crops to ciu-e for the iuai\ure heap, loss oc- curs more readily than in winter. Kains wash away the richesit por- tions of the manure if it is exposed while the summer heat may cause rapid fermentation and the nitrogen escape in the form of ammonia. The proi)er course to pursue is to keep all the manure under shelter and have the bedding or other absorbent materials in a fine condition in or- der that the lifiuid portions ma.v be absorbed. .Should heat occur force a crowbar into tlie heap in several places and pour cold water into the manure. The closer the manure is packed, and the afr excluded from the interior, the less liability of the manure becoming overheated. Ma- nure from the poultry house should be collected daily and Kept under shelter. Mix it well with dry earth and keep it on as long as is possi- ble, as it gives the best resiults when it is fresili. The supposition that it is efiual to Pui-Tivian guano is erron- eous, as guano is producwl by binds that exisrt upon anijnal food, while thi! barnyard fowls subsist mostly upon grains'. It is prolltable to Slave the droppings, however, and the.v should be considered in estimat- ing the profits. KNEW IIEH ABILITIES. A savage dog was snilTing about a market place in search ot .sometliing to eat. He came too close to a choleric gardener from the suburbs and received a kick, whereupon he fastened his teeth in the leg of the kicker, greatly to that person's con- sternation, and the terror of the as- sembled customers. The wife of the gardener, who was assisting him in disiposing of the stock of vegetables on hand, did not lose her presence of mind. Slie im- mediately picked up a stone and preptu'i-d to hurl it at the animal. •â- Martha," yelled her husband, "don't throw it at the dog. Throw it at me! Throw it at me!" .She did, and the dog fell. Such is the value ot presence of mind. Lady (engaging servant)â€" "Why dill you lea\e your last place?" Servant â€" "1 couldn't put up with the way one of the young mistresses used to copy me, mum." I.ady â€" "What do you mean?" Servant â€" "Why, I had a private sioldier for a sweet heait, and what must .she do but .go and get a holUcor for hers." Manchester has four public picture galleries, a greater number than any other English town except London. THOSE .SLIVPEHY rOLhSHED FLO015S. (A Warning to Amateurs.) PIIOFIT IN HOtJS. One cannot hope to moke swine & profitable farm product unless he goea permanentiy into tjie business. I'oo many who try to maUe money from bwine find it unprofitable one year, and abandon it. or beca'XSe af- ter two years of fair success the third season proves un.siatisfactory, they conclude that the best daya for the business have passed, and they try their hand at something else. As a continuous business, carried on, not one or two or three years, but ten, fifteen and twenty years, it has no sui>erior, and the mim who pursues it thus will get his sure reward. Each siucceeding year we learn more about the work, and find out where we make mis- takes, and wiiere we could have made improvements. We become so familiar with the whole .subject that we are competent judges as to whe- ther we should raise this or that breed. We also grow accustomed to nnlicipating the markets, which is a great deal in these days of fluctu- ations. Then, too, we learn how best to feed the animals â€" how to get the most from every ton of feed, GRASS OR IIAY. If one is going into swine breed- ing for a continuous industry, be can then well alToi-d to start out with the best bred animals he can alTord, and by the intelligent systeni of selection and breeding, he will in time grade up his flock to a stand- ard of excellence which his neighbor cannot equal except at groat cost. When a man starts In each year or two to purchase new breeds and high-bred swine, it is a costly ex- perience, and he hardly reaps much reward from it. There is cjuite a clilTercmcc. however, when he delib- erately adds each year a little new blood to his slock, increasing the iiuality as well as the quantity. The outlay is thus small each season for pure-bred animals, and the returns correspondingly good. Likewise in regard to food, it re- quires a polic,y of continuous farm- ing along certain lines which will enable one to look years ahead. The grass, forage and grain crops that can be planned for an intelligent ro- tation sr/sleni will all help toward the .'â- laiue general enil. The cost j{ feeding will thus up to a certain point be steadily reduced. One finds good pasture lields establifJhed in the coume of time, land made rich and fartile for corn and grain through a rotation of crops, and hay and for- age crops prepared ahead of time for each wii'tter. In the c;>ursc of time the .work teocojues almost au- tomatic, ynd .the sw'ine produce pro- liis I'll the avop.ng.^ from year to year tliat mu?^»^-ove s-atistactory. Cholly Dryplateâ€" AW, if I can get a pretty picture of her now I shall make a- -dccUlcd hit I COJtjrON SEN'.SE IN FEEDlNa. All kinds of cows, including dual purpose cows, to produce the liest i-eturns, must needs be ted on what ma.v be termed common seiifc prin- ciples. In the first place, they must bo well fed. While excess of ' flesh over that amount which will best conduce to the end sought is waste- ful, any lack ot flesh below what txinduces to the same end is more wasteful, since it increa.w.'^ so much rolulivoly the food of maintenance. As a rule the great mistake in the avi'rage her<l lies in keeiiini; the ani- mals .voung and old, mo low fleslied. In the second place, they inns.t he fed on foods to the Kreati>st extent po.ssilde produced on the farm, giv- en in duo balance, apiuoxiniatel.v as to their constiltioiils. and grown a"<i bandied in a way that will involve the least possible labor on Uie (lart of man that will adequately secura the desired end. In other word.'s-, the.>e foods will as far as practica- ble, bo grown in mixtures, the thnshing and grinding being done bv the cow. A.11'1 in t.h.' third place, while the aniniul.s will be liberally b-*!. they will also be fed g'-aia i;i what may be termed a rational way. No far- mer can afford to drive the machin- ery of milk production in his cowa s<i fn.S't that in a few years tho iiKi- chine is worn out. Thi:). of course, is done by excess ive grain feeding. The city milk man ma.v nn'ord tc> do this, but tlur farmer cannot, lUs cow .'^hould be (;ood for ten years ot five production in the duir.y every time bairin.g aceiileiit or di.'-xnise. TO MAKE HOdS PAY. The s^Hunicr season is the time to make pigs pay. The.v then ncoU no piotectiin ugainEt cold, are not .'ti'iittHl in growth, and demanil but Irltio attention. Orasw is the ctuape t and b'.st food tor pigs-, avd they will thrive on<l grow uron FMch dii'i. as grasfj cimlains en abumlimco of mineral matter, which promotes tho growth of bone. tlrain Is <'e- lici nt ill lime, which i» cssc-ntinl for th:- KT<»wt.h of all young stock. Clover contains more than twenty times as much lime as corn. To fO:Ml corn to pigs in suaiuner is to snqiplv them with a kind of food which ihe.v do not require, as growth tit l^his season in more to bo dc'irid th',in fat. 'Hioso wh.T nwko a profit from hogs diV'fn'l largely upon the jvasture. freed:im and the privilege of select tag a variety of tho pl';s aiiil warding o!T ili>:eaye. «. In every 1 .000 Tlrlti.* men there (ire »r> widowers; In each 1.000 Bri- tish women there luo 78 widows. ^