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"But liow? I should be delighted, If I kueW." Miss Hardaway said noth­ ing: she apeared to have exhausted her, confidence, and gat tremulously in the ' arm-cliair, as if she would like to leave '/ it "Tell, me how you thought I could help you," i said. "Shall I take him away and drown himV" "Oh, noP-'she exclaimed, eagerly. "I didn't mean that." Of course, I did not sttpp<xse that she did mean that. "Well, what was ^our idea?" I asked. "You see," begahvMiss Hardaway, " If is difficult for me, with Aunt Catherine .as my chaperon. And she likes Mr. Urqu- : hart." "Of course it is," I assented. "Well, do you want me to chaperon I you? Is that it?" Now I examined j her, she was really a very pretty girl, -and particularly so when-she blushed. She blushed now, as she said. "You see. Mr. Tyson, I thought--it was very impertinent of me--but you know I I was driven out of my senses by the I stupid--by things. And I thought, per­ haps," she hesitated--"You are a great j deal older than I am, aren't you?" ! "Bless you, yes," I answered. "Twen- i ty years, at least. I might be your I father." Ail -the'same it Was not nice ' to feel that, somehow. But Mis,s Hard- j away was relieved--easy over her diffi- ; I. culty. perhaps. I should say. "Yes. I • thought so, and that was what-made' j me so rude :1s to think that you--that:- J---that We might pretend, you know;.". - she stammered: "i will pretend any- ^®vng yoy like," I declared. "Will you , really?" :• she asked eagerly. "Certain­ ly."-! answered. "That we1 are engag­ ed-?" slie.'askod.'hanging on my word's* i i will confess that I was somewhat staggered, but in a second I chuckled to myself. "Most certainly," I said. Miss Hanlaway's eyes looked grati­ tude. "I knew you would be kind," ; she remarked. "Then that will get rid ' of him. you see," she rrdded. "Yes. I suppose it will." I assented. "Then that's all settled." said she, rising -sud- i denly to her feet, "and now I must go. It is so good of you. Mr. ." "But . stay." 1 interrupted, rising also. "Let us understand what our program is to be. You will tell Aunt Catherine?" "I am going to tell her now," she said, firmly. "And--and what are we--how THE COUNTRY LANE. Between steep banksTit winds along, O'erhung with leafy hawthorn trees, From which in spring the thrush's sorig--^ Floats softly on the soft south breeze. There is the "earliest primrose found, / And modest purple violet 'grow, And trembling wild flowers" star the ground. Ami h ivtnhle ragged robins blow. resume " JShe shook her head. "I am not-afraid of that," she said, boldly. "Very well," said I; "theu we bad bet^ tor think out a way. Of .course, the en­ gagement must be broken. But who Is MORTON TELLS OF ITS VALUE to do it?" 4tI, of course," said Miss AND EXTENT. i. Hardaway, iu surprise. I passed the paper knife between my fingers, re­ flectively. "That is, of course,' the proper way," I answered, "but it may leave you open to a difficulty. You see. if you break with me, people will believe that you never really cared, for me, and that will encourage Mr. Urqu- Farmers Will Note This, -- - The most serious complaint of the po­ tato grower this year is the low price of the product, particularly in the North- west. The report from the department's agent for Wisconsin und Minnesota rep- . resents that in„the latter State the tubers Kjn "do not pay for digging." He states that the yield is enormous, "on an acreage A ̂ three times as great a sin previous years," J&S? that "liUndreds of aorek will not be dug," WMm and that "much of the acreage will go to J/fjlM feed stock." Wm Here is' another startling* annouuee- 1 mill; ment on the official authority of the I III | Secretary of Agriculture in his Septem- jf uur ber crop report. Can Mr. Morton recon- ' Yr file the above with the Democratic / v promises made."to' farmers .in 1802, that y t . ' the .value of all farm crops would be Jj enhanced if the protectionists • were pf turned out of office and the free-traders " installed in their places? Potatoes, "do ^ not pay for the digging" says the'free- • ; trade Secretary's report., "Hundreds of TO AITXT .acreg Wrll not be dug" even when so. ,, f ••• much labor is idle and wages are so hart and Aunt Catherine." . She bit her much cheaper than they were in 1892. lips, "I never thought of that," she "Much of the acreage will go to feed said. "Then you must break it." "Yes, stock"--Feeding potatoes to stock nS; I must break it, but upon what well as dollar wheat; and corn to be g-.Munds?" 1 asked. "Couldn't you say burned, too. Is there no hope for the th:it you had made a mistake and real- farmer? Let us see if the markets of ly cared for some one else?" she inquir- the world won't save him. Here are ed. "But 1 don't--1 mean, would that our exports of potatoes for the last five be quite fair to you, you see?" Miss years: Hardaway puckered her brow. "Put .. , , , , j , .t ! . o l ear. Bushels. \ alue. it on the ground that I Interfere with $3lG48 - ) your work," she suggested, "and that 1^90 .... .557 022 301378 you are wedded to that." "But you 1S93.... 845,720 700,032 don't," I objected; "and. besides. I don't 1804 803,111 051,87 care if you do; and, goodness knows, I 1805 572,857 418,22 don't want to be wedded to that al- Note how our exports of potatoe ways." This, apparently, was a new . ' idea, for she regarded me earnestly CAPTURING MARK for some moments, and I believe she was examining the lines on my face. "I am not1 so very old," I murmured. Miss Hardaway made no reply, but glanced out of the window; then, "I shall tell Aunt Catherine that it was broken off because of your work." she said, pensively. "I shall deny it." I protested; "I don't see why it should be broken off at all." After a minute's si­ lence she said in a lower voice, "It's such a nuisance to you." "It isn't," I declared; "I don't mind. I--let it go on. I'm not so very old, arid it's the only time I shall be engaged. Let me enjoy it while I can." Miss Hardaway was silont. "Come," said I, taking her hand, "you wouldn't grildge me a little pleasure, would you?" Miss Harda­ way laughed, a self-embarrassed little laugh.--- ' I* 1 e a s u re-?" she .ochcied.--"Cer­ tainly," said I, promptly; "a pleasure, which, alas! can never be more than a shadow for an old fogy like me." She looked at me timorously. "I don't think you're an old fogy," she said. I made to draw her nearer, but she disengaged herself and slipped gently to the door. On the threshold she paused. "I--I won't say anything to Aunt Catherine," she said, with a pretty little laugh-.-- The New Budget. GREAT POTATO CROP, MIGHTY LONDON. are trained to divide duties. Some of them, carrying a little flask of water or restoratives, simply sit and bark or bay near the body of a fallen man. Others have been trained to go in search"3 of assistance, and guide to the spot a soldier of the ambulance corps. The.trained dogs performed all these functions very skillfully at the recent trial near Dresden. It is plain that tho German army, if it should be engaged in another war, would be accompanied by a greater number of dogs than ever before accompanied an army on a cam­ paign. . ./< John Px-obably Saw the Point, He had a pretty hard day of it, and had gone to,bed early. When his wife entered the room he was sleeping soundly, and no man likes to be awak-* ened half an hour after he gets asleep. She was evidently amused at some­ thing, and as she approaehed the bed she exclaimed: "John! Oh, John!" He never moved. "John, wake up!" she persisted. "There's one of the funniest incidents No Demand for Our Surplus in Kuro- pcari Countries---Slim Chance of Gap' taring the World's Markets--Pota' toes and Wheat Fed to Stock. There, too. on golden summer eves. The old folks like to stroll and talk; Or slowly under whispering leaves The self-absorbed young lovers walk, While, fresh as youthful hopes, unfurl New growths about their lingering feet, And fender fronds of fern uncurl And all the balmy air is sweet. With mingled scents of thyme and musk. And Wilding roses, passion pale. As trembles through the dewy dusk The music of the nightingale. And, stealing from some hidden nook, < Adown the lane and o'er the lea, By pleasant ways, a silver brook Runs, singing, to the silver sea, \ T --Chambers' Journal. <P l/M* « ^ I ! ^ HERE was ;a slight tap On -/'the,' ' | door and MisS Hardaway entered '. -*• the library with a. little i;ush. She looked anxiously rouud, and then made a step towards me.. ; I dropped n\y lvinglake on • my knee arid looked at her; evidently she had come on some j pressing business. She looked rather excited, also a trifle nervous. "Mr. -Tyson?" said she. "Miss Hardaway?" said I. "I--I want to have a talk with you about--about something which " she hesitated. "Certainly," I respond­ ed, amiably, "won't you^it down?" She sank into a chair opposite me and regarded me with dubious eyes. "I hope you won't thinkyit extraordinary' of me," she said, in a sort of stammer, "but I wanted your assistance." "If I could do anything," 1 observed, to re- ! assure her. "command me." She avert- ! ed her eyes and fidgeted with a book on the table. "You see," she explained, "it's rather delicate." I nodded. "Ex­ actly," I assented. "And--and I don't j know, but I'm sure it's--it's rather j dreadful." "Good," said I, things are ! so flat as a rule." "You will probably say no at once," she went on. "and I'm sure I don't blame you." "I should like to have the oportunity. at any rate," 1 said, with a smile. She started and half rose in her chair. ."I'm afraid I've interrupted you in your reading." she exclaimed. "I--I only came in oi\ the impulse. It's really nothing." "Now," said I. lying back in my chair benignly, "you positively fire my curiosity." "No," she said, shaking her head, "it was nothing. I only " I leaned jforward and touched her arm. "Miss Hardaway." I said, earnestly, "what! you \Y<'iiId rob a poor old ftrgr of his only consolation--that of advising oth­ ers? Fie! I think you owe me some­ thing for the studious way in which you have avoided me lately." It seemed to me that I couldn't have said anything more to the point, though heaven knows I had no idea what the dear girl wanted. "Avoided you!" she . said; "no, indeed. If you only knew! That's what----" Here she came to an abrupt pause. "I should very much like to know what that is," I said, after waiting for a moment. I suppose I looked at her kindly; perhaps I beam­ ed benevolently--old fogies dn. At any rate, she seemed to take courage, and sank once more into the depths of the SAV AXV.Tl l IKG (ATM KU INK, ' ' Prospects for Manufacturers . It is not a question of whether the manufacturer is employed to-day so much as it is whether he has orders in hand to carry his looms through the next few months. The process of man­ ufacturing require about four weeks' time, and the manufacturer who has covered only about two months' pro­ duction curing iroodsjs not in a very in the United States and Tharketcd in Foreign Countries I duri ng tke two JWal years are we " "Oh. you must walk about with me a good deal," she said. "But won't that rather bore you," I asked, dcprecatingly. "Oh. no," said Miss Hardaway. frankly, "I like you; be­ sides, it's better than Mr. Urquhart." The compliment was not strained. "And I am to call you ?" I queried. "O, you must call me Hetty."..she returned. promptly. "And you must call me ?" I began. "Oh. I think I'll .just call you just Mr. Tyson," she observed, after a pause. "Hut do you think--don't you think ?" Miss Hardaway consider­ ed, frowning. ' I don't think I can call 600,000" Bushels Wolm Bushels '200,000 Bushels' of importations of goods to determine the manufacturing situation; it does not require deep and penetrating per­ ceptive powers to sec in these figures an unsatisfactory condition for the do­ mestic manufacturer. If the foreign manufacturer is supplying a large por­ tion of the needs of the market he must be doing it at the expense of do­ mestic makers, and this condition will be manifest in a short time; the man who cannot see it to-day must be dull of perception and comprehension.-- Textile Manufacturers' Journal. Sheep Flocking to Market . American sheep are still going to market in vast numbers. August, 1S94, was known as virtually a panic mouth, so great was the rush of sheep into the Chicago market; yet the report for Au­ gust, 1895, shows an increase of 40,000 head over that of the corresponding mouth the preceding year, while an ex­ cess of 3,000 for the first week in Sep­ tember indicates that the haste to sell is still an uppermost feature. Under •these conditions many Western sheep men liavq sold out almost every one, two or three year old sheep in their flocks, so that now their stock is at the point of certain deterioration.--Breed­ ers' Gazette. arm-chair. "I have been very much worried lately," she exclaimed, with a sigh. I nodded comprehensively. "It- it was that that made me come rushing in here," she went on. "I--I was deter­ mined not to stand it any "longer." I waited politely. "It's that young Mr. Urquhart." she said, with an appealing glance at me. as if I should now under­ stand all. I understood nothing, but I lifted my eyebrows. "IteallyV" I punc­ tuated. "Yes," she resumed, taking fresh courage. "He is a frightful nui­ sance! He follows me about every­ where." She paused, and as I seemed to De expected to say something, I re- Thc People Are "Left ." The deficit in the United States Treasury thus far for the month of Oc­ tober is only a trifle over $8,100,000. At the rate at which the present adminis­ tration is going, the people may con­ sider themselves extremely fortunate if there is any treasury left by the end of its official term.--Fort Wayne WTeek> ly Gazette. I t Came High. To September 30, 1894, we had ex­ ported $90,506,508 of gold coin and bul­ lion. This year we exported $73,190,- 2S2, or $17,31G,22G less than a year ago. As the last loan cost the country, in round numbers, $10,000,000 without in­ cluding interest;" the saving in our gold exports was rather expensive. • Dairy Farm Prospects. Dairy farming can hardly be a profit­ able business for British farmers. Dur-