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"Oh, sweet-burning incense! I never knew that I would need you. Baby, we will sleep, you and I, alone, all alone."

The burning incense filled the room with a sweet, soothing odor. Lilian and her baby drifted into dreamland, while the poison fumes grew more powerful. Lilian, with her baby cuddled in her arms, floated on and on, like a sacred

lily in full bloom, with a tiny bud blossoming at her side; tossed upon muddy stream, first troubled, then peaceful. At last she rested in that country where there are no lines drawn, of color, or of race, and where every child is loved of God.

The candles flickered, flickered, then died away, leaving only the sweet perfume of the burning incense.

MY GARDEN

By John Ravenor Bullen.

My garden has within it nothing prim,
Arranged by man, well-ordered or precise;
There is within it nothing neat and trim,

Or formal, for I'll have no such device.

But fresh green lawns closed in by ivied walls

And shrubs and bushes forming fairy bowers,
With stately trees on which the sunlight falls,
And myriads of sweetly scented flowers.

Broad graveled walks and narrow winding ways
Arched o'er with lilac bush and apple trees,

Down which the charmed explorer idly strays

Fanned by the perfumed, softly whispering breeze.

Quaint rustic seats and benches here and there
On which to sit while recollections fond

Creep over one with stealth till they ensnare
One from oneself; an ivy-covered pond;

Sweet carolings that on the breezes float

Gay-heralding the glad approach of spring,
Poured forth at will from many a joyous throat

Of birds that, tree to tree, their journey wing.
Such is my garden.

T

Showing the Many Things Amateur Farmers Don't Know of Farming

By Frances Hanford Delanoy

HE WILSON boys, Fred and Nat,

out early on an exploring expedition, discovered the hired man. The family had arrived on the ranch the night before.

"Hello, there," called Fred; "are you Dennis?"

"Ut's me fore name, me lad; what's yours?"

"I'm Fred Wilson, and this kid's my brother, Nat."

the orchard? An' who iver heard of fincing an orchard?"

"Cross-fencing, Dennis. Don't you know it's as cheap to keep fancy chickens as to keep mongrel breeds?"

"They ain't never been no sich animal here, sor. I don't know nothin' about fancy birds."

"You'll have opportunity to find out. We'll make eight or ten runs ten feet square and-"

"An' wid all thim finces in the way,

"An' ut's a loikely pair, the two av ye how about plowin'?" -f'r city kids."

"Say, Dennis, do you know that my dad's going to run this ranch on strictly scientific principles?"

"'N yes," piped Ned, "he said last night he's going to show the country bum-kins-whatever that is a thing or two, and make things hum; he didn't say bees; mebby that's what he meant, though. They hum, don't they?"

"Yer dumb roight, me bye; but mind ye, if ye makes thim hum too lively, they're purty apt to sting."

"Gee, Nat, dad didn't mean bees; I guess he meant his scientific principles. He said: 'Country folks petrify because they're 'nordinately shif'tess and impoverdent an' '—are you petrified, Dennis?"

"Anyway, he said that if the hired man, what was part and parcel of the ranch, was in a rut, he'd have to get out if he stayed and worked for him. Are you in a rut? Are you a part and parcel-"

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Wilson could not tolerate even a suspicion of opposition. The slightest sign brought forth wrathful demonstration, and argument proved a high explosive.

"There is nothing like the faculty of thinking. Take off a few boards and lift the plow through; that's easy."

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"Sure, sor, yer dead right about the thinkin', sor.'" Dennis was studying the inside of his hat. "An' Oi'm a thinkin', sor, the horses'll have to jump the fince to harness up to the plow, and stand on the hind legs av thim to turn around whin they gits to the corners; bejabbers, sor, ye'll have to git some second-hand circus horses what's already thrained, sor."

"Gee! Wonder if Nat and I could learn to ride 'em?"

"The first thing you are to do, Dennis, is to remove those wire fixings off the cellar windows; such contraptions are only dust traps."

64

"All roight, sor." Dennis put on his hat; his eyes twinkled. "Whin they's off, sor, somethin' else wuss than dust'll be gittin' in."

Mr. Wilson ignored Dennis' remarks, held on to his bridling temper and flicked imaginary specks from his vest. For the time he forgot the post holes.

"When you've finished that job, you may chop up that log by the back door. I'm going to the city this morning, but tomorrow I'll lay out your week's work."

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Mr. Wilson, veering as the winds in everything except his colossal opinion of his mental superiority, which his instability had never been known to involve, had been cajoled into exchanging his San Francisco home for a hit-and-miss vineyard and orchard and ancient house. He was positive that a knowledge of farming was his by heredity-a great grandfather had been a Connecticut farmer-and that this knowledge, combined with his scientific tendency, should prove him an authority on agriculture and live stock, and give him prestige in the community.

A slight rustling attracted Grandma Wilson's attention soon after she had gone into the cellar to attend to the milk. She casually glanced about, and saw a pair of bright eyes and bushy tail.

"Minnie! Oh, Minnie!" she called, imperturbed; "do come down and see this cunning little animal. Sam, come and drive it out. It might get at the cream." The Chinese cook, on the way to the well, was passing the cellar door. He seized a broom and, following Minnie, hurried into the cellar.

Suddenly Minnie bounded back up the steps. "Grandma," she yelled, "hurry out of there; it's a-hurry, I tell you; it's a-a

Grandma, with a shriek, dropped the pail of cream, gathered up her skirts and bounded after her. Sam dropped his broom and attempted to follow; he slipped in the puddle of cream and, yelling like a Comanche Indian, fell asprawl. As Nemo, attracted by the uproar, leaped into the cellar to interview the "cunning little animal," Sam scrambled to his feet, minus a shoe, and as he reached the landing tumbled headlong.

Dennis, with an axe over his shoulder, stopped as he came upon the group about the cellar door. He heard Nemo's spasmodic barking and his mouth broadened with a grin.

"An' what ye all so excitin' about, Oi'm askin'?"

"Oh, Dennis, is it a-really a-" Minnie began. "What does it look like?"

"O-ho! o-ho, thin! An' wasn't Oi a tellin'? Yer pa, miss, he said as thim gratin's wasn't nothin' but dust thraps. Ut's meself as is thinkin' they's nothin' loike them new fangled scientificals. That dawg, whin 'e's finished wid the baste, 'e'll be wishin' 'imself dead, so 'e will. An' Oi'm belavin', miss, whin yer pa gits here he'll be for finishin' the dawg wid a pace of poisoned mate on thim same principles."

The boys, excitedly talking, were coming leisurely through the orchard, and Minnie ran to meet them; almost breathlessly she told them of Nemo's present engagement. Both, talking at the same time, informed her that Ponto had had quite as exciting an experience.

"We saw a squirrel run into an old stump, and called Dennis, who had come for the axe, to help us catch it. We told him how pretty it was-such a cunning little animal-all black and white.

"Go long with you,' he told us-we thought he was joking-'it's no squirrel you're tormenting.' An' gee! he must'av jumped ten feet. Fred sassed him back an' whacked the old stump with his axe, an' out the squirrel jumped, and ran, an' Ponto ran after him. Dennis didn't say another word; he just grabbed his nose an' ran the other way, 'cause—well, it wasn't the right kind or a squirrel. Ponto

well, he's tied to a tree on the river bank so's the wind can whistle through his hair. Gee-jiminy-crickets! Hear him yelp!

"There's the dinner bell; I'm hungry as a pig," And with a whoop, they started on a run, forgetting Ponto and his tribulations.

They had kept Dennis in hot water all morning. Their bumps of order were

"Washa - malla? Washa - malla?" he undeveloped; their bumps of destruction asked blandly, picking himself up.

(Continued on Page 75)

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to this statement-I don't know. I didn't have a chance to find out. Walter Peebles came fussing up; and he must "help"; and all the other men in the party must "help". So we did not ride home together. But I managed to slip the card on which I had written the message into her little white hand before I was again sidetracked by Miss Wade.

It was still daylight when we swung into the street where my office is located, on the ground floor. I concluded to drop off there, and see if my real estate "pros pect" had thought it worth while to leave a message. To my great surprise, Walter Peebles said he "guessed" he'd go along with me, if I didn't mind.

I grunted, and he evidently took that for a sign of assent. I went in, switched on the electric light in my private office, and motioned Peebles to a chair. I took one myself.

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"Now that you've found Miss Rois, you'd better let the policy go through," he suggested, cheerfully.

I was too astonished to reply; and in the moment of silence the office clerk, who was working over hours, announced:

"Doctor John McDonald."

"I'll admit," I thought to myself, "I might at least have inquired again as to the condition of Mrs. and Miss McDonald. I should have rung up the hospital the first thing this morning."

"Show him in," I said heartily.

When he entered, I instantly saw that Doctor McDonald was very much upset about something. He did not take the offered chair, but came close to my desk, his fingers locked together nervously. Then, from a clear sky:

"Miss Peggy Mason is dead!"

I know a wild look crossed my face; I felt my blood turn cold.

"You-you don't think it is w-what I gave her, do you?"

"I'm afraid it was the combination."

"B-b-but," I stammered, "Mrs. Mason told me herself that her daughter. had not taken them--I mean the medicine, according to directions; and I gave her the directions on the bottles."

Doctor McDonald's eyes seemed to be looking a hole through me; he flushed and answered worriedly:

"Why did you tamper with a thing that you should have left alone? Mrs. Mason now tells quite a different story. In her grief, she assails everyone. She is particularly bitter toward you."

Nothing I could say would fit. I felt the cold beads of perspiration stand out on my forehead; the color must have drained entirely from my cheeks. I immediately decided to give myself up.

"I think I'll go down and see the chief of police and give myself up until this thing is straightened out," I suggested.

"You'd better," advised the Doctor. "There is a warrant out for your arrest.'

Peebles was at my side in an instant. "I insured the desk sergeant only this morning. Will you go down and examine him, Doctor McDonald? This thing has to be made straight for Harrington. The thing is absurb from every angle-save from that of the fact that the girl is dead."

VII.

"I a murderer!" I groaned. I mopped my face with my handkerchief. "One thing let me assure you, Doctor McDonald, I'm sorry; and God knows I'd do anything to make this right. You know the address of my father. He'll stand by me."

My first affair with Cupid had certainly led me into a maze of difficulty. I could barely realize what had happened. Cold chills ran up and down my spine. I looked at Peebles. He had turned white. He looked as sick as I felt. Good old Peebles! I'd never again doubt him.

We arrived at the station just as à couple of men were brought in. I was glad I didn't have that disgrace to go through. Thoughts of Mrs. Mason, Peggy's mother, haunted me; yet I felt that there was something wrong about the whole affair-some misunderstanding. I felt that it was not my fault any more than as if I had gone to the drug store and got the headache tablets for her daughter.

Doctor McDonald, after talking to the desk sergeant, went to see the chief. Going to see Miss Mason as a doctor was what got me in wrong-that, and prescribing without a license.

I spent the night in jail pending the

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