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diff --git a/old/65897-0.txt b/old/65897-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 234dd97..0000000 --- a/old/65897-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2983 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII, No. 369, -January 22, 1887, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII, No. 369, January 22, 1887 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: July 22, 2021 [eBook #65897] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER, VOL. VIII, -NO. 369, JANUARY 22, 1887 *** - - - - -[Illustration: THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER] - -VOL. VIII.—NO. 369.] JANUARY 22, 1887. [PRICE ONE PENNY. - - - - -CARMEN SYLVA, POETESS AND QUEEN. - -BY THE REV. JOHN KELLY, Translator of “Hymns of the Present Century.” - -[Illustration: THE QUEEN OF ROUMANIA (“CARMEN SYLVA”).] - -_All rights reserved._] - - -PART I. - - Carmen the song and Sylva the wood, - Join them together, the wood-song is heard; - If in the woods I had not been born, - Ne’er should I sing a song night or morn. - I’ve often learnt from the melody - Of birds, and woods have whispered to me, - While my heart beat time within my breast, - And wood and song have sung me to rest. - -Such, roughly rendered, is the explanation that the gifted and -distinguished authoress gives of the _nom de plume_ which she has -assumed. In the last line there is a reference to the woodland -castle—Mon Repos, or My Rest—where she passed her youth. - -Her father was Hermann, Prince of Wied, a cultivated and thoughtful -man, fond of philosophical speculation, and a writer on topics -connected with his favourite studies. Her mother was Princess Maria -of Nassau, who is described as “a woman of great beauty and true -elevation of soul, of strong will, keen understanding, self-sacrificing -spirit and indefatigable activity, inexorably strict with reference to -herself, but overflowing with kindness and consideration towards all -with whom she is brought in contact.”[1] - -Elizabeth, the subject of our sketch, now the Queen of Roumania, was -born on the 29th of December, 1843. As a child, she was impetuous in -temper, reserved and resolute in disposition, and unbending in will. -Her imagination was very lively. In her fourth year she was placed -under the charge of a governess to receive regular instruction. Up to -that time her mother had been her sole teacher. She was so lively that -she suffered physical torture if she had to sit quite quiet. Once, -when she was sitting for her portrait, along with her younger brother, -Prince William, she resolved to keep still. Hardly had she done so for -five minutes before she suddenly fell off her chair in a fainting fit. -Her mother’s former governess, Fraülein Lavater, who came to Mon Repos -for some months every year, was the only one who could tranquilise her. - -Very early Princess Elizabeth displayed a charitable and sympathetic -disposition. She used to accompany her mother on visits to the poor, -and thus she became acquainted with their needs. She would give away -whatever she could dispense with; yet she was not destitute of sound -practical sense. One day her mother gave her a large piece of woollen -stuff. The little Princess was overjoyed, and exclaimed— - -“Now I can give away all my clothes!” - -“Had you not better give the woollen stuff to the poor children?” said -her mother; “your white clothes would be of less use to them than the -coarse stuff.” It was a new thought to the child, and she at once -perceived the reasonableness of the suggestion, and acted on it. - -In November, 1850, her youngest brother Otto was born. He was -afflicted with an organic malady, and in order to procure the best -professional advice, the family went to Bonn in the spring of 1851. -Many distinguished men—artists and _savans_—gathered around the -princely family. Among others the patriot-poet, Ernst Moritz Arndt, -then eighty-two years old, was a daily visitor. He read his patriotic -songs to them. The Princess Elizabeth sat upon his knees while he did -so, and listened with rapt attention and flushed cheeks. Many a time -the venerable poet placed his hands upon her head and explained to her -the beautiful name which she bore. “Elizabeth,” he said, “signifies -‘God is rest.’” - -The present Crown Prince of Germany, then a student of Bonn, was also a -frequent visitor. - -It was at this time that the future Queen first saw Roumanians. They -were the brothers Stourdza, who were then studying at the University. - -Princess Elizabeth for a long time cherished the wish to sit on the -form in the school with the village children. One morning, bursting -into the room where her mother was much occupied, she asked if she -might go with some farm children to the school. The Princess Maria -did not hear the question, but nodded kindly to the child. Princess -Elizabeth, taking this sign for permission, rushed off to the -neighbouring farmhouse. There she heard that the children had already -gone to school. She followed them quickly, and entered the schoolroom -while the singing lesson was going on. The teacher was highly flattered -when he saw the Princess standing at a form, and quite happily joining -with full voice in the singing. The farmers’ little daughters, who had -some notion of Court etiquette, regarded it as quite unseemly that -the daughter of a Prince should join with such a very loud voice in -singing with the village children! As soon as the Princess’s voice was -heard above the voices of the other children, the girl next her put her -hand on her mouth, and sought to impress upon her Serene Highness the -impropriety of her position. - -Meanwhile the greatest consternation was felt at the Castle on account -of the disappearance of the Princess Elizabeth. Servants were sent -out in all directions. For a long time they searched the neighbouring -beechwoods and surrounding villages in vain. At last they found the -little Princess, full of delight with her exploit, in the village -school of Rodenbach. The missing child was carried back to the Castle, -and confinement to her room for the rest of the day was the issue of -the morning’s exploit. - -She was a born ruler of others. In playing with children of her own -age, whether of her own or of peasant rank, her ascendancy was at once -acknowledged and yielded to. She was the ringleader in the wildest -games. The fantastic ideas which came into her head, and on which she -acted, overmastered her for the time. They were realities to her. - -Her literary genius was early developed. She composed occasional -pieces when she was nine and ten years old. At twelve years of age -she attempted to write a novel. At fourteen she had invented dramas -and tragedies. The more terrible the scenes were, the better was she -pleased. Morning and night she was devising stories. She was subject -to alternations of high spirits and depression, and total lack of -self-confidence. She would be tormented by the idea that she was -disagreeable and insupportable to everyone. “I could not help it,” she -confesses; “I could not be gentle, I could only be impetuous. I was -heartily thankful to all who had patience with me. I was better when -the safety-valve of writing poetry was opened to me.” - -In order to moderate the exuberance of her feelings, her mother took -her at every opportunity to scenes where she might be deeply impressed -by the realities of life. She was present at many a sick and death -bed. Her brother’s case familiarised her with the sufferings that -many have to endure. The first deathbed at which she was present was -her grandmother’s, the Duchess of Nassau’s. It made an ineffaceable -impression upon her. The sight of the body excited no terror in her -mind. Her thoughts went beyond death. She hastened to the garden. The -roses were in full bloom. She gathered the most beautiful, and returned -with them to the chamber of death, and decorated the bed and the room -with them. Her conception of death was poetical. Her mother had taught -her to take a bright view of it. - -Brought up by her mother in the fear of God, her first visit to church -was a memorable occasion to her. Henceforward the Sundays and holydays -were the bright spots in her life. With devout attention she followed -the course of the service, and was deeply impressed by the exposition -of Holy Scripture. She meditated on what she heard for days, and often -wrote down the sermons. - -At the end of six years her governess, Miss Jossé, who discharged her -difficult duties with great fidelity and zeal, left Neuwied, and the -Princess was placed under the care of a tutor, Mr. Sauerwein. On his -arrival at the Castle the Princess Maria received him with the words: -“You are getting a little spirit of contradiction for your pupil. She -has no traditional faith. Her first questions always are, ‘why?’ and -‘is it true?’” - -Mr. Sauerwein was a distinguished linguist; had resided a long time -in England, and was an enthusiast for that country, its history and -institutions. He gave all his lessons in the English language. Latin -and Italian were translated into English. The Princess read Ovid, -Horace, and parts of Cicero with him, and wrote Latin, English, and -Italian exercises. She also learnt arithmetic and geometry. Lessons -in physical science she took along with a companion and most intimate -friend, Maria von Bibra. She was taught French by a Parisian lady, -and in the evening after tea read the old chroniclers, as well as -the dramatists. Schiller and other German classics were studied. At -fifteen she took a keen interest in politics, and was a diligent reader -of newspapers. From a very early period she had a great fondness -for legends and folklore. “I would throw away,” she says, “the most -beautiful history, or even comparative grammar, to the study of which I -was passionately devoted, into a corner, for a little legend.” - -Romances were forbidden till she was nineteen years of age. Then she -was permitted to read “Ivanhoe” and others. Everything that was likely -to excite her too lively imagination was purposely withheld from her. - -At the beautifully situated Castle of Mon Repos, with its fine view -of the Rhine and its splendid beechwoods, the Princess Elizabeth was -in her element. She delighted to roam in the woods in the stormiest -weather, when it was raining in torrents or snowing heavily. The house -was too strait for her, and she would go forth, accompanied by three -dogs of St. Bernard, to enjoy the battle of the elements. In autumn, -when the yellow leaves lay in heaps on the ground, she would wander for -hours, listening to the rustling of the leaves. Every leaf, blade of -grass, bird, and flower—every sunbeam that lighted upon the landscape, -had a meaning for her. She would return home with her head full of -poetical ideas, which she would write down. These poetical effusions -tranquillised her mind. No one knew anything of them. She kept them a -profound secret. Her mother wisely concluded that the best thing to do -was to let her take her own way. The Prince used to say, when she was -determined to have her own way, “We must not compel people for their -own happiness; we must allow them to attain to insight.” - -At sixteen years of age the Princess began to write all her poems -regularly in a book. She put all her thoughts and feelings into verse, -which from henceforward formed her diary. Until she was thirty years -of age she knew nothing of the technical part of the art of poetry. A -time came, however, when she thought she ought to despise poetry, and -when she threw herself with all her might into the study of music. She -got into such a nervous condition, however, that her mother had to -forbid her playing the piano for two years. Then she took to her pencil -and painting. This failed to satisfy her, and she despaired of her -abilities, and believed that she would never attain the ideal at which -she aimed. - -All who knew the Princess at this time retain a vivid impression of -her vivacity and grace, of her slender figure, fresh complexion, her -luxuriant dark brown hair, and large blue eyes, which looked as if -they would penetrate and search the very soul. Without being exactly -beautiful, the intellectual refinement of her features made her -countenance very attractive. From her surroundings she was called -Princess Wood-rose. - -When governesses and tutor had left the Castle, Pastor Harder, the -Mennonite Baptist preacher from Neuwied, came every day to teach the -Princess logic, history, and church history. She profited much from -her intercourse with him. She could open her heart freely to him on -subjects on which she exercised the strictest reserve with everyone -else. His preaching went to her heart. Her poetical diary contains many -entries written after the services. - -In 1860 she was confirmed, after being prepared for the rite by the -Ecclesiastical Councillor Dilthey, in presence of all her sponsors, the -nearest relatives of the houses of Wied and Nassau, and the present -Empress of Germany, at that time Princess of Prussia. - -Times of sore trial came to her. Her father was always ill. The -sufferings of her little invalid brother increased, and her mother was -absorbed by anxious duties. During her brother’s illness, to whom her -mother wholly devoted herself, the Princess was thrown much into the -society of her father. She worked with him, copied for him, and read -to him. He would discuss with her the questions on which he wrote. -The intelligence and receptivity of his daughter delighted him. The -house was, however, too quiet for the lively girl. It was therefore -decided that the invitation of Queen Augusta should be accepted, and -that Fraülein Lavater should accompany her to Berlin. She found it -difficult to keep within the bounds of Court etiquette, and converse in -a becoming manner. She felt most at home in the family of the Princess -of Hohenzollern, who passed the winter in Berlin. - -It was at this time she first met her future husband, then Prince -Charles of Hohenzollern. The story is told that one day as she, -according to her custom, was bounding quickly down the stairs in the -Castle, she slipped on the last steps, and was prevented from falling -by Prince Charles, who caught her in his arms. - -Soon after her return home the cases of her brother and father were -pronounced to be hopeless. Prince Otto’s sufferings increased from -month to month. His mother sought to prepare him for his end by -pointing him to Christ and heaven. In January, 1862, Prince Hermann -was unable to leave his bed. Princess Elizabeth nursed her father, -while her mother was incessant in her attendance on her beloved son. -On the 16th of February, 1862, Prince Otto died. “Thank God! thank God -for ever and ever!” was the exclamation of his bereaved mother, as she -stood by his body. His father, family, friends and connections from far -and near, all who loved and admired the boy, joined with his mother in -her thanksgiving. - -After the funeral the family paid a visit to Baden-Baden. On their -return the young Princess threw herself with all the ardour of her -nature into the work of teaching. In the Castle there was a lame boy, -who had been received on account of his delicate health, and at a farm -in the neighbourhood of Mon Repos the Baroness von Bibra resided for -some time with two little nieces. With these three little children the -Princess set up a school. Her mother observed with quiet satisfaction -the patience, perseverance, and aptitude to teach displayed by her -daughter. The boy, Rudolf Wackernagel, made such progress that he was -able to enter the fifth class in the Gymnasium at Basle. - -The winter of 1862-63 was passed with her parents at Baden-Baden on -account of her father’s health. Here she “came out.” From entries in -her diary it would appear that she had offers of marriage at this time. -There are some lines in which she writes of the kind of love that alone -brings happiness, and she adds that a maiden rejects anyone who does -not really love her. “A maiden,” she says, “is happy in her parents’ -house, from whence she casts modest looks into the world.” - -In the autumn of 1863 she went with her aunt, the Grand Duchess Helena -of Russia, to Ouchy, on the Lake of Geneva, and for the winter to St. -Petersburg. On the way to the latter place she saw her father for the -last time at Wiesbaden. He did not expect ever to see his daughter -again. Everybody was charmed with her at the Russian Court. She did -not feel at ease, however, amid the grandeur which surrounded her. -Her imagination was excited by all that she saw and heard, but her -nerves suffered. The Grand Duchess sought to calm her mind by varied -but regular occupation. The day was filled with music, reading, study -of the Russian language, etc. Rubinstein first, and afterwards Clara -Schumann, taught her music. When she expected Rubinstein to come, -her excitement was so great that it almost took away her breath. She -regarded him with such veneration that she lost all heart, from a sense -of her own little talent. The climate and nervous excitement brought -on gastric fever. For weeks she was confined to bed. It was her first -illness. She had never tasted medicine before she was twenty. She could -hardly believe, therefore, that she was really ill. As soon as she -was able to do so, she buried herself in a philosophical work by her -father, a copy of which he had sent her, and wrote to him telling him -the pleasure it gave her. She enjoyed the seclusion from the gaieties -that were going on. “It is very strange,” she wrote to her father; -“yesterday I read ninety pages of philosophy, and was so rested that -everyone was astonished at my looking so well. But if only two or -three ladies come, and tell me the gossip of the town, and of all the -things that are going on, it makes me droop like a withered leaf.” -When she was well enough she resumed her social intercourse with the -Grand Duchess, but had a sudden relapse. It was an anxious time for -her mother: her husband dangerously ill, her daughter invalided at -a distance, and she not there to nurse her! “I know she is in God’s -hands,” she wrote, “and under the care of faithful and loving friends, -but that does not take the pain, the load of sorrow, from my heart.” -The Princess Elizabeth was able to venture into the open air again at -the beginning of March. It seemed as if her recovery would be rapid. -A few days later, however, she received the tidings of her father’s -death. She loved her father with enthusiastic tenderness. She owed -her intellectual development, for the most part, to him. Her grief -was heightened by the thought that she had not been with him in his -last days. But no murmur escaped her lips. She bore the blow with such -composure and resignation that everyone about her was deeply impressed -and touched. She sought to comfort and strengthen her mother. “We shall -fill the desolate void with our love,” she wrote, “and therein find our -happiness.” She regarded her father as a shining example, and sought -to think and act according to his ideas. In the judgments she formed, -she imitated his mildness and candour, which condemned nothing without -fully proving it. - -At Easter she left St. Petersburg with the Grand Duchess Helena, and -visited Moscow, and in June returned to Germany. Her mother met her in -Leipzig. The meeting, as may be imagined, was very affecting. After -their return to Mon Repos a reaction from the recent excitement and -agitation which she had experienced set in, and the Princess Elizabeth -was overcome by apathy. Her mother, therefore, gladly consented to her -accompanying the Grand Duchess Helena to Ouchy. - -During the years 1866, 1867, 1868, she paid visits with her aunt or -mother to Switzerland, Italy, France, and Sweden, meeting with much to -interest her. - -Little did she think at the end of this time of the career on which -she was so soon to enter. She always wished to have “a calling” in -life. She did not wish to live a life of pleasure, or the life of an -intellectual _dilettante_, but one of real usefulness. She resolved -to devote herself to the work of education, and be the teacher of a -school. Her mother consented, on the condition that she should go -through a regular course of preparatory training for the purpose, and -pass an examination. But “man proposes and God disposes.” During the -spring of 1869, while she was with her mother in Bonn, they received -an invitation from the Prince of Hohenzollern to pay a visit to -Düsseldorf. The mother divined the purpose of the proposed visit, but -the daughter had no suspicion of it. She was delighted only with the -prospect of seeing the Princess of Hohenzollern and Princess Marie, -whom she had met in Berlin, and with whom she had corresponded ever -since. - -(_To be concluded._) - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Aus “Carmen Sylva’s Leben,” von Natalie, Freiin von Stachelberg—(From -“Carmen Sylva’s Life,” by Nathalie, Baroness of Stachelberg. Third -revised edition. Heidelberg. 1886). - - - - -THE SHEPHERD’S FAIRY. - -A PASTORALE. - -BY DARLEY DALE, Author of “Fair Katherine,” etc. - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -Leaving the Priory on her right, Fairy went down the street in which -stands the pretty old wooden house in which Anne of Cleves is said to -have lived, and which goes by her name, from whence she turned up a -lane into the High-street, and going to the bottom of the hill on which -the High-street is built, she paused at a blacksmith’s shop. - -The blacksmith was the father of the veterinary whom Fairy was -seeking, and both men were standing in the shed, the blacksmith in his -apron, with his hammer in his hand, scratching his head, and looking -exceedingly puzzled, the veterinary in his shirt-sleeves, which looked -like a protest against the heat which streamed from his father’s forge. -He, too, looked equally puzzled. - -In the centre of the shed stood a third figure, a gentleman, -tall, thin, young, and dark—if not handsome, at least very -good-looking—with an aristocratic air about him which at once caught -Fairy’s fancy. She saw at a glance he was unlike anyone she had ever -met before, by the cut of his clothes and the dark moustache, in days -when moustaches were rarely seen in England; she half suspected he was -not English, and his first words, in a strong foreign accent, confirmed -this idea. - -“I want to take it wif me, a horse’s iron, the iron of a horse.” - -Fairy’s appearance in the shed caused the stranger to turn round, and -seeing a lady he took off his hat and bowed so profoundly, at the same -time stepping back, and gracefully hinting, by a wave of his hand, -that his business would wait till hers was concluded, removed any -lingering doubts in her mind as to his nationality. He was French, she -was sure, and for the first time in her life, to her knowledge, Fairy -found herself face to face with a Frenchman, as great a curiosity then -as a Japanese or Chinaman is now. - -Fairy returned his elaborate bow with a pretty inclination of her -graceful head, and briefly stated her business to the veterinary, -who, however, seemed to hesitate at first to come at once, and Fairy -was obliged to resort to a little judicious flattery to induce him to -comply with her request. - -While she was speaking the stranger had an opportunity of indulging -in a good look at her without her being aware of it. How pretty she -was! fresher and brighter and prettier than ever among the dark, -grimy surroundings of the blacksmith’s shop, which formed a striking -background for this brilliant little vision of youth and health and -beauty, the red glow of the furnace sending a rosy reflection over -her white dress, and kindling the soft golden lights in her hair into -a burning auburn. How simply she was dressed too! the first of her -countrywomen who understood the art of dressing herself who had yet -crossed the stranger’s path, he afterwards told her; and yet her boots -and gloves, about which Fairy was very particular, fitted her tiny -hands and feet to perfection. - -Where did she come from, this blooming little creature, who looked as -if a puff of wind might blow her away, so small and slight and dainty -was she? And in default of wind the young Frenchman was by no means -sure that she would not suddenly spread out a pair of wings from among -the folds of her white drapery and fly away! At any rate he determined -to speak to her first and satisfy himself that she was flesh and blood, -and not a mere sprite or vision, so as she turned to leave, after -having prevailed upon the veterinary to do her bidding at once, he -stepped forward, and, with another grand bow and a smile, he said, in -his native tongue— - -“Mademoiselle peut-elle parler Français?” - -“Mais oui, monsieur,” answered Fairy. - -“Pardon mille fois, mademoiselle est Française?” said the Frenchman, -with true French politeness. - -“Mais non, monsieur,” laughed Fairy, in a half-reproachful, -half-deprecating tone. - -“Mademoiselle speaks like a native, but will she have the kindness to -tell me what is the English for fer-de-cheval; I have forgotten?” - -“A horseshoe,” said Fairy. - -“A horseshoe,” lisped the Frenchman. - -“A horseshoe, and he asked for a horse’s iron; no wonder I didn’t know -what he meant,” growled the blacksmith, proceeding to get the article -in question. - -“A horseshoe—a horse’s iron,” laughed the veterinary, in an undertone -of scorn, as he went his way to look after John Shelley’s sheep. - -“Yes,” said the Frenchman, in French, to Fairy, “I want a horseshoe. -They tell me a horseshoe always brings good luck, so I am going to keep -one in my room.” - -“Oh, but it is no use to buy a horseshoe; you must find it, pick it up -on the road, and keep it for it to bring good luck,” laughed Fairy, -speaking French. - -“Is that it? Well, never mind, this horseshoe has brought me some -good luck at any rate already.” And then, fearing he was presuming -too much on his brief acquaintance to pay the compliment his last -speech implied, he added, apologetically, “I have not often the good -luck to meet a lady out of France who speaks French so fluently as -mademoiselle.” - -“Monsieur is very kind to say so, but unless I can be of any further -use I must say good morning,” said Fairy, moving to the door. - -The young Frenchman uttered a thousand thanks, bowed lower than ever, -and stood uncovered at the door of the shed, watching till Fairy’s -little figure and fluttering white skirts disappeared from view. - -“Rum ways! Is Mr. Parlez-vous, with his outlandish talk, going to -stand there all day in the broiling sun? He’ll have a sunstroke if -he does. He is the queerest customer ever darkened my door,” growled -the blacksmith, as he hammered on his anvil to attract the stranger’s -attention. - -The stranger had no intention of moving until Fairy had disappeared -from view, and then he put on his hat and walked up to the anvil. - -“Who is that lady?” he asked. - -“Nobody knows,” growled the surly old blacksmith. - -“What is her name?” - -“Can’t say; nobody knows,” answered the blacksmith, in a still surlier -tone, though to do him justice he thought this fine gentleman’s sudden -interest in the shepherd’s Fairy, as people called her, boded no good -to Fairy. - -“How much is the horse-iron—shoe, I mean?” - -“Sixpence, sir.” - -The Frenchman laid down half-a-crown, and pushing it towards the -blacksmith, gave him a meaning look as he repeated the question. - -“What is that lady’s name?” - -The blacksmith understood well enough that if he gave a satisfactory -answer no change would be required, and soothing his conscience with -the thought that after all it was no business of his—he was only -answering a civil question, he said, “They call her the shepherd’s -Fairy.” - -“But what is her real name?” and the Frenchman produced another -half-crown, and held it temptingly in his finger and thumb. - -“I never heard tell of any name but that; she is John Shelley’s foster -daughter,” answered the man, glancing at the second half-crown, which -was now lying by the side of the first. - -“And where does John Shelley live?” - -“At Bournemer, about a mile and a half from here.” - -“_Comment?_ How do you call it, Bonnemère? How can I get there?” - -“Can’t say; it ain’t easy to find,” said the blacksmith, thinking the -Frenchman had had his five shillings’ worth, and, as was evident from -his manner, resolved not to enlighten him any further. - -“Easy or difficult, I shall find it, my civil friend,” said the -young Frenchman, in French, and then, raising his hat, he wished -the blacksmith good-day, and left the forge, muttering to himself a -criticism on the manners of these English not over flattering to our -nation. - -“Palavering jackanapes, talking a tongue that no one understands but -himself! What has the shepherd’s Fairy to do with him, I should like -to know? But there don’t appear to be any scarcity of half-crowns with -him; seems made up of them. A queer customer—a mighty queer customer; -I wonder where he hails from.” And so saying, the blacksmith went to -his door to look after the young Frenchman. - -The stranger walked up the High-street to the Crown, where he had left -his horse, and when it was brought to him, innocently asked the ostler -if he could get back to Oafham, where he was staying, by Bournemer. - -“Yes, sir; you can go across yonder meadows; there is a drift right -through them which will bring you out close upon John Shelley, the -shepherd’s, house; go past that and turn sharp to your right, that -will take you straight back to the park,” said the ostler, giving the -stranger all the information he required for nothing. - -A few minutes later the blacksmith strolled casually up to the inn, and -inquired of the ostler who that foreign gentleman was. - -“Dunnow; reckon he is some relation of Lady Oafham up at Oafham Park; -they say my lady’s sister is married to a French gentleman; anyhow, he -is staying there. I know the mare.” - -“He is a rum customer, wherever he is staying. He didn’t happen to ask -you where John Shelley lived, did he now?” said the blacksmith. - -“No, but I happened to tell him,” returned the ostler. - -“More fool you, then. Ah! he is a queer customer.” And muttering to -himself all the way down the street, the blacksmith returned to his -forge. - -Meanwhile the French gentleman rode slowly off in the direction -indicated by the ostler, keeping his horse to a walking pace for fear -he should overtake Fairy, who, after a little while, he discerned as -a little speck of white some way in front of him. He paid no heed to -the ostler’s directions now; where that speck of white led he would -follow, but at a safe distance, lest he should frighten or annoy her if -discovered. Keeping well in the rear, he saw Fairy finally turn into -the field in which the shepherd’s cottage stood, and as soon as she was -out of sight he put his horse into a canter, and rode past, taking a -good survey, as he passed, of the house of the shepherd’s Fairy, whom -he had traced to her home. - -(_To be continued._) - -[Illustration] - - - - -HINTS ON PRACTISING SINGING AND PRESERVING THE VOICE. - -BY AN EXPERIENCED TEACHER. - -[Illustration] - - -PART I. - -WHAT TO AVOID. - -It will most likely surprise my readers that I should begin this -article by telling them when _not to practise_. I think this a very -essential point, although not often spoken of by teachers. - -I heard, a short time ago, of a young lady desirous of having singing -lessons, whose instructor said it would be best for her to practise -three times a day for ten minutes. The girl, being engaged in teaching -most of the day, found it difficult to manage her time, but contrived, -by having the first ten minutes before breakfast, to fit in the three -intervals. No wonder her throat got bad and her health suffered! - -If, among my readers, there should be one similarly occupied, believe -me, it is not wise to take lessons during the term, as talking for so -long a time is sufficient exercise for the throat and chest. Wait till -the holidays, and then begin. - -If you tire the vocal chords and the surrounding parts, you weaken -instead of strengthening them, and injure the purity of tone. - -We will suppose you have had your first lesson, say, of forty-five -minutes; and on reaching home feel inclined to practise, to impress -on your mind your teacher’s corrections. Yet you must not do so; as -you have already sung enough. By all means, look over the music you -have used and mark anything you may be likely to forget; also start a -note-book, and make memoranda of the hints received from time to time. - -Say that your lesson takes place in the morning; probably in the -afternoon you will be able to take a quarter of an hour in which to -practise. In this way, you will have done far more good than if you sat -straightway down to the piano when you were excited and heated after -your first lesson, when you might have been tempted to try over your -songs, to settle which to take the next time, and have gone from one -thing to another, till, to your great surprise, it is lunch time, and, -it may chance, instead of your usual good appetite you have none. An -artistic temperament is often very excitable, and if this is your case -you will perceive how much you would have taken out of yourself in that -one morning. - -Should you be out of health, do not practise; you may sing a little, -going through one song or two (no more) will cheer you; but do not try -exercises, for your voice will not be in its usual state, consequently -you will be likely to force it. - -Again, if it ever happens that you are cross, or vexed, do not choose -that time either. Do not sing your exercises after a long walk, or -after a hearty meal, nor after bending for any length of time over -needlework, writing, or any occupations causing stooping. - -On many of these occasions you could practise the pianoforte; singers -should well study their accompaniments. - -All these “don’ts” are especially addressed to the zealous student, -whose very enthusiasm may do much harm. - -The dilatory one may say, “If I am to practise at none of these times, -when, then, shall I do so?” - -There are plenty of opportunities still, but it depends greatly on home -duties how the time should be apportioned. - -We will imagine the first thing after breakfast some domestic task -calls your attention. When you are at liberty, go then to your -piano (this should be scrupulously kept in tune), but first spend -five minutes in practising breathing—of which I shall speak later -on—then sing for five minutes sustained notes, _without crescendo_, -the “mezza di voce” < > being a finishing study which must not be -attempted till the voice is fully under control; then give five to -slow scale passages, and five more to simple distances of thirds, -or what particular exercise your teacher may have given. Before the -mid-day meal you may be able to give a few minutes again to sustained -notes; but mind, only use your middle ones. These should have the chief -attention for quite a month or more before either the upper or lower -ones are tried. - -Another interval can well be given some time after noon; and in the -evening practise your songs—as at that time you might annoy other -persons with your exercises. They are not calculated to cheer the heart -of the listener, especially when imperfectly done, as they will be at -first. - - -PART II. - -CHIEFLY ON RESPIRATION. - -We will now turn our attention to the different ways of breathing. - -In throat or collar-bone breathing (the wrong method) the region of the -upper ribs is most strongly distended; the collar-bone, part of the -breast-bone, the shoulders, the spine, and in laboured breathing even -the head, take part in this mode. - -It is fatiguing and injurious, yet it is very general, both in speaking -and singing; and in time it would make the voice weak and tremulous. -There is little doubt it produces a tendency to sore throat. Some -authorities even say that imperfect respiration is one of the causes of -consumption, and that practising deep breathing in the proper manner is -a preventive. - -Most likely if you were told to inhale deeply, you would open your -mouth and try to expand the chest from above. This is quite wrong; it -is styled collar-bone breathing. - -It is a mistake to suppose the upper part of the chest is the chief -reservoir of air required for the voice; that is brought into play by -nature at times of exhaustion only. - -Now for the proper mode: diaphragmatic or abdominal respiration. The -diaphragm is a muscular membrane stretching from the front to the back, -and in a state of rest is arched upwards towards the lungs, but on -inhaling, its sides contract and the arch is flattened, causing the -cavity of the chest to become enlarged, and the air rushes in by the -windpipe and distends the lungs. When the muscles are relaxed, the -elasticity of the lungs squeezes out the air, and the diaphragm is -drawn up again to its original form. - -A good position in which to acquire this mode of inspiration, is to lie -down at full length on the back, the head as low as the body, and begin -to inhale slowly (the clothes must be quite loose), then you will find -the parts below the ribs expand like a pair of bellows. Another way. -Sit on a chair—it must not be low and easy—with your hands folded -behind it and breathe leisurely; or, stand perfectly upright, put your -hands behind you, and draw in the air gently but deeply, retaining it -for ten seconds or more, then let it go as slowly as possible. - -Do not try to take too deep a breath at first, or you will find you -cannot retain it. Your power will gradually increase. - -Practise, without singing, sometimes in one of these positions, -sometimes in another, twice or thrice a day, but not for many minutes -at a time. It will strengthen the lungs and organs of digestion. You -will now have found how important it is for the clothing to be loose, I -hope. - -It is well to close the mouth when one wishes to take breath. -Especially at long rests the singer should do so, as it prevents the -throat and vocal chords from getting dry. If they do become so the -voice loses sweetness. - -Remember a good tone does not depend on the great volume of air -ejected: indeed, too much breath expended will make it uncertain. Flat -singing is now and then the result of this forcing. The air must be -given out gradually, not jerked out. - -Avoid coughing; it is an injurious habit easily got into; if you feel -an inclination to do so before beginning to sing, check it if possible, -and instead quietly swallow. - -Let me advise you not to eat nuts or similar dry things before singing, -and here is another hint. Do not sit in a low chair with the feet -perched up on a stool after meals, as the digestive faculties cannot -act well in such a position. With an impaired digestion the voice may -become affected. - -Never talk in the open air if the weather is cold and damp, nor when -travelling, nor at any time, if it can be avoided, where there is much -noise. - -Many persons wrap up the throat excessively. One of my pupils came -once with no less than two silk handkerchiefs under a fur-lined cloak, -besides wearing a boa. A silk scarf is enough even for the winter; fur -is not healthy to wear unless it is in the form of a loose mantle. - -It is a good plan on getting up each morning to bathe the neck with -cold water, afterwards drying well, using plenty of friction, also to -gargle the throat with cold water. - -For the expansion of the chest, I strongly advise the use, night and -morning, of an elastic chest expander. It must be strong enough to -require a distinct effort to stretch it, and the exercise must be -persevered with for ten minutes at a time, until the muscles begin to -ache. By-and-by it can be used for a longer period. - -The singer must observe the laws of health, remembering that the vocal -organ is but an instrument, though played on by the soul. - -A few more words before closing this article. Perchance one of my -readers may be anxious to sing well, though unable to have the benefit -of receiving lessons. In that case, I do not advise the study of -exercises, unless some tuition has first been received from a competent -person, as bad habits are so easily formed though not so easily got rid -of. - -Let the songs you choose lie well within your range of voice, without -runs or shakes; nothing being more absurd than to hear ornaments badly -executed. - -When it is possible, try to hear a professional render a song that you -know. There are many ballad concerts given, and the music that will be -performed is generally advertised. Take your copy with you, and mark -all places where breath is taken, where a _crescendo_ is made, and -where the time is slackened or accelerated. You will get a good lesson -on a song in this way, and if you persevere your style will by degrees -improve. - -Before singing a new song, practise the accompaniment well, then study -the words, making it a rule to recite them, that you may give proper -effect to both music and poetry. Try always to bear in mind, what is -worth doing at all is worth doing well. - - - - -MERLE’S CRUSADE. - -BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY, Author of “Aunt Diana,” “For Lilias,” etc. - - -CHAPTER XV. - -ANOTHER GUEST AT MARSHLANDS. - -The following two or three weeks passed rapidly and pleasantly; but for -two serious drawbacks that hindered my thorough enjoyment, I should -have owned myself perfectly happy, but Mrs. Markham and Rolf were -perpetual thorns in my side. - -A consciousness of being disliked by any human being, however -uncongenial to us, is always a disagreeable discovery. The cause of -the repellent action of one mind on another may be an interesting -psychological study, but in practice it brings us to a sadder and lower -level. I knew Mrs. Markham honestly disliked me; but the cause of such -marked disfavour utterly baffled me. - -Most people found her fascinating; she was intellectual and refined, -and had many good qualities, but she was not essentially womanly. -Troubles and the loss of her children had hardened her; embittered -by disappointment, for her married life, short as it was, had been -singularly unhappy, she had come back to her father’s house a cold, -resentful woman, who masked unhappiness under an air of languid -indifference, and whose strong will and concealed love of power -governed the whole household. “Adelaide manages us all,” Miss Cheriton -would say, laughing, and I used to wonder if she ever rebelled against -her sister’s dictates. I knew the squire was like wax in the hands of -his eldest daughter; he was one of those indolent, peace-loving men who -are always governed by their womankind; his wife had ruled him, and now -his widowed daughter held the reins. I think Gay was like her father; -she went on her own way and shut her eyes to anything disagreeable. -It would never have done for me to quarrel openly with Mrs. Markham; -common sense and respect for my mistress’s sister kept me silent -under great provocation. I controlled my words, and in some measure -I controlled voice and outward manner, but my inward antagonism must -have revealed itself now and then by an unguarded tone. - -My chief difficulty was to prevent her spoiling Joyce. After the first, -she had become very fond of the child, and was always sending for her -to the drawing-room, and loading her with toys and sweetmeats. Mr. -Morton’s orders had been very stringent about sweetmeats, and again and -again I was obliged to confiscate poor Joyce’s goodies as she called -them. I had extracted from her a promise that she should eat nothing -out of the nursery, and nothing could induce the child to disobey me. - -“Nurse says I mustn’t, Aunt Adda,” was her constant remark, and Mrs. -Markham chose to consider herself aggrieved at this childish obstinacy. -She spoke to me once about it with marked displeasure. - -“I have had children of my own, and I suppose I know what is good for -them,” she said, with a touch of scorn in her voice; “you have no right -to enforce such ridiculous rules on Joyce.” - -“I have Mrs. Morton’s orders,” I replied, curtly; “Dr. Myrtle told me -to be very careful of Joyce’s diet; I cannot allow her to eat things I -know will hurt her,” and I continued to confiscate the goodies. - -But though I was firm in all that concerned the children’s health, -there were many occasions on which I was obliged to submit to Mrs. -Markham’s interference; very often my plans for the day were frustrated -for no legitimate cause. I was disposed to think sometimes that she -acted in this way just to vex me and make me lose my temper. If we -were starting for the beach, Judson would bring us a message that -her mistress would prefer my taking the children into the orchard, -and sometimes on a hot afternoon, when we were comfortably ensconced -on the bench under the apple trees, Judson would inform us that Mrs. -Markham thought we had better go down to the sea. Sometimes I yielded -to these demands, if I thought the children would not suffer by them, -but at other times I would tell Judson that the sun was too hot or -the children too tired, and that we had better remain as we were. If -this was the case, Mrs. Markham would sometimes come out herself and -argue the matter, but I always stood my ground boldly; though I was -perfectly aware that the afternoon’s post would convey a letter to -Prince’s Gate, complaining of my impertinence in disputing her orders. - -My mistress’s letters were my chief comfort, and they generally came -on the morning after one of these disputes. She would write to me so -affectionately, and tell me how she missed me as well as the children, -and though she never alluded openly to what had occurred, there was -always a little sentence of half-veiled meaning that set my mind at -rest. - -“My sister Gay tells me that the children are getting so brown and -strong with the sea air,” she wrote once, “and that dear little Joyce -has quite a nice colour. Thank you so much for your ceaseless care of -them; you know I trust you implicitly, Merle, and I have no fear that -you will disappoint me; your good sense will carry you safely through -any little difficulty that may arise. Write to me as often as you can; -your letters are so nice. I am very busy and very tired, for this ball -has entailed so much work and fuss, but your letters seem to rest me.” - -Rolf was also a serious impediment to my enjoyment. Ever since I had -helped him with his kite, he had attached himself to me, and insisted -on joining us in all our walks, and in spending the greater part of his -day with us. I was tolerably certain in my own mind that this childish -infatuation excited Mrs. Markham’s jealousy. Until we had arrived -she had been Rolf’s sole companion; he had accompanied her in her -drives, harassed her from morning to night with his ceaseless demands -for amusements, and had been the secretly dreaded torment of all the -visitors to Marshlands, except Mr. Hawtry, who was rather good to him. - -His precocity, his love of practical jokes, and his rough impertinence, -made him at feud with the whole household; the servants disliked him, -and were always bringing complaints of Master Rolf. I believe Judson -was fond of him in a way, but then she had had charge of him from a -baby. - -When Rolf began to desert the drawing-room for the nursery, Mrs. -Markham used all her efforts to coax him back to her side, but she -might as well have spoken to the wind. Rolf played with Joyce on the -beach; he raced her up and down the little hillocks in the orchard, -or hunted with her for wild flowers in the lanes that surrounded -Marshlands. When the children were asleep, he invaded my quiet with -requests to mend his broken toys or join him in some game. I grew quite -expert in rigging his new boat, and dressed toy soldiers and sailors -by the dozen. Sometimes I was inclined to rebel at such waste of time, -but I remembered that Rolf had no playfellows; it was better for him to -be playing spillikins or go-bang with me in the nursery than lounging -listlessly about the drawing-room, listening to grown-up people’s talk; -a natural child’s life was better for his health. Miss Cheriton told me -more than once that people who came to the house thought Rolf so much -improved. Certainly he was not so pale and fretful after a long morning -spent on the beach in wading knee-deep to sail his boat or digging sand -wells which Joyce filled out of her bucket. When he grew too rough or -boisterous I always called Joyce away, and with Hannah and myself to -look after them no harm could come to the children. - -I grew rather fond of Rolf, after a time, and his company would not -have been irksome to me, but for his tiresome habit of repeating the -speeches he had heard in the drawing-room. He always checked himself -when he remembered, or when I held up my finger, but the half sentence -would linger in my memory. - -But this was not the worst. I soon found out that anything I told him -found its way into the drawing-room; in fact, Rolf was an inveterate -chatterbox. With all his good intentions, he could not hold his tongue, -and mischief was often the result. - -It was my habit to teach the children little lessons under the guise -of a story, sometimes true, sometimes a mere invention. Rolf called -them “Fenny’s Anecdotes,” but I had never discovered an anecdote about -crossness. - -One day I found myself being severely lectured by Mrs. Markham for -teaching her son the doctrine of works. “As though we should be saved -by our works, Miss Fenton!” she finished, virtuously. - -I was too much puzzled to answer; I had no notion what she meant -until I remembered that I had induced Rolf to part with some of his -pocket-money to relieve a poor blind man that we found sitting by the -wayside. Rolf had been sorry for the man, and still more for the gaunt, -miserable-looking woman by his side; but when we had gone on our way, -followed by voluble Irish blessings, Rolf had rather feelingly lamented -his sixpence, and I had told him a little story inculcating the beauty -of almsgiving, which had impressed him considerably, and he had -retailed a garbled version of it to his mother—hence her rebuke to me. -I forget what my defence was, only I remember I repudiated indignantly -any such doctrine; but this sort of misunderstanding was constantly -arising. If only Rolf would have held his tongue! - -But these were mere surface troubles, and I often managed to forget -that there was such a person as Mrs. Markham in the world; and, in -spite of a few trifling drawbacks, I look back upon this summer as one -of the happiest in my life. - -I was young and healthy, and I perfectly revelled in the country sights -and sounds with which I was surrounded. I hardly knew which I enjoyed -most—the long delicious mornings on the beach, when I sat under the -breakwater taking care of Reggie, or the afternoons in the orchard, -with the brown bees humming round the hives and the children playing -with Fidgets on the grass, while the old white pony looked over the -fence at us, and the sheep nibbled at our side. I used to send Hannah -home for an hour or two while I watched over the children; it was hard -for her to be so near home and not enjoy Molly’s company; and those -summer afternoons were lazy times for all of us. - -I think Miss Cheriton added largely to my happiness. I had never had -a friend since my school-days, and it was refreshing to me to come in -contact with this bright young creature. I was a little too grave for -my age, and I felt she did me good. - -I soon found she resembled my mistress in one thing: she was very -unselfish, and thought more of other people’s pleasures than her own. -She used to say herself that it was only a sublime sort of selfishness -that she liked to see everyone happy round her. “A gloomy face hinders -all enjoyment,” was her constant remark. But I never knew anyone who -excelled more in little kindly acts. She would bring me fruit or -flowers almost daily; and when she found I was fond of reading, she -selected books for me she thought I should like. - -When Mrs. Markham did not use the carriage—a very rare occasion, as -she had almost a monopoly of it—she would take us for long country -drives, and she would contrive all sorts of little surprises for us. -Once when we returned from a saunter in the lanes, we found our tea -table laid in the orchard, and Miss Cheriton presiding, in a gay little -hat trimmed with cornflowers and poppies. There was a basket of flowers -in the centre of the table, and a heap of red and yellow fruit. We had -quite a little feast that evening, and all the time we were sitting -there, there were broods of chickens running over the grass, that Gay -had enticed into the orchard to please the children, and grey rabbits, -and an old lame duck that was her pensioner, and went by the name of -Cackles. - -“Oh, auntie, do have another feast,” Joyce would say to her, almost -daily; but Miss Cheriton could not always be with us; visitors were -very plentiful at Marshlands, and Gay’s company was much courted by the -young people of Netherton and Orton-upon-Sea. - -I knew Mr. Hawtry was a constant visitor, for we often met him in -our walks; and it seemed to me that his face was always set in the -direction of Marshlands. - -When Rolf was with us he was never allowed to pass without notice, and -then he would stop and speak to the children, especially to Joyce, who -soon got over her shyness with him. - -“Mother says Mr. Hawtry comes to see Aunt Gay,” Rolf remarked once, -when he was out of hearing; “she told grandpapa so one day, and asked -him if it would not be a good thing; and grandpapa laughed and nodded; -you know his way. What did mother mean?” - -“No doubt she meant that Mr. Hawtry was a kind friend,” I returned, -evasively. How is one to silence a precocious child? But of course it -was easy to understand Mrs. Markham’s hint. - -I wondered sometimes if Mr. Hawtry were a favoured suitor. He and Miss -Cheriton certainly seemed on the best of terms; she always seemed glad -to see him, but her manner was very frank with him. - -I took it into my head that Gay had more than one admirer. I deduced -this inference from a slight occurrence that took place one day. - -I was on the terrace with the children one morning, when a young -clergyman in a soft felt hat came up the avenue. I knew him at once as -the boyish-faced curate at Netherton Church, who had read the service -the last two Sundays. I had liked his voice and manner, they were so -reverent, but I remembered that I thought him very young. He was a -tall, broad-shouldered young man, and though not exactly handsome, had -a bright, pleasant-looking face. - -Rolf hailed him at once as an old acquaintance. “Holloa, Mr. Rossiter; -it is no use your going on to the house; mother is not well and cannot -see you, and Aunt Gay is with the bees.” - -Mr. Rossiter seemed a little confused at this. He stopped and regarded -Rolf with some perplexity. - -“I am sorry Mrs. Markham is not well, but perhaps I can see Mr. -Cheriton.” - -“Oh, grandpapa has gone to Orton; there is only me at home; you see, -Miss Fenton does not count. If you want Aunt Gay I will show you the -way to the kitchen garden.” And as Mr. Rossiter accepted this offer -with alacrity, they went off together. - -We were going down to the beach that morning, and I was only waiting -for Hannah to get the perambulator ready, but as a quarter of an hour -elapsed and Rolf did not make his appearance, Joyce and I went in -search of him. - -I found him standing by the beehives, talking to Miss Cheriton and Mr. -Rossiter. They all looked very happy, and Mr. Rossiter was laughing at -something the boy had said; such a ringing, boyish laugh it was. - -When I called Rolf they all looked round, and Miss Cheriton came -forward to speak to me. I thought she looked a little uncomfortable, -and I never saw her with such a colour. - -“Are you going down to the beach? I wish I could come too, it is such -a lovely morning, but Mr. Rossiter wants me to go to the schools; Miss -Parsons, the schoolmistress, is ill, and they need help. It is so -tiresome,” speaking with a pettish, spoilt-child air, turning to the -young clergyman; “Miss Parsons always does get ill at inconvenient -times.” - -“I know you would not fail us if it were ever so inconvenient,” -answered Mr. Rossiter, looking full at her—he had such nice clear -eyes; “you are far too kind to desert us in such a strait.” - -But she made no answer to this, and went back to the beehive, and after -a moment’s irresolution Mr. Rossiter followed her. - -“Do you like Mr. Rossiter?” asked Rolf, in his blunt way, as we walked -down the avenue. “I do, awfully; he is such a brick. He plays cricket -with me sometimes, and he has promised to teach me to swim, only mother -won’t let him, in spite of all grandpapa says about my being brought up -like a girl. Grandpapa means me to learn to swim and ride, only mother -is so frightened ever since the black pony threw me. I am to have a -quieter one next year.” - -“Have you known Mr. Rossiter long?” I asked, carelessly. - -“Oh, pretty long. Mother can’t bear him coming so often to the house; -she says he is so awkward, and then he is poor. Mother doesn’t like -poor people; she always says it is their own fault; that they might get -on better. Do you know, Fenny, Mr. Rossiter has only two little rooms -at Mrs. Saunders’, you know that low house looking on the cornfields; -quite poky little rooms they are, because mother and I went there. -Mother asked him if he did not find it dreadfully dull at Netherton, -and he laughed and said, ‘Oh, dear no;’ he had never been more -comfortable; the people at Netherton were so kind and hospitable; and -though mother does not like him, he comes just as often as though she -did.” And I soon verified Rolf’s words; Mr. Rossiter came very often to -Marshlands. - -(_To be continued._) - - - - -I ONLY WISH I HAD. - -BY MEDICUS. - - -There are five hundred of my lady readers, at the very least, who can -easily guess the reason why Medicus did not appear before them so -regularly last summer. - -“Five hundred!” I think I hear some girls say; “why are these five -hundred in the secret? And what about all the other thousands?” - -Stay, and I will tell you. For four months this last season I was “on -the road,” travelling in my own chariot—I am surely not wrong in -calling it a chariot, seeing it is twenty feet in length—throughout -the length and breadth of Merrie England, and I put down the minimum -of Girl’s Own readers who visited this chariot and its owner at five -hundred, though, seeing that schools with their teachers, numbering -from twenty to seventy, sometimes paid a visit to me, all of whom were -ardent admirers of the “beautifully and tastefully illustrated G. O. -P.”—the girls’ own words—a thousand might be nearer the mark. - -But what, it may be asked, has this to do with the non-appearance of -Medicus before his readers? Why, everything; because I find it all but -impossible to do literary work “on the road.” - -I might have done more, though. - -“I only wish I had.” - -And these words form the text on which I desire this month to speak a -few homely words to my girls, young or not young. - -“I only wish I had.” How often a medical man hears those same words; -spoken, it may be, with blanched lips, by some poor mortal who is -languishing on a bed of sickness and pain. “I only wish I had.” Had -what? Taken better care of health while it lasted. - -I sat by the bedside of a poor girl some years ago, and heard her -repeat those same words frequently. I had somewhat more time to spare -then than I have now, or I could not have sat there for an hour or two -at a time reading to her or to myself. She did not speak much, being in -the final stage of consumption, but she assured me again and again it -was “such company” to have me there, so what could I do? - -“I wish I had.” These words, it seemed to me, were too often on her -lips. Sometimes it was only the first two words, “I wish,” she -breathed, as if the weakened lungs and voice refused to add the others. -I think I see Esther D—— even now, a long, thin, pale hand on the -coverlet, a white, thin face, with a flush on the high cheeks, little -blue veins meandering over the temples, and sad blue eyes, with dark -dilated and glistening pupils. - -“I wish I had.” Wish she had what? Taken a word or two of advice I gave -her in a friendly way, just before she started for the seaside on a -holiday trip. - -She looked bright, strong, and beautiful that day, though I could tell, -from her transparent skin, her too soft hair and drooping eyelashes, -that in her veins were the seeds of our island illness, and that it -would need but little to fan it into flame. - -“I mean to enjoy myself thoroughly,” she said, her eyes dancing with -good humour. - -“Yes,” I said, as I bade her good-bye, “but not excitedly, Esther; and -remember what I said about night air, damp feet, and warm clothing.” - -There was a little impatient toss of the head, and just about half a -frown, and I smiled, expecting her to say, “Oh, bother!” but she did -not. - -Well, poor Esther died. - -But I know of nothing more sad when one is ill than the thought that -the illness might have been avoided. - -“I wish I had been more careful.” - -If you let your thimble fall, it will drop to the ground, will it not? -This is a law of Nature; and as sure and certain is every other law of -Nature. Nature will forgive, but she never will forget. If you, for -example, sit in wet clothes, evaporation takes place; in other words, -the damp of your clothes passes off in steam, and, as water requires -so much heat to convert it into steam, it takes this heat from the -nearest source, and that is from your body. It absorbs animal heat. -What is the consequence? Why, baby there could understand this simple -lesson in physiology. The consequence is that the surface of the body -becomes chilled. Well, then another law of Nature comes into force. -The law is this: Cold contracts. Cold contracts everything, even iron. -Witness the difference in the length of railway iron rails in summer -and winter. Given a sun-heat of, say, one hundred and twenty degrees, -and they are all close together at the ends. Given a winter temperature -of thirty-two degrees, or under, and the rails do not touch, but gap. - -And the cold on the surface of the body contracts the veins and -arteries. With what result? With the result that the blood is to some -extent squeezed—to use simple language—out of them, and, as it must -flow somewhere, it rushes in upon the internal organs of the body. - -Now, we all of us have some one organ weaker than the others, and -it is this organ that suffers from a surfeit of blood in its veins, -driven inwards by a chill. It may be Miss Ada’s liver, and she has in -consequence “a horrid bilious attack,” as I have heard it called, or it -may be worse, suppression of the bile entirely, followed naturally by -blood poisoning and jaundice. - -It may be Miss Ada’s lungs. The blood is driven in upon the surface -thereof; this surface becomes congested and red, though no one can see -it. Nature tries to relieve the congestion by throwing off through -the walls of the veins or arteries the watery portion of the blood. -This tickles the lungs, and a cough is the result. But the very act of -coughing increases the mischief tenfold, and what was at first water -may become matter. - -Nor may the mischief end here; for, if inclined to have consumption, -the tubercle, as it is called, will now be deposited in the lung -surface or tissue. Why? Because, the veins being congested and -enlarged, the flow through them is more sluggish. I do hope I’m making -myself understood! The flow, I say, is more sluggish, and deleterious -matter, that otherwise would have been washed or carried away in the -secretions, gets time and opportunity to settle. - -Now do you understand how a chill from a draught or from damp clothing -may cause mischief of even a fatal character? - -Will you take my advice, and wear judicious clothing, or will you wait -till the mischief is done, and then say, “I wish I had”? - -Mind, I do not wish you to go about, even during the cold months of -winter, swaddled with as much clothing as a mummy, but I do wish you to -wear woollen clothing—next the skin, at all events. - -Age has nothing at all to do with it. The young are even more apt to -catch deadly colds than the older or middle-aged. - -I often wish there was some woollen material manufactured in this -country—thin, warm, and soft, with a smooth surface that would render -it perfectly suitable for underclothing for the most delicate-skinned -girl. Flannel, such as is sold in the shops, has its good points, but -it really has many objectionable ones. I hear new flannel extolled. I -may be fastidious, but I really do not care for its perfume. Then there -are your woollen jerseys, or whatever you call them, and merino ditto. -Why, they are so rough, I, myself, would rather fall back upon silk. - -[Illustration: “I WISH I HAD BEEN MORE CAREFUL.”] - -In Germany, I believe, they have a material that is eminently suitable -for the purpose I am advocating. - -There is a chance for some manufacturer to come to the front. -Meanwhile, our girls will go on wearing linen and catching colds; and -I do assure my readers that they would be both astonished and shocked -were I to tell them the average number of fatal illnesses brought -on annually in England from neglect of proper precautions for the -preservation of health. - -But if winter hath its dangers from cold, and wet, and frost, neither -is summer exempt. - -Would I have girls wear wool in summer? Undoubtedly. - -Wool is not only a protection against cold, but against intense heat as -well. It is a go-between, so to speak. - -We all know that thatched houses are warm in winter and cool in summer, -but possibly the words of Stanley, the great African traveller, may -be new to many, although the truth they contain rests upon the same -natural basis as that about thatched houses. I cannot give the exact -words of this truly great man, but they are to this effect:— - -“The only way a European can withstand the intense heat of tropical -Africa is by wearing garments of wool.” - -This is very easily understood. Wool is a non-conductor. In winter, -therefore, it conserves or retains the internal or animal heat, and in -summer it will defend the skin and the blood from becoming fevered by -the scorching rays of the sun. - -I do not expect my youngest readers to be interested in one-half of -what I am now writing, but I most earnestly desire their mothers and -guardians to lay my words to heart, and to act upon them, so that they -may not hereafter have to say, with sighs of regret— - -“I wish I had.” - -There is one other little matter I wish to point out to my thoughtful -mamma-readers, with regard to clothing, and that is, the absurdity of -not having dress, either for boys or girls, made the same thickness at -the back as at the front. - -It really is ridiculous to clothe the chest in front and leave it to -starve between the shoulders. I have before now pointed out to you that -people catch colds in the chest far more often from chills caught from -behind. _Verbum sap._ - -Well, now I shall change my tune, and go on to another subject which -also has a bearing upon colds and coughs and ill-health of every kind -engendered by wintry weather. - -One-half of the people in this country are not breakfast-eaters. - -Are you really a breakfast-eater? Do you get hungry as soon as you have -had your bath? As soon as you have said your good-morning, do your -eyes roam over the table-cloth with a wholesome desire to know what is -on board? If you are healthy, and have discussed that matutinal meal, -nothing can hurt you all day. You may walk through the most unwholesome -streets and lanes in the City, and come forth intact. - -On the other hand, do you feel languid when you get up? Do you cast a -longing, lingering glance behind you as you commence to dress? Do you -come downstairs caring little what is to eat? Are your fingers numb -and cold? Do you require to slowly sip a cup of tea before getting an -appetite even for toast and butter, and that new-laid egg you have to -coax yourself to eat? If so you are not in health. Go not anywhere -during the day where you are likely to breathe a tainted air, or be -influenced by cold or damp. If you do not take my advice in this -respect you may live to say—“I wish I had.” - -But have I no remedy to suggest for my breakfastless readers? - -Oh, yes, I have! There is a cause for everything. Your want of appetite -in the morning may depend on one or other of many things. To be sure, -it may be constitutional. You may have a weak heart and be altogether -delicate in consequence. But ten to one you have nothing of the sort. -Besides, if your heart be only functionally weak, do not forget that it -is a muscular organ, as much so as your forearm or biceps, and, like -the biceps, can be strengthened by good food and plenty of pleasant -exercise in the open air. - -But there are other reasons why appetite absents itself at the -breakfast hour. As my space is nearly filled, I can but name a few. - -Late suppers are inimical to health in the morning. They create -restless nights, or, if the nights be not restless quite, the sleep is -not refreshing. The stomach ought to sleep as well as other organs; and -if it does not, depend upon it that it will not be fit for its duties -next morning. - -Badly ventilated rooms. Sleeping in a room where there is not an -abundance of fresh air is poisoning to the blood. The carbonic is not -burned off therefrom, and dulness and lethargy are the result. You -awake in the morning feeling your sleep has done you little good, -feeling you would like just another hour. Believe me, if you slept as -long thus as Rip Van Winkle, you would feel precisely the same when you -opened your eyes. - -Want of exercise and neglect of the bath also destroy the appetite for -the morning meal. - -And medicines will not make up for want of obedience to Nature’s laws. -But if you return to these with heart and soul, then a mixture of -infusion of quassia, say a tablespoonful, with ten drops of dilute -phosphoric acid, and twenty of the compound tincture of bark, may be -taken with great benefit, a quarter of an hour before breakfast and -dinner. - -See, then, to your appetite as well as clothing, especially in cold, -inclement weather, and may you never have those bitter, regretful words -to utter—“I wish I had.” - - - - -THE INHERITANCE OF A GOOD NAME. - -BY LOUISA MENZIES. - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE CALLING IN LIFE CHOSEN. - -As Eveline had said, what seemed an accident determined Mark’s choice -of an occupation. A cousin of his mother’s came to spend a few days -at the rectory. He had recently lost a very promising son, and was -much softened and saddened by his trouble, and in his saddened mood -his thoughts turned to his cousin James, whom he remembered a bright -and cheery lad, very much his own junior. He knew that there were two -lads at Rosenhurst, one the son of his cousin James, the other of -his widowed cousin Margaret, and he thought with interest of him who -bore his own name, and wondered whether he in any way resembled his -lost Edward—whether he was a true Echlin, like his father, earnest, -teachable, and faithful. - -Miles Echlin was the head of a publishing house, holding a high -position in London, and by the death of his son, not only he himself -but the business had experienced an irreparable loss. He wanted -comfort, he wanted help, and in this saddened mood he came down to -Rosenhurst Rectory. Lady Elgitha, fully alive to the fact that many -sons of noble houses were at the present time engaged in commerce, was -at some trouble to be civil to him, and schooled her son to proper -behaviour; but outward civility did not impose on the keen-sighted man -of business, and before he had been twelve hours at the rectory he was -convinced that Gilbert was indolent, opinionated, and selfish. - -Margaret and her children came to dinner, and there was much pleasant -chat among the elders about the days when they had been children, and -when Miles had thought it a great treat to spend the holidays with his -uncle at Westborough, but he had little opportunity then for making -acquaintance with Mark and Eveline; but when next morning he walked -over with the rector to the cottage, Miles felt at once the calm and -restful sense of home, where all the members were in harmony, and where -the grave, handsome face looking down from the wall seemed to his -mind, saddened by recent sorrow, to promise him sympathy. He had known -Michael Fenner very slightly, being at the time of Margaret’s marriage -already much immersed in business, but a glance at the picture of her -husband, and at Margaret’s own composed and gentle face, assured him -that she would listen, not only with patience, but with true interest, -to what he should tell her about his son, and so it came about that -during his stay at Rosenhurst he spent most of his time at the -cottage, and talked much with and of Mark. - -At the end of four days he returned to town, and in less than a -fortnight there came a letter from him inviting Mark to come and stay -with him in town, and offering him a share in his business if he would -devote himself to the study of it. - -It was not without hesitation that Mark acceded to the proposal; either -of the callings he had been meditating on would, he thought, have been -more to his taste, but in either he would have been a comparatively -poor man, unable to do much for his mother and sister, and he could -not flatter himself that in either he was much wanted. Here there was -a place left vacant which he might fill, a positive call from a weary -heart which he might comfort. - -His mother was slow to give her opinion in the matter; it was too easy, -too pleasant for her to have her son occupied in work which would not -take him very far away, which would not overtax his energies; she could -hardly believe that it would be desirable for his highest interests; -she feared lest James and Elgitha might be vexed that the offer had not -been made first to Gilbert. Of course Miles was a sort of tradesman, -and Elgitha could scarcely be supposed to admire trade; still she -might have liked Gilbert to have been first consulted. - -She took the letter up to the rectory, and laid it before her brother. -The rector read it carefully, and returned it to her with a sigh and a -smile. - -“I suppose Mark will go,” he said. - -“He has not made up his mind yet,” said Margaret. - -“Does he dislike the idea of desk work?” - -“I don’t think he ever thought of disliking it. If he were to be -a teacher or a clergyman he would have a great deal of desk work, -wouldn’t he?” - -“Certainly, and promotion is so slow; unless he happened to possess the -gift of oratory, he might be a curate at forty.” - -“I fancy he thought rather of being a teacher.” - -“Very hard work; breaking stones on the road is play to it,” said the -gentle rector, who had no talent for teaching, though he had a very -pretty talent for preaching. “It seems a pity that he should not close -with Miles’ offer; Mark would be a treasure to him.” - -“You think he would?” - -“Can you doubt it? Don’t you know what he is to you and to me? On all -grounds I think he should accept it, if he has no personal dislike to -the arrangement. At all events he should go and try.” - -So Mark went, and Gilbert, with many a shrug, pronounced him a lucky -fellow, and promised to come and dine with him. - -The rector took occasion, on Mark’s departure, to speak to his son as -to his own path in life. - -“Mark has made his start in life, Gilbert. Don’t you think it would be -advisable for you to make up your mind as to what you will do?” - -“Yes, sir, I suppose it would; but it is so hard to make up one’s mind -when one has no special vocation. Mark’s a lucky fellow; his mind was -made up for him.” - -“I have very good reason to think that if you had had Mark’s aptitude, -the offer would have been made to you.” - -“It is a pity I hadn’t; but I don’t suppose it’s a man’s fault not -caring for things. It must be a great bore to you, sir, to have a son -like me, who doesn’t care for any of the things you care for. I don’t -suppose two men were ever more unlike.” - -“I don’t ask you to consider what I should like you to do; that, -perhaps, would be unfair; but only to see that, taking your own view, -what you are doing will not pay. If I were to die, there would not be -more than enough for your mother and sister.” - -“So you have told me before; so the mother has told me. It is -unfortunate that I have no taste for anything. I don’t find that I care -about doing the same thing for two days together.” - -“Does it never occur to you that there is such a thing as duty?” - -“A very useful dissyllable, no doubt, sir, and telling in a song; -but it is very much gone out of fashion nowadays, with the Church -Catechism, high pews, and church clerks. No one considers that he ought -to be ‘content with that state of life,’ etc.” - -“Gilbert,” said Mr. Echlin, more sternly than he had ever spoken to -his son, “if you do not woo duty as a mistress, she will drive you -as a taskmistress. The man who has no love of duty had better never -have been born. He has no high aims, no ennobling thoughts. Do not, I -beseech you, give me the misery of knowing that my only son is an idle -man.” - -“Do not distress yourself, father. I suppose I shall drop into -something before long. There can be no hurry. If you had ten children -it would be another matter. There’s Elgitha; she has energy enough, and -cares about lots of things. If you would send her to Girton, sir, I -feel sure she’d take a double first, and like it.” - -“She might do very much worse, I believe,” said Mr. Echlin, turning -away. He went into his study with a sore heart to write his Sunday -sermon on the beauty of holiness, and Gilbert found half an hour’s -amusement in teasing his sister’s canaries. - -It was not long before Mark Fenner’s start in life brought changes -to Rosenhurst. The more Miles Echlin knew him, the better he liked -him. Mark possessed one of those strong natures that rests in itself, -never impatient to thrust itself forward, and never much occupied -with a consideration of its own wants or pleasures. Accepting in the -fullest and heartiest sense all the duties that were comprehended in -the partnership offered him by his mother’s cousin, and loving them -because they were duties, he set himself with all his heart to master -the technicalities of the business, and entered into the enthusiasms of -the old publisher with all a young man’s energy. - -“It was a lucky thing, sir, that visit to Rosenhurst,” said Evans, Mr. -Echlin’s head clerk and factotum, when Mark had been some six months in -London. “Mr. Fenner is a born publisher. He takes to the printer’s ink -as a babe to its mother’s milk. As things have turned out, it really -seems quite providential.” - -“I am glad you think so, Evans; it is my own opinion exactly. I hope -the lad is satisfied. How those dear ladies at the cottage must miss -him!” - -When Mr. Echlin left his office after this conversation, he took his -leisurely way to Manchester-square. It had always been a principle with -him to live within an easy walk of his business, having early imbibed -a taste for that most healthy of all exercises, and having found that -there was no better time for thinking over business. Indeed, for many -years he had never embarked upon an undertaking until he had turned it -over in his mind during two or three days’ walk to and fro. - -As he strolled home that evening it was June, and the whole earth -was singing with gladness. The City’s great heart was throbbing with -welcome to the sweet summer, and stretching out eager hands for the -fruits and flowers of the country. Roses and strawberries lay in -tempting proximity in the shops, women’s clothes fluttered airily -in the breeze, and young men skimmed cheerily along, taking note of -the luncheon-bars where American drinks were for sale, while elderly -men looked fresh and rosy in light trousers, light hats, and light -waistcoats. - -As Mr. Echlin walked on, nodding to an acquaintance here, exchanging -a word or two there, his mind was pursuing some such train of thought -as this:—How fine the weather was; it was a pleasure to breathe. -This time last year Edward had been by his side; it was on the 18th -of June; he remembered it because he had made a little excuse for the -extravagance, saying that we ought not to forget the anniversary of -Waterloo; and they had stopped to buy the first basket of strawberries. -How little had either of them thought that the course of their quiet -life would so soon be broken! It was a dismal thing to think that he -had let him go to Rome at that time of the year. But then he seemed so -strong; nothing ever ailed him. Dr. Dickenson said, indeed, that he had -no reserve force—weak vital energy, like his dear mother. To wish him -“good-bye” for a six weeks’ holiday, and never to see him alive again! -Well, well, it was sad. Such a son, too, and with all his future so -easy before him! Well, well, it wouldn’t be so very long that he would -have to survive him; he was almost sixty; it could not be so very -long. And now he had Mark Fenner. Strange that all the time Edward was -with him he had never thought of going down to Rosenhurst to see James -and poor Margaret. And then his thoughts carried him to the little -cottage at the rectory gate, where the two women lived who must miss -their good son and brother so much, and who must be so much missed by -him. - -Thus meditating, he reached his own door, which he opened, according to -his custom, with a latchkey, and passed down the cool passage into the -large, cool, but rather sombre dining-room. - -The table was laid for two, the silver and glass shining on the white -damask, while the old butler stood with his smile of welcome by the -shining mahogany sideboard, whereon was displayed the usual row of -bottles—port, sherry, and claret, with a dessert of early strawberries -and biscuits. It was all very comfortable, but just a trifle dreary; -so, at least, Miles thought it must be to the young man who was now -knocking at the door, who was to use the second knife and fork and be -his companion all the evening. - -At the cottage at Rosenhurst what would the young man’s mother and -sister be doing now? Perhaps sitting down to their modest meal, waited -on by the little country damsel with round eyes and rosy cheeks; -perhaps going through the more stately but rather dismal ceremonial of -“dining at the rectory.” - -All the evening, while they dined, read the papers, and, later on, -in deference to the beauty of the night, strolled through the quiet -streets towards the Regent’s Park, and saw the moon hanging like a -silver disc in the sky—while Mark, following his lead, discoursed -of the lovely woods of Sunbridge, of the hedges fragrant with wild -roses and honeysuckle, of the sweet, pure air, of his mother and her -garden, of his sister singing in the twilight to the old piano—there -always lay the thought suggested to him by the words of Evans in -the afternoon, “As things have turned out, it really seems quite -providential.” Mark Fenner was already much more to him than he could -ever have hoped from one who was not his own son; he was doing his -work with all his heart, with all his soul, and with all his strength, -accepting it as the business of his life. But might not he for his -part—he, Miles Echlin—do something on his side also to make the lad’s -life brighter—to make the house in Manchester-square, now for nearly -thirty years his home, a little more cheery and a little more homelike -to the boy who had grown up in the little cottage at the rectory gate -at Rosenhurst? - -If there is much cause of lamentation at the overcrowded dwellings of -the poor, something might also be said plaintive and touching about the -desolation of the houses of the wealthy—of the rich carpets so seldom -trodden, the couches on which no limbs ever find repose, the mirrors -reflecting nothing but each other, of the soft beds which are never -pressed, and all the elaborate machinery of modern life gathered into -chamber after chamber, and never used. Extremes meet, and the rich man -in the desolation of his empty chambers may be as much in need of pity -as the poor man crowded out of his one apartment by the superabundance -of his domestic ties. - -The house which Miles Echlin called home consisted of suites of -reception-rooms furnished in the costliest taste of thirty years ago, -when Mrs. Echlin was alive, and Edward, a bright boy of three, was -making sunshine in the house, while there was a possibility of sons and -daughters yet to come; but the cheery little wife, for whose sake and -by whose direction the furnishing had been done, took a cold—a mere -nothing, it seemed—and passed almost suddenly out of the life so full -of hope and happiness for her, just as a bright flame which makes the -whole room glad is blown out by a puff of wind coming one knows not -whence. Then Miles, saddened and sobered, went about his work, caring -little for the large house, only seeing that it was properly cleaned -and aired, walking methodically through the great rooms, and coming -at last to live in two of them, his dining-room and a small sleeping -room, which had been his dressing-room while his wife was alive. A few -friends came to see him at intervals, and there were some to whom the -silent house was a home whenever they came to town; but Miles had no -heart for company. When Edward should be grown up would be time enough; -the boy should marry, and then the house would once again echo with -laughter and song; he should make his own choice—it would be sure to -be a worthy one, and they would find a corner for the old man, and -not think him in the way. Edward grew up, and was all that his father -wished him to be; then came the second bitter disappointment, and the -big house was more empty and silent than ever. - -On that June evening, as he strolled with Mark through the quiet -streets, and glanced up at the lighted windows in the houses of his -neighbours, at the groups of people, old and young, on the high -balconies, and caught the waves of laughter or song, the silence, -the darkness of the house into which they introduced themselves by a -latchkey, seemed almost unendurable. The gas was turned low in the -dining-room; the portrait of Mrs. Echlin looked thin and spectral; -the plate and glass on the sideboard suggested anything but good -cheer, looking rather like mummies from which the life has long since -departed. Mark turned up the gas, and they saw that it wanted five -minutes to ten. What a long evening it had been. Mark was tired, -and thought, if Mr. Echlin didn’t mind, he would go to bed; he said -something in apology about country habits; he did not say that he was -up every morning before six practising certain technicalities which -were necessary for the carrying on the business; nor did he complain -of the heat and closeness of the office, though both were trying to a -country lad. - -Mr. Echlin wished him “good-night” kindly, but rather like one in a -dream, and when the butler came in at eleven, according to custom, with -his master’s candle, and to carry up the plate, he still sat in the -same chair, but he was leaning back with a satisfied look; the inkstand -and blotting-pad were on the table, and a sealed letter lay before him. - -“Are you ready for your candle, sir?” said Martin, taking all in at a -glance. - -“Yes, quite,” replied the master, rising briskly from his chair. -“Good-night, Martin; fine weather for the country.” - -“Splendid for the crops, sir,” said Martin, a cockney to the backbone, -who was imbued with the idea that the more the sun blazed the better -the corn grew; but as he turned out the gas the old man wondered to -whom his master had been writing, a wonder which was not relieved in -the morning, as was generally the case on the rare occasions when Mr. -Echlin wrote a letter at home, by his being requested to post it, for -his master brought the letter down with him, laid it on the mantelpiece -with the direction downwards, and carried it out in his own hand when -he went to business, all which unusual proceedings served to fix -Martin’s attention on the letter, and to impress him with the idea that -it must be a document of much importance. - -(_To be concluded._) - - - - -AN APPEAL FOR AN OLD FRIEND. - -BY ANNE BEALE. - - -Five years ago the first appeal for the Princess Louise Home was -inserted in THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER. It appeared in the weekly number -dated February 25, 1882. The response to it was hearty and immediate, -and from all parts of the habitable globe arrived contributions in -money and goods towards a bazaar for the benefit of this “National -Society for the Protection of Young Girls.” The bazaar was held in May, -but the account of it was given in the number for July 22, 1882. - -Every subscriber likes to know what becomes of his or her donations; -therefore we purpose to look into results by paying another visit to -our old friends at Woodhouse, Wanstead, before terrifying our readers -by announcing another fancy fair. - -“Old friends” is almost a misnomer, for new faces greet us everywhere -as we enter the precincts of the grounds and ancient abode. Mrs. -Talbot, the esteemed matron, has resigned, and Mrs. Macdonald reigns -in her stead. Miss Tidd, the originator and untiring secretary of the -bazaar, is happily married. So is the schoolmistress, who, it will be -remembered, was also a pupil trained at the Home. The monatresses of -to-day are the scholars of five years ago, and our own particular girls -have diminished in number. Thanks to the bazaar and collateral causes, -we have been privileged to gain admission for nearly a dozen, of whom -the greater number are in service and doing well, and when we make -urgent demands for our girls, four only respond to them; but they have -not forgotten us. We find two in the kitchen and two in the laundry, -and hear that a couple of these are going to service after Christmas. -They all look rosy and happy, in spite of the fumes that surround -them; for the young cooks are bending over two gigantic saucepans, -whence issues a very savoury odour, and the juvenile laundresses are -enveloped in the less appetising exhalations from damp linen; for -this is folding, drying, and mangling day, and one of our particular -girls is turning the mangle. This large and commodious laundry has -been erected, opened, and utilised since our last visit to Woodhouse. -There are different compartments for sorting, washing, drying, ironing, -mangling, packing, and delivering, which all communicate with one -another. We live and learn; for we had scarcely realised before all -the processes of laundry work. And this is all done by manual toil; -for there is no steam. Seven of the elder girls are at present in -training under a special experienced matron and laundry-maid, and as -customers increase, more will be drafted off to this particular work, -and open the other parts of the establishment to an increased number of -inmates. As laundries almost invariably pay, it is confidently hoped -that the income of the Home will be greatly increased by this agency, -and both friends and strangers are “cordially invited,” as the phrase -now is, to try it. The tariff of charges is the ordinary one laid down -in London and the neighbourhood, and arrangements have been made with -those ubiquitous carriers, Carter and Paterson, to fetch and return -boxes and hampers of linen from and to any part of this vast metropolis -free of charge; and customers may count on being supplied with the said -boxes and hampers gratis and securely padlocked. What could they want -more? “Good washing and ironing,” is the reply; and we trust these will -follow the demand. Over a thousand articles have to be washed weekly -for the inmates of the Home alone; so under all circumstances the hand -is kept in. - -Our laundresses boast of a separate establishment, which they have -called Primrose Cottage, probably after the Primrose League, of which -they have heard. This is a long room with a long green-baize-covered -table, communicating with the laundry. A short time ago it was a sort -of outhouse; now it is a sitting and dining-room, adorned with texts. -If funds only came in, many other tumble-down and ill-paved portions -of this country seat might be vastly amended. But neither Rome nor -Woodhouse was built or repaired in a day. Soon, however, we hope to -see a splendid drying-ground replace the present one, for the asphalted -roof of the laundries offers every facility for it. If we may be -permitted to make a personal remark, we would venture to say that a -rosier, healthier set of laundry-girls could nowhere be seen, and the -roses extend from face to arms. As we descend from Primrose Cottage to -the laundry, we are arrested by a remark made by the secretary, as he -points upwards to an iron girder— - -“This was a great encouragement to me. This iron came from Providence, -and bears that name. I took it as a good sign, and worked on in faith,” -he says. - -Assuredly there is the word “Providence” stamped on the iron, and we -will not pause to inquire whence its origin, but hasten onwards to see -what the Divine Providence is doing for His rescued children, and what -He requires us to do. - -Most of them are in the playground, and their ringing voices and -laughter sound mirthful, and convey no impression of the depraved homes -from which they have been taken. About a dozen of them, however, are -gathered round a fire in what is called their playroom, which might be -better paved and appointed, if only those—we dare not mention funds -again in this place, seeing we are about to make an appeal vigorous -enough to melt hearts harder than these very rough stones on which -the children play. A bundle of picture text cards attracts the whole -school into the playroom, and we are soon surrounded by about fifty -girls of ages varying from eleven to fifteen and over, all thankful -for very small mercies. We are thus enabled to declare them very -well-mannered; for instead of pressing forward to seize on the coveted -card, they stand back, each urging a companion to the front. Slight -touches indicate character and training, and this reticence speaks for -itself. In spite of many difficulties inseparable from the education of -girls mostly born and bred in a doubtful atmosphere, it is possible to -cultivate a certain delicacy and refinement amongst them. - -“I am sorry to be obliged to leave you; but I am going to take this -girl to her place,” interrupts the matron, as a respectable-looking, -neatly-dressed maiden appears amongst her schoolfellows to bid them -good-bye. - -She has passed her term of years in the Home, and is about to make her -start in life. A good outfit and a respectable place have been provided -for her somewhere in Kent, and the kind matron will not lose sight of -her until she places her in the care of her new mistress. Indeed, the -girls are never lost sight of, as their touching letters and frequent -returns home prove, as well as the communications made to the matron on -each change of place. - -“If you keep your situation and have a good character for one clear -year, the committee will give you a guinea as a reward, together with a -new dress,” says the secretary, encouragingly. - -How little we realise the feelings of the young servant as she leaves -the best home she has known for a stranger one, and hurries off to -the train about to whirl her away into a new world! When we inquire -her previous history, we are told that she was “surrounded by immoral -influences, and rescued just in time.” - -Let us hope that her mistress will be able to write of her as -many mistresses have written this year of girls sent to service -before her—in terms of high commendation. Here are one or two -extracts:—“Mary has been in my service for three years, and I have -much pleasure in testifying to her continued good behaviour. She works -hard, is very trustworthy, and I should be very sorry to part with -her.” “Ellen is a very good girl, and during the two years she has been -with me has given me great satisfaction. I hope she may remain with me -many years,” etc. - -When we consider what may have been the fate of these young people -had not friends of the Home intervened, we are thankful for what our -readers have done to help them. We are attracted by one who sits rather -apart, and is bigger than the others. She was rescued from a life of -such awful terrorism that even now, when reproved, she hides under the -beds, creeping from one to another like a wild animal. She has, it is -said, lost half her wits from fear; but it is hoped that kindness may -recall them from their “wool-gathering.” She seems less perplexed than -she was. - -We should like to linger, and learn the story of all the girls; but -we are summoned from the outworks to the keep, where lessons and -housework alternate, just as they did when last we were here. As to -the dormitories, they are literally ablaze with colour, for a generous, -anonymous donor has sent seventy scarlet woollen coverlets, and each -bed boasts of one. But there are at present only sixty-one inmates, -and, accordingly, nine of the said coverlets are set aside. We are -anxious to fill the home, which will hold one hundred. Therefore -that last resource, a bazaar, is still in contemplation. Adverse -circumstances prevented its taking place in 1886, the jubilee year -of the Institution; so we hope that 1887, the jubilee year of our -well-beloved Queen, may see it consummated. Will the readers of THE -GIRL’S OWN PAPER continue their kind efforts, and send us work or -money, as seems to them best? Some eight hundred pounds resulted from -the last bazaar, which was mainly attributable to the start they gave -it; and already numerous contributions have been received, the work of -their willing fingers. Five years ago the office of the Princess Louise -Home was crowded with packages containing their gifts. May it be so -again, and may the writer once more be privileged to record them, and -may another round dozen or more of girls be safely housed, taught, and -placed in service, as the result of their labours. - -Several distinguished and influential ladies have already promised -their aid in various ways, and we are stirring ourselves up to hope for -“a great success.” H. R. H. the Princess Louise will open the bazaar, -life and health being granted to her. We will pray that they may be -extended and lengthened, and that she may see the Home that bears her -name full to overflowing. - -We are thankful that our readers have such good memories, and that -they have not forgotten this, their first love, while contracting an -attachment for another, equally worthy. Happily the philanthropic heart -is large, and its hand ever open. - -We have been so long the historian of the Home that we find nothing -new to say about it, therefore we will wind up by a visit to the -secretary’s private abode, in order to see one of the girls, now in his -service, who was a Woodhouse bird when last we looked into the nest. -A drive across Wanstead Flats, through a portion of the Forest, and -past the picturesque village, brings us to his hospitable domicile. -Hence he walks almost daily to oversee the Home, so that he, at least, -is not idle, since he must also supervise monetary matters in London -diurnally. We congratulate him on having such a quiet halting-ground -midway. - -It would be out of place to describe it, or the excellent luncheon -of which we partook, but it is quite allowable to say that the neatly -dressed, rosy-faced parlour-maid waits uncommonly well, and that she -is a good specimen of Woodhouse training. We are gratified by her -recognising us, and if all the readers of THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER could -have seen her bright smile of welcome and respectable appearance, they -would have rejoiced with us. But she is only one of the many who have -been aided. During the fifty years of the existence of the Institution, -nearly three thousand have been rescued from danger of one kind and -another, fifteen hundred of whom have been received since it has -been known as “The Princess Louise Home.” Forty-three of these were -admitted only last year. Close upon eleven hundred have become domestic -servants, and who can calculate the inestimable good done to them and -society by rescuing them from indescribable evils? - -As we stood upon the platform of the Snaresbrook Station awaiting the -train, we moralised on this. Sunset with its heavenly glow overspread -Epping Forest and Wanstead-park, beyond which lies the Home. We reflect -on the Divine love which has inspired in the human heart the desire to -devote all we see around us to the overworked citizens of the largest -city in the world; and to open to some of her tempted children the -gates of the rescue house in the distance. We recognize in the evening -glow that God’s love never fails. We will strive to obey His command, -which says “Let brotherly love continue.” - -We perceive both degrees of love in the subjoined list, and feel -assured that Christ’s little ones will be still held in tender -remembrance. - -In addition to the seventy coverlets already mentioned, we are -requested to state that 224 valuable articles have been received at the -Home from a lady who desires her name not to be announced. These vary -from scarlet blankets to children’s hose. - -Lady Greenall and Mrs. Edward Lloyd have also sent magnificent gifts of -clothing, made and unmade; and “The Hampton Court Association of Ladies -for the Care of Friendless Girls” has likewise contributed a valuable -parcel of clothing, through the Dowager Lady Clifford. - -In money, three guineas from Lady Martin and ten shillings from C. W. -B. D. have been received. - -Contributions sent to the Secretary, Mr. Gillham, at 32, -Sackville-street, W., will be immediately acknowledged by him, and -subsequently in this Magazine. - - - - -“SHE COULDN’T BOIL A POTATO;” - -OR, - -THE IGNORANT HOUSEKEEPER, AND HOW SHE ACQUIRED KNOWLEDGE. - -BY DORA HOPE. - - -Although Mrs. Wilson was very much better, her improvement still -greatly depended upon having perfect quiet and freedom from all -excitement, and her nurses found that if she was in any way disturbed -or agitated in the evening, she either lay awake the greater part of -the night, or, when worn out for want of sleep, was compelled to take -the soothing medicine, which always had a depressing effect upon her -next day. - -One evening, Ella had just left her aunt, who was drowsily watching -nurse’s final preparations for the night, when the whole house suddenly -rang with piercing screams and cries for help from the kitchen. - -Greatly annoyed and frightened, Ella ran downstairs to stop the -noise, and, on reaching the kitchen, was horrified to find Annie, -the housemaid, rushing about the room with her dress in flames, and -shrieking wildly for someone to save her. The cook, meanwhile, was -crouching in a corner with her apron over her head, so that, as she -said afterwards, she “might not see Annie burnt to death before her -eyes.” - -Ella quickly shut the kitchen-door, thereby stopping the draught of -air, which was blowing the flames in all directions, and then, with -more presence of mind, although not much better success, than the cook, -she seized a jug of water, and flung it over the flames, and ran for -more. - -Unfortunately, it was burning oil that had caught fire, and was setting -alight to the matting that covered the floor, and the water only spread -the mischief further. - -Happily, nurse now appeared in the doorway, and instantly perceiving -what was the matter, tore up a heavy hearthrug, and wrapping it -round Annie, soon succeeded in extinguishing the flames; while Ella, -perceiving the good effect of her plan, promptly imitated her example, -and pulling up doormats, and anything woollen she could reach, threw -them on the burning oil on the floor, and she and nurse soon stamped -out the flames. - -Directly the fire was quite out, nurse urged Ella to return to her -aunt, while she herself examined the extent of Annie’s burns. Happily, -the poor girl was wearing a dress of thick woollen material, which had -taken a long time to ignite, so that, although her muslin apron had -made a great blaze, she herself was hardly injured at all. It was, in -reality, Mrs. Wilson who suffered the most, the excitement causing her -a sleepless night, followed next day by a violent headache and feverish -attack. - -After breakfast the following day, Ella made up her mind to hold a -solemn inquiry into the causes of the accident, the result of which -filled her with amazement that the whole house had not been burnt down -long ago. - -There was no gas in the house, and, as a great deal of oil was -required, a large tin vessel containing several gallons was kept (or -was supposed to be) in an outhouse; while, in order to avoid the danger -of taking a light near this supply of oil, Mrs. Wilson had given -instructions that the lamps should always be cleaned and re-filled -during the morning. - -But the outhouse was cold, and the lamps were often forgotten until -they were wanted in the evening; so the large can of oil had been -surreptitiously brought into one of the pantries, where it could be -more easily got at. - -On this occasion, as on many others, Annie had forgotten to fill the -hall lamp, and when it reminded her of the fact by smoking, making a -choking smell, and finally going out, she took it down and filled it, -using the naked flame of a benzoline lamp to light the dark little -pantry. - -Even this foolhardy act did not, as it might have done, set the whole -store of oil in flames, and she actually trimmed and re-lighted the -lamp in safety, and was carrying it through the kitchen, when a sudden -draught blew the flame of the benzoline lamp against her hand, on which -some oil was spilled. This flamed up, and the frightened girl dropped -both lamps. The larger one exploded in the fall, setting fire to the -oil and to her own apron, and, but for nurse’s quickness and presence -of mind, she would probably have been burned to death. - -All this information, very unwillingly given, added to cook’s remark -that there was not a lamp that would burn properly in the house, so -frightened Ella that she felt inclined to give up the use of lamps -altogether, and burn nothing but candles. On second thoughts, however, -and after consulting Mrs. Mobberly, to whom she always referred in all -her difficulties, she sent instead for the man who had supplied the -lamps, and had them all reviewed. - -He declared that all the mischief arose from the dirty state of the -lamps, which, much to the indignation of the maids, he requested Ella -to look at, to prove the truth of his words. - -“If you have good lamps, and keep them perfectly clean, and burn good -oil, you are quite safe,” he said; “but if you neglect any of those -three, they are the most dangerous things you can have about a house.” - -Ella honestly acknowledged that she knew nothing at all about lamps, -and had never cleaned one in her life, but she was determined to -understand the matter thoroughly now, and begged the man to explain -exactly what cleansing was necessary to keep them in good order. - -He advised that the lamp glasses and globes should be washed every week -with warm water, soap, and soda, but they must be most carefully dried -before using. The different parts of the burner should be brushed out, -or rubbed clean with a cloth every day; and at least once in two months -the whole brass fittings taken off and well washed. - -In a well-made lamp all parts of the burner should take to pieces in -order to be cleaned. The wick-tube and perforated plate through which -the air has to pass to feed the flame should be most particularly seen -to. Charred wick and paper, match heads and dust are often allowed to -fill up the holes of the grid, causing a poor flame, a bad smell, and, -not unfrequently, an explosion. - -“Don’t be afraid of plenty of warm water and soap and soda,” the man -repeated; “only you’d better look out pretty sharp, miss, and see that -they get the whole thing perfectly dry before it is lighted again, or -you’ll be having another explosion, and perhaps you won’t come off as -well next time.” - -Ella thanked the man for his goodnatured advice, and determined -henceforward to examine the lamps for herself every day, to make sure -her directions were really carried out. Both she and the nurse made -as light as possible of the affair to Mrs. Wilson, who, on seeing for -herself that Annie was not much the worse, was quite contented that -it had been a very trifling matter which had unnecessarily frightened -them; and feeling herself worn out and irritable with sleeplessness, -and the consequent feverishness, she indulged in some rather biting -sarcasms on the “hysterical young ladies of the present day, who make a -fuss about nothing at all,” and begged Ella to remember that she liked -the house kept quiet last thing at night. - -These very undeserved reproaches were rather hard for poor Ella to -bear, but she managed to keep silence, and as soon as she was released -consoled herself by writing a doleful letter to her mother, with a full -account of the whole affair, adding the oft-repeated remark that “she -would never be able to manage a house—it was not in her.” - -As she expected, her letter brought a speedy reply. - -“You must not be discouraged, my child,” wrote her mother, “when -you have to accept blame for the faults of others; that is the very -essence of self-denial, to give up everything, even the credit you -feel you have deserved, for the sake of others; and if it cost you no -effort to do, it would be no denial of self. At any rate you have been -successful, for the very fact that you are blamed proves that you have -saved Aunt Mary the worry and annoyance of knowing her servants to be -careless and incompetent, and thereby you have done much to help on her -recovery. - -“Now about the lamps. My own experience has taught me one or two other -lessons, which I will pass on to you. - -“The wick must fit the lamp, and be the right kind for that particular -burner. If you are not sure about the kind to get, they will always -advise you if you go to a good shop to buy the wick. - -“Then, again, the oil is not (or should not be) all burnt out before -the lamp is refilled, but fresh oil is added to what is already in. -After this process has been continued some time, however, the oil -becomes turbid, and gives a disagreeable smell when the lamp is -lighted. To avoid this, the oil should occasionally be emptied out of -the lamp, and the whole thing washed before being refilled with fresh -oil. - -“You cannot insist too strongly on proper care being used in filling -the lamps; one brilliant housemaid we had when you were children was -caught filling a lamp holding it over the kitchen fire, that the oil -might run over on to the fire, and not make a mess on the floor. After -that I filled them myself till I got a maid whom I could thoroughly -trust. - -“And do not try to be economical in buying the oil; I cannot advise you -which kind to use, as I do not remember what the lamps are like, but go -to a good shop, and get the best they recommend. I have generally used -a very good kind, called ‘water-white.’ The poor oils throw off a most -explosive gas at a low heat, and do not give so much light as better -oils. If you are careful on all these points, you need not be in the -least nervous about the lamps; we have always used them till the last -year or two, and have never had an explosion or accident of any sort.” - -With all this information to guide her, coupled with her own -observation of the construction of the lamps, Ella felt herself -mistress of the situation, and determined that for once she would -insist upon having her own way. - -She had the oil removed to the little outhouse again, the door of which -she locked, and kept the key herself, only giving it to Annie at the -time she had appointed for filling the lamps. - -The result of this decided measure was that Annie became sullen and -disobliging, while the cook, taking her part, made rude remarks in -a tone purposely loud enough for Ella to hear, about the discomfort -of having two mistresses in the house; and nurse caught her, a short -time afterwards, complaining to Mrs. Wilson of Ella’s overbearing -ways and unreasonable orders, and of the “nasty, stuck-up ways” of -the nurse. She was very quickly and unceremoniously turned out of the -room; but the mischief was already done, for Mrs. Wilson, with the -natural irritableness of an invalid, insisted on having the servants -admitted to the room whenever they wished to see her, and partly, too, -in consequence of her weakness, which made her unwilling to have any -kind of upset in the house, and partly that she believed the servants -to be honest and trustworthy, while she knew Ella was ignorant and -inexperienced, Mrs. Wilson made matters worse by always taking their -part, and blaming Ella for actions which had existed only in the -imaginations of the maids. - -One complaint especially annoyed Ella. At home they had always been -accustomed to arrange the work and the meals on Sundays so that not -only the family, but the servants also, might attend a Bible class in -the afternoon, in addition to the regular morning or evening service; -and as she was very anxious that the servants at Hapsleigh should have -the same liberty, Ella had done as much as she could of the necessary -work for the sick room herself on that day, and had so managed that one -or other of the maids had been able to go out every Sunday afternoon -since her arrival. - -It was, therefore, with considerable surprise and vexation that Mrs. -Wilson one morning showed her a note she had just received from the -teacher of the Bible class Annie was supposed to attend, asking if she -could be spared to come once in the month, so that the lady should not -lose sight of her altogether. - -This was rather too much for Ella’s patience, and after with some -difficulty convincing Mrs. Wilson that the girl had not even once been -hindered from attending the class, she went straight off to call on -the teacher. It seemed that Annie had lamented to that lady that with -sickness in the house and an unreasonable young mistress, she would be -unable to attend the class until Mrs. Wilson was well again; whereas -in reality she had been going every Sunday to visit some friends whom -she knew would be disapproved of both by her mistress and her teacher. - -However, happily for all parties, matters were coming to a crisis. - -Ella went, as usual, one morning to speak to the old gardener, whom -she found digging in a secluded corner of the garden, with the ducks -following closely at his heels, and poking with their flat bills into -the freshly-turned earth, searching for worms or any other choice -morsels that good fortune might bring in their way. - -The old man evidently had something on his mind, and, after the usual -greetings and inquiries after Mrs. Wilson, he stuck his spade into the -earth and leaned his arms on the top of it, as if prepared for a long -conversation; at which the old drake cocked his head on one side, and -stared at him out of one eye with an air of virtuous indignation at -having his own labours interrupted in this way. - -The conversation did not seem easy to begin, however, and it was only -after a good deal of hesitation that he said at last— - -“I’ve lived along of the missus now these forty year.” - -“Yes, I know you have, Mallard. Why, I remember you all my life,” -replied Ella, wondering what was coming. - -“Well, Miss Ella, I ain’t told no tales, and I ain’t goin’ to tell no -tales; but what I say I say; and that is as ’ow there’s things goes -on in this ’ouse as ’adn’t ought to; and I ain’t lived along o’ the -family, man and boy, these forty years without knowin’ as when the -doors is locked at night they ought to be locked, and not so many goin’ -in and out as what there is.” - -And having finished this enigmatical speech, accompanied by many -mysterious nods and winks, the old man pulled up his spade, and, -touching his hat to Ella, disappeared amongst the bushes, leaving Ella -and the ducks gazing after him in mutual astonishment. - -(_To be continued._) - - - - -NOTES FOR FEBRUARY. - - -A paper in _Science Gossip_ for August, 1886, gives a very interesting -description of the sprouting of a sycamore seed. - -These seeds have wings especially adapted for floating a heavy body. In -November they are caught by the wind, and whirl round and round till -they reach the earth. They always grow in pairs, although, if looked -for now among the grass or on the wayside, many of them will be found -single, having been separated from their companions. If a few of the -double seeds are brought into the house, placed in a warm situation -under a bell glass, and kept watered, their growth may be watched, and -some marvels of nature learned. - -Every process is wonderful: the separation of the double seed, showing -their junction to the stalk, then the appearance of the rootlets which -are the first signs of growth, and then the cotyledons, or “nursing -leaves,” whose function in life is to nourish and protect the pair of -true leaves hidden within their embrace, till they are strong enough to -defend themselves, when the cotyledons fall off and die. - -The folding of the cotyledon is a study in itself. “They are folded so -as to occupy the least space, _i.e._, first fold in half, and then in -half again, like a ribbon reduplicate, and not coiled round (circinate) -like a fern frond, which, growing later in the season, requires less -protection.” - -So the life goes on, showing fresh wonders and beauties at every stage -of its growth, each step showing the wisdom and love of the great -Creator and Designer. - -Plants grown indoors need constant care; it is advisable only to keep -as many as can be properly attended to. Very few can stand gas, and -all thrive better if removed when it is lighted. The watering, too, -needs careful attention; they should not be kept too wet during the -cold weather, although they must never get quite dry. They need plenty -of light, so it is important that the windows should be kept clean, to -allow a full measure of sunshine. The pots must be kept clean, and when -a green growth appears on the outside they should be well scrubbed. -They must not stand in a draught, which causes a chill, and checks the -growth of the plants. - -Outdoor gardening this month depends greatly on the weather. If cold, -all tender plants must still be protected, and even if warm they should -not be encouraged to grow, as frosts may be expected for some time to -come yet. Unless it is actually frosty, rose-trees needing it may be -pruned, also raspberry, gooseberry, and currant trees. Turf may be -re-laid, and, if necessary, grass-seed sown; the grass should be rolled -after wet weather. - -Pay attention to bulbs now; crocuses and snowdrops should be starting. -As soon as tulips, hyacinths, and other bulbs show their foliage, they -should be protected at night by a light covering, until the frosts are -over. - -In February, annuals may be sown indoors in boxes, and gradually -hardened off for the garden, where everything should now be made tidy -and ready for the spring, which will soon be coming. - -In the warmer counties of England the wild daffodil will soon be -flowering. The old-fashioned “daffy-down-dilly,” though only of late -years fashionable in town drawing-rooms, has always been a favourite -with poets and artists, and all true lovers of the country. Wordsworth -gives a beautiful description of “a host of golden daffodils.” - - “Ten thousand saw I at a glance, - Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.” - -And who does not remember Herrick’s quaint but beautiful verses, -beginning: - - “Fair daffodils, we weep to see - You haste away so soon.” - -Or Spenser’s equally charming description of Cymoënt with her -companions playing by a pond, and - - “Gathering sweete daffadillyes, to have made - Gay girlonds from the sun their forheads fayr to shade.” - -The name sometimes given them of “Lent Lilies” is peculiar to places -where they flower; in colder countries, where it would have no -significance, the name is unknown. - -Like every other growing thing, the daffodil has much about it worthy -of notice. It deals in sixes; six lobes to the corolla, and six pollen -stamens, but a three-lobed ovary, and only one seed-leaf. - -The wild daffodil has little scent, but being, like the majority of -spring flowers, of a bright yellow colour, it is easily seen by the -day-flying insects, on whose visits it depends for fertilisation, while -some of its near relatives, which are chiefly visited by night moths, -are white and strongly scented, in order to be conspicuous even in the -darkness. - -At this time of year, when the more hardy birds are beginning to return -to our shores, as well as in autumn when they are migrating, a great -number of our songsters are killed annually by flying against telegraph -wires. - -Those that fly by night are the most frequent victims, but besides -these many either fly or are blown against the wires, and killed or -injured so severely that they die before long. - - - - -ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. - - -EDUCATIONAL. - -MELISSA MATHESON.—The Braille System is the invention of M. Louis -Braille, who was a blind professor at one of the national French -institutions for the blind in Paris. The work of copying the cut-books -is done by ladies, and the blind copy the embossed copy five times at -least. You can obtain full particulars on applying to the secretary, -British and Foreign Blind Association, 33, Cambridge-square, Hyde Park, -London, W. - -A LOVER OF HISTORY.—Sir William Wallace was defeated at Falkirk, July, -1298, by Edward I., brought to London, and hanged at Smithfield, 24th -August, 1305, seven years afterwards. His public life extends over a -period of fifteen months, and as to the history of his private life, -there is an absolute blank. The whole of the fables about Sir William -Wallace are the product of Blind Harry’s imagination. - -A MARTINITE.—You do not mention where you live, so our help will not -be as effectual as it might be. You would obtain evening classes at the -Birkbeck Institution, Bream’s-buildings, Chancery-lane, E.C., in all -the branches you name. Subscriptions, 4s. quarterly, 12s. annually. - -S. A. U.—We should think you fully capable of taking a situation as -governess with your certificates, which say so much for your general -education, as well as attainments in music. Your handwriting is -certainly not good, and looks uncultured. The only way you can improve -it is to take some pretty handwriting and form yours on it. - -M. B. B.—You should write to the secretary of the College of -Preceptors, 42, Queen-square, Bloomsbury, W.C., for their prospectus, -and all information for the current year or coming term. It holds -half-yearly pupils’ examinations, the certificates given being -recognised as guarantees of a good and general education. The fee is -10s. - - -ART. - -MERMAID.—Seaweed taken from rocks should be placed in a basin of cold -fresh water to spread itself out, and removed from thence on to a sheet -of blotting-paper by sliding a card under it. See directions already -given, and the article on how to preserve seaweed. - -MEMORY.—The price mentioned in the article upon crystoleum for -finished pictures was obtainable when the work was new, at which time -the paper was written. Five years have elapsed since that time, and -many people have learnt the art, so that the price it could fetch at -first is no longer given, unless the work be very superior and the -subject of large dimensions. - -MARY.—Fan painting is decidedly remunerative, and has the advantage of -being home-work; but a certain amount of originality is essential for -it, as well as practical skill and experience and very great neatness. - - -MISCELLANEOUS. - -WINIFRED MARY wants “a remedy for taking sunburn off the face and -hands.” Shut yourself up in a bandbox, my dear, and when winter clouds -and winds return you may open the lid and inspect the condition of -your complexion. If a cure have been effected, come out; if not, shut -yourself up in the dark a little longer. If you live to rejoice in the -return of the summer’s sunshine you had better wear gloves and a veil. - -ROSE HENSHAW.—We regret our inability to avail ourselves of your -story. If you send your address in full, it shall be returned to you. - -LIZZIE HERBERT.—We are glad you are happy in your marriage, even in -the circumstances you name. But “one swallow does not make a summer.” -We only laid down general rules, more especially for girls in the upper -ranks of life. In your special case you seem to have acted wisely. - -HEZEKIAH.—We think that the “best thing to make you look as if you had -not been crying” is not to cry. We imagine that your royal namesake -cared little whether his eyes were red or not, because his was real -grief. - -ANNE S.—No stranger could venture to give advice for deafness -without seeing the patients and becoming acquainted with a variety -of circumstances connected with them. Deafness may be hereditary or -accidental, from a cold, an abscess, a plug of cotton, a secretion of -wax, a fall, and thickening of the membrane, or a broken drum from a -loud noise. It is an ailment too serious for guess-work. - -VIOLET.—The sons of a commoner could not inherit the rank their own -father did not hold merely because their mother’s former husband was a -peer. However, there are some few peerages that run in the female line, -the mother being a peeress “in her own right,” not by marriage only. -See our letters on “Girls’ Allowances,” in vol. v., pages 54, 91, 246 -and 764. - -MYRTLE.—Provided a licence were obtained, the marriage would be legal -anywhere. If “Myrtle” is a Protestant, the ceremony should be performed -by her own minister as well. - -FITZGERALD.—We are much obliged for the account of your visit to -Wales, and regret that we can make no use of it; but it is very well -written for a girl of your age. - -UNE JEUNE FILLE.—You would find a mention in the “Princesses of Wales” -of the Princess Charlotte, at page 773, vol. vi. We have read the -verses, but as yet they do not show much promise of future poetry in -them. - -A SORROWFUL WIFE.—The Act passed last session will enable you to -summon your husband for maintenance without the intervention of the -Poor Law Guardians. Hitherto deserted wives have been obliged to throw -themselves on the parish before taking proceedings; but the necessity -for so doing no longer exists, and the benefit cannot be too widely -known, as it is a very excellent change. - -E. G. (Leeds).—We sympathise much with you in your sorrow and trouble, -and were glad to hear from you. - -MARGUERITE VANCE.—She would be his niece by the half-blood, and, of -course, he could not marry her. - -WINNIE must keep her feet dry and warm, and place herself away from the -fire when she comes in from a walk, as the heat of the fire will make -her nose burn. - -ELLA KINGSLEY.—Sir Walter Scott, Mrs. Oliphant, Mrs. Craik, Rosa N. -Carey, and Anne Beale, are all good and careful writers, whose books -are quite fit for young girls to read. - -MINNIE M. (Maidstone).—Your verses are pretty, and give some promise, -but need correction. - -POLLY.—The condition of your hair seems to imply a deterioration of -your general health, for which you probably need tonics and better -living. Vaseline is highly spoken of for the hair, and might be of use. - -MAGGIE.—1. As silkworms’ eggs are sold in Covent Garden Market, -perhaps they might buy yours, if they can be proved thoroughly healthy -and strong. 2. The acidulated drops such as are almost universally sold -are most injurious to the enamel of the teeth. - -[Illustration] - -CECILIA.—Your lines on “Evangeline” give some promise for the future. -The first sixteen lines are correct, the last sixteen are not so, -neither in the number of feet nor fall of the beat, or emphasis. - -MAY.—The fault lies with yourself if you “hold back,” and be “unable -to raise yourself from sin to a certain extent,” because our Divine -Lord has promised to “give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him.” It -most certainly is not our Father’s will that we should not “attain -grace for a little while.” The evil will that keeps you back is that -of your own heart and of the arch-tempter and deceiver. In reciting to -uneducated people or children, select what they can comprehend, but -what is good, though simple. - -MISS DAYNS.—Persons requiring any publication issued by the Religious -Tract Society, whether a number of this paper or otherwise, should -apply to the publisher (as we are always telling our correspondents), -as the Editor has nothing to do with that department. He regrets that -he has no knowledge of what Miss Dayns’s question was, nor in which -number it may yet be answered. The number of answers inserted depends -on the amount of space. - -CHRISTABEL.—Ash Wednesday is the first day in Lent in the English and -Roman Church. In the latter the priest makes the sign of the cross -on the foreheads of the people, saying, “Remember thou art but dust -and ashes, and to dust thou shalt return.” Shrove Tuesday is the day -preceding Lent, when in the latter church the people go to confess and -be shriven. - -UNA.—1. We think the process of hardening, as carried out by exposure -to cold, is of questionable wisdom in most cases. 2. We have made no -personal trial of the instrument you name, but heard a friend commend -its utility. - -VIVIAN KATE.—1. A young man who presumed to introduce himself to a -girl could know nothing of common propriety nor of the respect due to -an unprotected woman. Any knowledge of etiquette in such an individual -is, of course, out of the question. In the circles of society where the -rules of etiquette obtain, such impertinent intrusion on the part of a -man would not be tolerated. 2. Wash the blue sateen in tepid water. - -HOPEFULL.—The water takes up all the camphor requisite, and will last -for some time in the wash. You can use it again when you make it fresh. - -DORA (Aged 13) sends a poem, written when confined to the house by -indisposition one Sunday, from which we can only quote one verse— - - “And one, though pale, yet _beautiful_, - Lay in a darkened room, - But the sweet texts she uttered - Seemed to dispel the gloom.” - -Did she mean this description of an invalid to apply to herself? - -MARY.—1. The town named by you, Altrincham, in Cheshire, is usually -spelt “Altringham,” and pronounced accordingly. 2. We say “crocuses,” -not “croci.” - -LONELY GIRL writes her _nom de plume_ so illegibly that we cannot -decipher it, so do not know what she wrote about on the first occasion -that she addressed us; but she may feel happy in the assurance that -we do not think, judging from her second letter, that she could have -written anything needing the apology she now makes on the chance of -having done so. - -ANTI-ANT.—You may keep the ants from shelves by keeping the latter -washed with a strong solution of alum and water. You should also -sprinkle insecticide powder over the floor, only be careful if you have -a cat. Should this prove insufficient, apply to a chemist. Without -doubt, Sir John Lubbock would appreciate his pets’ all-pervading -presence as little as you do were he a guest in your house and found -them, as you say, in his “meat, bacon, bread, cheese, pastry, sugar, -plate, and cup” at all times and seasons! - -GWENDOLINE R.—1. We could not condense into two or three lines all the -rules of lawn tennis contained in the manuals of instruction respecting -the game. You should buy one of these. 2. Eat no more sweetmeats if you -wish to cure your complaints. - -GERANIUM should write to our publisher. The editor’s department is -perfectly distinct from his. - -FEATHERS.—Curl the ostrich feathers by gently drawing every filament -between the edge of a blunt penknife and your thumb. - -POLLY.—1. By “elective affinity” we suppose natural selection was -meant. 2. Your handwriting is rather a poor one. - -KATHERINE VAN HEMSKIRK.—We are sure that you could not do better than -send the articles of clothing you name to the Home for Upper-class -Children, 11, South-grove, Tunbridge Wells. Any of our readers who have -school books or any suitable books for such a home would do a useful -and charitable act in sending contributions of these kinds to this -little institution. - -BUCHAN and J. B.—The verses by these young people express good -sentiments in feeble language. They ought to make themselves acquainted -with the rules of metrical composition. This at least could be -accomplished, though the gift of original ideas cannot be acquired by -any amount of study. - -ONE OF TWO.—For the meaning of girls’ Christian names, see our -articles in vol. iv. In Webster’s large illustrated dictionary of the -English language you will find those of most names, male as well as -female. - - * * * * * - -[Transcriber’s Note—the following changes have been made to this text. - -Page 261: dont’s to don’ts—“don’ts”.] - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER, VOL. 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