CHAPTER II.

UNCLE TOM.

He came from the darkness without into the warmth and brightness of the hall, and threw back his heavy Inverness cape, revealing a square, bearded face, a broad, well-knit figure, and a pair of shrewd and not unkindly brown eyes.

“You are our Uncle Tom,” said Oscar, going forward to meet him. “We are very glad to see you. It is kind of you to come.”

“Well, well, boy, duty is duty all the world over. I would have come a fortnight ago, but it was impossible. No disrespect meant to your father, you understand. So you are poor Maud’s children, are you? We always called her ‘poor Maud’ at home, though I scarcely know why. She was happy enough, I know, but she seemed like one dead to us somehow. You are a bit like what she was as a girl, I can see. Perhaps the sister favours her more,” and he looked across at Sheila, who now came forward with outstretched hand.

“How do you do, Uncle Tom? I hope you are not very cold. It has been quite warm till yesterday, and then the cold came back. We are very glad to see you,” and Sheila held up her face for the kiss of the strange uncle.

“Thank you, my dear. I hope we shall be good friends. Oh, I am too seasoned a traveller to mind cold or darkness or anything like that. No, you are not so like your mother as the boy. I am sorry for that. John and I rather set our hearts on having another little Maud back again. Are you called after your mother, my dear?”

“No, my name is Sheila. I was called after my grandmother,” answered the girl, and her uncle dropped her hand, saying—

“Ah, I am sorry for that! Somehow we had got into the way of calling you little Maud. I suppose we knew the right name; but none of us remembered it.”

Sheila felt a little damped; she hardly knew why. Oscar took the guest to his room, and he shortly returned without having made any attempt to dress himself for dinner, and his apology for the omission was of the briefest, as though he considered the matter quite immaterial. He was not at all a bad-looking man, though there was something in his appearance different from what the girl had been used to in the life of her secluded home. In his travelling clothes he certainly looked a good deal rougher than those friends of her father who sometimes used to drop in for lunch or dinner; and his voice was louder than theirs; and there was a little indescribable accent about his speech, which suggested a lack of polish if not of education. But there was no fault to be found with his deportment, and he was rather interesting in his talk at dinner. He described to Oscar some of the new processes in the works, and in particular how they were utilising electricity for lighting their buildings and driving some of the engines. And Oscar’s rather keen and intelligent interest in this made a visible and favourable impression upon their new relation.

Sheila did not sufficiently understand the matter to be much interested; but she studied her uncle’s face, and decided that she should like him, although she thought she might stand a little in awe of him too. She fancied he could be pretty stern if he were angry, and that though a just man, he would be a rather exacting one, and would allow no loitering or shirking in any place where he was master.

She was left rather long alone in the drawing-room after she had left her brother and uncle together; but when they came to her, she thought that Oscar looked pleased and animated, whilst her uncle’s face wore a quietly satisfied expression.

He came and sat down beside her and looked her all over with an air of taking her measure, which half amused and half vexed her.

“Yes, you will do very well up at the big house. It will suit you, and you will suit it. We are not fine enough for you in River Street; but you will find a good setting in Cossart Place.”

“But I would rather go with Oscar, Uncle Tom, if I might,” said Sheila, with a coaxing note in her voice.

“Ah, so you think now; but you might change your mind if you were to see the two houses. You’ve not been used to live in a street; and besides we haven’t too much room to spare. But they will make you quite comfortable at Cossart Place; and besides you are specially wanted up there to be a companion for poor Effie.”

“Who is Effie?” asked Sheila, half ashamed that she did not even know the names of her cousins. Her mother had now and then spoken vaguely of these relatives; but Sheila had not felt any keen interest, and if ever she had heard of them individually, it was all forgotten long ago; and for the last five years she had almost ceased to remember the existence of her mother’s kindred.

“She is the only child my poor brother has reared out of a fine young family of six,” answered the uncle gravely. “I can’t think what came to all the young ones. Whilst mine grew and throve, his would begin to pine away and dwindle when they got to be about twelve years old—sometimes before. Their mother has always been rather a delicate woman to be sure; but there doesn’t seem enough in that to account for it. Anyway that’s how they all went, and they buried them one after the other. All but Effie, the youngest, and she’s grown up a fairly healthy girl till the last year or two; and now she seems delicate, and you can guess how they feel about her.”

Sheila was interested at once in the story of these little dead children, and of the cousin who had lived to grow up.

“How old is Effie now?”

“Twenty-two, but you wouldn’t think it. She seems a good bit younger; she’s been made a baby of, you see. They are anxious to have a companion for her to keep her amused, and take care of her in her walks and drives and all that kind of thing. My girls go up as often as they can; but that isn’t the same thing as being always in the house. Directly we heard about your loss, and that you would have to leave your present home, we all said that it would be a fine thing for Effie to have a cousin to be a sister and playfellow.”

“Perhaps she won’t like it so much herself,” said Sheila, with a little upward glance through her long eye-lashes. “People don’t always like a new sister thrust down their throats. I’m not sure that I should have liked it myself; though papa used sometimes to say that he wished I had one.”

“Effie is a bit spoiled, I won’t deny that,” answered Uncle Tom in his straightforward fashion. “What could you expect after such a family history? She is not always the easiest person to please or amuse; but you will be patient with her, I daresay, my dear, and try to do her good.”

Sheila was just a little taken aback. She had always been the petted darling at home. It seemed rather a turning of the tables to expect her to study the caprices and whims of another spoilt child. Sheila knew that people called her that sometimes. There had been moments in her life when it had come over her with a certain sense of uneasiness that it might be true. But it was very pleasant, and she had a sunny, happy temperament. She was seldom vexed or angry even if things did not go quite right, and she had heard people say of her that she was “unspoilt in spite of spoiling,” so she had got into the way of thinking that it had not hurt her to be an only daughter, ruling the house beneath the mild sway of an indulgent father.

But that was a very different thing from being expected to play the part of companion and sister to a cousin in uncertain health, who appeared to have had everything her own way all her life.

“What is the matter with Effie, Uncle Tom?”

“Well, my dear, I am not quite sure what it is. Sometimes I think she might be less ailing if there were less fuss about her symptoms. She was a lively little puss enough till about two years ago, and then she began with asthma, and got thin, and had a cough, and ever since then there has been a regular panic about her—doctors by the dozen, and new prescriptions every month. It’s enough to make any girl fanciful; but the poor child does have bad bouts sometimes—there’s no mistaking that. We strong folks must not be too hard on the ailing ones. Perhaps we should have our fads and fancies too if we were in their shoes. When I heard about what would have to happen here, I said to my brother, ‘The best thing in the world for Effie will be to have her cousin to be a sister and companion for her.’”

“And what did Effie say to it?” asked Sheila.

“Well, I never asked. Effie is a bit what nurses call contrary. She doesn’t always take kindly to what is settled for her; but she has a good heart at bottom. You will get on with her all right enough. Raby and Ray always say that her bark is worse than her bite.”

“Who are Raby and Ray?” asked Sheila, who felt the subject of Effie to be a little discouraging.

“Why, my two girls, to be sure. Rebecca and Rachel are their right names; but that’s what they get called at home. Lydia is married, and so is my eldest boy, Tom. He went off to Australia, and is doing well. But we have four at home still—the two girls and two boys, North and Cyril. North (he was called after his mother’s family name) is my right hand at the works. He’s a good steady fellow is North, and works hard. Cyril is the fine gentleman of the family. Nothing would serve him but a university education. He has been at Cambridge, and took his degree at Christmas. He can’t quite make up his mind now between the Church and the Bar. He’s having a spell at home to think about it. You’ll get on with Cyril, you two; he’s quite your style, you’ll see.”

Mr. Tom Cossart spoke with evident pride of this son. Oscar and Sheila were both interested in hearing of their cousins and the home that awaited them in Isingford. Sheila saw that there was no chance of getting taken in at Uncle Tom’s with Oscar. Everything had plainly been settled with a view to her being companion and sister to Effie. She tried to think it would be pleasant to have a sister, and consoled herself with the promise that Oscar should come and see her regularly on Saturdays, and perhaps stay for the Sunday too. It was plain that the Cossarts meant to be kind to them, although they intended to arrange their lives for them in their own fashion.

The days which followed were very busy and rather sorrowful. It was one long good-bye to familiar persons and possessions.

The more closely Mr. Cholmondeley’s affairs were looked into, the less satisfactory they proved to be; and it was soon evident that almost everything would have to be sold before all the claims upon the estate could be cleared off.

Mr. Tom Cossart strove to avoid making severe remarks upon the shiftless methods of the dead man; but Oscar felt his disapproval, and could not be blind himself to the selfishness of the long course of indolent procrastination which had marked his father’s rule. The son and daughter would have been left almost penniless had it not been for the small fortune of their mother; and that was a mere pittance to the son and daughter reared in every luxury. The girl and boy were allowed to select such things as they specially treasured from the plenishings of the house; but the bulk must go to the hammer.

Everything was being wound up as quickly as possible; and Sheila soon began to wish it were all over. It was so trying and sorrowful; and she could not bear to see her uncle’s grim face as he looked about him and made arrangements. She knew he was feeling how hard it was that a fine property had been allowed to go to rack and ruin for want of a strong hand on the reins, and a managing and unselfish heart to dictate reforms and retrenchment in times of depression.

Sheila was not one who attached herself very greatly to inanimate objects; but she was devoted to her live pets. And her uncle found her in tears in the stable once, with her arms about the neck of her little mare Shamrock, who had been broken on the place, and had carried her young mistress ever since she had been a colt. She was quite young still, and a very pretty creature. The thought of parting from her was heartbreaking to Sheila.

“I would almost rather she was shot, Uncle Tom,” she said, with a little sob in her voice. “I can’t bear to think what may become of her. She will have a good home, I daresay, whilst she is young and handsome; but when she grows old she may be so badly treated. I can’t bear to think of it!”

“Tut, tut, my dear, don’t cry! Why, I don’t see why you and your horse shouldn’t go together. There is plenty of room at Cossart Place; and it would do Effie a world of good to put her on horseback. We’re not much of riders ourselves, we Cossarts; but Effie did have a pony once. She would take to it again. There, there, my dear, don’t smother me. You shall have your horse right enough. I’ll make that all square here, and with your uncle and aunt yonder.”

“Oh, Uncle Tom, you’re a darling!” cried Sheila in her impulsive way with her arms about his neck; and though Mr. Tom Cossart had probably never been called a darling since his babyhood, and was not at all used to being hugged, he found it amazingly pleasant to be so treated by his pretty little niece. Not that Sheila was really little; but she seemed so from her childlike appealing ways; and her uncle had slipped into the way of calling her “Baby,” which from him she did not mind a bit.

It was almost a relief at last both to Oscar and Sheila to say their final farewells, and feel they had left the old life behind them. As the train bore them away from the familiar country in which they had been born and brought up, Sheila was able to dry her wet eyes and look at her uncle with a brave little smile.

“I’m not going to cry any more, Uncle Tom,” she said; “I’m going to try and be happy and useful and good. I’ve made lots and lots of good resolutions. Don’t you think it’s a good plan when one is beginning a different sort of life? And it’s so nice of you to take me in at your house for a few days—just till I get used to being away! It won’t seem quite so strange if I am with you and Oscar for a little while.”

“Yes, yes, my dear; you shall stay with us the first night or two; and we shall always be pleased to see you down in River Street whenever you have a mind to come. But you’ll like Cossart Place when you get there. It’s a fine house, and has been made a good deal finer by my brother. It used to be called The Grange, and a lot of it is quite old and rambling and queer; but the new wing has made a different place of it, and it’s got a new name too. Very few people call it The Grange now.”

“I think the old name is nicer than the new,” said Sheila boldly, “and I like old houses better than new ones. I hope they will give me a room in the old part. I shall ask Aunt Cossart for one. And I shall call the house The Grange.”

Uncle Tom laughed and muttered something about “a wilful young puss,” but Sheila laughed and shook her head at him. She was not a bit afraid of her uncle now, though she still felt that she would not like to arouse his displeasure.

He presently folded up his paper and put his head out of the window.

“We are getting very near now. That is the river which runs through the works a little farther on. You will see the chimneys of the town very soon. It looks a dirty sort of place as we come in by rail; but you’ll not find it such a bad one to live in.”

Sheila’s heart beat rather fast as she looked out over the level flats dotted with houses. It was not pretty; but it was the new home, and on that account it was interesting—even exciting.

“I mean to like everything!” she said to herself bravely.

(_To be continued._)

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

MEDICAL.

A. J. PATTISON.—There is no drug known which will reduce corpulency without harm. Very few drugs indeed influence obesity at all, and the few drugs which do have an influence cannot be taken with safety. Look at the drug you suggest, for instance; bromide of ammonium is an exceedingly powerful drug. It has no influence whatever upon the absorption of fat, save that which results from its depressing effects upon the organism. Even if it did cure corpulency, it would be inadvisable to take it, for, however annoying obesity may be, it is nothing compared with the condition which arises from taking bromide habitually. Have nothing whatever to do with drugs, they will only do you harm. It is by dieting and exercise that obesity must be kept in check.

A WINTER SUFFERER.—A few weeks ago we gave a long answer about chilblains. The remedy you suggest, hazeline, is an exceedingly useful application to unbroken chilblains, especially in those cases where chilblains develop in persons in whom the circulation is perfect. It is less useful for chilblains connected with anæmia or feeble circulation. It should not be used as a dressing for broken chilblains.

CLAIRETTE.—We will give the treatment of “relaxed throats” in full as we have not given advice on this subject lately. Avoid talking too much. Avoid highly-spiced food, cayenne pepper, sauces, pickles, etc. Do not take very hot or very cold food, nor boiling soups, nor tea, nor ices, nor iced drinks. Avoid draughts as far as you can. Never sleep with your mouth open. Do you breathe through your nose? If you do not, you must have your nose seen to. Mouth breathing is the commonest cause of catarrh, and relaxed throat is only a mild form of chronic catarrh. The best applications for the throat are a two per cent. solution of alum in glycerine and water, and a one-in-eight solution of menthol in paraleine. These may be used either as paints applied with a brush to the throat, or as a spray with an atomiser. Gargling is no good whatever, for in this process none of the solution can get further back than the tonsils. An astringent lozenge, such as the rhatany and black currant, or the compound liquorice lozenge, is very useful, and will relieve the cough and soreness, and diminish and relax the expectoration.

A MARTYR TO DYSPEPSIA.—Fruits vary very greatly in the ease with which they are digested. Taken as a whole, uncooked fruits are difficult to digest, and should only be taken by dyspeptics in moderation. The most digestible of fruits are grapes, especially the yellowish-green ones. It is hardly necessary to tell you that you must be careful not to swallow either the seeds or the skins. Apples and pears are fairly easy to digest, but of course they must be peeled and cored. Raspberries, mulberries, blackberries, currants, and gooseberries are also fairly digestible if they are fresh. Perhaps if these fruits did not contain seeds they would be very digestible. Stone fruit is difficult to digest. Melons, pineapples, meddlers and wall-fruit rarely agree with dyspeptics. Strawberries agree well with some persons; in others the first dose of strawberries in the year is followed either by symptoms resembling mild typhoid, or else by a peculiar nettle-rash. Every summer we have quite an epidemic of nettle-rash due to strawberries. Nuts should never be taken by dyspeptics. Oranges and lemons are digested easily by most persons. Fruit is undoubtedly more wholesome and less liable to disagree if it is cooked: but some persons cannot bear the flavour of cooked fruit. Dried fruits are very indigestible, for they are dry and hard and impregnated with sugar. Jams and marmalade are very good, and may be partaken of by most dyspeptics.

LYDIA.—The chief sulphur waters are those of Harrowgate and Strathpeffer in this country, and Aix-la-Chapelle, Kissingen, Enghien, Bonnes Barèges, Cauterets, and Challes abroad. Of these Harrowgate and Aix-la-Chapelle are the most popular and the most generally recommended. There are “baleanologists” who think that each and every mineral spring has special virtue of its own; but to the ordinary physician the natural waters are arranged in groups, of which the various constituents are much alike. For most things one sulphur-water is as good as another, but do not expect any of them to do what it is advertised to do.

EMILY CAVE.—Certainly, if you are healthy and like gymnastics, by all means join a gymnasium. But don’t overdo it and tire yourself out. Remember that at your age you must start very gradually, and beware of overstraining yourself.

AN ITALIAN GIRL.—Obviously it is to your parents that you should go for advice. If you lay your troubles before them, they will counsel you. It is impossible for us to help you in the matter. We advise you to read the article on “Blushing and Nervousness,” which we published a short time back.

STUDY AND STUDIO.

E. V. O.—1. You must not be disappointed when we tell you that it is a very usual thing for friends and relations to be favourably impressed by the poetry composed by younger members of the family, and to hope for their future literary success; but the power of stringing rhymes together is also very usual, and we cannot encourage you by any glowing prophecy. Do not however suppose that we dissuade you from writing in leisure moments for your own pleasure. “Home” and “alone” do not rhyme.—2. Would you like to take up the study of some language, _e.g._, Italian and its literature? or Greek? We suggest a language as you say you do not care for music, drawing, or painting. You might take lessons in wood-carving; or learn cookery as a fine art. There is always abundant opportunity for those who are willing to work among the poor. To be eighteen, and have all your time on your hands, is a great responsibility! For opportunities of technical education, write to the secretary, Technical Education Board, St. Martin’s Lane, W.C. If we knew your character and capacity, we could of course advise you more definitely.

JULIET and E. M. P.—“The Bishop and the Caterpillar” first appeared in a number of the “_Boy’s Own Paper_.” If you write to the _Boy’s Own Paper_ Office, 56, Paternoster Row, enclosing 6d., and 2d. postage, you will doubtless be able to obtain it. It is also to be found in Alfred Miles’ _Platform Reciter_, part 1. E. M. P.’s handwriting would be improved by more care and regularity.

S. B.—Many thanks for your amusing _jeu d’esprit_ on the varying styles of punctuation.

E. W. H.—Browning and Tennyson are most emphatically not “minor poets.” Some consider Wordsworth as greater than either. Scott, as a poet, would rank below these three. It is a difficult matter to appraise poets exactly, as you suggest, but the work of Wordsworth, Browning, and Tennyson stands in the foremost rank of English literature.

E. M. M.—1. You cannot certainly “take lessons from the Royal Academy or College without entering.” To take lessons is to “enter.” But you can be examined at a local centre by the Associated Board of both institutions. The cost of training at the Royal Academy of Music is £11 11s. per term, with an entrance fee of £5 5s. The fee at the Royal College is £40 a year.—2. Only two questions, please. Your age would be all right. Apply to the Secretary of either institution for fuller details.

BLUEBIRD.—There are numerous collections of temperance recitations. “The Geese” is a favourite recitation, but requires two characters. A “Reciter” of Alfred H. Miles’ series (6d. each) would probably suit you. Inquire at any bookseller’s.

ALOFA.—1. Your verses are perhaps a little above the average of those sent to us for criticism. It is pleasant to see the beauties—too seldom appreciated—of our suburban common-land made the subject of a poem. One line is faulty—

“Shall fill all the future with undying perfume.”

where, as you will observe, a forced emphasis on “un” must be used to make the line scan. But for this error, we should say that verse—the second—was the best. Perhaps the first now deserves most praise.—2. We can hardly encourage you to persevere in writing “realistic fiction” without seeing a specimen of your work, but from your poem, and your pleasant letter, we should judge you had some talent.

GEORGINA.—We presume that yours are the poems signed “M. D. A.” In the great accumulation of MSS., it is a help to us if the same name or pseudonym marks both letter and manuscript. There is much that is defective in the form of these two poems; but the idea embodied in both is striking. We should advise you to study the laws of poetic form, and then perhaps try to express these ideas in a more finished way.

FIDELIA.—We are much interested by your letter, and applaud your desire for self-improvement. We think the series of articles now appearing in the GIRL’S OWN PAPER by Mrs. Watson on “Self-Culture for Girls” may help you. You are wise in supposing that if you indulge in desultory reading alone, it will spoil your taste for solid reading, and interfere with your power of concentration. At the same time you must remember the old proverb about “all work and no play.” We should recommend you to begin by reading one of Scott’s historical novels, _e.g._, _Ivanhoe_; or _The Cloister and the Hearth_, by Charles Reade; or, better still, Kingsley’s _Heroes_, and then follow on the line of study suggested if it appeals to your taste. But we think you are under a misapprehension as to the expense involved in joining the National Home Reading Union. Apply, at any rate, for full particulars to the Secretary, Miss Mondy, Surrey House, Victoria Embankment, London.—2. Your letter is well composed, and your writing is decidedly good.

GIRLS’ EMPLOYMENTS.

SAMARITAN (_Art and Designing_).—To pursue any branch of artistic design successfully, you would need to give all your time to it. And we are obliged to admit that, outside the chief centres of artistic production, it is not easy for a draughtsman or woman to find employment. Perhaps in your own town there may be some firm of lithographic printers. In that case, it would be well to inquire what kind of work the firm could use, and then try to supply the class of design needed. Some artists in London (including one or two ladies of talent) combine such work as the designing of book-covers, illustrations, head and tailpieces, initial letters, etc., with the drawing of picture-posters. Nor is this work confined to the Metropolis. A gifted artist in Liverpool has designed beautiful wall-posters for the announcement of picture exhibitions, and he has not even scorned other kinds of decorative advertising. Does not this give you an idea? Might not you at least endeavour to do something of this sort in your own part of England? Find out who are the colour printers who produce the large fashion-plate figures which probably cover the hoardings in your own locality in order to announce the attractions of the leading draper. See whether you cannot do something that is prettier and equally effective, and then submit your specimen to these printers. But do not forget that you must draw and paint in a very broad style, and use the fewest possible colours. Content yourself with red, black, and a neutral or flesh tint, or some such combination. If you prefer to attempt drawings on a smaller scale, you could design Christmas cards, menus, almanacks, and the like. Messrs. Raphael Tuck and Sons, 72, Coleman Street, London, E.C., are among the largest manufacturers of things of this kind. Ideas, however, rather than coloured pictures are what they require.

WOULD-BE TRAVELLER (_Nursing in India or Egypt_).—There is no “hospital in London or Dublin where probationers are trained for nursing in Egypt or India.” The best course for a nurse to pursue who wishes eventually to obtain an engagement for foreign service is to enter one of the large London hospitals as a probationer, and afterwards apply to enter the Army Nursing Service, and spend a year or two at Netley. The rules of the India Office, however, only stipulate that a nurse must have had at least three years’ preliminary training and service combined in a hospital in which adult male patients receive medical and surgical treatment, and in which a staff of nursing sisters is maintained. Your best plan at the present time would be to seek admission as a probationer to the London Hospital, St. Thomas’s, or St. Bartholomew’s.

LOUISE (_General Hospital for Training_).—The London, St. Thomas’s, Guy’s, St. Bartholomew’s, and King’s College Hospitals are among the best hospitals in the Metropolis for a nurse to enter who desires general training. Regular probationers (that is to say, those who do not pay for training) must be between 25 and 35 years of age, and are trained for two years on the agreement that they remain in the service of the hospital for a third year. They receive a salary of £12 for the first year, and £20 for the second. Paying probationers pay a guinea a week for training, and should be between 22 and 40 years of age. The rules in the other hospitals mentioned differ in detail, but resemble these in general principle. Most of the good London hospitals, however, are so besieged with would-be probationers that we often think a girl is wise who enters a first-rate infirmary by preference. The Birmingham Infirmary and the Brownlow Hill Infirmary, Liverpool, are both most excellent, and several London Infirmaries, notably those in Chelsea and St. Marylebone, are much to be recommended.

A CONSTANT READER (_Domestic Help_).—This is a matter concerning which you would need the assistance of some good registry office. It is outside the scope of our correspondence columns.

STENOGRAPHER.—We fear you may have a struggle to support your husband and son in this country by your own unaided exertions as shorthand writer and typist. Still, we believe it might be done if you are very efficient and ready to undertake work at all times and seasons, and to do it often under conditions of great pressure. If at first you could manage to join a lady who already has an office, and act as her chief assistant, we think that might be wisest, as we assume that you have no means of setting up an office of your own. You ought to stipulate for a fixed salary and a certain percentage on the business done by the office. If you simply went out to work on your own account, you might look to receive a guinea a day for first-rate verbatim reporting of meetings, etc.—but orders of this kind are only occasional—or from £1 10s. to £2 a week if you were competent to take an important secretarial post to a society. Merely as a stenographer and typist you would probably not receive so much. Altogether we fear you will have a hard struggle to make a living for three persons.

MISCELLANEOUS.

E. M. B.—What you really mean are “cheese straws,” and if you had looked for them by that name, you would have found them, we are sure. They are made as follows:—2 oz. of butter, 2 oz. of flour, 2 oz. of parmesan cheese, 1 oz. of cheddar cheese, 1 egg, salt, red pepper. Put the flour into a bowl, and mix with it the salt and pepper, the grated cheese, and the butter, and, with the yolk of the egg, make into a smooth paste, rather stiff. Then roll it out into a strip of about five inches long, and about an eighth of an inch thick. Cut into strips of equal sizes, and also some rounds for rings. Grease a tin and put them on it, and bake in a hot oven for ten minutes till of a pale brown. To send to table, put the straws through the rings like a bundle of sticks, and hand round in a silver dish.

FLORA.—As we are quite old-fashioned people, we should say, “Never marry without your mother’s consent,” and certainly do not worry yourself about matrimony as long as you write so dreadful a hand and distribute your capital letters so recklessly. Of course, marriage is an important subject, but we can dispense with capital letters when we inquire At What Age We May Marry Without our Mother’s Consent. In point of fact, dear foolish Flora, you are of age at twenty-one, and, in a restricted sense, are at liberty to do all sorts of silly things, which we hope you will avoid doing. As a Christian, you are only free in so far as you honour your parents.

SUSAN.—There is a demand for capable women at Vancouver (Canada) at good wages, and laundresses are specially wanted. “Intermediate class” fare to Halifax amounts to £7, and other emigrants to £5 only. There are lodging-homes at Montreal, Winnipeg, and Vancouver. Mothers’ helps find situations in the North-West. Women starting from London assemble at 53, Horseferry Road, Westminster, the night before embarkation. If starting from Liverpool, they must sleep at Bromborough House, 10, Great George Square, where they will be met and conducted on board ship. Women desiring to emigrate should make application to Miss Bromfield, Friary Cottage, Winchester, or to Miss Lefroy, Imperial Institute, London, S.W., so as to obtain “protected emigration.” The fares for South Africa, Rhodesia, and New Zealand, are more expensive. Lady nurses, members of the Church of England, having had three years’ training, would find engagements at the Kimberley Nurses’ Home, at a salary of £60 per annum, and all found. Those holding “L. O. S.” are preferred.

ROSE.—1. You should read our present series of articles on “Etiquette,” by Lady William Lennox.—2. We fear that the present is by no means a good time for selling pictures of any kind. All artists seem to complain of difficulties in that way.

LEARNER.—“Buddhism” can scarcely be called a “religion,” since it does not acknowledge a Deity, although paying divine honours to their supreme teacher and his effigies. The system was founded about 2,500 years ago by Guatama Buddha, reputed by his followers to have been the son of Sudhodana, King of Kapilawastu, a region at the foot of the mountains of Nepal, Central India. The name Guatama was given to distinguish the great teacher, as his family belonged to the chain of the Guatamas. Sidhartha was his real name, and “the Buddha,” or “the Enlightened,” his self-assumed title. He set out on a proselytising mission to Benares, the sacred city of the Brahmins, and so successful was he, that by the third century B.C. his tenets became the so-called religion of India. Ceylon was the first new country that accepted his teaching, and then followed Siam, Burmah, and China, the latter mission dating about 100 years B.C. Buddhists have a sacred book called the _Tripitika_ (or three baskets), the first, or _Sutras_, containing the discourses of Buddha, recorded from memory after his death; the second, or _Vinaya_, having reference to discipline and morality; the third, the _Abhidarma_, or metaphysics. Their moral code is very pure, but always remember they deny the existence of a God.

QUEENIE DESMOND.—The word mandoline is thought to be derived from the Latin _pandora_, or the Greek _pandoura_, from Pan. But we must go further back for the origin of all instruments of the guitar class, which are said to owe their beginnings to the ancient viol, which was a six-stringed guitar. This instrument is called a psaltery in the Bible; and you will find in Smith’s _Bible Dictionary_ an account of them. The words psaltery, or sautry, lute and viol, are all often found in the old English poets, and were all different, though alike. The first originals of the mandoline lie, probably, in the psaltery.

BAZAAR (1) would find the quotations she needs for her book in any dictionary of quotations. We could not undertake so long a search.—2. For painting in oils on satin there needs no preparation, but in both cases, for either oils or water colours, the satin must be _very tightly and evenly stretched_ on a drawing-board, or frame for water colours. Take one ounce of Nelson’s gelatine, and cover with cold water for an hour; pour off the cold water, and put a pint of boiling water to the gelatine, stir and dissolve quickly; then strain through muslin, and while still hot apply to the satin with a clean sponge. Go over the _whole surface_, making it not too wet, but rubbing it in. Rub with a piece of clean silk, and dry, stretched as you have placed it.

ESSEX and LOVER OF “G. O. P.”—We can obtain cross-stitch patterns for working in Weldon’s _Work Series_, an excellent paper of the kind, issued monthly, price twopence, at any newsvendor’s.

A WELSH GIRL.—We should advise you to put glass over the panels. That would look the best, and be the most reliable preserver in such a position.

LADY BETTY.—We do not know of anything better, nor more easy to obtain, than Weldon’s _Practical Work Series_, price twopence a number, at any stationer’s.

FOREIGN AWARDS.

AN IDEAL GARDEN.

_Prize Winners (Half-a-Guinea Each)._

Cecilia Nicolay, c/o Messrs. John and Cleary, High Street, Freemantle, W. Australia.

Elsie M. Wylie, The Manse, Mintaro, S. Australia.

_Very Highly Commended._

Mrs. H. Andrew (Canada), M. D. Browne (India), Nellie M. Daft (Portugal), Ethel M. Danford (Canada), Elsie V. Davies, Lillian Dobson, John A. Fitzmaurice (Australia), L. Hill (Argentine), Anna J. Hood (France), Gertrude Hunt (New Zealand), Harry John (India), Elizabeth Lang (France), Margherita P. Martinetti (Italy), Mrs. G. Marrett (India), Gertrude E. Moore (New Zealand), Beatrice and Hilda D’Rozario (India), Edith Wassell, Geo. Waterstrom (Australia).

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No solution has been mentioned which was not verbally perfect. The prize solutions were only discovered to be better than many others after the most minute examination.

The defects which marked the difference between the two groups were, a failure to divide the lines into verses, as shown in the puzzle, the introduction of a hyphen into noonday, the writing of O! for Oh! in the last verse, the omission of the note of exclamation, and, in one case only, the indentation of line 9.

The two competitors who failed in none of these points reap the reward of their carefulness. Half-a-guinea does not go far in Australia, as we know by experience, otherwise we would advise them not to be extravagant with their newly-gotten wealth.

GENTLEMAN’S DRESS SHIRT PROTECTOR.

How often we are asked, “Do tell me of something I can make for a man?” Well, here is a delightful pattern which comes to us from Sunderland. Its severe simplicity is in accordance with nineteenth century evening dress, and there is nothing about it that the most fastidious man could object to. Fig. 1 gives the shape and measurements, and shows the white quilted satin lining. It is best to buy the ready quilted material. The right side is made of thick corded black silk, the edges are neatly turned in and oversewn or slip-stitched, a button and loop is added, and Fig. 2 shows the mode of wearing. We think these ought to sell well at bazaars. A yard and an eighth each of lining and silk would make six, and cost about five shillings. They certainly ought to sell at half-a-crown each, which, considering the small amount of labour involved, would give a big profit.

“COUSIN LIL.”

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[Transcriber’s note: the following changes have been made to this text.

Page 455: resourses to resources—“resources of nature”.

Page 458: Boths to Both—“Both hearts”.

Page 463: breath to breathe—“Do you breathe”.

Page 463: recieve to receive—“They receive a”.

Page 463: current to currant—“black currant”.]