CHAPTER XXIV.

AT COSSART PLACE.

“Effie, how well you look! You are quite brown. How glad I am to see you again!”

“I think you have got thinner, but you look well, Sheila. Oh, yes, I’m ever so much better! I’ve said good-bye to doctors. I mean to go my own way now and not take care anymore. I don’t believe in coddling. I’m going to be my own doctor in the future. I’m not sure that any of them really understood me. Anyhow, I’ve had enough of them, and now I shall go my own way. Mamma can have Oscar to coddle. I’m sure he looks as though he wanted it.”

“He’s getting into the rebellious stage now,” answered Sheila. “I shall be glad of your assistance in keeping him in order. Isn’t everything looking lovely, Effie? Are you glad to be home again? And how is dear Madeira and all the people there? Did you leave any there whom I knew?”

“Not many. Mrs. Reid sent you a lot of messages, and I’ve got a pen-tray for you from her too. We came back in the same boat as Ella and Grace Murchison; but you never knew them well, did you? All the Dumaresq party had been gone some time. I suppose you heard that from May Lawrence.”

“She told me they had gone on to Oratava when Sir Guy was so much better, but Miss Adene did not write very often.”

Effie had got her arm linked into Sheila’s by this time, and had walked her out upon the terrace, leaving Mrs. Cossart with Oscar in the drawing-room. She was all eagerness to learn the home news from him, but Effie wanted Sheila’s attention for herself.

“You know it was all a great mistake of mother’s packing you off home in one of her tantrums. I told her so at the time. I know things were a little uncomfortable, but I was against it. I can generally get my way with mother, but I couldn’t that time. But you hadn’t been gone three days before she found out what a mistake it was.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sheila with a subdued eagerness in her voice.

“Why, you know,” answered Effie, with her curious mixture of frankness and self-consciousness, “it didn’t seem to answer a bit. Mother thought Mr. Dumaresq was going to make love to me or something—as though I wanted him! I liked him all right, but I was never particularly taken by him. He has not brains enough for me, and he never understood me. I always felt that when we were talking together. I was always above his head somehow. Besides, she might have seen that the Dumaresqs had taken a fancy to you, and that packing you off would vex them. They never were a bit the same afterwards. They sat at a different table, and we hardly saw them. And people talked so. I got it out of Mrs. Reid. They all said you had been sent away because I was jealous—or mother. I don’t care what people think. It makes no difference to me. I never care a bit about gossip. But mother was terribly put about, and papa was very vexed too. It seemed to spoil things very much. I do believe, if it hadn’t been for Oscar’s illness, they would have had you back!”

Sheila made no immediate reply; she was thinking how, but for Oscar’s illness, many things might have been vastly different, and with what sort of feelings she would have regarded a summons back to Madeira.

“As for the Dumaresqs,” pursued Effie, “I never made any attempts to make up to them. That isn’t my way. I can have plenty of friends of my own sort; and some really very interesting people came who had travelled a lot, and were not just society people like the Dumaresqs. We thought them a little rough at first, but we got to like them very much. One of them admired me very much. I think he rather hoped—but I’m not that sort of girl, and he was going back to the Cape, so it was quite out of the question. I never was one for having a man always dangling after me. It bores me to death! But they talked so much of things they’d done and places they had seen or were going to see that papa got quite a travelling mania on, and so he sent for Cyril.”

“And they have gone off together?”

“Yes. It was very nice having Cyril, and we stayed a fortnight longer than we had meant, and took some excursions. After all, when I got Cyril again, I found I liked him a great deal better than all the rest of them put together. Don’t you think he has a very distinguished air?”

Sheila’s admiration for Cyril was a thing quite of the past; she had regarded him of late with aversion and contempt. But she was learning to curb her tongue, and to try and rule her thoughts also, so after a little pause she said—

“I think university men always have an air about them; but, of course, you know—about Cyril—and that it is not quite easy for me to admire him very much just now.”

Effie flushed up a little.

“Yes, of course, I know,” she answered. “Cyril told me himself. If he hadn’t, I don’t think I should have heard. Papa knows, but he has not told even mother. He thought it would be better put aside and forgotten.”

“And Cyril told you himself?”

“Yes. I think Cyril found it a great comfort to find somebody sympathetic and understanding. I’ve never set up for being a saint, and I have plenty of sympathy for sinners. I’ve always got on with Cyril. He knows more about me, I think, than anybody else. I don’t think him perfect—I’m not so silly. I’ve too much insight into character to make mistakes like that. But I can sympathise with him, and understand how he feels when other people don’t seem able to see anything but the other side of the question. I think healthy, robust people are often rather dull and dense. I’ve had lots of time to think. Cyril said I was so different from the rest of the world. I believe I was a great comfort to him.”

“Well, Aunt Tom will be very glad of that, for she was very miserable, and was afraid he would go on being miserable too. He went away feeling pretty bad, I think, though I did not see him. I was at Monckton Manor with Oscar. I was surprised he didn’t come over to say good-bye to us. Once I rather thought that he was falling in love with May.”

“Oh, dear, no!” answered Effie quickly. “That I am sure he was not!”

She spoke almost irritably, and Sheila answered at once—

“Perhaps not, but he used to go there very often. May never liked him, so perhaps she got bored and gave him a hint. Anyway, he stopped going rather suddenly, and did not even say good-bye.”

“I suspect he found May a very empty-headed girl. I daresay he was thinking of her when he told me how difficult it had been, when I was away, to find anyone with whom he could exchange ideas with any sense of satisfaction. Girls were all so selfish and empty-headed, he said. I thought he was rather severe, but that was his idea. I told him that he mustn’t be hard on them, for perhaps they had never had the time to read and think as I have.”

“Well, May is not empty-headed!” answered Sheila warmly; “but Oscar may have been mistaken in thinking Cyril admired her and went often. Perhaps it was only for the boys he went. I know May has never cared for him.”

“No, I don’t think she would have the mind to appreciate him. Cyril does not wear his heart upon his sleeve.”

“May is engaged to North,” said Sheila, with a little smile dimpling the corners of her lips.

Effie gave a slight toss of her head and laughed.

“A very suitable match! I should think they would just suit one another!”

“I think they do,” answered Sheila, laughing. “I have never seen two people more thoroughly happy together.”

“I almost wonder Mr. Lawrence approved, though,” added Effie. “North is so thoroughly commercial in all his views.”

“His views seem to suit May, at any rate, and he can give her a comfortable home away from the town. But she is too much interested in the works to care about being far away. She wants to understand everything and help in everything. I think she will be splendid when she gets her chance.”

Effie listened with some wonder to the sort of thing which commanded May’s enthusiasm, and then said with a little shrug—

“Well, I hope they will be very happy. All that sort of thing is very estimable, and people without nerves and keen senses may be able to do it, but I don’t think I could.”

“Nobody would expect it of you, Effie,” answered Sheila, with a sarcasm of which neither was conscious.

Cossart Place was a more comfortable home for Sheila just now than it had ever been before. Her aunt met her like one who wished to efface an unpleasing impression, and never was there any slightest allusion to the stormy scene at Madeira. Poor Mrs. Cossart had learned a lesson, and was really humiliated by the failure she had made. Sheila was gentler, more considerate, more tractable than ever before, and Oscar’s presence was a certain element of tranquillity and accord.

Effie was so much stronger, and was so resolved to manage her case in her own way, that Mrs. Cossart felt rather like a hen taken from her chicks, and was delighted to have Oscar to coddle. And Oscar needed care for a long while. He had thoroughly run down in health since his father’s death, and this wasting fever had left him very delicate and frail. There was no reason to think that he would not in time be as strong as ever, but it would be a long business, and during this period it was Mrs. Cossart’s great pleasure to nurse him up, cosset him and care for him, much as she had cosseted and cared for Effie whilst the girl had been so much out of health.

Sheila could not but love her aunt for all her goodness to Oscar, and he began to take almost a son’s place in that house, advising her, in the absence of the master, on all points connected with the property, and showing so much knowledge and insight that Mrs. Cossart would often exclaim—

“I can’t think how you come to know all these things!”

“I was brought up to them, you see,” Oscar would answer with a smile and a sigh. “I used to help my father, and I have been used to land from babyhood. I am much more at home still with a steward’s books than with the office accounts!”

“Well, I wish your uncle would make you his man of business when he comes back,” said Mrs. Cossart one day, after Oscar had helped her through some accounts which had often been a source of bewilderment to herself and her husband. “I believe we get imposed upon right and left through ignorance. And I don’t like the thought of your going back to that nasty stuffy office. You would be much better for an open-air life, and I always do say that John is getting too old to look after all the land he buys, and that he ought to have a regular agent.”

Oscar laughed and stroked his aunt’s hand caressingly.

“Quite too halcyon an idea to work,” he said, “but I like to think that I am helping you in his absence.”

“You are more than helping—you are doing everything, and I’m sure I’m thankful for it, for I never could understand the rights of things between landlord and tenant, and we want to do what is right and just without being imposed upon. Well, you will stay on, at any rate, till your uncle comes back, and he seems in no hurry to do so. I wonder he wasn’t as glad to come home as I was; but perhaps he knew there’d be a lot of worries waiting for him. He will be very glad to find them all straightened out like this.”

It seemed as though some idea was fermenting in Mrs. Cossart’s brain, for once when she was sitting alone with Sheila in the drawing-room she said suddenly—

“Do you ever hear from the Dumaresqs now?”

“Lady Dumaresq wrote once, and Miss Adene once. They are soon coming back to England.”

“Do you think you will see any more of them when they do?”

“I don’t know,” answered Sheila in a low voice, with crimsoning cheeks.

“Well, I was going to say I hope you won’t,” said her aunt, “for I don’t know what I should do if I were to lose you both.”

“I don’t understand,” said Sheila, bewildered.

“Well, I was only thinking that Mr. Dumaresq seemed very much attracted by you once. It may be only a passing fancy, but if it came to anything and I lost you, and Effie were to go too, why, where should I be?”

Sheila looked up suddenly; a number of hints that Effie had let drop flashed back into her mind.

“But do you mean that Effie—that Effie—is going——”

“Well, my dear, we don’t talk of it yet, and being cousins, of course, it is not exactly what we should have chosen, and we want to make sure that her health is really restored. But you know she and Cyril have never really cared for any but each other all their lives, and in Madeira it seemed to come to a crisis with them. Nothing is actually settled. Her father would not have an engagement, but I believe it will come to that sooner or later, and then they will certainly live in London, though they will always have a second home here. But they are both so intellectual—however, we need not talk of that yet. Only if I lose Effie, I do not want to lose you too.”

Sheila laughed and blushed a little.

“You are very kind to want me, for I have not always behaved well; but I do not think you will get rid of me if you want to keep me.”

“Well, I do. I am used to young people about, and the house would not be itself without them. Still, of course, I shouldn’t wish to stand in the way of anybody’s happiness. If I do have to lose you girls, I shall adopt Oscar. He, at any rate, will not want to marry yet awhile, and he is a very dear boy. I should like to keep him altogether, and not let him go back to River Street at all. I don’t care how they have improved the town, I always do say the country is healthier.”

“I am sure of it!” cried Sheila eagerly. “Oh, how delightful it would be if Oscar could always live here!”

Mrs. Cossart nodded her head with some emphasis.

“We must wait till your uncle comes back to settle things, but stranger things than that have happened before now.”

(_To be continued._)

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

MEDICAL.

NAIAD.—Sea-sickness cannot be considered as a disease of the stomach. It is caused by the motion acting in some way upon the brain. How it acts is not quite certain; possibly it is by interfering with the blood supply of the brain, or it might be due to a succession of slight “concussions.” An exactly similar form of sickness occurs in some persons from swinging, or who have been patronising the “giddy-go-round.” Also any injury to the head may be followed by sickness. How to prevent sea-sickness is a question which is confessedly a puzzle to all. The peculiarity of this form of vomiting is that it bears no relation to food. It is no more common after than before meals, and the vomiting produces little or no relief. We think everybody has her own little specific for sea-sickness, and it is as useless as her neighbour’s. Obviously, from what has been said above, no remedy which acts upon the stomach can prevent sickness, because it is a nervous and not a gastric symptom. We may hope one day to discover how to prevent sea-sickness; at present we cannot do so by any means.

AN ANXIOUS GIRL.—Read our answer to “A Gaiety Girl.” The question of infection and epidemics is a most puzzling one for the public to understand. And yet it is of vast importance that it should understand it, for with the public, and not with the medical profession, lies the power of stamping out infectious diseases. As you only desire information about influenza, we will leave all other fevers out of court and confine our remarks to influenza alone. Influenza is an epidemic, possibly infectious, disease, chiefly characterised by inflammation of the mucous membranes, and by the exceedingly formidable list of its sequelæ and complications. It is due to the multiplication within the body of a definite germ. The disease never occurs without this germ, nor is the germ ever found in the human body except in those who are suffering from, or who have lately recovered from, influenza. The great question of its causation is, “How does the germ gain entrance into the body?” And this unfortunately we cannot answer. It is not commonly an infectious disease in the usual meaning of the term—that is, it is not commonly caught directly from person to person; but we feel certain that one person can inoculate her fellow. The disease is epidemic, and spreads in waves which have usually swept from the east westwards. For this reason it has been suggested that the germs are conveyed from place to place by the east wind—an utterly untenable theory. Most probably the disease is spread by water, or by dust infected with the dried spittle of persons suffering from the disease. It is by no means a modern disease. There were epidemics of it in 1833, 1847, 1848, and 1888. Nearly all the epidemics have started in Russia, and hence the disease has been called Russian fever. When a person has had pneumonia following influenza, it imports that she has had a large dose, and probably a very virulent dose of the poison. Such a person would be more likely to directly inoculate another. Up to the present it has not been customary to isolate influenza patients, but we think that isolation is unquestionably advisable wherever this is possible. To disinfect the room afterwards there are no measures to be compared with fresh air, and a pail of water, and a scrubbing brush. Thoroughly clean out the room in which an infectious case has been “warded”—use plenty of water, plenty of soap, and plenty of time. You may use chloride of lime or carbolic acid if you like. Afterwards, let the room get as much air and sunshine as possible, for both fresh air and sunshine are fatal to injurious germs. We do not know what is the incubation period of the disease, nor can we say for how long after recovery the patient remains capable of conveying infection.

LILY.—When you have removed the redness—which is inflammation—of the eyebrows, the hairs will grow dark again. Apply a little zinc ointment to the place every morning and evening.

STUDY AND STUDIO.

PEGGY.—We think you would find the comic song you mention by going to any good music-seller’s and giving the extract. Unless we are mistaken, it has been sung by some popular entertainer, and is well known.

WINTON.—1. We have already recommended the “York Road Sketching Club,” and “Copying Club;” address, Miss H. E. Grace, 54, York Road, Brighton, W.—2. The three staves in Grieg’s music are used simply because there is not space in one set of five lines to clearly show the complicated air and accompaniment which fall to the lot of the treble.

MISS MUNN, Sandhurst, Hawkhurst, wishes to announce that a new year of her Sketching Club began in June, but members may join at any time. The subscription is 2s. 6d. the year.

BRENDA.—There are plenty of such scholarships as you describe. You had better write to The Secretary, Technical Education Board, St. Martin’s Lane, W.C., or consult Mrs. Watson’s article on “What is the London County Council doing for Girls?” (THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER, March, 1897).

RITA (New Zealand).—1. Your question from _In Memoriam_ is a very thoughtful one. The poet is describing a man who, being troubled by religious doubts, does not try to stifle them by simply resting on the authority of a Church and telling himself, “I must not doubt, for it is wicked.” He looks these doubts—“the spectres of the mind”—fully in the face, searches for the answer, and, as Truth does not fear investigation, he succeeds in dispersing them; even as a fabled ghost can usually be disproved by someone who will bravely face the supposed apparition and find out what it really amounts to. The man who fights this battle honestly, and conquers, wins in the end a stronger faith than the man who merely asserts, without thought; and in the temporary darkness of his perplexity God is with him still—for God is the God both of the light and of the darkness. This magnificent passage you must understand as applying only to those who really seek in an earnest and reverent spirit after Truth, not to the flippant scoffer.—2. We answered this question in July, 1897, and must refer you to the volume _Twilight Hours_ (Messrs. Isbister & Co.) containing the poems of Sarah Williams (Sadie).

A MERRY SUNBEAM (Belgium).—1. Certainly a young girl of 15½ may wear long skirts and put up her hair if she is unusually tall “without looking ridiculous.” She will be taken to be older than she really is, which may be a disadvantage to her.—2. The expression “teens” is taken from the termination of the numbers thirteen to nineteen inclusive, and “hazel” is brown, like the brown of the hazel nut. We go to press long before you receive your magazine, and we are sorry you have to wait so long for replies. You write English very well, considering it is not your native language, but we have no objection at all to receiving letters in French from any of our subscribers.

BEATRICE CENCI.—The heroine whose name you adopt lived in Rome during the sixteenth century, and a very touching and beautiful portrait of her by Guido exists in the Barberini Palace there. Her father was a monster of cruelty and wickedness, and she was driven at length to plot with her step-mother and brother to murder him, in order to escape from his tyranny. The deed was discovered, and Beatrice with the other criminals was put to death by order of the Pope. Her father had constantly bought his pardon from the Pope for the murders _he_ had committed on his own account, and the infamy of his life, combined with the natural gentleness of Beatrice, awoke a widespread feeling of compassion for her doom, in spite of the nature of her act.

ERICA.—Your quotation is from the first verse of a song by Thomas Linley (1798-1865), written and composed by him for Mr. Augustus Braham. The whole verse runs as follows:—

“Tho’ lost to sight, to memory dear Thou ever wilt remain; One only hope my heart can cheer— The hope to meet again.”

We go to press long before you receive your magazine, so it would be quite impossible for you ever to see an answer in “next week.”

PILGRIM.—1. We should think a good history for your purpose would be an illustrated abridgment by G. Masson of F. P. G. Guizot’s _History of France from its Earliest Times_ (Low), published price 5s.; or W. H. Jervis’s _Student’s History of France_, with maps and illustrations (Murray), published price 7s. 6d.—2. The only satisfactory general history of Russia is said to be Alfred Rambaud’s, illustrated and well translated (Low), but it is expensive—21s. There is a popular History of Russia in the “Story of the Nations Series” (Unwin) by W. R. Morfill, published at 5s. We hope these are neither “dry” nor “childish.”

FLORENTIA.—We have searched through Charles Kingsley’s poems in vain for the lines beginning—

“In music there is no self-will.”

Are you sure he is the author? Perhaps some reader may observe this reply and come to your help.

SNOWDROP.—We think your best way is to write to Messrs. Hachette & Co., 18, King William Street, Charing Cross, London, W.C., for a list of French magazines, and choose one that seems suitable. We do not know of one exactly answering to THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER.

OUR OPEN LETTER BOX.

“WINTON” again has answers, from “AN OLD SUBSCRIBER” and an anonymous writer, referring the hymn, “Come ye yourselves apart and rest awhile,” to the _Hymnal Companion_ and _Sacred Songs and Solos_.

MISCELLANEOUS.

CLEOPATRA II.—The term or nickname of a British soldier, i.e., “Tommy Atkins,” had its origin in the little pocket-ledgers, at one time supplied to them, in which all the necessary memoranda connected with them—their name, age, date of enlistment, length of service, wounds, or medals, received, etc., were entered. With this the War Office gave a form to be filled in; the hypothetical name of “Thomas Atkins” was entered, just as “John Doe and Richard Roe” are employed by lawyers; “M. or N.” by the Church, and “Jack Tar” to designate a sailor. The books at once were called by the name, which was afterwards applied as a comprehensive name for the men themselves. We thank you for your good wishes for the continued success of our magazine.

S. A.—There are five Homes for Aged Poor People in the suburbs of town, respecting which you must write to the Misses Harrison, 5, Grandacre Terrace, Anerley, S.E. There is also the “Aged Pilgrims’ Friend Society,” which grants annual pensions to aged Christians of both sexes, and of all Protestant denominations. This institution has homes at Camberwell, Hornsey Rise, Stamford Hill, and Brighton. Pensions are granted to some not received into the homes. The Secretary is Mr. J. E. Hazelton, office, 82, Finsbury Pavement, E.C.

F. W.—We do not undertake to return answers in the next magazine after hearing from correspondents. Boil sufficient milk for the amount of wholemeal you wish to knead, adding a piece of butter of the size of an egg (for a small cake), and melt it in the milk. Mix some bread-soda with the meal; and then knead the milk with the latter, and roll out on a paste-board. Make a round flat cake, and cut across, to make four divisions, and bake on a girdle, putting dry flour on the girdle, or a sufficient space on a hot oven. Butter-milk is much used for the purpose in Ireland. Of course yeast may be had, instead of the soda, from any baker.

O’HARA.—The Celts were the first Aryan settlers in Europe. This fact is placed beyond all doubt by their language, which bears a close resemblance to Sanscrit, alike in grammatical structure and vocables. Herodotus speaks of them (B.C. 450) under the name _Keltai_, as mingling with the Iberians, who dwelt round the river Ebro. The Romans called them _Galli_. It is maintained by many that these Aryans in Spain, the French Pyrenees, and in Britain, found before them a Turanian people, the descendants of whom are to be seen in the Lapps and Finns, and the Basques of Spain and Portugal. The Aryans’ original home was the plateau of Central Asia, from whence they spread south-westward; and the Eastern tribes took possession of India and Persia.

PUZZLED ONE.—Adults do not need sponsors at their baptism, as in the case of infants; but witnesses are essential; because the persons baptised make thereby a public profession of their faith. Special “witnesses” usually accompany adults; but you will observe (in the last Rubric), that the baptised “answer for themselves,” and only the godly counsel of “their chosen witnesses” is required, whose duty it is to “put them in mind” of the “vow, promise, and profession they have made.” Should there be no desirably religious and God-fearing friends to present the adult, she should communicate this difficulty to the rector or vicar of her parish, and he will, doubtless, provide for this lack, as well as see to her preparation for the rite himself.

MARCIA.—We are certainly of opinion that in earlier times the term “Merry (or Merrie) England” was justly so applied, as distinguished from its general condition in these days of strikes. It was enough for the little educated to have their Maypole festivities, their Christmas and Easter entertainments; and so they enjoyed a greater light-heartedness, simpler recreations and brighter views of life; and the people were united more closely together in a boyish _camaraderie_. But, as the Anglo-Saxon word _mæra_ signifies “famous, great and mighty,” and _mer_ in the old Teutonic means “illustrious,” the original signification is probably not “mirthful.”

DOT.—A nice little cake for home use is made with 1 pint of wholemeal, 1 teacupful of milk, a piece of butter of about the size of a walnut, and a teaspoonful of baking powder. Mix well and bake for about half an hour.

HOPE.—The correct pronunciation of the Italian phrase, _Dolce far niente_ (Sweet do nothing) is, “Dole-che far ne-ente.” We are glad that our magazine gives you so much satisfaction.

DIX-HUIT.—There is no way of improving your hand but the daily copying of the copper-plate examples, or of some hand you admire. The pronunciation of surnames is often very arbitrary. The name “Besant” ought to be pronounced as having a double “s,” and the accent laid on the first syllable, “Bes.” But its present owner, Sir Walter, pronounces it “Be_sant_,” and of course he has the right to do so.

CARNATION.—If you are a daughter of a younger brother, no matter how old you may be, the eldest daughter of the eldest brother has precedence of you. Should your father and uncle have a sister living, neither of you could claim precedence of her. She is Miss —— so long as she remains single; and she takes precedence, moreover, of all her younger brothers and their wives.

MISS H. MASON’S “Holiday Home, and Home of Rest” we always have pleasure in naming for the benefit of our readers, who are engaged in either teaching or business, or are clerks. Charge for board and lodging 15s. a week; for a short visit, from Saturday afternoon till Monday morning, 5s.; and till Tuesday, 7s. 6d. Oakwood Lodge, Ide Hill, Sevenoaks.

MARGUERITE.—There is a society for milliners and dressmakers, the “Provident and Benevolent Institution,” 32, Sackville Street, for members within twelve miles of the General Post Office, and which gives grants in illness, and pensions from £25 to £35. You do not give an address, therefore we are unable to tell you whether you be eligible.

DIAPER DESIGNS FOR EMBROIDERY.

Most of the patterns here given were suggested by sketches from the celebrated 15th century painted screen in Ranworth Church, Norfolk, which I made on the occasion of a visit there some time ago, and are excellent specimens of diapers suitable for embroidery. It is a class of design almost peculiar to the period and may be termed “conceits,” for although nature is suggested in these diapers, the arrangement is purely arbitrary, and the ornament is not necessarily developed out of a particular plant, but is imported into it, wilfully. Thus you get in A a sort of conventionalised leafage with flowers and berries, and in B an ornamentalised fruit with flowers. This latter pattern I have developed in C, the growth of the pine-apple having suggested the design. The thistle, globe artichoke and many other plants could be treated in this way. Always go to nature for your _motifs_, but remember that you only take suggestions from nature, as design is not transcribing nature, but the result of imagination, stimulated by reference to nature, playing around the subject. Ingenuity is called into play, and a good design may be likened to an interweaving of pleasantly contrasted lines nicely balanced.

So many amateurs think that a representation of a particular plant or animal arranged symmetrically is designing, whereas designing is as much an effort of the imagination as poetry or music. It is a good exercise to start with some design as I did in B and do something original on the same lines. Even if you are not very original in your efforts, it is a good exercise of your skill. If you are content to merely reproduce what others have originated, your mental faculties are not brought into play at all, and you can never hope to make any advance in original work. The growth of stem in C, going as it does over and under the main stem, was suggested by the growth of the sprig in D, which is a characteristic example of a “conceit.”

Such diapers as A, B and C can be used to “powder” over a curtain. Portions of them might be _appliquéd_, the “fruit” in C for instance, while the leaves could be in outline. The diapers can be disposed over the curtain in some sort of order, and you might work diagonal lines, and put a sprig in each lozenge formed by the diagonal lines crossing each other at right angles, as in Fig. 1 in a former article on “Curtain Embroidery,” to which I must refer the reader. The running border E would be effective worked in two colours, a light and a dark, and could be used to border a curtain in which the other diapers are used.

The patterns on the screen in Ranworth Church were stencilled, and these given in this article could be cut as stencils. It would be a good way of transferring the designs to the material to lightly stencil them on and then work over the impressions.

FRED MILLER.

* * * * *

[Transcriber’s Note—the following changes have been made to this text.

Page 803: comtemplate to contemplate—“contemplate the surrender”.

Page 812: Repeated word “the” removed—“_The Shadow of the Sword_”.]