CHAPTER I.

"It is my last day in London," said Alice Harper to herself.

The "last day" was a Sunday at the end of July, and Alice's box was packed, and ready for travelling. She had attended service that morning in a beautiful church, where she had often gained strength and comfort in her weariness; and the music was still echoing in her ears when she turned into Bruton Street. Wherever she went, she knew that she should hear that music still.

The smart people were all hurrying out of town as fast as they could go. But Miss de Vigny was a very dignified little lady who never cared to hurry herself in the least. She always went away on the first of August, and could not be moved sooner or later. So that when Alice went into her house, she found her friend sitting in her old chair near the window with an open book on her lap.

Miss de Vigny had always liked Alice Harper. She had watched the girl through the season that preceded the sudden change in her lot, and had thought her distinctly genuine and courageous. She did not guess how soon that quality of courage would be called into play; but when the crash came, she was not surprised that Alice bore up bravely under the blow.

One morning the daily papers announced the suicide of Mr. Harper, the well-known promoter of companies. His daughter, left quite alone in the world, gathered together her few possessions, and quietly vanished from the eyes of society. Only two or three persons knew what had become of her, or what she was doing, and Miss de Vigny was one of them.

She had found out that Alice was going to be a dressmaker, and take care of herself in future in her own way. Miss de Vigny met her one day in a side street in the West-end, dressed in plain black, and carrying a brown-paper parcel. She did not avoid the little maiden-lady as she would have avoided some of her former friends. She stopped and accepted the hand that was held out so readily.

"I shall be eighteen months in learning my business," she said. "After that I must work six months longer as 'an improver.' And when I have thoroughly mastered the art, or trade, or anything that you like to call it, I mean to go away, and set up in the country."

"Quite in the country?" Miss de Vigny asked.

"Quite in the country," Alice replied. "I shall learn what London can teach me, and leave it with a glad heart. Mind, I am sure that I could not learn properly anywhere else. But I shall rejoice when I am free to go."

"When the time comes, perhaps I can help you," Mary de Vigny said. "Meanwhile, let me see you sometimes. Come and spend next Sunday with me in Bruton Street."

"But I do not want to meet people," said Alice, flushing deeply.

"My dear, I do not want you to meet people. It will do me good to have you all to myself. I have never been a society woman; the smart people don't find me at all amusing, I believe. I am dowdy, and I do not know any good stories. Pray come."

So Alice went. Miss de Vigny was rather dowdy, and she did not know any good stories; but she knew other things that are better worth knowing. She knew how to guide a sad soul into the true way of peace. She was neither a rich woman, nor a smart woman; but she lived a life worthy of her faith, and was a light to direct others to the road that led to rest.

From Mary de Vigny's house, Alice went to Mary de Vigny's church close by. And so the two toilsome years in London were sweetened and cheered; and if her outer life was hard and painful, her inner life became peaceful and fair. The time of release had come at last, and it was Mary who had found her a new home in the country.

Miss de Vigny's room was cooler than most rooms in London, and when you went in you felt you had entered into an atmosphere of contentment. There were always flowers here; to-day Alice's eyes rested gratefully on a big bunch of mignonette and some graceful feathery grasses. Mary greeted her with genuine affection, and pointed to the nosegay.

"Only think what it will be," said she, "to have your fill of flowers!"

"Oh, I have been trying to realise the delight in store for me!" Alice cried. "My poor father never cared for the country in the very least. He always bustled me about to fashionable watering-places in the summer. If my mother had lived, life would have been different for him and for me."

She sighed; but Mary spoke cheerfully.

"We must let all the 'ifs' alone, Alice," she said. "It is better to leave 'ifs' and 'might-have-beens' lying by the wayside if we want to get on upon our journey. I know how prone we are to stop, and pick up useless regrets; it has been an old folly of my own."

They had tea together, with the mignonette on the table between them. Miss de Vigny said it was like a festival, but she thought Alice looking tired and worn.

"I don't think you could have toiled on much longer," she remarked. "It has been a weary time, my child."

"You have brightened it," said Alice gratefully. "Everybody else has forgotten me, and you know I wished to be forgotten."

"Here and there one remembers you," said Mary, looking at her with observant eyes. "Only yesterday, in this very street, I met someone who asked what had become of you."

"I hope you did not tell!" Alice cried.

"I told very little. I merely said that you were living, and working for yourself. It was Mr. Cardigan who asked for you."

Alice's mouth took a scornful curve.

"I do not like him," said she. "I detest rich men."

Miss de Vigny shook her head in reproof.

"That is rather a hard saying, my dear. For my own part, I think well of Robert Cardigan. He is natural--refreshingly natural, and I fancy he wants to know what to do with his money. After all, that money came to him in an honest way from a relation who died abroad; I do not see why it should not wear well."

"Perhaps I am prejudiced," said Alice colouring. "I have not liked what I have seen of rich men. Most of them always wanted to be richer still, and hovered round my father to be instructed in investments. Mr. Cardigan only came into his fortune just before the blow fell upon me. But I thought he was like all the rest."

Miss de Vigny dropped the subject. She was not a woman of many words, and generally knew when to hold her peace.

Alice walked to church with her a little later, looking very stately and erect beside her small companion. People had always regarded Alice Harper as a proud girl; and there was something in her bearing which certainly suggested pride. Plain clothes only accentuated her air of distinction. And this evening, although she was very pale, and there were dark shadows beneath her grey eyes, she was more beautiful than she had ever been in the days of prosperity.

Adversity either disfigures or beautifies. There are certain full-fed, insolently-prosperous girls who would be enormously improved by sorrow. Many a plain face has been made lovely by the chastening of the spirit; and Miss de Vigny, who did not possess a single good feature, had a countenance on which, at the first glance, you could read the sweet record of inward peace. She had suffered meekly, and had come out of the strife into the rest.

Afterwards, when they parted at the door in Bruton Street, Mary said "good-bye" very tenderly to her friend. She knew that she would miss Alice when she came back to town in the autumn. But above all things she desired that the girl might have peace after the weary struggle to learn her business. One had only to look at Alice to see that she was a woman who would do what she meant to do. But these resolute people do not succeed without paying the cost of their success.

"I know you will be happy at Swallow's Nest," Mary said confidently. "I have often told you how long Mrs. Bower lived with my mother, and how good and faithful she was. Some day I shall run down to the farm and see you all. You will write soon, dear, will you not?"

Alice did not find it very easy to answer. Her grey eyes were full of tears. She looked earnestly at Miss de Vigny for a moment, and went her way.

There was something dream-like about the London streets in the evening light. And Alice, walking back to the home which had sheltered her for two years, felt as if she, herself, were someone who had been living in a dream.

She thought of the only child of the rich man, brought up in a luxurious home, but always pining for the mother who had been early lost. She saw again those sunny heights of womanhood which the child's eyes had seen afar off. How bright they were then! Something of the old splendour lingered about that cloudland still, although the girl had become a sorrowful, hardworking woman. She smiled pityingly at the child who had always dreamed of doing beautiful things, and making everybody happy when she grew up! And yet, perhaps the pity was wasted after all. There are the elements of true happiness in many an unselfish dream. We cannot tell how much we have helped others by the loving desires that we could not shape into deeds. We do not see what our good angels are doing, even with the thoughts of our hearts, when they are sweet and true.

And then came a sudden remembrance of the men who had come to her father's house in Park Lane--men who had shown by their faces and by their words that they existed only for self-pleasing. The quiet girl, with her own aims and ideals, had inwardly despised them all. Robert Cardigan had been, perhaps, a little better than the rest. She could recall certain looks and tones of his that had seemed real. He had even listened, with some interest, to those schemes for helping humanity which she had spoken of, once or twice, in his hearing. Well, the power that she had longed for had come to him; but it was doubtful if he would use it as she would have done.

The child and the girl had both passed away; Alice Harper, dressmaker, was walking through these West End streets to the home for working women which had been her refuge for two long years. And Alice Harper, dressmaker, was going to leave London to-morrow to live in the country.

She had never seen Mrs. Bower, but she knew her perfectly by description. Mrs. Bower was the wife of a farmer; they had two daughters who wanted to learn dressmaking; and there was a good opening for business in their neighbourhood. Miss de Vigny had advised Alice to go to Swallow's Nest.

"If you get tired of the country you can leave it," she had said. "But you have an instinctive longing for woods and fields and fresh air, and you are sorely in need of all these blessings."

The big house was generally quiet on a Sunday evening. It was sultry weather, and all the windows were opened wide. Alice caught a glimpse of the new moon above the house-tops as she ran upstairs. It hung faint and golden over the crowded roofs, in a sky touched with pale crimson, and dim with mist.

"I shall see it to-morrow above the woods," she thought with a sudden gladness.

She took off her hat and coat in her cubicle, and ran down to supper in her muslin blouse and tweed skirt. Not a single person in that full house was acquainted with her real history. She had never talked of bygone days and lamented her vanished prosperity. She wore no jewels; her watch was the sole relic of the past that could ever be seen. One or two had remarked that it was a very beautiful watch, and she had simply said that it was a gift from someone who was dead.

But in spite of a strong natural reserve she had made many friends. Living here, a poor woman among the poor, she had learnt that one must give love if one cannot give money.

"So you are going to leave us, Miss Harper," said a young girl who sat beside her at supper. "You will be missed for many a day. There are kindnesses that we never forget."

"Ah, if only I could have been more helpful," Alice sighed.

"You don't know how much you have helped," the other answered. "People may give gold, and it may go just as far as gold can. That is a long way, some will say. Well, so it is, but even the long way has a limit. There is only one thing that is not hindered by any limit at all. It flies on, far, far beyond Time, and right into Eternity. It is Love."

Alice looked attentively at the girl for a moment. She was a puny young woman with round shoulders and a narrow chest. Her skin was very fair, and she had the large luminous eyes which often indicate consumption.

"How did you learn so much, Miss Dayne?" asked she with a smile.

"Just by watching life," was the reply. "I do not think that we shall ever meet here again. I am going a longer journey than you are. And yet, who knows? Perhaps it may not be so very far."

Alice had arranged to start on Monday by a very early train. She left the house before any of the other women had come downstairs. Her box was in the hall; she had supplied herself with some sandwiches, and could have a cup of tea at the station. So she was driven through the streets before the shops were open, or London had shaken off such sleep as it can get. She reached Waterloo in time to drink her tea, and secure a comfortable corner in a third-class carriage.

When the train began to move out of the station she was still thinking of herself as Alice Harper, the dressmaker, going to start afresh in a new sphere. The former Alice was merely the girl of the dream.

She smiled, rather a forlorn little smile, when she called up a vision of the dream--Alice, travelling first-class, and wearing a lovely, grey costume, as costly and as daintily simple as it could possibly be. The dressmaker was arrayed in a coat and skirt of pepper-and-salt tweed which would stand any amount of wear and tear, and a pink calico shirt. Her gloves were carefully mended; a very serviceable umbrella and sunshade were strapped up with a plain waterproof cloak; she had none of those charming superfluities which a well-to-do woman seldom goes without. And yet it was a peaceful face that was shaded by the sailor hat; and as the train rushed on into the sweet, green country her eyes grew very bright.

"I am going where I shall get lots of pleasant things without paying for them," she said to herself. "In London you must pay your penny for the simplest flower that grows. Ah, the good God must have thought of the poor when He purpled the wild land with the glory of heather!"

(_To be continued._)

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

MEDICAL.

BERNICE.--Beyond taking plenty of exercise, feeding as well as you can, and attending to the general laws of health, we cannot tell you of any other means of obtaining what you desire. A diet with plenty of farinaceous food, milk puddings, etc., would suit you best.

MARY CARMICHAEL.--The public has been completely fogged over the subject of tinned meats for years past. Some persons have tried to prove that tinned articles are better than fresh ones; whilst others have decided that all preserved foods are poisonous, and that those who partake of them do so at the risk of their lives. As is usual in such arguments, the truth lies somewhere between these extreme points, and we will endeavour to explain what are the various good and bad qualities of tinned foods. In the first place, we must notice that tinned eatables are very much better now than they were some years ago. This is particularly the case with the tinned fruits from California (the preparation of which is, we believe, entirely carried on by girls). For some years back we have been able to get tinned pears, peaches, apricots, etc., from California, and, as far as we can find out, no case of poisoning has occurred from their consumption. It may be said that all the tinned articles which are allowed to come into London are perfectly wholesome while they are fresh; it is only after they have been kept some time that they become injurious. Again, it must be remembered that tinned goods will not keep when once the tin has been opened. A large number of deaths have occurred from eating tinned meats which have been opened several days previously. It is of great importance to recognise what the poison in tinned meats is, and where it comes from. There is a popular notion, which is a very great fallacy, that the poison is derived from the tins, and that therefore there is no danger in meats preserved in jars or barrels. This is a great mistake, for although tinned goods do sometimes become contaminated with the metal of the tins, this is only very seldom the case. When the poison is derived from the tins, as it was in some cases of poisoning from tinned cherries, death is not very common. Whence comes the poison, of which we all read cases, of whole families being killed from partaking from a tin of salmon or sardines? It is developed in the food itself. This is not a case of organic matter going bad from decay. Articles sealed up in airtight tins will never undergo putrefaction. This development of poisons in tinned meats is a totally different phenomenon from putrefaction. It appears that if organic substances are kept for a long time, whether in the air or in airtight cases, extraordinary and little-understood changes occur in their composition, whereby, amongst other things, are developed definite chemical compounds known as "animal alkaloids." These are the poisonous agents in tinned goods. These alkaloids are allied, chemically, to strychnine, morphine, etc., but some of them are immeasurably more poisonous than any known vegetable or mineral production. A quantity of one of these alkaloids (occasionally found in tinned sardines), which is so small as to be almost impossible to demonstrate, has killed a whole family in twenty-four hours. Bottled fruits occasionally become poisoned by the use of preservatives such as boracic or salicylic acid.

M. H. B.--Yours is a history which has been only too common after influenza. You would probably derive benefit from a change of air. We should advise a short stay at the north or east coast of Kent. Margate would perhaps be too severe for you, but we think that you could scarcely do better than go to Folkestone or its neighbourhood. The medicine that you are taking is about as good as any other for your trouble. Eat well.

A. E. ROBINSON.--It is of great importance to keep false teeth scrupulously clean, and it is the lack of this precaution which is the cause of most of the troubles due to false teeth. The artificial palate is perhaps more difficult to keep clean when made of vulcanite than when made of metal, but otherwise one substance is as good as the other. You should never sleep with your false teeth in your mouth. We have lately heard of a lady who was suffocated from her false teeth having slipped out of place during sleep. False teeth should be taken out every evening and placed in water, or, better still, solution of boracic acid, through the night. They should be carefully cleaned every night. Some people leave their false teeth in their mouths for weeks at a time. Particles of food get between the false palate and the roof of the mouth, decompose, and cause very many unpleasant, and sometimes serious results.

BEATTIE.--1. We cannot tell you the cause of your complaint. It is probably a slight error of development.--2. Certainly there is no reason why you should not marry a man who has got a stiff hip from rheumatism.

DAISY.--See the answer to "Maud" in the May Part of THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER.

IVY.--1. Yes: scurf on the head is seborrhœa. You should wash your head every week in borax and warm water, and apply the sulphur ointment afterwards to the roots of the hair only. This condition of seborrhœa is most difficult to eradicate. As a rule, the best that can be done by treatment is to keep it in check and prevent it from spreading to the face.--2. Cocaine will remove most of the pain of having a tooth extracted.

STUDY AND STUDIO.

SUNFLOWER.--We have read your letter and verses with interest. The poem beginning, "There is no Death," suffers from a lack of attention to the laws of metre. It is begun in ten-syllable lines, which occasionally become twelve- and even fourteen-syllable lines. This is quite inadmissible. The other two poems are better. The metre and the rhymes are correct. There is some poetic feeling in "Twilight," and we like your description of the "Friend" you long to have:--

"Gentle, and strong, and wise, Loving, and tender and true, Loyal to serve and to save, Steadfast to dare and to do."

We shall be pleased to hear from you again.

BROWN EYES.--You should have written direct to the Comtesse Blanche de Forestier, whose address we gave. She informs us that she has already found a correspondent. You ask us to tell you of any faults we find in your interesting letter. Your writing is rather large and untidy, and inclined to sprawl down-hill, and the expression "a lot" is too colloquial. Also the sentence beginning, "Deeply interested" needs "I am" to make it grammatically correct. It is rather thankless work thus to pull your letter to pieces, as we have read it with much pleasure, and are glad your grandfather has lately given you a beautiful bicycle. _O si sic omnes!_

VIOLET RENE GORDON.--We have always understood that the authoress in question was unmarried, but as we do not know her personally we cannot vouch for the fact. If anyone who does know her intimately tells you so, you may of course believe it; but information that has filtered through various channels is apt to be inaccurate.

ERIN and A LADY READER kindly send the words of "Pestal" by W. H. Bellamy; and "Erin" informs "Pansy" that it is published as a solo by Hutchings and Romer, arranged by C. E. Horn. "Erin" does not know if it is to be had as a duet.

I. M. H.--Many years ago, Lytton Bulwer (afterwards Sir Bulwer Lytton) wrote contemptuously of Tennyson, calling him "Miss Alfred." Tennyson retorted by a most stinging satire on Bulwer, which, we believe, is to be found in some early volume of _Punch_, but is not republished in Tennyson's works. The extract you quote, containing the line:--

"And half the little soul is dirt"

comes from this satire. As it is suppressed, you may have difficulty in finding it.

FIDELIA.--The verse you quote is from a poem of Christina Rossetti's entitled "He and She." As the whole poem is very short we transcribe it for you:--

"Should one of us remember, And one of us forget, I wish I knew what each will do-- But who can tell as yet?"

"Should one of us remember, And one of us forget, I promise you what I will do-- And I'm content to wait for you, And not be sure as yet."

You will find it on page 328 of Messrs. Macmillan's 1892 edition of "Poems: Christina G. Rossetti."

THE LILAC SUNBONNET.--You should try to obtain a situation "au pair" in a Continental School, where you could teach English in return for learning French. No premium or certificate is required. The only way we know of obtaining such a position is to advertise in the provincial journal of any town where you would like to go. See our former answers to similar queries, when we have mentioned such papers as the _Gazette de Lausanne_, _Journal de Génève_, _Feuille d'avis de Vevey_, etc.

MOTHER'S GIRL.--Your story is very well composed and neatly written. The incident you describe is naturally told, with a good deal of right feeling. We can honestly praise your work. It is very wise of young writers only to undertake simple subjects with which they are familiar, and a good schoolgirl story is worth any amount of sentimental nonsense.

A SEEKER.--1. Your friend's verses fail in metre: _e.g._, "Death makes clearer the soul's view," is a halting line. The thought expressed throughout is a solemn one, but the mode of expression is open to criticism.--2. The difficulty you place before us is one in which we have very great sympathy. If you have been sent to an Art School it is certainly your duty to work hard there. But a change of occupation is by no means always prejudicial to success; in fact, it is often helpful even to the occupation which is laid aside for a time. For example, a girl is likely to become no better a musician because she practises every hour of the day, and neglects all besides. There comes a point beyond which work is useless, and four or five hours well spent are better than twelve. So with your drawing or painting; you will do it no harm by laying it aside for awhile and lending a hand to household tasks. There is often a tendency in eager students to overwork, and see things out of their due proportion. You must try to keep the balance true and not sacrifice character to ambition. You will do the ambition itself no good by it. We may suggest that artistic talent is very useful in millinery, and that, if need be, you should not despise turning your gifts to account in designing some article of dress. There is a wide field open to really artistic dressmakers; but, of course, on this, we cannot advise you without further knowledge.

AN ARDENT READER, ROSY NELL.--We are glad to hear all you tell us, and hope you may succeed in the needlework competition. We do not know the comic ballad you mention on "A Snarling Wife," beginning, "O do be still!" Are you sure it is worth hunting for? Would it not do you more good to learn some poem of real beauty or interest?

GIRLS' EMPLOYMENTS.

AGNES (_Training for Children's Nurse_).--Your daughter is certainly wise in deciding to become a children's nurse rather than a nursery governess. Her gentle birth and education will be to her advantage in seeking such a position; at the same time it is a pity that a regular training cannot be afforded. Under the circumstances we would suggest that your daughter should seek a situation under a lady nurse, who would train her in the necessary duties. Such a situation is not often to be heard of; nevertheless we think you might find one after careful inquiry. For such purposes it would be better to apply to an employment agency than to advertise. Through such public organisations as the Central Bureau for the Employment of Women, 60, Chancery Lane, W.C., and the Society for Promoting the Employment of Women, 22, Berners Street, W., you might hear of a suitable vacancy. If you wish to have the addresses of thoroughly trustworthy private, as well as public registries, you cannot do better than order one of the lists of registries from the Hon. Secretary of the Associated Guild of Registries, 39, Victoria Street, S.W., enclosing three half-pence for cost and postage. These lists have recently been issued for the first time, and will gradually be extended. They promise to be of great utility to parents and guardians as well as to young women who are seeking employment. For registries vary much in character, and there are some which experienced advisers would not at all recommend. We do not answer privately, our answers being intended for the benefit of readers of The "G. O. P." generally.

AMICUS (_Home Employment_).--We know of no society that exists for the purpose of providing ladies with work to do at home, nor do we know of any firm of cigarette manufacturers who give out work. Quite possibly cigarette-making is undertaken by home-workers living in the immediate neighbourhood of a manufactory; but manufacturers would hardly care to send tobacco and paper a hundred miles away from their establishment. We would suggest that you should learn typewriting and shorthand, and then seek a situation as clerk in one of the manufactories in your own city.

IVY and LORA (_Training for a Hospital Nurse_).--It is true that we have repeatedly answered questions similar to yours. Nevertheless as you have failed to observe these replies, we gladly respond to your query. There is hardly any hospital to which you could be admitted before the age of twenty-one--twenty-three or twenty-four is preferred by most institutions. In general a probationer can enter either by payment of a fee or by giving services free, or in return for only a small salary the first year. You could apply to the matron of any general hospital for rules of admission for nurses, if you enclosed stamps for postage. Among the best training schools for nurses in London are the London Hospital, St. Thomas's, St. Bartholomew's, King's College, St. Mary's, and University College Hospitals.

ALPEDIAN, although a boy, takes great pleasure in reading THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER. We are very glad to hear it, ALPEDIAN. Nevertheless we cannot undertake to advise boys as well as girls in these columns. However, in reply to your special questions, we may say that a boy must be articled to a firm of solicitors for some years, and the fee is usually a high one. Afterwards your prospects of success would depend partly on yourself and partly on any connection you might possess among barristers. A solicitor with no legal connection is apt to have an uphill fight for work.

ANN (_Missionary Work_).--Missionary societies do not always insist on candidates passing any examination, but they would only accept the services of a young woman who had received a good general education. Candidates for work in missions generally spend a period of probation in some of the training schools. Further particulars could be obtained from the Secretary of the Society for Promoting Female Education in the East, 267, Vauxhall Bridge Road, S.W. To judge from your handwriting, you are at present rather young to enter on such work as this. There is always, however, plenty of useful work that girls may do among the poor at home. Girls' Clubs, for instance, often require helpers.

MISCELLANEOUS.

LILY.--Your brother certainly shows great promise. He should, however, try to perfect himself in mathematics, as architectural construction depends greatly upon this science, and especially upon mechanics. He should also sketch buildings from nature, and make measured drawings of some building, a church or house or such like, and carefully read works upon architecture, such, for instance as _The Glossary of Architecture_, Fergusson's _Architectural Handbook_, Rosengarten's _Handbook of Architectural Styles_ (translated by W. Collett-Sanders). He would also gain some information from "Architecture, or the Art of Buildings," published in THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER, October 24, 1885, to May 22, 1886, and contained in _The Girl's Own Annual_, commencing October 3, 1885. Although against our rules we return the drawings to you as you requested for which you sent stamps, but you give a very meagre address.

JESSIE.--The Egyptian-looking obelisk of which you speak, near Forres, in Elginshire, called "Sueno's Stone," has puzzled many an antiquary, and the opinions they have severally formed do not seem at all unanimous as to its origin. It is a very remarkable one--the broken remains standing 25 feet in height, and cut out of a block of the hardest granite to be found in Scotland. The opinion of the Rev. C. Cordiner (a distinguished antiquary of the last century) was, that it was raised to commemorate the victory of the Scots over the Scandinavian invaders, who had established themselves on the neighbouring promontory of Burghead, in the 9th century. The monument is covered with figures of armed men, some equestrian, with bows, swords and spears, as well as a cross on the obverse side and sundry other objects.

TOOTING GRAVENEY.--To water plants, such as rose trees, with tobacco water is said to destroy blight.

LOTTIE.--We could not recommend anything for removing stains of paraffin oil from a light-coloured dress. First, you do not name the material; but, in any case, we always recommend the employment of some trimming to cover the stain, or else the substitution of a new breadth. Possibly a rearrangement of folds or pleats might conceal it.

AU DÉSESPOIR.--It is, as we have frequently told our readers, quite impossible to teach French pronunciation otherwise than orally, as their alphabet and ours are dissimilar in sound. In Latin it is otherwise. Of the terms you name, however, we may give the sound with our own letters. "Monsieur" is pronounced "Mus-yeu," not "Mus-you"; and "Mademoiselle" as "Mad-moy-zelle." The syllable "ieur" is pronounced as the word for "eyes" in French, viz., "yeux." Perhaps you know how to pronounce that word. We are not acquainted with any other book on the subject of phonetic pronunciation.

FATIMA (Smyrna).--1. There is no periodical with which we are acquainted that is specially devoted to the question of hair-dressing. Those on fashions in dress very usually add some remarks on any changes with reference to the _coiffeur_. In THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER.--2. As to the dangerous attempt to give additional brightness to the eyes by artificial means, we greatly object to them. Some foolish, vain women, employ belladonna--a drug that extends the pupil and injures the eye. It should only be medically applied under a doctor's advice and direction for certain complaints, not for the purpose of temporarily enlarging the pupil. The eye is so delicate an organ, and sight so exceedingly precious, that no experiments by amateurs should be practised on it, especially for mere vanity' sake. We are always glad to hear from our foreign friends, even if not subscribers. Your English is excellent.

JOICE M. (second letter).--The several precious stones that are said by the Poles to influence the twelve months of the year, respectively, are as follows:--Jan., a garnet, representing constancy; Feb., an amethyst, sincerity; March, jasper (or bloodstone), courage; April, a diamond, innocence; May, an emerald, success in love; June, agate, health and longevity; July, cornelian, content; August, sardony, conjugal felicity; Sept., chrysolite, antidote to insanity; Oct., opal, hope; Nov., topaz, fidelity; Dec., turquoise, prosperity. For this Polish rendering of the question we have the authority of Dr. Brewer.

JUDIC.--The jewellery distinguished as "rococo," is usually made up of several varieties of gems. Moorish decorations, and Watteau's paintings, are in this style; also in furniture, that of Louis XIV., which is highly gilded; and ormolu, are called "rococo." The term is of uncertain etymology. It prevailed more especially in France at the close of the 18th and beginning of the 19th centuries, and was extended to architecture and landscape-gardening. In the former it is a debased style, which succeeded the revival of the Italian, and was very much in vogue in Germany.

S. E. H.--1. Yes, Charles Dickens did write a History of England designed for children.--2. Your handwriting is fairly good and very legible, though scarcely yet a "running hand."

LULU.--There are classes held at least in three places in town for instruction in book-keeping, amongst other things, namely, at the College for Men and Women, 29, Queen Square, Bloomsbury, W.C.; apply to the secretary at the College for Working Women, 7, Fitzroy Street, W.; and at Birkbeck Literary and Scientific Institution, Bream's Buildings, Chancery Lane and Fetter Lane, E.C. Address the secretary. You might inquire respecting any book written on the subject at any of these places.

MISS M. BANNERMAN.--There is a Ladies' Art Work Depôt at 251, Brompton Road, S.W., address Lady Eden. There is another Work Society at 31, Sloane Street, President, H.R.H. the Princess Louise; and a third, Ladies' Work Society, of which the depôt is at 185, High Street, Kensington, Hon. Sec. Miss K. Ford, Rock Moor, Yelverton, R.S.O., Devon.

M. ORME and M. E. MORRIS.--There are certain questions that do not come within our province to answer. We regret we are unable to give you the answers you desire.

MISERABLE.--Pray for divine help to break off your acquaintance with such bad companions, and go to your clergyman (to the vestry of the church), or to your minister, tell him your trouble and ask him to give you his advice and follow it.

THE GIRL'S OWN QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS COMPETITION.

_For particulars as to this interesting Competition, in which every reader will find it for her advantage to take part, see page 14 (No. 979)._

Questions 13-24.

13. When did the pianoforte first come into use?

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14. What is the most polite nation in the world?

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15. What is the nearest star to the earth?

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16. What philosopher of antiquity married a shrew?

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17. What flower, in the middle of the seventeenth century, became the subject of a popular mania?

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18. What is the best soil on which to build a house?

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19. Did anyone ever swim across the Channel from England to France?

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20. What great lady once in a temper cut off her long and beautiful hair and flung it in her husband's face?

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21. What is the origin of the name foolscap as applied to paper of a certain size?

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22. Have flowers ever been used as time-keepers?

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23. What famous relic of antiquity on its way to this country nearly found its last resting-place at the bottom of the sea?

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24. Who was the famous carrier who gave rise to a proverb by always making his customers take the horse nearest the stable door?

THE ANSWERS TO THESE QUESTIONS, Nos. 13-24, together with the answers to questions 1-12, which have already appeared, must be sent in on or before the 30th of December, 1898.

ENTHUSIASM: AN ADDRESS TO SCHOOL-GIRLS.

BY ELIZABETH A. S. DAWES, M.A., D.Lit.

"Let a man contend to the uttermost For his life's prize, be it what it will."

_Browning._

"Strive for the truth unto death" (Eccles. iv. 28).

"Ye have not resisted unto blood, striving against sin" (Hebr. xii. 4).

I propose to address to the readers of this magazine a few words on the subject of "enthusiasm in a good cause;" for undoubtedly a lack of hearty, honest enthusiasm, a general "slackness," both in character and conduct, is a sad characteristic of too many of the present-day girls and young women. For this reason, therefore, I have chosen for you three quotations, all of which speak of the duty of enthusiasm in a good cause, or, in other words, of striving with all our might to accomplish our life's purpose, or for the truth, or in the battle against sin.

Now I can imagine someone asking, "Why should we be enthusiastic? What is the good of it?" and to this question I would reply by giving as the three chief reasons: firstly, that nothing great or good can be accomplished without enthusiasm; secondly, enthusiasm in a good cause is one of the chief means of forming and ennobling the character; and thirdly, that it is commanded and commended by Christ.

To prove the truth of my first reason, you need only turn your thoughts to the world's history, and recall to your memory the many enthusiastic workers and fighters--"fanatics," as the world often mockingly calls them--who have striven, often literally unto death, to promote some good cause or establish some truth, and then ask yourselves, "Would they have accomplished what they did if they had been lukewarm, and half-hearted in their work, and daunted by every fresh obstacle that beset their path?" No, they would not; for, as you all know, obstacles there are in plenty, and, as a Greek writer says, "It is only true enthusiasm which can overcome all obstacles; it is not the power, but the will and the desire which are often wanting in us."

As illustrations of enthusiasts think of St. Paul with his tremendous missionary energy, Socrates, Wilberforce, John Howard, and, in our days, of the women, the "pioneers," who fought against apparently insuperable difficulties for the opening of the medical profession and a university career for themselves and other women.

Secondly, enthusiasm in a good cause forms and moulds the mind by giving it some definite object of pursuit, which prevents aimlessness of purpose, waste of time and capabilities, and selfishness; it ennobles it by raising it above trivial or low thoughts, by attuning it to higher melodies than those of this earth, and by breeding in it single-mindedness and fostering sincerity, "which is the first characteristic of all men in any way heroic" (Carlyle). Browning and Michael Angelo, two powerful workers themselves, bear testimony to this ennobling influence of enthusiasm, for the former in his _Saul_ writes--

"'Tis not what man does which exalts him, But what man would do,"

and the latter, "Nothing makes the soul so pure, so religious, as the endeavour to create something perfect; for God is perfection, and whoever strives for perfection strives for something that is God-like."

My third reason scarcely needs comment, for all will instantly recall the command that "men should always pray and not faint," His parable of the importunate widow, and His commendation of Mary because "she hath done what she could" and had brought her best to her Lord. But apart from what He said, ought not the whole life of "the Perfect Head and Pattern of Mankind" to be a direct incentive to enthusiasm?

Next, I would suggest some subjects for enthusiasm.

One which should throw its glamour over us all, and should spur us ever onward and upward, is "the great thought of our immortality," or, as a writer puts it, "We must shape our life under the government of the life to come," however many difficulties there may be in trying to do so. And, if we are brought under the spell of this great thought, it creates enthusiasm, for "to keep before us the real outlook of the soul is to refuse persistently to drift with the stream. We have to take care to watch wisely and sternly over our wills, to keep our eye on the spring of our actions, to be careful about the decisions we make, and to be earnest in watching against mere slackness of will in carrying out those decisions which we know to be right." And if this thought--which yet was to them no definite thought, but only a misty conception and the vaguest of hopes--exercised such domination over the souls of some of the ancient heathens as to cause them to lead spotless, blameless lives, what should its effect be on us now, who know that it is no idle fancy, but a thing to hold and live by?

Further, I like to see people enthusiastic about their family and home, about the ordinary duties that lie to hand, about the place in which they live, and so on. For assuredly nothing is more hateful--the word is strong, but it is the right one--nothing, I repeat, is more hateful than to hear girls disparaging their mothers with remarks such as, "Oh, mother does not understand us modern girls, she is so old-fashioned, you know; I never ask her opinion about anything," or to hear them complain that there is no scope for their energies in their own homes. Such as these should remember Archbishop Trench's sonnet beginning--

"Thou cam'st not to thy place by accident; It is the very place God meant for thee; And should'st thou there small scope of action see Do not for this give room to discontent."

While at school be enthusiastic for it and its customs, and, if you think it not all it should be, work your hardest at rendering it more worthy of your enthusiasm, and while there set the example of doing the lessons and playing at the games with enthusiasm.

But the crucial moment comes when you leave school and become more or less your own mistress--for while you are at school your time is apportioned out to various duties, and the development of individual bents and tendencies can necessarily not be allowed such free play as they can revel in when school-days are over--and then it is for you to show whether you mean to pass your days in "doing nothing much" either at home or outside, or whether you recognise your own greatness as an immortal, and intend to do at least something or other in this world well.

And here a word of caution must be inserted against allowing enthusiasm for one pursuit to lead to the neglect of other duties. "There is the story of a friar who set to work to illuminate the pages of the Apocalypse in his zeal and love for God. He became so absorbed in this work that he neglected the poor and sick, who were suffering and dying in the plague. He came at last to the painting of the face of his Lord, but his hand lost its skill. He wondered why, and realised that it was because, in his eagerness to paint his pictures, he had neglected his poor. Humiliated by this discovery, he laid aside his brushes and went down to minister to the sick and dying. He wrought on untiringly till he himself was smitten down. Then he tottered back to his cell to finish his loved work before he died. He knelt in prayer to ask help, when lo! he saw that an angel's hand had completed the picture of the Lord in a manner far surpassing human skill." It is only a legend, but its lesson is well worthy your serious thought.

Again, contemplate the effect your enthusiasm will have on those around you. One great and vital element in enthusiasm is hope--hope which endures under rebuffs, derision, and in spite of apparent failure. Now hope is most infectious, and when others, whose spirits are perchance drooping, and hearts failing for the heaviness of their duties and the weight of their troubles, see that you always maintain an ardent determination to accomplish your purpose, a cheerful spirit, and a smiling, hopeful face, they will feel their courage renewed and will resume their burden with re-invigorated strength. This idea is beautifully expressed by Mrs. Browning in the lines on "Work"--

"Then others shall Take patience, labour to their heart and hand, From thy heart and thy hand and thy brave cheer."

I will conclude by reminding you that, alongside of enthusiasm on one and several other points, you must, be you strong or weak, rich or poor, cherish undying enthusiasm for "friendship's ministry," which is the half of your solemn duty of service to God. So many people forget that it is not enough to feel love or affection for others unless they also show it and thus give pleasure and comfort, and ofttimes strengthening, to their friend. A word of sympathy does so much. Once after the death of a good clergyman whose labours had been very blessed, his friends expressed to his widow their appreciation of his noble life and work, and she, after thanking them for their kindly words, asked, amid her tears: "But why did you never tell him these things while he was living?" Yes, why not? Dr. Miller says: "Too many wait until those they love are dead, and then bring their alabaster boxes of affection and break them. They keep silent about their love when words would mean so much, would give such cheer, encouragement; and then, when the friend lies in the coffin, their lips are unsealed.... Let us not reserve all the flowers for coffin-lids.... Let us show kindness when kindness will do good. All about us move those who would be strengthened and comforted by the good cheer which we could give. It will make sorrow all the harder if we ever have to say beside the dead: "I might have brightened the way a little if only I had been kinder.""

Never then, I beg of you, forget to be enthusiastic in this ministry of friendship, and if, combined with that, you entertain enthusiasm for other noble, worthy things, and try to kindle a like enthusiasm in others, you may, perhaps, at the end of your life be allowed to feel that you have, though perhaps but in a slight degree,

"Made the world within your reach Somewhat the better for your living And gladder for your human speech."

_Whittier._

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Transcriber's note--the following changes have been made to this text:

Page 37: prefiguratious changed to prefigurations.