HAWKWEED.

A PEACEFUL HOUR.

A PEACEFUL HOUR.

HAWKWEED.ByLIZZIE DEAS.Somehowthese flowers that late in autumn show,So very rich a glow,In summer seem to make but poor display,There are so many flowers more beautiful than they.I can but think that through the sunlit hours,These golden-petaled flowers,With no attempt to shine while earth is bright,Are yet at work for us absorbing warmth and light.Of this I'm sure, they do but hide their storeTill we shall need it more;For see, as summer wanes, what beauty lies—What consolation, too, within their sun-filled eyes.Some lovely souls there are that, like these flowers,Shine least in brightest hours;Only when shadows fall we learn to knowThe beauty they possess, the sunshine they bestow.

ByLIZZIE DEAS.

Somehowthese flowers that late in autumn show,So very rich a glow,In summer seem to make but poor display,There are so many flowers more beautiful than they.I can but think that through the sunlit hours,These golden-petaled flowers,With no attempt to shine while earth is bright,Are yet at work for us absorbing warmth and light.Of this I'm sure, they do but hide their storeTill we shall need it more;For see, as summer wanes, what beauty lies—What consolation, too, within their sun-filled eyes.Some lovely souls there are that, like these flowers,Shine least in brightest hours;Only when shadows fall we learn to knowThe beauty they possess, the sunshine they bestow.

Somehowthese flowers that late in autumn show,So very rich a glow,In summer seem to make but poor display,There are so many flowers more beautiful than they.

I can but think that through the sunlit hours,These golden-petaled flowers,With no attempt to shine while earth is bright,Are yet at work for us absorbing warmth and light.

Of this I'm sure, they do but hide their storeTill we shall need it more;For see, as summer wanes, what beauty lies—What consolation, too, within their sun-filled eyes.

Some lovely souls there are that, like these flowers,Shine least in brightest hours;Only when shadows fall we learn to knowThe beauty they possess, the sunshine they bestow.

IN THE TWILIGHT SIDE BY SIDE.Third Series.ByRUTH LAMB.PART I.THE PRECIOUSNESS OF TIME."So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom" (Psalm xc. 12).Oncemore you, my dear girl friends, and I meet to hold pleasant converse with each other.I feel that something specially pleasant would be missing from my own life were our twilight talks to cease. It is with a sense alike of happiness and thankfulness that I look forward to your companionship for yet another year. God grant that, as in the past, so in the future, we may be very helpful to each other in crossing the rough places that have to be encountered on the path of life.I feel that a song of thanksgiving should go up from us all for mercies already bestowed, and an earnest united prayer to God for an ever-increasing blessing upon our meetings.One thought must come to us all this evening. Two years have passed since we first came together, hence we feel that so much of our lives has gone, and we have two years less in which to work for God.It will be good for each of us to ask ourselves, "What have I done for Him during the time? What progress have I made in my spiritual life? Have I grown, as Jesus grew, 'in favour with God and man' during these years?"Conscience will answer and can tell only the truth.Such communings with your own hearts are, however, for the quiet of your own chamber, when you have shut out the world and are alone with God. Still, it may be well for us all to have a talk about the preciousness of some things of which we are too apt to take little account.I wonder if you and I are in the habit of frittering away two invaluable gifts for which we have to give a strict account to our Father in heaven. These are, time and opportunity.I think I hear you ask, "What do you mean by frittering? The dictionary tells us that 'to fritter' is to diminish or pare off."I acknowledge that here we do not get quite the full meaning of the word "fritter" as we often use it in conversation. We rather understand by it the diminution of something by almost imperceptible degrees, of which no notice need be taken, because they are so small, and through the waste of which little loss is sustained by ourselves or others.There are things in this world which are of small value in certain places, because they are so abundant; yet, in another neighbourhood, their scarcity makes them of vital importance. For instance, if we have unfailing springs of pure water to draw upon, and all our neighbours are equally well supplied, what matters it if the pail overflows, or the tap is left running? But in another place where water is scarce, the waste of it would be sinful and cruel, especially if we were well supplied and our neighbours compelled to economise every drop.The child on the sea-shore flings the sandabout with reckless hands, gathers shells and leaves them behind, or throws pebbles into the water, caring nothing what becomes of them.There is no need for care in such cases. The sea gathers the shells and pebbles and flings them back in orderly ridges on the shore. The embankments, laboriously raised by many small hands, and the trenches dug around them, are quickly equalised again. The mighty ocean sweeps all before it. Wave follows wave, and the grains of sand are hurried onward. Castles are levelled, trenches filled, and the retreating waters leave the beach smooth again and ready for the morrow's toilers.The last murmur of the waters seems to say, "You can fritter away nothing over which we flow. We gather your scattered fragments together, and not one grain is finally lost."You and I, dear girl companions, have certain great trusts committed to us, which are neither visible nor tangible. We hold them in common with our neighbours, though they are not given to all in the same proportion. They are made up of littles, and yet, if we fritter them away, they are gone past recovery. We can no more regain the smallest portion than we can bring back the rain-drops which have fallen into the stream and are helping to hurry it seaward, or collect the grains of dust which the wind has whirled across the plain.Time is one of these all-important trusts. Perhaps I should say the most important, for time and our natural life virtually mean the same thing. Do they not begin and end together, so far as we are concerned? Our first breath ushers us into the realm of time, and with our last we close our eyes on it for ever.Does it not seem strange that any human being can be found who is careless about or forgetful of the preciousness of time? People hesitate to part with a penny unless they can be sure of receiving something of equal value in exchange. Yet the same persons think nothing of frittering away, without return, that which the wealth of the whole world cannot buy back for them.It seems natural for the very young to think lightly of the flight of time. The world—in other words, time and life—is all before them. A day flies so quickly; an hour is a mere nothing. As to the minutes and moments! What are they more than the drops that make up the ocean, or the grains of sand that form its boundary wall? Who can exhaust these?Time, to the child, is an inexhaustible ocean into which he cannot dip too freely. What if the tide recedes? It is sure to flow again, and is, indeed, ever flowing.You and I have surely learned lessons as to the value of time to which the child would not care to listen even. Let us think together of the value of moments. They follow each other, and are swallowed in the ocean of eternity, but there is no reflux. Not one comes a second time. If an hour has been frittered away and we can show nothing for it, all that remains for us is to make the best possible use of its successors.Very lately I heard a great preacher say, "We should be misers in the use of time and opportunity." Do we not value too highly what we call the riches of this world? We are sparing of our gold, or our silver—even of our pence—and yet we do not pause to take account of what is beyond all price.Have you ever thought, dear girls, that you are threefold debtors as regards the use you make of this great trust, time? We are all debtors, in the first place, to God, and must account for the use or abuse of time to the great Giver of it. We are told to "redeem the time because the days are evil."I have in my mind the words of an old writer and profound student of the Bible who says about the text I have just quoted, "Buying up those moments which others seem to throw away; steadily improving every present moment." "Time is that on which eternity depends. In time you are to get a preparation for the kingdom of God." "Perhaps the apostle means in general, embrace every opportunity to glorify God, benefit your own souls, and do good to men."These words carry out the idea I have suggested as to our threefold debt in relation to the use of our time. We should be misers of it, that we may the more fully carry out our divine Master's will, follow His example, obey His commandment to love our neighbour as ourselves, and, in so doing, promote our own eternal welfare.You and I can understand the need for us to echo the prayer of the Psalmist, "So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."How much teaching we need! What heedless and forgetful scholars we are! How constantly we need to be reminded of the value of that which we treat so lightly, waste so often, and lose with so little regret!All other losses cause us trouble and generally sorrow. If the child, in hurrying to spend a halfpenny, loses its one precious coin, there is eager searching with the help of companions. Joy follows its recovery, or bitter tears are shed if it is not found.The lost purse, or the jewel that has escaped from its setting, is neither forgotten nor deemed of slight consequence. It is sought, advertised for, and, if finally lost, is remembered with regret; the more so if it has been the gift of a friend.The merchant will risk large sums in the hope of doubling them. If unsuccessful, he can hardly forgive himself for having thrown away that which he had. Losses of these kinds are thought of again and again in after days, and the face clouds over at the memory of them.How few amongst those who have recklessly wasted moments, hours, and days, pause to take themselves to task, mourn over an irretrievable loss, and resolve, by God's help, to redeem the time that is left. As regards the season for making the new beginning, there is only one word to express the right one: now. Not a week hence. Not to-morrow. Not even an hour after the resolution has been come to; for time is flying always, and its redemption must begin with the moment which has revealed to us its infinite value. Henceforth we must be "misers in the use of time."Time is often unwittingly wasted by thrifty people for want of due thought and calculation. How well I remember, in the earlier days of railway travelling, what anxiety to be in time for a train was evinced by old-fashioned people!I used to stay in a country house which was several miles from a station, and my kindly host was so fearful of my missing the train, that he used to insist on my starting early enough to spend nearly an hour in waiting for it.It was very difficult to turn that waiting time to any useful account, especially in the dim light of a wintry morning, for I had to catch the first train. I smile as I picture the little bare waiting-room and the scarcely-lighted fire, by which I sat and shivered and tried to cherish bright thoughts amidst dull surroundings.Those who value their own time lightly are seldom scrupulous about wasting that of their neighbour. Have we not all been lectured, again and again, on the sin of unpunctuality?I think I hear you ask whether unpunctuality deserves to be ranked as a sin? Let us consider the question, then decide for yourselves.Neither you nor I would like to steal our neighbour's purse, or even help ourselves to a solitary sixpence. But if, by our neglect, carelessness or wilful selfishness, we rob him of that on which his income depends, are we not equally guilty, though the law cannot reach us for this offence? Time is money to the toiler in every branch of work, whether mental or physical, and we have no right to waste our neighbour's capital which money cannot restore to him.So many people, old as well as young, seem unable to understand what punctuality means. Those who allow their own time to slip away unheeded, cannot see that it matters whether they are a few minutes too soon or too late for an appointment. If by some chance—a rare one—they are too soon, they plume themselves on this, and are perhaps inclined to be indignant if they are kept waiting and their time is wasted.Dear girls, do think of this! If you make an appointment try and keep it to the minute. Be neither before nor after the time fixed, but by your punctuality redeem your own time and avoid the sin of wasting what is not your own.Indolence is a terrible and stealthy thief that ought to be battled against, with a prayerful sense of our own weakness to resist its encroachments. Indolent people are like unpunctual ones—very prone to steal the time which their neighbour values and turns to good account.How many busy men and women have had to work when they ought to have been resting after a finished task, because an idler has interrupted it by dropping in at the office or the home during working hours? The one object of such visitors is to while away the time which hangs heavily on their useless hands, regardless of consequences to those on whom they intrude, or too selfish to care, so long as their own end is served.Unfortunately the sufferers have not always a remedy. Circumstances may render it unwise to complain, or politeness restrains them from doing so, even when they are inwardly chafing under the infliction. They do not like to deny themselves to these thieves of time, for whom perhaps they feel a very real affection; or it may be they cannot afford to risk giving offence on account of their relative positions. Hence they suffer in silence.There are hard-working girls as well as older folk who suffer in like manner, through other girls who place no value on their own time and have no qualms of conscience about wasting that of their neighbours.Take the lesson to heart, dear ones. Ask that you may realise the full value of your own time, and abstain from robbing another of what she esteems a precious trust from God.There are unsuspected ways of wasting time which those who "use it as misers" are apt to overlook. The more eager the worker, the more interested she is in her occupation, the more likely she is to be guilty of this kind of waste in these high-pressure days.I have no doubt there are many of these too-hard workers amongst you, my dear girl friends, who grudge the time spent in rest, who hurry over your meals, who regard innocent recreation as almost sinful, because it interrupts your labours and defers the completion of some task you have set yourselves.Believe me, time is never more truly wasted than it is by those who work too long, without pausing to refresh the weary mind and body. Time is saved if, when nature cries aloud for rest, we put aside the work we love and do absolutely nothing until we can return to it with a sense of fitness and freshness."Do nothing!" you exclaim. "Why, that would be the hardest task of all. We may compel our hands to be idle or our tired limbs to rest, but thought will still be busy. The mind cannot be coerced."Perhaps not in a sense, but if we wish it, we can turn our thoughts into a restful channel. What can be more restful and delightful than to sit with closed eyes and folded hands whilst we think over God's gracious dealings with us and make a mental catalogue of a single day's blessings? What can so renew our strength to work, as a little season spent in thanking God for the power to labour? What will be more helpful to us than a quiet time with Him whilst the world, its cares and its business are shut out, and we, alone with our Father, ask for wisdom to use without abusing our time and all the powers He has entrusted to us?Cultivate the habit of leaving off work when nature craves for rest, and you will find it, both for soul and body, by fixing your minds on God.You need not utter either prayer or thanksgiving, but your thoughts may overflow with both, and He who can read them will accept your heartfelt thanks and answer your unuttered prayers by giving you a sweet sense of peace and renewed power to work for Him.Oh, it is lovely just to get away from the world and its bustle and toil for a little while and spend it in thinking of the goodness and love of God in Christ Jesus! Our work may well wait in the meantime.I was with some dear friends who were sight-seeing in town, and who, accustomed to the quiet of a country place, were almost bewildered with the din of the great city. We were near St. Paul's, and how glad we all were to enter the great church and to rest there in a quiet corner, unconscious of all the noise and traffic which still went on around it.My friends' stay in town was to be a short one, and they were all eager to see as many of its sights as possible. Did they grudge the little time spent in peaceful communion with God, or deem it wasted when there was so much to attract them in the great city? Ah, no!Often afterwards, when other incidents had faded from their memories, they spoke of its sweet restfulness, and thanked God for the open door of that grand cathedral, which offered to weary wayfarers a chance of refreshment for soul and body.Dear ones, learn a lesson from this little incident. Do not deem the time lost which is taken from the work you love for the rest you need. You will redeem it in the best way if you turn your thoughts from earth to heaven, from the world around you to its great Creator.Unfortunately those who under-value time are more numerous than those who realise its preciousness. We often hear the expression, "I am only giving my time." As though money and goods were of infinitely greater worth. It is when health fails and life is drawing near its close that the preciousness of every moment is understood. I beg of you to remember now, that the right use of your time is your evidence to those around you of your union with Christ.Let us finish our talk this evening by repeating two or three reasons why we should be misers in the use of time. Time and life mean the same thing to us all. Time is a debt we owe to God. All our work must be done in time. Eternity depends on the use we make of time. Time comes only once, and the present is all we can call ours.Let us ask God to impress these great truths on our minds and to give us the will and the power to use time well.(To be continued.)

Third Series.

ByRUTH LAMB.

THE PRECIOUSNESS OF TIME.

"So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom" (Psalm xc. 12).

"So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom" (Psalm xc. 12).

Oncemore you, my dear girl friends, and I meet to hold pleasant converse with each other.

I feel that something specially pleasant would be missing from my own life were our twilight talks to cease. It is with a sense alike of happiness and thankfulness that I look forward to your companionship for yet another year. God grant that, as in the past, so in the future, we may be very helpful to each other in crossing the rough places that have to be encountered on the path of life.

I feel that a song of thanksgiving should go up from us all for mercies already bestowed, and an earnest united prayer to God for an ever-increasing blessing upon our meetings.

One thought must come to us all this evening. Two years have passed since we first came together, hence we feel that so much of our lives has gone, and we have two years less in which to work for God.

It will be good for each of us to ask ourselves, "What have I done for Him during the time? What progress have I made in my spiritual life? Have I grown, as Jesus grew, 'in favour with God and man' during these years?"

Conscience will answer and can tell only the truth.

Such communings with your own hearts are, however, for the quiet of your own chamber, when you have shut out the world and are alone with God. Still, it may be well for us all to have a talk about the preciousness of some things of which we are too apt to take little account.

I wonder if you and I are in the habit of frittering away two invaluable gifts for which we have to give a strict account to our Father in heaven. These are, time and opportunity.

I think I hear you ask, "What do you mean by frittering? The dictionary tells us that 'to fritter' is to diminish or pare off."

I acknowledge that here we do not get quite the full meaning of the word "fritter" as we often use it in conversation. We rather understand by it the diminution of something by almost imperceptible degrees, of which no notice need be taken, because they are so small, and through the waste of which little loss is sustained by ourselves or others.

There are things in this world which are of small value in certain places, because they are so abundant; yet, in another neighbourhood, their scarcity makes them of vital importance. For instance, if we have unfailing springs of pure water to draw upon, and all our neighbours are equally well supplied, what matters it if the pail overflows, or the tap is left running? But in another place where water is scarce, the waste of it would be sinful and cruel, especially if we were well supplied and our neighbours compelled to economise every drop.

The child on the sea-shore flings the sandabout with reckless hands, gathers shells and leaves them behind, or throws pebbles into the water, caring nothing what becomes of them.

There is no need for care in such cases. The sea gathers the shells and pebbles and flings them back in orderly ridges on the shore. The embankments, laboriously raised by many small hands, and the trenches dug around them, are quickly equalised again. The mighty ocean sweeps all before it. Wave follows wave, and the grains of sand are hurried onward. Castles are levelled, trenches filled, and the retreating waters leave the beach smooth again and ready for the morrow's toilers.

The last murmur of the waters seems to say, "You can fritter away nothing over which we flow. We gather your scattered fragments together, and not one grain is finally lost."

You and I, dear girl companions, have certain great trusts committed to us, which are neither visible nor tangible. We hold them in common with our neighbours, though they are not given to all in the same proportion. They are made up of littles, and yet, if we fritter them away, they are gone past recovery. We can no more regain the smallest portion than we can bring back the rain-drops which have fallen into the stream and are helping to hurry it seaward, or collect the grains of dust which the wind has whirled across the plain.

Time is one of these all-important trusts. Perhaps I should say the most important, for time and our natural life virtually mean the same thing. Do they not begin and end together, so far as we are concerned? Our first breath ushers us into the realm of time, and with our last we close our eyes on it for ever.

Does it not seem strange that any human being can be found who is careless about or forgetful of the preciousness of time? People hesitate to part with a penny unless they can be sure of receiving something of equal value in exchange. Yet the same persons think nothing of frittering away, without return, that which the wealth of the whole world cannot buy back for them.

It seems natural for the very young to think lightly of the flight of time. The world—in other words, time and life—is all before them. A day flies so quickly; an hour is a mere nothing. As to the minutes and moments! What are they more than the drops that make up the ocean, or the grains of sand that form its boundary wall? Who can exhaust these?

Time, to the child, is an inexhaustible ocean into which he cannot dip too freely. What if the tide recedes? It is sure to flow again, and is, indeed, ever flowing.

You and I have surely learned lessons as to the value of time to which the child would not care to listen even. Let us think together of the value of moments. They follow each other, and are swallowed in the ocean of eternity, but there is no reflux. Not one comes a second time. If an hour has been frittered away and we can show nothing for it, all that remains for us is to make the best possible use of its successors.

Very lately I heard a great preacher say, "We should be misers in the use of time and opportunity." Do we not value too highly what we call the riches of this world? We are sparing of our gold, or our silver—even of our pence—and yet we do not pause to take account of what is beyond all price.

Have you ever thought, dear girls, that you are threefold debtors as regards the use you make of this great trust, time? We are all debtors, in the first place, to God, and must account for the use or abuse of time to the great Giver of it. We are told to "redeem the time because the days are evil."

I have in my mind the words of an old writer and profound student of the Bible who says about the text I have just quoted, "Buying up those moments which others seem to throw away; steadily improving every present moment." "Time is that on which eternity depends. In time you are to get a preparation for the kingdom of God." "Perhaps the apostle means in general, embrace every opportunity to glorify God, benefit your own souls, and do good to men."

These words carry out the idea I have suggested as to our threefold debt in relation to the use of our time. We should be misers of it, that we may the more fully carry out our divine Master's will, follow His example, obey His commandment to love our neighbour as ourselves, and, in so doing, promote our own eternal welfare.

You and I can understand the need for us to echo the prayer of the Psalmist, "So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

How much teaching we need! What heedless and forgetful scholars we are! How constantly we need to be reminded of the value of that which we treat so lightly, waste so often, and lose with so little regret!

All other losses cause us trouble and generally sorrow. If the child, in hurrying to spend a halfpenny, loses its one precious coin, there is eager searching with the help of companions. Joy follows its recovery, or bitter tears are shed if it is not found.

The lost purse, or the jewel that has escaped from its setting, is neither forgotten nor deemed of slight consequence. It is sought, advertised for, and, if finally lost, is remembered with regret; the more so if it has been the gift of a friend.

The merchant will risk large sums in the hope of doubling them. If unsuccessful, he can hardly forgive himself for having thrown away that which he had. Losses of these kinds are thought of again and again in after days, and the face clouds over at the memory of them.

How few amongst those who have recklessly wasted moments, hours, and days, pause to take themselves to task, mourn over an irretrievable loss, and resolve, by God's help, to redeem the time that is left. As regards the season for making the new beginning, there is only one word to express the right one: now. Not a week hence. Not to-morrow. Not even an hour after the resolution has been come to; for time is flying always, and its redemption must begin with the moment which has revealed to us its infinite value. Henceforth we must be "misers in the use of time."

Time is often unwittingly wasted by thrifty people for want of due thought and calculation. How well I remember, in the earlier days of railway travelling, what anxiety to be in time for a train was evinced by old-fashioned people!

I used to stay in a country house which was several miles from a station, and my kindly host was so fearful of my missing the train, that he used to insist on my starting early enough to spend nearly an hour in waiting for it.

It was very difficult to turn that waiting time to any useful account, especially in the dim light of a wintry morning, for I had to catch the first train. I smile as I picture the little bare waiting-room and the scarcely-lighted fire, by which I sat and shivered and tried to cherish bright thoughts amidst dull surroundings.

Those who value their own time lightly are seldom scrupulous about wasting that of their neighbour. Have we not all been lectured, again and again, on the sin of unpunctuality?

I think I hear you ask whether unpunctuality deserves to be ranked as a sin? Let us consider the question, then decide for yourselves.

Neither you nor I would like to steal our neighbour's purse, or even help ourselves to a solitary sixpence. But if, by our neglect, carelessness or wilful selfishness, we rob him of that on which his income depends, are we not equally guilty, though the law cannot reach us for this offence? Time is money to the toiler in every branch of work, whether mental or physical, and we have no right to waste our neighbour's capital which money cannot restore to him.

So many people, old as well as young, seem unable to understand what punctuality means. Those who allow their own time to slip away unheeded, cannot see that it matters whether they are a few minutes too soon or too late for an appointment. If by some chance—a rare one—they are too soon, they plume themselves on this, and are perhaps inclined to be indignant if they are kept waiting and their time is wasted.

Dear girls, do think of this! If you make an appointment try and keep it to the minute. Be neither before nor after the time fixed, but by your punctuality redeem your own time and avoid the sin of wasting what is not your own.

Indolence is a terrible and stealthy thief that ought to be battled against, with a prayerful sense of our own weakness to resist its encroachments. Indolent people are like unpunctual ones—very prone to steal the time which their neighbour values and turns to good account.

How many busy men and women have had to work when they ought to have been resting after a finished task, because an idler has interrupted it by dropping in at the office or the home during working hours? The one object of such visitors is to while away the time which hangs heavily on their useless hands, regardless of consequences to those on whom they intrude, or too selfish to care, so long as their own end is served.

Unfortunately the sufferers have not always a remedy. Circumstances may render it unwise to complain, or politeness restrains them from doing so, even when they are inwardly chafing under the infliction. They do not like to deny themselves to these thieves of time, for whom perhaps they feel a very real affection; or it may be they cannot afford to risk giving offence on account of their relative positions. Hence they suffer in silence.

There are hard-working girls as well as older folk who suffer in like manner, through other girls who place no value on their own time and have no qualms of conscience about wasting that of their neighbours.

Take the lesson to heart, dear ones. Ask that you may realise the full value of your own time, and abstain from robbing another of what she esteems a precious trust from God.

There are unsuspected ways of wasting time which those who "use it as misers" are apt to overlook. The more eager the worker, the more interested she is in her occupation, the more likely she is to be guilty of this kind of waste in these high-pressure days.

I have no doubt there are many of these too-hard workers amongst you, my dear girl friends, who grudge the time spent in rest, who hurry over your meals, who regard innocent recreation as almost sinful, because it interrupts your labours and defers the completion of some task you have set yourselves.

Believe me, time is never more truly wasted than it is by those who work too long, without pausing to refresh the weary mind and body. Time is saved if, when nature cries aloud for rest, we put aside the work we love and do absolutely nothing until we can return to it with a sense of fitness and freshness.

"Do nothing!" you exclaim. "Why, that would be the hardest task of all. We may compel our hands to be idle or our tired limbs to rest, but thought will still be busy. The mind cannot be coerced."

Perhaps not in a sense, but if we wish it, we can turn our thoughts into a restful channel. What can be more restful and delightful than to sit with closed eyes and folded hands whilst we think over God's gracious dealings with us and make a mental catalogue of a single day's blessings? What can so renew our strength to work, as a little season spent in thanking God for the power to labour? What will be more helpful to us than a quiet time with Him whilst the world, its cares and its business are shut out, and we, alone with our Father, ask for wisdom to use without abusing our time and all the powers He has entrusted to us?

Cultivate the habit of leaving off work when nature craves for rest, and you will find it, both for soul and body, by fixing your minds on God.

You need not utter either prayer or thanksgiving, but your thoughts may overflow with both, and He who can read them will accept your heartfelt thanks and answer your unuttered prayers by giving you a sweet sense of peace and renewed power to work for Him.

Oh, it is lovely just to get away from the world and its bustle and toil for a little while and spend it in thinking of the goodness and love of God in Christ Jesus! Our work may well wait in the meantime.

I was with some dear friends who were sight-seeing in town, and who, accustomed to the quiet of a country place, were almost bewildered with the din of the great city. We were near St. Paul's, and how glad we all were to enter the great church and to rest there in a quiet corner, unconscious of all the noise and traffic which still went on around it.

My friends' stay in town was to be a short one, and they were all eager to see as many of its sights as possible. Did they grudge the little time spent in peaceful communion with God, or deem it wasted when there was so much to attract them in the great city? Ah, no!

Often afterwards, when other incidents had faded from their memories, they spoke of its sweet restfulness, and thanked God for the open door of that grand cathedral, which offered to weary wayfarers a chance of refreshment for soul and body.

Dear ones, learn a lesson from this little incident. Do not deem the time lost which is taken from the work you love for the rest you need. You will redeem it in the best way if you turn your thoughts from earth to heaven, from the world around you to its great Creator.

Unfortunately those who under-value time are more numerous than those who realise its preciousness. We often hear the expression, "I am only giving my time." As though money and goods were of infinitely greater worth. It is when health fails and life is drawing near its close that the preciousness of every moment is understood. I beg of you to remember now, that the right use of your time is your evidence to those around you of your union with Christ.

Let us finish our talk this evening by repeating two or three reasons why we should be misers in the use of time. Time and life mean the same thing to us all. Time is a debt we owe to God. All our work must be done in time. Eternity depends on the use we make of time. Time comes only once, and the present is all we can call ours.

Let us ask God to impress these great truths on our minds and to give us the will and the power to use time well.

(To be continued.)

QUEENS AS NEEDLEWOMEN.CHAPTER I."The use of sewing is exceedingly old,As in the sacred text it is enrolled;Our parents first in Paradise began."John Taylor.Needleworkhas been a favourite method of employing time, both in courts and cottages, from very early days; and one is not surprised at this, seeing that it is not only necessary for the comfort of daily life, but a very attractive occupation, one capable of great variety and of being practised without fatigue.The history of needlework was almost unknown until Miss Lambert and the Countess of Wilton devoted their time and talents to the collection and classification of facts concerning it.The first piece of needlework we know of is that of our first parents in the Garden of Eden, who, with a thorn, probably, for a needle, "sewed fig-leaves together to make themselves aprons."[1]Milton refers to it thus:—"Those leavesThey gathered, broad as Amazonian targe,And, with what skill they had, together sewed,To gird their waist."From all records of early ages we learn that the women used first a thorn and then a fish-bone sharpened at one end as a needle, to sew the skins of animals or other material together. Most of our queens have recognised the advantages of being good needlewomen, and several have left behind them beautiful specimens of work, so that we have an almost unbroken record of their achievements with the needle.The inducements to royal ladies to become proficient in the art of needlework have been many and varied; for example, some have been influenced by the desire to set a good example to their subjects; others in order to lighten the weariness of solitary hours; others that they might record the deeds of valour and daring performed by their husbands; some because they were thrown on their own resources through lack of outdoor amusements and the absence of good roads; others for real love of it; while other few practised it from pious motives that they might contribute to the beauty of churches. Indeed, church, court, camp and state have all more or less influenced royal ladies to become good needlewomen.Nothing creates a stronger bond of union between classes than like tastes and occupations, and it holds good specially between sovereigns and peoples. To know that probably the Queen and princesses of the royal house are occupied in the same way as the poorest cottager, either in sewing a seam, making a dress, trimming a bonnet, or embroidering a tray-cloth, creates a kindly feeling between one and the other, and bridges over the distance between them.I remember when our Princess of Wales came over to dwell among us, it was stated that she begged to retrim the Queen's bonnets and make them pretty and fashionable, as she had always trimmed her own and her mother's. When some of the London poor heard it they were delighted, and said, "Bless her now; do you really think a laidy sich as her would a' done it?"Nothing that has been told of Princess Henry of Battenberg has brought her so near to the hearts of the poor as the piece of news that "when she is in sorrow or perplexity she is greatly soothed by sitting down and sewing a long seam." It is something they can understand and appreciate, for it is most likely the very thing they themselves would do in like circumstances.It has been of no slight benefit to us women and girls that our queens and princesses should have been good needlewomen, for we are, to a great extent, influenced by the daily life of those in high places; indeed, the influence of queens upon their women subjects has always been noticeable; their personal and private character, their passions and prejudices, are always more or less reflected in the women of the kingdom.Proficiency in the art of needlework is by no means confined to the great ladies of our nation, for we hear that the princesses in the Court of Charlemagne were splendid needlewomen, and the work of Bertha, wife of Rudolph the Second of Burgundy, has a world-wide fame. She is represented on seals and monuments of her time as sitting on the throne spinning, and even when out riding continuing her work. In the old town of Payerne Canton de Freiburg, a residence of the kings of Burgundy, her bones, together with those of her husband and son, Conrad, were discovered in 1817 below the tower of the old church which she herself had built, and they were buried in the parish church, where the Queen's saddle is shown with a hole for her distaff. To this day the expression is used, as a regretful allusion to the good old times, "ce n'est pas le temps où Berthe filait."Gisela, also, the wife of St. Stephen, king of Hungary, was a splendid needlewoman, and organised embroidery work-rooms near her palace.The mother of Charles the Bold and Adelaide the Consort of Hugh Capet were also celebrated needlewomen.Even nations far removed from civilisation have not been ignorant of needlework, as the discovery of gold needles, etc., in the Scandinavian tumuli testify.To come back to our own country, the palm is certainly accorded to the Anglo-Saxon ladies for excellence in this womanly accomplishment. We have proof that those of rank and royal blood were skilled not only in the use of the needle for necessary purposes but also in elegant and intricate embroidery.The fleece which was brought home by the Anglo-Saxon men in summer was spun into clothing by the female part of each family during the winter.Alfred the Great in his will calls the women-part of his family the spindle side, and it was understood by our forefathers that no young woman was fit to be a wife till she had spun for herself a set of body, table and bed linen; this is why the maiden was called a spinner or spinster, and the married woman a wife or one who has been a spinner (from Anglo-Saxon wif, the verb being wyfan or wifan, to weave). Perhaps you have noticed that the armorial bearings of women are not painted on a shield like those of men but on a spindle called a lozenge. The spindle half is a Saxon term for the female line, while the spear half is the male side.Among the Anglo-Saxon ladies Adelfleda and her three sisters, daughters of Edward the Elder, stand out as famous for their skill in all kinds of needlework, and are known in history as cunning workers.William of Malmesbury says, "their father caused them in childhood to give their whole attention to letters and afterwards employed them in the labour of the distaff[2]and the needle."The same authority says that Edgitha or Editha, the Queen of Edward the Confessor, was "perfect mistress of her needle," while the Saxon historian, Ingulphus, a scholar at Westminster Monastery, near to Edgitha's palace, relates of her that "she was skilful inthe works of the needle, and that with her own hands she embroidered the garments of her royal husband."As a proof of the high value set on good needlework the Anglo-Saxon Gudric gave Alcina a piece of land on condition that she instructed his daughters in embroidery and needlework.It was the custom in feudal times for high families to send their daughters to the castles of their lords there to be taught spinning, weaving and needlework under the eye of the lady chatelaine.It was also a practice for great ladies and their attendants to pass their mornings at needlework, singing and relating stories meanwhile.It seems that William the Conqueror on his first appearance in public after the Battle of Hastings wore a richly worked cloak of Anglo-Saxon embroidery. It may have been this fact which roused his wife Matilda to produce a piece of work which was to live for long ages as a specimen of her industry and skill with the needle. She was a jealous woman and might not have been pleased at other hands than her own working her husband's apparel. It is difficult to understand the working of a woman's mind.There is no doubt that the work she left behind, and which is still preserved in the Cathedral of Bayeux, is perfectly marvellous, or as Dibdin says "it is an exceedingly curious document."It is a piece of canvas or coarse linen cloth two hundred and twenty-seven feet long and twenty inches wide; on it she has wrought with woollen thread of eight different colours a picture of her husband's exploits, from Harold's first landing in Normandy to his fall at Hastings.It is a most important record of the history of the period, because the events, costumes, and warlike instruments are faithfully portrayed.The canvas contains many hundreds of men, horses, trees, houses, castles, ships and churches, with names and descriptions over them to make the story clear; strangely enough there are only three women in the whole picture. Taken as a whole it affords a curious insight into the manners and customs of the Norman Period.The figures and designs for tapestry work were always prepared by some skilful artist who traced them out in the colours that were to be used by the worker either in wool or silk.Matilda seems to have employed the dwarf artist Turold to prepare her work and illuminate the canvas: he was a dependent of Odo, Bishop of Bayeux. The parts intended to represent flesh in the picture are left untouched by the needle.It is supposed that not only was Matilda assisted in her great work by the ladies of her court but by some of the beautiful workers among the Anglo-Saxon ladies. She was a woman who would not study the feelings of those around her, nor would she consider their sorrow in having by their needle to perpetuate their sufferings and defeat.The work which is now in Bayeux is coiled round a machine like that which lets down buckets into a well, and a woman is appointed to unroll it for visitors and explain it.A full-sized coloured photograph of it may be seen in the South Kensington Museum, and the Society of Antiquaries have engraved the whole of the Bayeux tapestry and have coloured it like the original.We are told in the life of St. Dunstan that he was originally in an obscure station of life, and crept into notice by means of his taste and skill in delineating sacerdotal vestments and tapestry work for great ladies. He must have had a great love of such work as well as genius, for even when he came to high estate he did not disdain making sketches for queens to work from.We now pass on to Adelicia of Louvaine, the queen of Henry I., who was distinguished for her great beauty and talents, but especially for her proficiency in feminine accomplishments.A standard which she embroidered in silk and gold for her father when he was engaged in recovering his patrimony was celebrated throughout Europe for the exquisite taste and skill displayed in its design and execution. For centuries it was carried in procession on Rogation days through the streets of the city of Liège, for it had been captured by the bishop of that town in 1129.(To be continued.)

"The use of sewing is exceedingly old,As in the sacred text it is enrolled;Our parents first in Paradise began."

"The use of sewing is exceedingly old,As in the sacred text it is enrolled;Our parents first in Paradise began."

John Taylor.

Needleworkhas been a favourite method of employing time, both in courts and cottages, from very early days; and one is not surprised at this, seeing that it is not only necessary for the comfort of daily life, but a very attractive occupation, one capable of great variety and of being practised without fatigue.

The history of needlework was almost unknown until Miss Lambert and the Countess of Wilton devoted their time and talents to the collection and classification of facts concerning it.

The first piece of needlework we know of is that of our first parents in the Garden of Eden, who, with a thorn, probably, for a needle, "sewed fig-leaves together to make themselves aprons."[1]

Milton refers to it thus:—

"Those leavesThey gathered, broad as Amazonian targe,And, with what skill they had, together sewed,To gird their waist."

"Those leavesThey gathered, broad as Amazonian targe,And, with what skill they had, together sewed,To gird their waist."

From all records of early ages we learn that the women used first a thorn and then a fish-bone sharpened at one end as a needle, to sew the skins of animals or other material together. Most of our queens have recognised the advantages of being good needlewomen, and several have left behind them beautiful specimens of work, so that we have an almost unbroken record of their achievements with the needle.

The inducements to royal ladies to become proficient in the art of needlework have been many and varied; for example, some have been influenced by the desire to set a good example to their subjects; others in order to lighten the weariness of solitary hours; others that they might record the deeds of valour and daring performed by their husbands; some because they were thrown on their own resources through lack of outdoor amusements and the absence of good roads; others for real love of it; while other few practised it from pious motives that they might contribute to the beauty of churches. Indeed, church, court, camp and state have all more or less influenced royal ladies to become good needlewomen.

Nothing creates a stronger bond of union between classes than like tastes and occupations, and it holds good specially between sovereigns and peoples. To know that probably the Queen and princesses of the royal house are occupied in the same way as the poorest cottager, either in sewing a seam, making a dress, trimming a bonnet, or embroidering a tray-cloth, creates a kindly feeling between one and the other, and bridges over the distance between them.

I remember when our Princess of Wales came over to dwell among us, it was stated that she begged to retrim the Queen's bonnets and make them pretty and fashionable, as she had always trimmed her own and her mother's. When some of the London poor heard it they were delighted, and said, "Bless her now; do you really think a laidy sich as her would a' done it?"

Nothing that has been told of Princess Henry of Battenberg has brought her so near to the hearts of the poor as the piece of news that "when she is in sorrow or perplexity she is greatly soothed by sitting down and sewing a long seam." It is something they can understand and appreciate, for it is most likely the very thing they themselves would do in like circumstances.

It has been of no slight benefit to us women and girls that our queens and princesses should have been good needlewomen, for we are, to a great extent, influenced by the daily life of those in high places; indeed, the influence of queens upon their women subjects has always been noticeable; their personal and private character, their passions and prejudices, are always more or less reflected in the women of the kingdom.

Proficiency in the art of needlework is by no means confined to the great ladies of our nation, for we hear that the princesses in the Court of Charlemagne were splendid needlewomen, and the work of Bertha, wife of Rudolph the Second of Burgundy, has a world-wide fame. She is represented on seals and monuments of her time as sitting on the throne spinning, and even when out riding continuing her work. In the old town of Payerne Canton de Freiburg, a residence of the kings of Burgundy, her bones, together with those of her husband and son, Conrad, were discovered in 1817 below the tower of the old church which she herself had built, and they were buried in the parish church, where the Queen's saddle is shown with a hole for her distaff. To this day the expression is used, as a regretful allusion to the good old times, "ce n'est pas le temps où Berthe filait."

Gisela, also, the wife of St. Stephen, king of Hungary, was a splendid needlewoman, and organised embroidery work-rooms near her palace.

The mother of Charles the Bold and Adelaide the Consort of Hugh Capet were also celebrated needlewomen.

Even nations far removed from civilisation have not been ignorant of needlework, as the discovery of gold needles, etc., in the Scandinavian tumuli testify.

To come back to our own country, the palm is certainly accorded to the Anglo-Saxon ladies for excellence in this womanly accomplishment. We have proof that those of rank and royal blood were skilled not only in the use of the needle for necessary purposes but also in elegant and intricate embroidery.

The fleece which was brought home by the Anglo-Saxon men in summer was spun into clothing by the female part of each family during the winter.

Alfred the Great in his will calls the women-part of his family the spindle side, and it was understood by our forefathers that no young woman was fit to be a wife till she had spun for herself a set of body, table and bed linen; this is why the maiden was called a spinner or spinster, and the married woman a wife or one who has been a spinner (from Anglo-Saxon wif, the verb being wyfan or wifan, to weave). Perhaps you have noticed that the armorial bearings of women are not painted on a shield like those of men but on a spindle called a lozenge. The spindle half is a Saxon term for the female line, while the spear half is the male side.

Among the Anglo-Saxon ladies Adelfleda and her three sisters, daughters of Edward the Elder, stand out as famous for their skill in all kinds of needlework, and are known in history as cunning workers.

William of Malmesbury says, "their father caused them in childhood to give their whole attention to letters and afterwards employed them in the labour of the distaff[2]and the needle."

The same authority says that Edgitha or Editha, the Queen of Edward the Confessor, was "perfect mistress of her needle," while the Saxon historian, Ingulphus, a scholar at Westminster Monastery, near to Edgitha's palace, relates of her that "she was skilful inthe works of the needle, and that with her own hands she embroidered the garments of her royal husband."

As a proof of the high value set on good needlework the Anglo-Saxon Gudric gave Alcina a piece of land on condition that she instructed his daughters in embroidery and needlework.

It was the custom in feudal times for high families to send their daughters to the castles of their lords there to be taught spinning, weaving and needlework under the eye of the lady chatelaine.

It was also a practice for great ladies and their attendants to pass their mornings at needlework, singing and relating stories meanwhile.

It seems that William the Conqueror on his first appearance in public after the Battle of Hastings wore a richly worked cloak of Anglo-Saxon embroidery. It may have been this fact which roused his wife Matilda to produce a piece of work which was to live for long ages as a specimen of her industry and skill with the needle. She was a jealous woman and might not have been pleased at other hands than her own working her husband's apparel. It is difficult to understand the working of a woman's mind.

There is no doubt that the work she left behind, and which is still preserved in the Cathedral of Bayeux, is perfectly marvellous, or as Dibdin says "it is an exceedingly curious document."

It is a piece of canvas or coarse linen cloth two hundred and twenty-seven feet long and twenty inches wide; on it she has wrought with woollen thread of eight different colours a picture of her husband's exploits, from Harold's first landing in Normandy to his fall at Hastings.

It is a most important record of the history of the period, because the events, costumes, and warlike instruments are faithfully portrayed.

The canvas contains many hundreds of men, horses, trees, houses, castles, ships and churches, with names and descriptions over them to make the story clear; strangely enough there are only three women in the whole picture. Taken as a whole it affords a curious insight into the manners and customs of the Norman Period.

The figures and designs for tapestry work were always prepared by some skilful artist who traced them out in the colours that were to be used by the worker either in wool or silk.

Matilda seems to have employed the dwarf artist Turold to prepare her work and illuminate the canvas: he was a dependent of Odo, Bishop of Bayeux. The parts intended to represent flesh in the picture are left untouched by the needle.

It is supposed that not only was Matilda assisted in her great work by the ladies of her court but by some of the beautiful workers among the Anglo-Saxon ladies. She was a woman who would not study the feelings of those around her, nor would she consider their sorrow in having by their needle to perpetuate their sufferings and defeat.

The work which is now in Bayeux is coiled round a machine like that which lets down buckets into a well, and a woman is appointed to unroll it for visitors and explain it.

A full-sized coloured photograph of it may be seen in the South Kensington Museum, and the Society of Antiquaries have engraved the whole of the Bayeux tapestry and have coloured it like the original.

We are told in the life of St. Dunstan that he was originally in an obscure station of life, and crept into notice by means of his taste and skill in delineating sacerdotal vestments and tapestry work for great ladies. He must have had a great love of such work as well as genius, for even when he came to high estate he did not disdain making sketches for queens to work from.

We now pass on to Adelicia of Louvaine, the queen of Henry I., who was distinguished for her great beauty and talents, but especially for her proficiency in feminine accomplishments.

A standard which she embroidered in silk and gold for her father when he was engaged in recovering his patrimony was celebrated throughout Europe for the exquisite taste and skill displayed in its design and execution. For centuries it was carried in procession on Rogation days through the streets of the city of Liège, for it had been captured by the bishop of that town in 1129.

(To be continued.)

WHERE SWALLOWS BUILD.BySARAH DOUDNEY.CHAPTER I."Itis 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 onmuch 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.""MISS DE VIGNY HAD ALWAYS LIKED ALICE HARPER."Alice looked attentively at the girl for a moment. She was a puny young woman withround 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.)

BySARAH DOUDNEY.

"Itis 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 onmuch 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."

"MISS DE VIGNY HAD ALWAYS LIKED ALICE HARPER."

"MISS DE VIGNY HAD ALWAYS LIKED ALICE HARPER."

Alice looked attentively at the girl for a moment. She was a puny young woman withround 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 ofThe 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.ErinandA Lady Readerkindly 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 ofPunch, 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 theGazette 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.IvyandLora(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 readingThe 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 asThe Glossary of Architecture, Fergusson'sArchitectural Handbook, Rosengarten'sHandbook of Architectural Styles(translated by W. Collett-Sanders). He would also gain some information from "Architecture, or the Art of Buildings," published inThe Girl's Own Paper, October 24, 1885, to May 22, 1886, and contained inThe 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 thecoiffeur. InThe 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. OrmeandM. 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.

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 ofThe 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.

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 ofThe 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.

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.ErinandA Lady Readerkindly 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 ofPunch, 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 theGazette 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?

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."

"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.

ErinandA Lady Readerkindly 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 ofPunch, but is not republished in Tennyson's works. The extract you quote, containing the line:—

"And half the little soul is dirt"

"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."

"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 theGazette 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?

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.IvyandLora(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 readingThe 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.

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.

IvyandLora(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 readingThe 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.

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 asThe Glossary of Architecture, Fergusson'sArchitectural Handbook, Rosengarten'sHandbook of Architectural Styles(translated by W. Collett-Sanders). He would also gain some information from "Architecture, or the Art of Buildings," published inThe Girl's Own Paper, October 24, 1885, to May 22, 1886, and contained inThe 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 thecoiffeur. InThe 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. OrmeandM. 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.

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 asThe Glossary of Architecture, Fergusson'sArchitectural Handbook, Rosengarten'sHandbook of Architectural Styles(translated by W. Collett-Sanders). He would also gain some information from "Architecture, or the Art of Buildings," published inThe Girl's Own Paper, October 24, 1885, to May 22, 1886, and contained inThe 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 thecoiffeur. InThe 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. OrmeandM. 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.

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