ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE.By JESSIE MANSERGH(Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of "A Girl in Springtime," "Sisters Three," etc.CHAPTER V.Inthe explanations that followed, no one showed a livelier interest than Peggy herself. She was in her element answering the questions which were showered upon her, and took an artistic pleasure in the success of her plot."You see," she explained, "I knew you would all be talking about me, and wondering what I was like, just as I was thinking about you. As I was Arthur's sister, I knew you would be sure to imagine me a mischievous tom-boy, so I came to the conclusion that the best way to shock you would be to be quite too awfully proper and well-behaved. I never enjoyed anything so much in my life as that first tea-time, when you all looked dumb with astonishment. I had made up my mind to go on for a week, but mother is coming to-morrow, and I couldn't keep it up before her, so I was obliged to explode to-night. Besides, I'm really quite fatigued with being good——""And are you—are you—really not proper after all?" gasped Mellicent, blankly; whereat Peggy clasped her hands in emphatic protest."Proper! Oh, my dear, I am the most awful person. I am always getting into trouble. You know what Arthur was? Well, I tell you truly, he is nothing to me. It's an extraordinary thing. I have excellent intentions, but I seem bound to get into scrapes. There was a teacher at Brighton, Miss Baker, a dear old thing. I called her 'Buns.' She vowed and declared that I shortened her life by bringing on palpitation of the heart. I set the dressing-table on fire by spilling matches and crunching them beneath my heels. It was not a proper dressing-table, you know—just a wooden thing frilled round with muslin. We had two blazes in the last term. And a dreadful thing occurred! Would you believe that I was actually careless enough to plump down on the top of her best Sunday hat, and squash it as flat as a pancake."Despite her protestations of remorse, Peggy's voice had an exultant ring as she detailed the history of her escapades, and Esther shrewdly suspected that she was by no means so penitent as she declared. She put on her most severe expression, and said sternly—"You must be dreadfully careless. It is to be hoped you will be more careful here, for your room is far away from ours, and you might be burned to death before anyone discovered you. Mother never allows anyone to read in bed in this house, and she is most particular about matches. You wouldn't like to be burned to a cinder all by yourself some fine night, I should say.""No, I shouldn't—or on a wet one either. It would be so lonely," said Peggy calmly. "No; I am a reformed character about matches. I support home industries, and go in for safeties, which 'strike only on the box.' But the boys would rescue me." She turned with a smile, and beamed upon the three tall lads. "Wouldn't you, boys? If you hear me squealing any night, don't stop to think. Just catch up your ewers of water, and rush to my bedroom. We might get up an amateur fire-brigade to be in readiness. You three would be the brigade, and I would be the captain and train you. It would be capital fun. At any moment I could give the signal, and then, whatever you were doing—playing, working, eating, on cold, frosty nights, just when you were going to bed, off you would have to rush, and get out your fire-buckets. Sometimes you might have to break the ice, but there's nothing like being prepared. We might have the first rehearsal to-night——""It's rather funny to hear your talking of being captain over the boys, because the day we heard that you were coming, they all said that if they were to be bothered with a third girl in the house, you would have to make yourself useful, and that you should be their fag. Max said so, and so did Oswald, and then Robert said they shouldn't have you. He had lots of little odd things he wanted done for him, and that he could make you very useful. He said the other boys shouldn't have you; you were his property.""Tut, tut," said Peggy pleasantly. She looked at the three scowling, embarrassed faces, and the bright, mocking light danced back into her eyes. "So they were all anxious to have me, were they? How nice! I'm very pleased to hear it. Is there any little thing I can do for your honourable self now, Mr. Darcy, before I dress for dinner?"Robert looked across the room at Mellicent with an expression which made that young person tremble in her shoes."All right, young lady, I'll remember you," he said quietly. "I've warned you before about repeating conversations. Now you'll see what happens. I'll cure you of that little habit, my dear, as sure as my name is Robert Darcy——""The Honourable Robert Darcy," murmured a soft and silvery voice from the other side of the fireplace. Robert turned his head sharply, but Peggy was gazing into the coals with an air of lamb-like innocence, and he subsided into himself with a grunt of displeasure.The next day Mrs. Saville came to lunch, and spent the afternoon at the vicarage. As Maxwell had said, she was a beautiful woman, tall, fair, and elegant, and looking a very fashionable lady when contrasted with Mrs. Asplin in her plain, well-worn serge, but her face was sad and anxious in expression. Esther noticed that her eyes filled with tears more than once as she looked round the table at the husband and wife and the three tall, well-grown children, and when the two ladies were alone in the drawing-room she broke into helpless sobbings."Oh, how happy you are! How I envy you! Husband, children, all beside you. Oh, never, never let one of your girls marry a man who lives abroad. My heart is torn in two; I have no rest. I am always longing for the one who is not there. I must go back—the Major needs me; but my Peggy, my own little girl! It is like death to leave her behind."Mrs. Asplin put her arms round the tall figure, and rocked her gently to and fro."I know! I know!" she said brokenly. "Iachefor you, dear; but I understand! I have parted with a child of my own—not for a few years, but for ever, till we meet again in God's heaven. I'll help you every way I can. I'll watch her night and day; I'll coddle her when she's ill; I'll try to make her a good woman. I'llloveher, dear, and she shall be my own special charge. I'll be a second mother to her.""You dear, good woman! God bless your kind heart!" said Mrs. Saville brokenly. "I can't help breaking down, but, indeed, I have much to be thankful for. I can't tell you what a relief it is to feel that she is in this house. The principals of that school at Brighton were all that is good and excellent, but they did not understand my Peggy." The tears were still in her eyes, but she broke into a flickering smile at the last word. "My children have such spirits! I am afraid they really do give more trouble than other boys and girls, but they are not really naughty. They are truthful and generous, and so wonderfully warm-hearted. I never needed to punish Peg when she was a little girl; it was enough to show that she had grieved me. She never did the same thing again after that; but—oh, dear me!—the ingenuity of that child in finding fresh fields for mischief! Dear Mrs. Asplin, I am afraid she will try your patience. You must be sure to keep a list of all the breakages and accidents, and charge them to our account. Peggy is an expensive little person. You know what Arthur was.""Bless him—yes! I had hardly a tumbler left in the house," said Mrs. Asplin, with gusto. "But I don't break my heart about a few breakages. I have had too much to do with schoolboys for that. And now give me all the directions you can about this precious little maid while we have the room to ourselves."For the next hour the two ladies sat in conclave about Miss Peggy's mental, moral, and physical welfare. Mrs. Asplin had a book in her hand in which from time to time she jotted down notes of a curious and inconsequent character. "Pay attention to private reading. Gas-fire in her bedroom for chilly weather. See dentist in Christmas holidays. Query: gold plate over eye-tooth?Boots to order, Beavan & Co., Oxford Street. Cod-liver oil in winter. Careless about changing shoes. Damp brings on throat. Aconite and bella-donna." So on, and so on. There seemed no end to the warnings and instructions of this anxious mother, but when all was settled as far as possible, the ladies adjourned into the schoolroom to join the young people at their tea, so that Mrs. Saville might be able to picture her daughter's surroundings when separated from her by those weary thousands of miles."What a bright, cheery room," she said smilingly, as she took her seat at the table, and her eyes wandered round as if striving to print the scene in her memory. How many times, as she lay panting beneath the swing of the punkah she would recall that cool English room, with its vista of garden through the windows, the long table in the centre, the little figure with the pale face and long plaited hair, seated midway between the top and bottom. Oh! the moments of longing—of wild, unbearable longing, when she would feel that she must break loose from her prison-house and fly away, that not the length of the earth itself could keep her back, that she would be willing to give up life itself just to hold Peggy in her arms for five minutes, to kiss the dear sweet lips, to meet the glance of the loving eyes——But this would never do! Had she not vowed to be bright and cheerful? The young folks were looking at her with troubled glances. She roused herself and said briskly—"I see you make this a playroom as well as a study. Somebody has been wood-carving over there, and you have one of those dwarf billiard-tables. I want to give a present to this room—something that will be a pleasure and occupation to you all; but I can't make up my mind what would be best. Can you give me a few suggestions? Is there anything that you need, or that you have fancied you might like?""It's very kind of you," said Esther, warmly; and echoes of "Very kind!" came from every side of the table, while boys and girls stared at each other in puzzled consideration. Maxwell longed to suggest a joiner's bench, but refrained out of consideration for the girls' feelings. Mellicent's eager face, however, was too eloquent to escape attention.Mrs. Saville smiled at her in an encouraging manner."Well, dear, what is it? Don't be afraid. I mean something really nice and handsome; not just a little thing. Tell me what you thought?""A—a new violin!" cried Mellicent eagerly. "Mine is so old and squeaky, and my teacher said I needed a new one badly. A new violin would be nicest of all."Mrs. Saville looked round the table, caught an expressive grimace going the round of three boyish faces, and raised her eyebrows inquiringly."Yes? Whatever you like best, of course. It is all the same to me. But would the violin be a pleasure to all! What about the boys?""They would hear me play! The pieces would sound nicer. They would like to hear them.""Ahem!" coughed Maxwell loudly; and at that there was a universal shriek of merriment. Peggy's clear "Ho! ho!" rang out above the rest, and her mother looked at her with sparkling eyes. Yes, yes, yes; the child was happy! She had settled down already into the cheery, wholesome home-life of the vicarage, and was in her element among these merry boys and girls! She hugged the thought to her heart, finding in it her truest comfort. The laughter lasted several minutes, and broke out intermittently from time to time as that eloquent cough recurred to memory, but after all it was Mellicent who was the one to give the best suggestion."Well, then, a—a what-do-you-call-it!" she cried. "A thing-um-me-bob! One of those three-legged things for taking photographs! The boys look so silly sometimes, rolling about together in the garden, and we have often and often said, 'Don't you wish we could take their photographs! Theywouldlook frights!' We could have ever so much fun with a what-do-you-call-it.""Ah, that's something like!" "Good business." "Oh, wouldn't it be sweet!" came the quick exclamations, and Mrs. Saville looked most pleased and excited of all."A camera!" she cried. "What a charming idea. Then you would be able to take photographs of Peggy and the whole household, and send them out for me to see. How delightful! Why, that's a happy thought, Mellicent. I am so grateful to you for thinking of it, dear. I'll buy a really good, large one, and all the necessary materials, and send them down at once. Do any of you know how to set to work?""I do, Mrs. Saville," Oswald said. "I had a small camera of my own, but it got smashed some years ago. I can show them how to begin, and we will take lots of photographs of Peggy for you, in groups and by herself. They mayn't be very good at first, but you will be interested to see her in different positions. We will take her walking, and bicycling, and sitting in the garden, and every way we can think of——""And whenever she has a new dress, or hat, so that you may know what they are like," added Mellicent anxiously. "Are her hats going to be the same as ours, or is she to choose them for herself?""She may choose them for herself, subject, of course, to your mother's refraining influence. If she were to develop a fondness for scarlet feathers, for instance, I think Mrs. Asplin should interfere; but Peggy has good taste. I don't think she will go far wrong," said her mother, looking at her fondly; and the little white face quivered before it broke into its sunny, answering smile.Three times that evening, after Mrs. Saville had left, did her companions surprise the glitter of tears in Peggy's eyes; but there was a dignified reserve about her manner which forbade outspoken sympathy. Even when she was discovered to be quietly crying behind her book, when Maxwell flipped it mischievously out of her hands—even then did Peggy preserve her wonderful self-possession. The tears were trickling down her cheeks, and her poor little nose was red and swollen, but she looked up at Maxwell without a quiver, and it was he who stood gaping before her, aghast and miserable."Oh, I say! I'm fearfully sorry!""So am I," said Peggy severely. "It was rude, and not at all funny. And it injures the book. I have always been taught to reverence books, and treat them as dear and valued companions. Pick it up, please. Thank you. Don't do it again." She hitched herself round in her chair and settled down once more to her reading, while Maxwell slunk back to his seat. When Peggy was offended she invariably fell back upon Mariquita's grandiose manner, and the sting of her sharp little tongue left her victims dumb and smarting.(To be continued.)
By JESSIE MANSERGH(Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of "A Girl in Springtime," "Sisters Three," etc.
Inthe explanations that followed, no one showed a livelier interest than Peggy herself. She was in her element answering the questions which were showered upon her, and took an artistic pleasure in the success of her plot.
"You see," she explained, "I knew you would all be talking about me, and wondering what I was like, just as I was thinking about you. As I was Arthur's sister, I knew you would be sure to imagine me a mischievous tom-boy, so I came to the conclusion that the best way to shock you would be to be quite too awfully proper and well-behaved. I never enjoyed anything so much in my life as that first tea-time, when you all looked dumb with astonishment. I had made up my mind to go on for a week, but mother is coming to-morrow, and I couldn't keep it up before her, so I was obliged to explode to-night. Besides, I'm really quite fatigued with being good——"
"And are you—are you—really not proper after all?" gasped Mellicent, blankly; whereat Peggy clasped her hands in emphatic protest.
"Proper! Oh, my dear, I am the most awful person. I am always getting into trouble. You know what Arthur was? Well, I tell you truly, he is nothing to me. It's an extraordinary thing. I have excellent intentions, but I seem bound to get into scrapes. There was a teacher at Brighton, Miss Baker, a dear old thing. I called her 'Buns.' She vowed and declared that I shortened her life by bringing on palpitation of the heart. I set the dressing-table on fire by spilling matches and crunching them beneath my heels. It was not a proper dressing-table, you know—just a wooden thing frilled round with muslin. We had two blazes in the last term. And a dreadful thing occurred! Would you believe that I was actually careless enough to plump down on the top of her best Sunday hat, and squash it as flat as a pancake."
Despite her protestations of remorse, Peggy's voice had an exultant ring as she detailed the history of her escapades, and Esther shrewdly suspected that she was by no means so penitent as she declared. She put on her most severe expression, and said sternly—
"You must be dreadfully careless. It is to be hoped you will be more careful here, for your room is far away from ours, and you might be burned to death before anyone discovered you. Mother never allows anyone to read in bed in this house, and she is most particular about matches. You wouldn't like to be burned to a cinder all by yourself some fine night, I should say."
"No, I shouldn't—or on a wet one either. It would be so lonely," said Peggy calmly. "No; I am a reformed character about matches. I support home industries, and go in for safeties, which 'strike only on the box.' But the boys would rescue me." She turned with a smile, and beamed upon the three tall lads. "Wouldn't you, boys? If you hear me squealing any night, don't stop to think. Just catch up your ewers of water, and rush to my bedroom. We might get up an amateur fire-brigade to be in readiness. You three would be the brigade, and I would be the captain and train you. It would be capital fun. At any moment I could give the signal, and then, whatever you were doing—playing, working, eating, on cold, frosty nights, just when you were going to bed, off you would have to rush, and get out your fire-buckets. Sometimes you might have to break the ice, but there's nothing like being prepared. We might have the first rehearsal to-night——"
"It's rather funny to hear your talking of being captain over the boys, because the day we heard that you were coming, they all said that if they were to be bothered with a third girl in the house, you would have to make yourself useful, and that you should be their fag. Max said so, and so did Oswald, and then Robert said they shouldn't have you. He had lots of little odd things he wanted done for him, and that he could make you very useful. He said the other boys shouldn't have you; you were his property."
"Tut, tut," said Peggy pleasantly. She looked at the three scowling, embarrassed faces, and the bright, mocking light danced back into her eyes. "So they were all anxious to have me, were they? How nice! I'm very pleased to hear it. Is there any little thing I can do for your honourable self now, Mr. Darcy, before I dress for dinner?"
Robert looked across the room at Mellicent with an expression which made that young person tremble in her shoes.
"All right, young lady, I'll remember you," he said quietly. "I've warned you before about repeating conversations. Now you'll see what happens. I'll cure you of that little habit, my dear, as sure as my name is Robert Darcy——"
"The Honourable Robert Darcy," murmured a soft and silvery voice from the other side of the fireplace. Robert turned his head sharply, but Peggy was gazing into the coals with an air of lamb-like innocence, and he subsided into himself with a grunt of displeasure.
The next day Mrs. Saville came to lunch, and spent the afternoon at the vicarage. As Maxwell had said, she was a beautiful woman, tall, fair, and elegant, and looking a very fashionable lady when contrasted with Mrs. Asplin in her plain, well-worn serge, but her face was sad and anxious in expression. Esther noticed that her eyes filled with tears more than once as she looked round the table at the husband and wife and the three tall, well-grown children, and when the two ladies were alone in the drawing-room she broke into helpless sobbings.
"Oh, how happy you are! How I envy you! Husband, children, all beside you. Oh, never, never let one of your girls marry a man who lives abroad. My heart is torn in two; I have no rest. I am always longing for the one who is not there. I must go back—the Major needs me; but my Peggy, my own little girl! It is like death to leave her behind."
Mrs. Asplin put her arms round the tall figure, and rocked her gently to and fro.
"I know! I know!" she said brokenly. "Iachefor you, dear; but I understand! I have parted with a child of my own—not for a few years, but for ever, till we meet again in God's heaven. I'll help you every way I can. I'll watch her night and day; I'll coddle her when she's ill; I'll try to make her a good woman. I'llloveher, dear, and she shall be my own special charge. I'll be a second mother to her."
"You dear, good woman! God bless your kind heart!" said Mrs. Saville brokenly. "I can't help breaking down, but, indeed, I have much to be thankful for. I can't tell you what a relief it is to feel that she is in this house. The principals of that school at Brighton were all that is good and excellent, but they did not understand my Peggy." The tears were still in her eyes, but she broke into a flickering smile at the last word. "My children have such spirits! I am afraid they really do give more trouble than other boys and girls, but they are not really naughty. They are truthful and generous, and so wonderfully warm-hearted. I never needed to punish Peg when she was a little girl; it was enough to show that she had grieved me. She never did the same thing again after that; but—oh, dear me!—the ingenuity of that child in finding fresh fields for mischief! Dear Mrs. Asplin, I am afraid she will try your patience. You must be sure to keep a list of all the breakages and accidents, and charge them to our account. Peggy is an expensive little person. You know what Arthur was."
"Bless him—yes! I had hardly a tumbler left in the house," said Mrs. Asplin, with gusto. "But I don't break my heart about a few breakages. I have had too much to do with schoolboys for that. And now give me all the directions you can about this precious little maid while we have the room to ourselves."
For the next hour the two ladies sat in conclave about Miss Peggy's mental, moral, and physical welfare. Mrs. Asplin had a book in her hand in which from time to time she jotted down notes of a curious and inconsequent character. "Pay attention to private reading. Gas-fire in her bedroom for chilly weather. See dentist in Christmas holidays. Query: gold plate over eye-tooth?Boots to order, Beavan & Co., Oxford Street. Cod-liver oil in winter. Careless about changing shoes. Damp brings on throat. Aconite and bella-donna." So on, and so on. There seemed no end to the warnings and instructions of this anxious mother, but when all was settled as far as possible, the ladies adjourned into the schoolroom to join the young people at their tea, so that Mrs. Saville might be able to picture her daughter's surroundings when separated from her by those weary thousands of miles.
"What a bright, cheery room," she said smilingly, as she took her seat at the table, and her eyes wandered round as if striving to print the scene in her memory. How many times, as she lay panting beneath the swing of the punkah she would recall that cool English room, with its vista of garden through the windows, the long table in the centre, the little figure with the pale face and long plaited hair, seated midway between the top and bottom. Oh! the moments of longing—of wild, unbearable longing, when she would feel that she must break loose from her prison-house and fly away, that not the length of the earth itself could keep her back, that she would be willing to give up life itself just to hold Peggy in her arms for five minutes, to kiss the dear sweet lips, to meet the glance of the loving eyes——
But this would never do! Had she not vowed to be bright and cheerful? The young folks were looking at her with troubled glances. She roused herself and said briskly—
"I see you make this a playroom as well as a study. Somebody has been wood-carving over there, and you have one of those dwarf billiard-tables. I want to give a present to this room—something that will be a pleasure and occupation to you all; but I can't make up my mind what would be best. Can you give me a few suggestions? Is there anything that you need, or that you have fancied you might like?"
"It's very kind of you," said Esther, warmly; and echoes of "Very kind!" came from every side of the table, while boys and girls stared at each other in puzzled consideration. Maxwell longed to suggest a joiner's bench, but refrained out of consideration for the girls' feelings. Mellicent's eager face, however, was too eloquent to escape attention.
Mrs. Saville smiled at her in an encouraging manner.
"Well, dear, what is it? Don't be afraid. I mean something really nice and handsome; not just a little thing. Tell me what you thought?"
"A—a new violin!" cried Mellicent eagerly. "Mine is so old and squeaky, and my teacher said I needed a new one badly. A new violin would be nicest of all."
Mrs. Saville looked round the table, caught an expressive grimace going the round of three boyish faces, and raised her eyebrows inquiringly.
"Yes? Whatever you like best, of course. It is all the same to me. But would the violin be a pleasure to all! What about the boys?"
"They would hear me play! The pieces would sound nicer. They would like to hear them."
"Ahem!" coughed Maxwell loudly; and at that there was a universal shriek of merriment. Peggy's clear "Ho! ho!" rang out above the rest, and her mother looked at her with sparkling eyes. Yes, yes, yes; the child was happy! She had settled down already into the cheery, wholesome home-life of the vicarage, and was in her element among these merry boys and girls! She hugged the thought to her heart, finding in it her truest comfort. The laughter lasted several minutes, and broke out intermittently from time to time as that eloquent cough recurred to memory, but after all it was Mellicent who was the one to give the best suggestion.
"Well, then, a—a what-do-you-call-it!" she cried. "A thing-um-me-bob! One of those three-legged things for taking photographs! The boys look so silly sometimes, rolling about together in the garden, and we have often and often said, 'Don't you wish we could take their photographs! Theywouldlook frights!' We could have ever so much fun with a what-do-you-call-it."
"Ah, that's something like!" "Good business." "Oh, wouldn't it be sweet!" came the quick exclamations, and Mrs. Saville looked most pleased and excited of all.
"A camera!" she cried. "What a charming idea. Then you would be able to take photographs of Peggy and the whole household, and send them out for me to see. How delightful! Why, that's a happy thought, Mellicent. I am so grateful to you for thinking of it, dear. I'll buy a really good, large one, and all the necessary materials, and send them down at once. Do any of you know how to set to work?"
"I do, Mrs. Saville," Oswald said. "I had a small camera of my own, but it got smashed some years ago. I can show them how to begin, and we will take lots of photographs of Peggy for you, in groups and by herself. They mayn't be very good at first, but you will be interested to see her in different positions. We will take her walking, and bicycling, and sitting in the garden, and every way we can think of——"
"And whenever she has a new dress, or hat, so that you may know what they are like," added Mellicent anxiously. "Are her hats going to be the same as ours, or is she to choose them for herself?"
"She may choose them for herself, subject, of course, to your mother's refraining influence. If she were to develop a fondness for scarlet feathers, for instance, I think Mrs. Asplin should interfere; but Peggy has good taste. I don't think she will go far wrong," said her mother, looking at her fondly; and the little white face quivered before it broke into its sunny, answering smile.
Three times that evening, after Mrs. Saville had left, did her companions surprise the glitter of tears in Peggy's eyes; but there was a dignified reserve about her manner which forbade outspoken sympathy. Even when she was discovered to be quietly crying behind her book, when Maxwell flipped it mischievously out of her hands—even then did Peggy preserve her wonderful self-possession. The tears were trickling down her cheeks, and her poor little nose was red and swollen, but she looked up at Maxwell without a quiver, and it was he who stood gaping before her, aghast and miserable.
"Oh, I say! I'm fearfully sorry!"
"So am I," said Peggy severely. "It was rude, and not at all funny. And it injures the book. I have always been taught to reverence books, and treat them as dear and valued companions. Pick it up, please. Thank you. Don't do it again." She hitched herself round in her chair and settled down once more to her reading, while Maxwell slunk back to his seat. When Peggy was offended she invariably fell back upon Mariquita's grandiose manner, and the sting of her sharp little tongue left her victims dumb and smarting.
(To be continued.)
VARIETIES.What "George Eliot" was Like.A graphic portrait in words of the famous novelist "George Eliot" has been given by Mrs. Katherine S. Macquoid. "George Eliot," she says, "was very plain, much plainer than any of the portraits make her out to be. Her mouth was repulsive, and seen in some lights the nose seemed to protrude unnaturally over the mouth; it did not in reality, but one sometimes received that impression."Her eyes were of that greenish hue seen in the hazel nut; you might say almost that they were hazel eyes shot with green. They were not at all prominent, but had such a wonderful look in them as they gazed at you, or rather scanned you in a curious, sidelong manner, peculiar to her. The only person whom I can think of with eyes like George Eliot was Home the medium."Get out of it.Nothing is so narrowing, contracting, hardening, as always to be moving in the same groove, with no thought beyond what we immediately see and hear close around us.The Great Creator.—"I feel profoundly convinced," says Lord Kelvin, "that the argument of design has been greatly too much lost sight of in recent biological speculations. Overpoweringly strong proofs of intelligent and benevolent design lie around us, and if ever perplexities, whether metaphysical or scientific, turn us away from them for a time, they come back upon us with irresistible force, showing to us through nature the influence of a free will, and teaching that all living things depend on one everlasting Creator and Ruler."
What "George Eliot" was Like.
A graphic portrait in words of the famous novelist "George Eliot" has been given by Mrs. Katherine S. Macquoid. "George Eliot," she says, "was very plain, much plainer than any of the portraits make her out to be. Her mouth was repulsive, and seen in some lights the nose seemed to protrude unnaturally over the mouth; it did not in reality, but one sometimes received that impression.
"Her eyes were of that greenish hue seen in the hazel nut; you might say almost that they were hazel eyes shot with green. They were not at all prominent, but had such a wonderful look in them as they gazed at you, or rather scanned you in a curious, sidelong manner, peculiar to her. The only person whom I can think of with eyes like George Eliot was Home the medium."
Get out of it.
Nothing is so narrowing, contracting, hardening, as always to be moving in the same groove, with no thought beyond what we immediately see and hear close around us.
The Great Creator.—"I feel profoundly convinced," says Lord Kelvin, "that the argument of design has been greatly too much lost sight of in recent biological speculations. Overpoweringly strong proofs of intelligent and benevolent design lie around us, and if ever perplexities, whether metaphysical or scientific, turn us away from them for a time, they come back upon us with irresistible force, showing to us through nature the influence of a free will, and teaching that all living things depend on one everlasting Creator and Ruler."
QUEENS AS NEEDLEWOMEN.ByEMMA BREWER.CHAPTER II.NEEDLEWOMEN ROYAL AND RENOWNED.Afterthe time of Adelicia of Louvaine there seems to have been a period wherein little or no special needlework was done by great and royal ladies, though its practice was kept up in what were called "The Schools." In these, young gentlewomen were taught fine needlework and embroidery to qualify them to beguile in a becoming manner the many enforced hours of leisure in their lives, brought about by the lack of outdoor amusements for women.Many a rich and sumptuous vestment was made in these schools for the service of the Church, and some of the beautiful work done there found its way to the Palace of Westminster.But towards the end of the 13th century, when Eleanor of Castille was queen of Edward I., needlework came to the front again with enthusiasm. She herself was a wonderful needlewoman, and her example made it the fashion in every class of life.Before accompanying her husband on a crusade to the Holy Land, she embroidered a beautiful altar-cloth with her own hands, and gave it to the church at Dunstable.It is to this queen we owe the use of needlework tapestry-hangings as furniture for walls. Up to this time tapestry had been used solely for the decoration of altars and other parts of churches.Tapestry hangings were worked originally entirely with the needle, and they were found to be worth all the trouble and time bestowed upon them in the increase of comfort they brought into the palaces and castles of the great people of the land. At first they were rude in design, but those introduced by Queen Eleanor were in very superior workmanship. To her they must have been very welcome, for she felt the change from the sunny south to the damp, bleak English climate greatly.Tapestries never remained permanently hanging on the walls of a special hall or castle, but accompanied the great people, when travelling from one residence to another, under the care of the grooms of the Chamber, whose special office it was to hang them.The history of tapestry is full of romance, but can only be touched upon here when worked by special royal seamstresses.Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry VI., was a very good needlewoman, although the troublous times in which she lived prevented her devoting much time to the art. It was she, however, who formed the first band of women needle-workers, known in history as theSisterhood of the Silk Women.Needlewomen found a very valuable patron in Elizabeth of York, wife of Henry of Lancaster. She and her ladies spent much time in needlework of all kinds."How oft with needle, when denied the pen,Has she on canvas traced the blessed nameOf Henry, or expressed it with her loomIn silken threads, or 'broidered it with gold."During the "Wars of the Roses" ladies of high rank were often compelled to earn their bread and that of their children by the use of the needle. The Countess of Oxford in the reign of Elizabeth of York was an example of this. She was the first peeress who is said to have earned her living by the use of the needle. Edward IV. had deprived her of her dower, and she and her little children would have starved had she not been a skilful needlewoman. She lived dependent on the work of her hands for fifteen years, until her husband's rank and fortune were restored.Katherine of Arragon, the first wife of Henry VIII., was very skilful with her needle, having learned the art from her mother, Isabella of Spain, and it is more than likely that in her early days she took part in the trials of needlework established by Isabella among Spanish ladies.She was in the habit of employing the ladies of her Court in needlework, working with them and encouraging them.Her work with the needle has been celebrated both in Latin and English verse."(Although a queene), yet she her days did passIn working with theneedlecuriously;As in the Tower, and places more beside,Her excellent memorials may be seen;Whereby theneedle'sprayse is dignifideBy her faire ladies, and herselfe, a queene."In a letter to Wolsey she writes, "I am horribly busy, making standards, banners and badges."It is a matter of history that when Wolsey and the Pope's Legate went to Bridewell to visit Queen Katherine on the subject of her divorce, they found her and her maids at work, and she came to them with a skein of red silk round her neck.Katherine of Arragon's successor,Anne Boleyn, could not help being a good needlewoman, for she had been educated at the Court of Francis I., under the superintendence of Anne of Bretagne who made needlework the business and the pleasure of her life. It was her habit to collect the children of the nobility within her Court daily and teach them tapestry, embroidery and plain sewing till they became accomplished seamstresses.As wife of Henry VIII. Anne Boleyn and the ladies of her Court spent much time in making garments for the poor in plain sewing as well as in embroidery and tapestry—much of the last may still be seen in Hampton Court. All this notwithstanding, she did not love needlework and never resorted to it for solace or amusement.Katharine Howard, another wife of Henry VIII., was skilful in making pretty kerchiefs and other dainty articles of the toilette, some of which she once made out of an old shirt of fine holland which had been given her by her lover Derham. She is said, in return for the shirt, to have worked for him with her own hand a band and a pair of finely embroidered shirt sleeves.She and her maidens made a great many shirts and smocks for the poor.Katharine Parr, the last wife of Henry VIII., was almost as skilled a needlewoman as his first. When young she objected strongly to learning needlework; this was probably because it had been foretold by an astrologer that "she should sit in the highest seat of imperial majesty." At all events history reports her as saying—"My hands are ordered to touch crowns and sceptres, not needles and spindles."She must have thought better of it, however, for there are some beautiful specimens of her work preserved in Westmoreland; specially a counterpane and toilet cover.Lady Jane Greyis said to have been a clever needlewoman, and that "instead of skill in drawing she cultivated the art of painting with the needle." There is still preserved at Zurich a toilet cover beautifully ornamented by her own hands and presented by her to Bullinger.About this time the dress of the nobles was gorgeous and beautiful in the extreme; not that the materials themselves were so costly, but because of the exquisite work and embroidery bestowed upon them by ladies of high rank.The beds also at this period owed their rich beauty to women's work; they were not at that time excluded from the day apartments and were frequently among the richest ornaments of the sitting-room, so much taste and expense were bestowed upon them.The curtains of the bed were often of rich material adorned with embroidery."Her bed-chamber was hangedWith tapestry of silk and silver."Shakespeare.Royal seamstresses at this time worked rich needlework borders and belts for their dresses, but they put their richest work on the pouches or purses suspended from the waist of the dress.Queen Mary, daughter of Henry VIII. and Katherine of Arragon, must have had fame as a needlewoman, otherwise John Taylor the historian would not have written of her—"Her greatness held it no dis-reputationTo take theneedlein her Royal hand,Which was a good example to our NationTo banish idleness from out her Land."Indeed she seems to have been skilled in all sorts of embroidery, and beguiled the time after her mother's divorce peaceably and laudably with needlework. Some of her work is in the Tower. She was clever in embroidering the covers of books.The book called St. Mary's Psalter contained the history of the Old Testament in a series of small paintings, with a very richly worked cover which is supposed to have been embroidered by Mary herself. The embroidery as far as one can see was done on fine canvas or coarse linen put on crimson velvet.It never occurs to us to think ofQueen Elizabethas a needlewoman, yet to a certain extent she must have been one, for history tells us of a cambric smock which she made and presented to her brother Edward when he was six years old. She seems to have excelled however in embroidering the backs of books. Needlework although not enthusiastically practised in Elizabeth's reign was by no means despised.But of all royal seamstresses, Mary Queen of Scots carries off the palm both for beauty, quantity and variety."She wrought so well in needlework, that sheNor yet her workes shall ere forgotten be."—John Taylor.Her teachers in the art were Lady Fleming—her governess—and Catherine de Medicis whose needlework was unrivalled. During the time the young Queen of Scots was at the French Court she and the French Princessesassembled every afternoon in the private apartments of Queen Catherine, where for two or three hours all were occupied in needlework.At no time of her life were her hands idle; she plied her needle even while listening to the discussions of her ministers. Needlework was to her a source of real pleasure.While under the care of the Earl of Shrewsbury at Tulbury Castle she, with the help of Bess of Hardwick, her guardian's wife, worked a pair of curtains, a counterpane, and a vallance on green velvet.In describing her daily life here, she said that all the day she wrought with her needle, and that the variety of the work made it seem less tedious.In the drawing-room at Hardwick there are several pieces of her work well preserved, and in Scotland there are parts of certain bed-hangings in which M. S. is worked in very frequently.Her tapestry work proved a blessing to her, as in the year 1586 she writes, "My residence is a place enclosed with walls situated on an eminence and consequently exposed to all the winds and storms of heaven.... I have for my own accommodation only wretched little rooms, and so cold that were it not for the protection of the curtains and tapestries which I have put up, I could not endure it by day and still less by night."In the execution of all this work Mary Queen of Scots beguiled many a weary hour at Chatsworth, Buxton and Sheffield, while brooding over the plots for her escape and the intrigues and jealousies of Bess of Hardwick.She made a vest for her only son but he ungraciously refused it because she addressed him as Prince and not as King of Scotland. She worked also with her own hands an altar-piece, and presented it to the church of the convent where she had been educated. She was the first, I believe, to do the raised work in crewels.We now come to a very remarkable needlewoman, whose work is considered not only equal to that of Matilda, wife of the Conqueror, but superior to it, because it was all done with her own hands. Her name was Jean or Joan D'Albret, better known as the mother of Henry IV. of Navarre.Her needlework which was the amusement and solace of her leisure hours was designed by her to commemorate her love for the Reformed faith which she publicly professed on Christmas Day, 1562. She worked several large pieces of tapestry, among which was a suite of hangings consisting of a dozen or fifteen pieces which were called "The Prisons Opened," on which she represented that she had broken the pope's bonds and shaken off his yoke. She had a great sense of satire and humour which showed itself in her work.The Duc de Sully, when sent by King Henry IV. to receive the Cardinal of Florence at Paris in grand style, ordered the keeper of the castle at St. German-en-Laze to hang the walls and chambers with the finest tapestry of the Crown. This he did, but, unfortunately, for the Legate's own chamber he chose a suite of hangings made by the Queen Joan D'Albret herself. They were very rich, it is true, but they represented nothing but emblems and mottoes against the pope and the Roman Court, as satirical as they were ingenious. Fortunately the mistake was rectified by Sully before the Cardinal's arrival.This clever needlewoman died suddenly at the Court of France in 1572.(To be continued.)
ByEMMA BREWER.
NEEDLEWOMEN ROYAL AND RENOWNED.
Afterthe time of Adelicia of Louvaine there seems to have been a period wherein little or no special needlework was done by great and royal ladies, though its practice was kept up in what were called "The Schools." In these, young gentlewomen were taught fine needlework and embroidery to qualify them to beguile in a becoming manner the many enforced hours of leisure in their lives, brought about by the lack of outdoor amusements for women.
Many a rich and sumptuous vestment was made in these schools for the service of the Church, and some of the beautiful work done there found its way to the Palace of Westminster.
But towards the end of the 13th century, when Eleanor of Castille was queen of Edward I., needlework came to the front again with enthusiasm. She herself was a wonderful needlewoman, and her example made it the fashion in every class of life.
Before accompanying her husband on a crusade to the Holy Land, she embroidered a beautiful altar-cloth with her own hands, and gave it to the church at Dunstable.
It is to this queen we owe the use of needlework tapestry-hangings as furniture for walls. Up to this time tapestry had been used solely for the decoration of altars and other parts of churches.
Tapestry hangings were worked originally entirely with the needle, and they were found to be worth all the trouble and time bestowed upon them in the increase of comfort they brought into the palaces and castles of the great people of the land. At first they were rude in design, but those introduced by Queen Eleanor were in very superior workmanship. To her they must have been very welcome, for she felt the change from the sunny south to the damp, bleak English climate greatly.
Tapestries never remained permanently hanging on the walls of a special hall or castle, but accompanied the great people, when travelling from one residence to another, under the care of the grooms of the Chamber, whose special office it was to hang them.
The history of tapestry is full of romance, but can only be touched upon here when worked by special royal seamstresses.
Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry VI., was a very good needlewoman, although the troublous times in which she lived prevented her devoting much time to the art. It was she, however, who formed the first band of women needle-workers, known in history as theSisterhood of the Silk Women.
Needlewomen found a very valuable patron in Elizabeth of York, wife of Henry of Lancaster. She and her ladies spent much time in needlework of all kinds.
"How oft with needle, when denied the pen,Has she on canvas traced the blessed nameOf Henry, or expressed it with her loomIn silken threads, or 'broidered it with gold."
"How oft with needle, when denied the pen,Has she on canvas traced the blessed nameOf Henry, or expressed it with her loomIn silken threads, or 'broidered it with gold."
During the "Wars of the Roses" ladies of high rank were often compelled to earn their bread and that of their children by the use of the needle. The Countess of Oxford in the reign of Elizabeth of York was an example of this. She was the first peeress who is said to have earned her living by the use of the needle. Edward IV. had deprived her of her dower, and she and her little children would have starved had she not been a skilful needlewoman. She lived dependent on the work of her hands for fifteen years, until her husband's rank and fortune were restored.
Katherine of Arragon, the first wife of Henry VIII., was very skilful with her needle, having learned the art from her mother, Isabella of Spain, and it is more than likely that in her early days she took part in the trials of needlework established by Isabella among Spanish ladies.
She was in the habit of employing the ladies of her Court in needlework, working with them and encouraging them.
Her work with the needle has been celebrated both in Latin and English verse.
"(Although a queene), yet she her days did passIn working with theneedlecuriously;As in the Tower, and places more beside,Her excellent memorials may be seen;Whereby theneedle'sprayse is dignifideBy her faire ladies, and herselfe, a queene."
"(Although a queene), yet she her days did passIn working with theneedlecuriously;As in the Tower, and places more beside,Her excellent memorials may be seen;Whereby theneedle'sprayse is dignifideBy her faire ladies, and herselfe, a queene."
In a letter to Wolsey she writes, "I am horribly busy, making standards, banners and badges."
It is a matter of history that when Wolsey and the Pope's Legate went to Bridewell to visit Queen Katherine on the subject of her divorce, they found her and her maids at work, and she came to them with a skein of red silk round her neck.
Katherine of Arragon's successor,Anne Boleyn, could not help being a good needlewoman, for she had been educated at the Court of Francis I., under the superintendence of Anne of Bretagne who made needlework the business and the pleasure of her life. It was her habit to collect the children of the nobility within her Court daily and teach them tapestry, embroidery and plain sewing till they became accomplished seamstresses.
As wife of Henry VIII. Anne Boleyn and the ladies of her Court spent much time in making garments for the poor in plain sewing as well as in embroidery and tapestry—much of the last may still be seen in Hampton Court. All this notwithstanding, she did not love needlework and never resorted to it for solace or amusement.
Katharine Howard, another wife of Henry VIII., was skilful in making pretty kerchiefs and other dainty articles of the toilette, some of which she once made out of an old shirt of fine holland which had been given her by her lover Derham. She is said, in return for the shirt, to have worked for him with her own hand a band and a pair of finely embroidered shirt sleeves.
She and her maidens made a great many shirts and smocks for the poor.
Katharine Parr, the last wife of Henry VIII., was almost as skilled a needlewoman as his first. When young she objected strongly to learning needlework; this was probably because it had been foretold by an astrologer that "she should sit in the highest seat of imperial majesty." At all events history reports her as saying—
"My hands are ordered to touch crowns and sceptres, not needles and spindles."
She must have thought better of it, however, for there are some beautiful specimens of her work preserved in Westmoreland; specially a counterpane and toilet cover.
Lady Jane Greyis said to have been a clever needlewoman, and that "instead of skill in drawing she cultivated the art of painting with the needle." There is still preserved at Zurich a toilet cover beautifully ornamented by her own hands and presented by her to Bullinger.
About this time the dress of the nobles was gorgeous and beautiful in the extreme; not that the materials themselves were so costly, but because of the exquisite work and embroidery bestowed upon them by ladies of high rank.
The beds also at this period owed their rich beauty to women's work; they were not at that time excluded from the day apartments and were frequently among the richest ornaments of the sitting-room, so much taste and expense were bestowed upon them.
The curtains of the bed were often of rich material adorned with embroidery.
"Her bed-chamber was hangedWith tapestry of silk and silver."
"Her bed-chamber was hangedWith tapestry of silk and silver."
Shakespeare.
Royal seamstresses at this time worked rich needlework borders and belts for their dresses, but they put their richest work on the pouches or purses suspended from the waist of the dress.
Queen Mary, daughter of Henry VIII. and Katherine of Arragon, must have had fame as a needlewoman, otherwise John Taylor the historian would not have written of her—
"Her greatness held it no dis-reputationTo take theneedlein her Royal hand,Which was a good example to our NationTo banish idleness from out her Land."
"Her greatness held it no dis-reputationTo take theneedlein her Royal hand,Which was a good example to our NationTo banish idleness from out her Land."
Indeed she seems to have been skilled in all sorts of embroidery, and beguiled the time after her mother's divorce peaceably and laudably with needlework. Some of her work is in the Tower. She was clever in embroidering the covers of books.
The book called St. Mary's Psalter contained the history of the Old Testament in a series of small paintings, with a very richly worked cover which is supposed to have been embroidered by Mary herself. The embroidery as far as one can see was done on fine canvas or coarse linen put on crimson velvet.
It never occurs to us to think ofQueen Elizabethas a needlewoman, yet to a certain extent she must have been one, for history tells us of a cambric smock which she made and presented to her brother Edward when he was six years old. She seems to have excelled however in embroidering the backs of books. Needlework although not enthusiastically practised in Elizabeth's reign was by no means despised.
But of all royal seamstresses, Mary Queen of Scots carries off the palm both for beauty, quantity and variety.
"She wrought so well in needlework, that sheNor yet her workes shall ere forgotten be."—John Taylor.
"She wrought so well in needlework, that sheNor yet her workes shall ere forgotten be."—John Taylor.
Her teachers in the art were Lady Fleming—her governess—and Catherine de Medicis whose needlework was unrivalled. During the time the young Queen of Scots was at the French Court she and the French Princessesassembled every afternoon in the private apartments of Queen Catherine, where for two or three hours all were occupied in needlework.
At no time of her life were her hands idle; she plied her needle even while listening to the discussions of her ministers. Needlework was to her a source of real pleasure.
While under the care of the Earl of Shrewsbury at Tulbury Castle she, with the help of Bess of Hardwick, her guardian's wife, worked a pair of curtains, a counterpane, and a vallance on green velvet.
In describing her daily life here, she said that all the day she wrought with her needle, and that the variety of the work made it seem less tedious.
In the drawing-room at Hardwick there are several pieces of her work well preserved, and in Scotland there are parts of certain bed-hangings in which M. S. is worked in very frequently.
Her tapestry work proved a blessing to her, as in the year 1586 she writes, "My residence is a place enclosed with walls situated on an eminence and consequently exposed to all the winds and storms of heaven.... I have for my own accommodation only wretched little rooms, and so cold that were it not for the protection of the curtains and tapestries which I have put up, I could not endure it by day and still less by night."
In the execution of all this work Mary Queen of Scots beguiled many a weary hour at Chatsworth, Buxton and Sheffield, while brooding over the plots for her escape and the intrigues and jealousies of Bess of Hardwick.
She made a vest for her only son but he ungraciously refused it because she addressed him as Prince and not as King of Scotland. She worked also with her own hands an altar-piece, and presented it to the church of the convent where she had been educated. She was the first, I believe, to do the raised work in crewels.
We now come to a very remarkable needlewoman, whose work is considered not only equal to that of Matilda, wife of the Conqueror, but superior to it, because it was all done with her own hands. Her name was Jean or Joan D'Albret, better known as the mother of Henry IV. of Navarre.
Her needlework which was the amusement and solace of her leisure hours was designed by her to commemorate her love for the Reformed faith which she publicly professed on Christmas Day, 1562. She worked several large pieces of tapestry, among which was a suite of hangings consisting of a dozen or fifteen pieces which were called "The Prisons Opened," on which she represented that she had broken the pope's bonds and shaken off his yoke. She had a great sense of satire and humour which showed itself in her work.
The Duc de Sully, when sent by King Henry IV. to receive the Cardinal of Florence at Paris in grand style, ordered the keeper of the castle at St. German-en-Laze to hang the walls and chambers with the finest tapestry of the Crown. This he did, but, unfortunately, for the Legate's own chamber he chose a suite of hangings made by the Queen Joan D'Albret herself. They were very rich, it is true, but they represented nothing but emblems and mottoes against the pope and the Roman Court, as satirical as they were ingenious. Fortunately the mistake was rectified by Sully before the Cardinal's arrival.
This clever needlewoman died suddenly at the Court of France in 1572.
(To be continued.)
IN THE TWILIGHT SIDE BY SIDE.ByRUTH LAMB.PART II.OUR OPPORTUNITIES."As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all."—Gal. vi. 10.Nowthat the days are shortening and the weather dull, those of us who took holiday during the summer and early autumn will once more gather round the fireside in the twilight, and find pleasure in looking back upon the happy time we spent in lovely inland places or by the sea. Our winter gatherings are brightened by such retrospections, and as we talk we seem to see again the waves glittering in the sunlight, or to hear their roar as they break angrily on the beach, more beautiful in storm than in calm. We tell of new experiences and impressions, of minds enriched, and of bodily strength renewed by change of scene and occupation, or it may be by rest and quiet surroundings.These words apply specially to those amongst you, my dear girl friends and fortunate holiday makers, who were able to leave ordinary cares and anxieties behind you, and enjoy to the full the new beauties amid which you found yourselves.To take holiday, without need for care about ways and means, and possessing a good share of health and strength to begin with, would seem to most of us the perfection of enjoyment. Yet I am by no means sure that we should judge rightly. Can you not well imagine that the rare holiday, obtained at the cost of long saving and even self-denial, may have brought to some an intensity of enjoyment unknown to those who have only to will in order to obtain any indulgence they desire. If each could give her personal experience this evening, what varied stories should we hear. Some, who longed for and much needed a holiday, would tell that they had been kept at home and at work all through the hot days by poverty or the sickness of one they loved and could not bear to leave.Others, who left home hoping for renewed health, may have returned disappointed. Some may have expected only enjoyment, and have found pain and trouble as their constant companions. To those amongst you who have had all and even more than you hoped for, let me say, "Look back upon your happy experiences with heartfelt thankfulness to the Giver of all good, and resolve that, by the help of the Holy Spirit, you will use your increased knowledge and strength in His service and for your neighbour's good."If any of you have spent money lavishly upon yourselves, or upon those who did not need your gifts, think, before another holiday season comes round, of some of those who are poor and longing for what you could so easily give them. You, who can take holiday and have change when you wish, might make some of your poorer sisters very happy by giving them a taste of what you can always enjoy even to repletion. Try to diffuse blessings by sparing something out of your abundance, and your own enjoyment will be doubled, as well as your sense of wealth, in the very act of imparting. I am speaking in time—am I not, dear girls? I think I hear some of you say, "When the days are lengthening again it will be time enough to talk of the next summer holidays."It may be so with those who can give out of their abundance, but by far the greater number of us could only render such help by saving a little at a time the year round. In all earnestness, but leaving the method to yourselves, I ask such of you as are able to give in the future to some poor toiler a taste of the happiness you can now look back upon from the home fireside. If, in any neighbourhood, a few of you, my dear girl friends, will combine for this purpose, all your own pleasures will be increased, and your memories enriched by so doing.To those amongst you who have this year been saddened by disappointment, I say, "Look forward hopefully, asking the while that the power to do this may be given you. Try not to look back upon the dark days, or to dwell mentally on what cannot be undone."Several years ago, I was staying in a charming home, from the different sides of which we could look on scenery of very opposite kinds. The house stood just beyond what is called "The Black Country," and looking into a valley in one direction, we could see the glare of the smelting furnaces, and the smoke rising from the coal-pit banks. From these indications we knew that both aboveground and below it in the mines work never ceased.If we looked from the other side, we saw a lovely range of beautifully wooded hills in the distance, and below them all the fair features of an English landscape. If we had kept our eyes fixed on the valley behind us, we should have seen only blackness and comparative desolation, whilst the sense of ceaseless toil would have been ever present to us.So, dear disappointed ones, I pray you turn your backs on the inevitable, and, though there may be no fair landscape within sight,you can always look heavenward with your mind's eye, even whilst your hands are busy, and, it may be, your spirit is heavy within you.Friends may be forgetful. No human message of cheer or comfort may reach you, or bit of much needed help be in sight, but still there are messages which you can claim, and consolations meant expressly for you, which are better than the best which mortal lips can utter, for they come from Him Who cannot lie. You are invited to cast your care upon God, for "He careth for you." This one sweet assurance is like the fair landscape on which we can turn the eye of faith, and forget the gloomy realities which lie behind us.But God works by human instrumentality, and it is for those whom He has helped with the power to exercise the precious privilege of brightening the lives of others. Let your givings be in accordance not only with your own means, but with the needs of those whom you help.I daresay you have often noticed the number and costliness of the gifts bestowed upon those who have already much of this world's wealth. You have heard such words as these when a friend's birthday or some other festive occasion called for special remembrance: "I could not give a poor present. I felt that I must give something really handsome, or I should have been ashamed of my gift among so many beautiful things."Oh! it is sad to think that our givings are influenced so much more by the thought of how they will impress our neighbours, and how the gifts will look in comparison with theirs.There is a verse in the Book of Proverbs which I have seldom heard quoted, but which bears upon what I have said. "He that oppresseth the poor to increase his riches, and he that giveth to the rich, shall surely come to want." In beautiful contrast are the words also from the Book of Proverbs, "He that giveth unto the poor shall not lack" and "He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord; and that which he hath given will He pay him again."So, dear ones who have enough and to spare, I ask you to make the Lord your debtor—precious thought!—by devising plans for the benefit of your poorer sisters, and be sure of this—your paymaster will not fail you. Your reward will not come to you in gold and silver, but it will satisfy you here, and you will reap an eternal harvest in return for every hour of happiness purchased for others by willing self-sacrifice on your part. I trust that by your efforts many hearts will be gladdened and bodies strengthened, through what we have talked about to-night, in the twilight side by side.Now I want to ask you what precious opportunities you had, and whether you used or wasted them, during your summer holidays? When we last met, I quoted an expression I had heard from the pulpit, and which had impressed me deeply. "We should be misers in the use of time and opportunity." We talked at some length on one of these precious trusts, but little was said about the second.I am sure you will feel with me that we cannot be amidst new scenes and brought into contact with fresh people, and fail to have new opportunities of speaking kind words, giving little messages of comfort, and showing, though it may be only by trifling actions, consideration for others. In order to take advantage of such openings we must not be self-absorbed. We must be on the look-out for opportunities, or we may miss them.It happens, not infrequently, that a holiday-time is regarded as a season of pure self-indulgence. We have worked hard for our holiday, or we can afford to have whatever we desire. So we decide to fill our daily cup of enjoyment to the brim. We care little what trouble we give by our untidy habits to the tired workers who serve in the houses which are our temporary homes. We leave orderly ways and punctuality behind us, and rather enjoy the idea of having escaped from home rule in every shape, saying to ourselves, "It is holiday-time. Surely we may follow our own inclinations."We laugh perhaps over nearly empty purses when packing-up day comes, and are apt to wonder where the money has gone. If we ask ourselves the questions, "How much has been devoted to others? What have I given towards the expenses of the church I have attended during my stay in this place?" I fear a blush of shame would often come to the owner of that purse whose contents have been so carelessly scattered.I have known, and I still know, dear friends both young and old who, when going for a holiday, put aside a weekly sum in accordance with their means to be spent in good doing as opportunities present themselves. This is their thank-offering to God for their own bright holiday. Those who have pinched and saved and been obliged to calculate every penny before leaving home, and who, whilst absent, have "to turn a penny both sides up before spending it," as I heard a poor woman remark, cannot spare coin from their purses. But opportunities come, nevertheless. The possessor of a comfortable seat on shore or promenade, or beneath a sheltering tree, may give place to a wan-faced mother, weary with carrying her baby, and looking longingly but vainly for an empty place whereon to rest.Ailing people are often eager to speak of the sad time of sickness they have passed through, and it is no small comfort to them if a stranger, resting on the same bench, will listen patiently, sympathise with their weakness and encourage their budding hopefulness by cheering words. What opportunities these incidental meetings give for saying something about the Great Physician of souls; of God's love in Christ; of our daily needs and dependence upon God, and His willingness to supply all our needs.If the help of a girl's strong arm can aid age and weakness in the journey from the shore to the humble lodging, why should any young servant of Christ wait to compare her pretty summer dress with the faded black—the badge of poverty and widowhood—worn by the feeble, old body she would like to help? Should we not try to think how God regards even the smallest labour of love undertaken for our weak neighbour, rather than of what our fashionable friend will say if she sees us in such lowly company?It needs a very grateful and a very loving nature to be constantly on the look-out, so as to lose no opportunity of good doing. The heart must be full of gratitude to God for mercies bestowed, and of tender consideration towards every human sister and brother, for His dear sake.Many years ago, I was honoured by the friendship of a good man who possessed such a nature as I have described. In whatever place or company he might find himself—and more especially if he had been unexpectedly brought into it—his first thought would be, "I am not here for nothing;" his first question, "What work has God for me to do in this place?"Stranded on one occasion at a country railway station through the lateness of a train which caused him to miss another, he was for the moment inclined to chafe at the delay. Time was very precious to him that day, and two hours of waiting would probably hinder him from saying farewell to a son about to start on a long voyage. But the habits of submission to the inevitable, and of looking around him for some opportunity of doing his Master's will and serving his neighbour, asserted themselves. A few minutes later, a young man, a passenger delayed by the same cause as he was, sat down beside him, and, after remarking, "You and I are in the same boat, I suppose, sir," began to find fault with the bad railway arrangements, and to threaten all sorts of things against the Company—actions for damages, and so on.My friend could hardly help smiling at his neighbour's impetuosity, but he listened patiently, and at length the young man cooled down and laughed also."I daresay this seems foolish talk," he added; "and it is a great deal easier to threaten than to do, when it is a question of taking the law against a big railway Company; but this delay is a serious matter to me, as you would say, if you knew all about my business. You are a clergyman, I see. I am the son of one. May I——"The young man paused, and my friend, thinking to himself, "I am not delayed for nothing," finished the question, or rather answered it by saying, "You may look on me as your father's representative, if you will, or as a friend to whom you may speak freely."I am not going to tell you what followed. The story would be too long in detail, but I may say this much. To the end of his days my friend thanked God for that delay at the railway station, and the young man had still greater cause to do so. He was about to take a rash step, which would have caused sorrow to those who loved him and spoiled his own career; but, won by the fatherly manner of the old minister of God, he was induced to confide in him, and the wise advice he received set him thinking. Thought was followed by repentance, and this by change of purpose. Instead of continuing his journey, he took the homeward train, and before my friend resumed his, the two had parted with a warm hand-clasp and a promise of letters to follow.Years after, when the old pastor told the story, he said, "I felt sure that I was not stranded at that railway station for nothing, but that there must be some chance of usefulness, some work that my Master meant me to do. The chapters of that young man's life story that have been written since are very different from what they might have been but for that opportune delay which gave him time to pause and think. Thank God! His father never knew how near the lad was to life wreckage, and to-day he is proud of the son who is the staff and comfort of his age."Did I see my own son before he sailed? you ask. No—I was too late, but the telegraph took him my farewell and blessing, and we have had many happy meetings and hopeful partings since then."My dear old friend's earthly labours have long been ended; but, as I think of him, I seem to see his face shining with glad thankfulness, as he recalled this opportunity of usefulness given him by God and so happily utilised, though the delay in another sense cost him a disappointment.Had my friend spent the time in grumbling at the delay, instead of thinking how it could be turned to good account, how different would have been the result! Or, if he had kept sullenly aloof, or answered his young neighbour's remark curtly, thus repelling his half-offer of confidence, the current of a life would have set in the wrong direction, and the chances of doing and receiving good would have been lost for ever.Opportunity comes under so many forms, means so much, and is so often lost.We live, it may be, near places of beauty and interest. Because we are near, we think we can visit them at any time, but we never seethem at all. We have opportunities of obtaining useful information, of gaining valuable experiences and increasing our stores of knowledge. We put off availing ourselves of them until some unknown future time, which never comes.But the time does come to most of us when we want just the knowledge or experience that we might have had if we had utilised past opportunities, and then, we either gain it at much greater cost of time and trouble, or we suffer for the want of it, to say nothing of the additional pang of self-reproach which comes with the need.Money frittered away in vanity and folly means the loss of chances for making others happy and lifting the burdens from overweighted shoulders. Lost opportunities for giving pleasure to those we love are brought home to us with a terrible sting afterwards.Do we ever lose a relative or beloved friend without feeling our sorrow intensified by the thought of some little wish neglected, some opportunity for giving pleasure lost?It is generally the little ones that are missed, when they concern those we dearly love. Great opportunities are seldom ignored. But when it is too late and we feel, oh, so sadly, that we might have availed ourselves of the lesser ones also, these, however trifling, assume an importance not realised until, with the sense of omission, comes the thought that they are lost for ever.I should feel guilty were I to close our talk to-night without reminding you, dear girl friends and companions, of the supreme importance of some opportunities which you may not have valued, because they are always open to you; I mean the blessed privilege of coming to God as your Father and unchanging Friend; a Father whom you have often disobeyed and neglected—even forgotten, but who yet loves you with an everlasting love, loves you so much that He did not spare His own beloved Son, "but delivered Him up for us all," that through His death eternal life might be purchased and bestowed—a free gift on you and me.May our Father bestow His Holy Spirit upon us all, so that, seeing our sinfulness and need, we may go to His footstool pleading Christ's sacrifice, and thus obtain pardon, joy and peace in believing.(To be continued.)
ByRUTH LAMB.
OUR OPPORTUNITIES.
"As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all."—Gal. vi. 10.
Nowthat the days are shortening and the weather dull, those of us who took holiday during the summer and early autumn will once more gather round the fireside in the twilight, and find pleasure in looking back upon the happy time we spent in lovely inland places or by the sea. Our winter gatherings are brightened by such retrospections, and as we talk we seem to see again the waves glittering in the sunlight, or to hear their roar as they break angrily on the beach, more beautiful in storm than in calm. We tell of new experiences and impressions, of minds enriched, and of bodily strength renewed by change of scene and occupation, or it may be by rest and quiet surroundings.
These words apply specially to those amongst you, my dear girl friends and fortunate holiday makers, who were able to leave ordinary cares and anxieties behind you, and enjoy to the full the new beauties amid which you found yourselves.
To take holiday, without need for care about ways and means, and possessing a good share of health and strength to begin with, would seem to most of us the perfection of enjoyment. Yet I am by no means sure that we should judge rightly. Can you not well imagine that the rare holiday, obtained at the cost of long saving and even self-denial, may have brought to some an intensity of enjoyment unknown to those who have only to will in order to obtain any indulgence they desire. If each could give her personal experience this evening, what varied stories should we hear. Some, who longed for and much needed a holiday, would tell that they had been kept at home and at work all through the hot days by poverty or the sickness of one they loved and could not bear to leave.
Others, who left home hoping for renewed health, may have returned disappointed. Some may have expected only enjoyment, and have found pain and trouble as their constant companions. To those amongst you who have had all and even more than you hoped for, let me say, "Look back upon your happy experiences with heartfelt thankfulness to the Giver of all good, and resolve that, by the help of the Holy Spirit, you will use your increased knowledge and strength in His service and for your neighbour's good."
If any of you have spent money lavishly upon yourselves, or upon those who did not need your gifts, think, before another holiday season comes round, of some of those who are poor and longing for what you could so easily give them. You, who can take holiday and have change when you wish, might make some of your poorer sisters very happy by giving them a taste of what you can always enjoy even to repletion. Try to diffuse blessings by sparing something out of your abundance, and your own enjoyment will be doubled, as well as your sense of wealth, in the very act of imparting. I am speaking in time—am I not, dear girls? I think I hear some of you say, "When the days are lengthening again it will be time enough to talk of the next summer holidays."
It may be so with those who can give out of their abundance, but by far the greater number of us could only render such help by saving a little at a time the year round. In all earnestness, but leaving the method to yourselves, I ask such of you as are able to give in the future to some poor toiler a taste of the happiness you can now look back upon from the home fireside. If, in any neighbourhood, a few of you, my dear girl friends, will combine for this purpose, all your own pleasures will be increased, and your memories enriched by so doing.
To those amongst you who have this year been saddened by disappointment, I say, "Look forward hopefully, asking the while that the power to do this may be given you. Try not to look back upon the dark days, or to dwell mentally on what cannot be undone."
Several years ago, I was staying in a charming home, from the different sides of which we could look on scenery of very opposite kinds. The house stood just beyond what is called "The Black Country," and looking into a valley in one direction, we could see the glare of the smelting furnaces, and the smoke rising from the coal-pit banks. From these indications we knew that both aboveground and below it in the mines work never ceased.
If we looked from the other side, we saw a lovely range of beautifully wooded hills in the distance, and below them all the fair features of an English landscape. If we had kept our eyes fixed on the valley behind us, we should have seen only blackness and comparative desolation, whilst the sense of ceaseless toil would have been ever present to us.
So, dear disappointed ones, I pray you turn your backs on the inevitable, and, though there may be no fair landscape within sight,you can always look heavenward with your mind's eye, even whilst your hands are busy, and, it may be, your spirit is heavy within you.
Friends may be forgetful. No human message of cheer or comfort may reach you, or bit of much needed help be in sight, but still there are messages which you can claim, and consolations meant expressly for you, which are better than the best which mortal lips can utter, for they come from Him Who cannot lie. You are invited to cast your care upon God, for "He careth for you." This one sweet assurance is like the fair landscape on which we can turn the eye of faith, and forget the gloomy realities which lie behind us.
But God works by human instrumentality, and it is for those whom He has helped with the power to exercise the precious privilege of brightening the lives of others. Let your givings be in accordance not only with your own means, but with the needs of those whom you help.
I daresay you have often noticed the number and costliness of the gifts bestowed upon those who have already much of this world's wealth. You have heard such words as these when a friend's birthday or some other festive occasion called for special remembrance: "I could not give a poor present. I felt that I must give something really handsome, or I should have been ashamed of my gift among so many beautiful things."
Oh! it is sad to think that our givings are influenced so much more by the thought of how they will impress our neighbours, and how the gifts will look in comparison with theirs.
There is a verse in the Book of Proverbs which I have seldom heard quoted, but which bears upon what I have said. "He that oppresseth the poor to increase his riches, and he that giveth to the rich, shall surely come to want." In beautiful contrast are the words also from the Book of Proverbs, "He that giveth unto the poor shall not lack" and "He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord; and that which he hath given will He pay him again."
So, dear ones who have enough and to spare, I ask you to make the Lord your debtor—precious thought!—by devising plans for the benefit of your poorer sisters, and be sure of this—your paymaster will not fail you. Your reward will not come to you in gold and silver, but it will satisfy you here, and you will reap an eternal harvest in return for every hour of happiness purchased for others by willing self-sacrifice on your part. I trust that by your efforts many hearts will be gladdened and bodies strengthened, through what we have talked about to-night, in the twilight side by side.
Now I want to ask you what precious opportunities you had, and whether you used or wasted them, during your summer holidays? When we last met, I quoted an expression I had heard from the pulpit, and which had impressed me deeply. "We should be misers in the use of time and opportunity." We talked at some length on one of these precious trusts, but little was said about the second.
I am sure you will feel with me that we cannot be amidst new scenes and brought into contact with fresh people, and fail to have new opportunities of speaking kind words, giving little messages of comfort, and showing, though it may be only by trifling actions, consideration for others. In order to take advantage of such openings we must not be self-absorbed. We must be on the look-out for opportunities, or we may miss them.
It happens, not infrequently, that a holiday-time is regarded as a season of pure self-indulgence. We have worked hard for our holiday, or we can afford to have whatever we desire. So we decide to fill our daily cup of enjoyment to the brim. We care little what trouble we give by our untidy habits to the tired workers who serve in the houses which are our temporary homes. We leave orderly ways and punctuality behind us, and rather enjoy the idea of having escaped from home rule in every shape, saying to ourselves, "It is holiday-time. Surely we may follow our own inclinations."
We laugh perhaps over nearly empty purses when packing-up day comes, and are apt to wonder where the money has gone. If we ask ourselves the questions, "How much has been devoted to others? What have I given towards the expenses of the church I have attended during my stay in this place?" I fear a blush of shame would often come to the owner of that purse whose contents have been so carelessly scattered.
I have known, and I still know, dear friends both young and old who, when going for a holiday, put aside a weekly sum in accordance with their means to be spent in good doing as opportunities present themselves. This is their thank-offering to God for their own bright holiday. Those who have pinched and saved and been obliged to calculate every penny before leaving home, and who, whilst absent, have "to turn a penny both sides up before spending it," as I heard a poor woman remark, cannot spare coin from their purses. But opportunities come, nevertheless. The possessor of a comfortable seat on shore or promenade, or beneath a sheltering tree, may give place to a wan-faced mother, weary with carrying her baby, and looking longingly but vainly for an empty place whereon to rest.
Ailing people are often eager to speak of the sad time of sickness they have passed through, and it is no small comfort to them if a stranger, resting on the same bench, will listen patiently, sympathise with their weakness and encourage their budding hopefulness by cheering words. What opportunities these incidental meetings give for saying something about the Great Physician of souls; of God's love in Christ; of our daily needs and dependence upon God, and His willingness to supply all our needs.
If the help of a girl's strong arm can aid age and weakness in the journey from the shore to the humble lodging, why should any young servant of Christ wait to compare her pretty summer dress with the faded black—the badge of poverty and widowhood—worn by the feeble, old body she would like to help? Should we not try to think how God regards even the smallest labour of love undertaken for our weak neighbour, rather than of what our fashionable friend will say if she sees us in such lowly company?
It needs a very grateful and a very loving nature to be constantly on the look-out, so as to lose no opportunity of good doing. The heart must be full of gratitude to God for mercies bestowed, and of tender consideration towards every human sister and brother, for His dear sake.
Many years ago, I was honoured by the friendship of a good man who possessed such a nature as I have described. In whatever place or company he might find himself—and more especially if he had been unexpectedly brought into it—his first thought would be, "I am not here for nothing;" his first question, "What work has God for me to do in this place?"
Stranded on one occasion at a country railway station through the lateness of a train which caused him to miss another, he was for the moment inclined to chafe at the delay. Time was very precious to him that day, and two hours of waiting would probably hinder him from saying farewell to a son about to start on a long voyage. But the habits of submission to the inevitable, and of looking around him for some opportunity of doing his Master's will and serving his neighbour, asserted themselves. A few minutes later, a young man, a passenger delayed by the same cause as he was, sat down beside him, and, after remarking, "You and I are in the same boat, I suppose, sir," began to find fault with the bad railway arrangements, and to threaten all sorts of things against the Company—actions for damages, and so on.
My friend could hardly help smiling at his neighbour's impetuosity, but he listened patiently, and at length the young man cooled down and laughed also.
"I daresay this seems foolish talk," he added; "and it is a great deal easier to threaten than to do, when it is a question of taking the law against a big railway Company; but this delay is a serious matter to me, as you would say, if you knew all about my business. You are a clergyman, I see. I am the son of one. May I——"
The young man paused, and my friend, thinking to himself, "I am not delayed for nothing," finished the question, or rather answered it by saying, "You may look on me as your father's representative, if you will, or as a friend to whom you may speak freely."
I am not going to tell you what followed. The story would be too long in detail, but I may say this much. To the end of his days my friend thanked God for that delay at the railway station, and the young man had still greater cause to do so. He was about to take a rash step, which would have caused sorrow to those who loved him and spoiled his own career; but, won by the fatherly manner of the old minister of God, he was induced to confide in him, and the wise advice he received set him thinking. Thought was followed by repentance, and this by change of purpose. Instead of continuing his journey, he took the homeward train, and before my friend resumed his, the two had parted with a warm hand-clasp and a promise of letters to follow.
Years after, when the old pastor told the story, he said, "I felt sure that I was not stranded at that railway station for nothing, but that there must be some chance of usefulness, some work that my Master meant me to do. The chapters of that young man's life story that have been written since are very different from what they might have been but for that opportune delay which gave him time to pause and think. Thank God! His father never knew how near the lad was to life wreckage, and to-day he is proud of the son who is the staff and comfort of his age.
"Did I see my own son before he sailed? you ask. No—I was too late, but the telegraph took him my farewell and blessing, and we have had many happy meetings and hopeful partings since then."
My dear old friend's earthly labours have long been ended; but, as I think of him, I seem to see his face shining with glad thankfulness, as he recalled this opportunity of usefulness given him by God and so happily utilised, though the delay in another sense cost him a disappointment.
Had my friend spent the time in grumbling at the delay, instead of thinking how it could be turned to good account, how different would have been the result! Or, if he had kept sullenly aloof, or answered his young neighbour's remark curtly, thus repelling his half-offer of confidence, the current of a life would have set in the wrong direction, and the chances of doing and receiving good would have been lost for ever.
Opportunity comes under so many forms, means so much, and is so often lost.
We live, it may be, near places of beauty and interest. Because we are near, we think we can visit them at any time, but we never seethem at all. We have opportunities of obtaining useful information, of gaining valuable experiences and increasing our stores of knowledge. We put off availing ourselves of them until some unknown future time, which never comes.
But the time does come to most of us when we want just the knowledge or experience that we might have had if we had utilised past opportunities, and then, we either gain it at much greater cost of time and trouble, or we suffer for the want of it, to say nothing of the additional pang of self-reproach which comes with the need.
Money frittered away in vanity and folly means the loss of chances for making others happy and lifting the burdens from overweighted shoulders. Lost opportunities for giving pleasure to those we love are brought home to us with a terrible sting afterwards.
Do we ever lose a relative or beloved friend without feeling our sorrow intensified by the thought of some little wish neglected, some opportunity for giving pleasure lost?
It is generally the little ones that are missed, when they concern those we dearly love. Great opportunities are seldom ignored. But when it is too late and we feel, oh, so sadly, that we might have availed ourselves of the lesser ones also, these, however trifling, assume an importance not realised until, with the sense of omission, comes the thought that they are lost for ever.
I should feel guilty were I to close our talk to-night without reminding you, dear girl friends and companions, of the supreme importance of some opportunities which you may not have valued, because they are always open to you; I mean the blessed privilege of coming to God as your Father and unchanging Friend; a Father whom you have often disobeyed and neglected—even forgotten, but who yet loves you with an everlasting love, loves you so much that He did not spare His own beloved Son, "but delivered Him up for us all," that through His death eternal life might be purchased and bestowed—a free gift on you and me.
May our Father bestow His Holy Spirit upon us all, so that, seeing our sinfulness and need, we may go to His footstool pleading Christ's sacrifice, and thus obtain pardon, joy and peace in believing.
(To be continued.)
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.MEDICAL.Waiting in Hope.—Freckles are undoubtedly due to the sun. They are not caused byheatbut bylight. There is always a certain amount of pigment in the skin, and under the influence of strong light this pigment increases greatly in quantity, and becomes gathered together in small patches. These patches are freckles. Where the light of the sun is more intense than it is in our climate, the patches of pigment coalesce, and the face and other exposed parts of the body become uniformly discoloured. Constant exposure to the intense light of the tropical sun, through many generations, has produced the black or brown skin of the coloured races. Since the light rays which cause freckles cannot pass through substances coloured red, persons inclined to freckles should always wear a red veil, or carry a red parasol. Remaining in a darkened room for an hour or so after exposure to the sun will often prevent the face from becoming freckled. The best preparations to apply to the face for the removal of freckles are glycerine and rose-water, glycerine and lime-water, and toilet vinegar. Peroxide of hydrogen bleaches the pigments of the skin, but it is rarely necessary to resort to it for the removal of freckles, unless all other methods fail.Curious Enquirer.—This is something new to us! That photographic films should be "splendid to put on the nose to remove red spots, or any redness," we have certainly never before heard, nor could we have guessed this curious and unexpected development of photography. Films consist of albumen, gelatine, or collodion, impregnated with an emulsion of an insoluble salt of silver, and how any of these could influence face "decorations" due to indigestion we cannot tell. Perhaps the silver might turn the spots black, but what other benefits the films could produce we cannot conceive.W. P. W.—Your case is easy to understand, if it is true that you have heart disease. What do you eat, and how do you eat it? Do you swallow down a cup of tea and a bite of something for breakfast before rushing off to catch your train? Do you snatch a hasty lunch at any hour at which you are at leisure? or do you forego lunch altogether, and take nothing between breakfast and dinner? If you are guilty of any of these acts of indiscretion, you must expect to suffer. Your unpleasant symptoms are probably in the main due to errors of diet. You must be very careful about your feeding; never take any indigestible food; never eat in a hurry, and never, not if a whole year's income depends upon it, must you run off directly after a meal to catch a train. You should eat slowly; little at a time and often, and take at least four meals a day. You should take tea in great moderation, and you should carefully guard against constipation from any cause.E. T.—What is the size of the spot on your chin? If it is small, it is a "spider nævus," and can be readily removed by touching its centre with a red-hot needle. Of course this must be done by a surgeon. No other form of treatment is of any avail. If the spot is larger than a split pea, it can hardly be removed in this way, but it will probably be amenable to some other form of surgical procedure. In any case we advise you to go to a surgeon about it, and not to try to meddle with it yourself, for you can do no good by external application.Mizpah.—We cannot advertise any special soap in this column. All soap used for the skin should be hard, opaque or semi-opaque, and either scented or medicated with carbolic acid, tar, etc. Never use any patent soap, and above all, never use arsenical soap.STUDY AND STUDIO.Ajax.—It is delightful and rare for us to be able to offer musical commendation twice consecutively. Your compositions are good enough for us to urge you, in reply to your question, at once to take harmony lessons. In spite of the merit of the chants, there are blemishes in them—consecutive fifths, etc.—which good teaching would enable you to avoid. We particularly like the close of the "Kyrie"; it is very musical. You should work hard, and may hope to succeed.Tam o' Shanter.—1. Much depends on individual taste and preference in the selection of a subject to study alone. If you are fond of languages, we should advise you to take up Italian, and get Dr. Lemmi's Italian Grammar. You might with advantage join the National Home Reading Union. Address the Secretary, Surrey House, Victoria Embankment, London.—2. Your friend could certainly study French alone; if she could get a little help with the pronunciation, it would be better. We should recommend her to procure Havet's French Course.OUR OPEN LETTER BOX.M. E. J. (Malvern) kindly sent us some information about an extract we have repeatedly tried to trace. In consequence of her suggestion, we wrote to Messrs. Bemrose & Sons, 23, Old Bailey, E.C., who have forwarded us a small pink card headed "Resolve." On one side are the words:"I expect to pass through this world but once; any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to a human being, or any word that I can speak for Jesus—let me do itnow. Let me not neglect or defer it, for I shall not pass this way again."On the reverse side of the card we read:"This Resolve was written by a New York lady, much impressed with the thought of the uncertainty of life. Not many days after, she was at a meeting in Madison Square Gardens, where she had distributed some printed leaflets with the Resolve, when the hall roof fell in and she was one of those killed by its fall."The sentence has been frequently referred, by our correspondents, to Marcus Aurelius. We give the information just as we have received it. The cards, we may add, are 5d. per dozen, post free.M. H. Couplandsends Lilian the verse inquired for in "The Lesson of the Water Mill," by Sarah Doudney.Laira, A. S., Acacia, A Schoolgirl, point out that the verse Lilian quotes is the fourth, not the last. The last verse runs as follows:"Oh, the wasted hours of lifeThat have drifted by!Oh, the good that might have been!Lost without a sigh.Loved ones that we might have saved,Maybe, by a word;Thoughts conceived, but never penned,Perishing, unheard.Take the proverb to thine heart,Take, and hold it fast:—'The mill cannot grindWith the water that is past.'"The whole poem may be obtained for 1s. a hundred, from Andrew Stevenson, Stationer, Mound, Edinburgh; also as a "Stirling Leaflet, No. 52," from Peter Drummond, Stirling; also in thePractical Elocutionist, published by Blackie & Son. If Lilian will send her name and address to Mrs. Pawlby, 7, Maida Vale Terrace, Mutley, Plymouth, she will receive a copy.MISCELLANEOUS.Anxious.—With reference to pensions accruing to the widows of officers, that of a captain is £50 per annum, and £12 to each child yearly; but should death have resulted from exposure, privation or fatigue, incident to active duty in the field, fifty per cent. more is allowed. If from wounds received in action, and within twelve months after having been invalided, his widow would receive twice the ordinary pension. But there are certain conditions to be considered.Isabel.—As much may be said in favour of one place you name as another. In the Isle of Wight, Ventnor is much esteemed. In the south of England, Bournemouth, Torquay, and Penzance. In the Channel Islands, the south aspects and shore of Guernsey and Jersey; and the Island of Sark for asthma. We know of no "papers nor magazines" that give the local information you require. But there are little guides, as well as local papers, respecting each place, in which you could find addresses and advertisements as to situations for persons needing employment.Pin-basket.—1. The Mosaic-work made of broken china is called "crazy-china," of which two illustrations were given in vol. xvi., page 636. The weekly number (doubtless to be had at our office) was for July 6th, 1895.—2. The German-speaking men of Europe wear wedding-rings. We have not observed whether in other countries the practice obtains as a rule of national observance.Petruchio's Kate.—We could not answer you in a few sentences, so must recommend you to procure a book on such games, viz., Brand'sObservations on Popular Antiquities(Chatto & Windus), see pages 205-215.Brown Bee.—If you failed to get that description of chocolate at the Junior Army & Navy Stores, and at so many shops, we recommend her to visit some of the large confectioners and grocers' stores in the City.M. S. C.—We do not know to which you refer, but a "thunder-bolt" is a shaft of lightning, or stream of electricity passing from the thunder-cloud to the earth. In geology it means a belemnite or meteoric stone, or fire-ball, which sometimes falls to the earth; an aërolite, at times found of enormous size;aersignifies "air," andathosa stone. It is a combination of metal and stone. Fire-balls, (bolides) and meteors are explosive, the meteors appearing during the day, and the fire-balls at night. Iron is specially present, but the metals appear to be an alloy.M. A. D.—We do not think you read our answers, or you would not ask a question already so often answered. There is no rule for the wearing of a ring on any special finger, excepting only the wedding-ring. But the third finger of the left hand is not kept exclusively for that.Mildred.—Your writing is too large and coarse-looking. Slope it a little from left to right, and reverse the plan in reference to the light and heavy strokes, the downwards heavy, the upwards light. It will be more graceful and artistic.Dear Mr. Editor,—I have begun making a collection of photos of bridges, and am very anxious to get some from everywhere (except Australia), especially Norway and Russia. Would some of your girls kindly lend a hand? and in return, I could send, not bridges, as I live in the bush, but hornets, beetles, or stamps. The bridges must benamed,unmounted, andnot more than 8×6 inches, as I put them in a book.Yours faithfully,Aunt Scis.Mrs. Geo. Barnard, Coomooboolaroo, Duaringa, Rockhampton, Queensland.
Waiting in Hope.—Freckles are undoubtedly due to the sun. They are not caused byheatbut bylight. There is always a certain amount of pigment in the skin, and under the influence of strong light this pigment increases greatly in quantity, and becomes gathered together in small patches. These patches are freckles. Where the light of the sun is more intense than it is in our climate, the patches of pigment coalesce, and the face and other exposed parts of the body become uniformly discoloured. Constant exposure to the intense light of the tropical sun, through many generations, has produced the black or brown skin of the coloured races. Since the light rays which cause freckles cannot pass through substances coloured red, persons inclined to freckles should always wear a red veil, or carry a red parasol. Remaining in a darkened room for an hour or so after exposure to the sun will often prevent the face from becoming freckled. The best preparations to apply to the face for the removal of freckles are glycerine and rose-water, glycerine and lime-water, and toilet vinegar. Peroxide of hydrogen bleaches the pigments of the skin, but it is rarely necessary to resort to it for the removal of freckles, unless all other methods fail.Curious Enquirer.—This is something new to us! That photographic films should be "splendid to put on the nose to remove red spots, or any redness," we have certainly never before heard, nor could we have guessed this curious and unexpected development of photography. Films consist of albumen, gelatine, or collodion, impregnated with an emulsion of an insoluble salt of silver, and how any of these could influence face "decorations" due to indigestion we cannot tell. Perhaps the silver might turn the spots black, but what other benefits the films could produce we cannot conceive.W. P. W.—Your case is easy to understand, if it is true that you have heart disease. What do you eat, and how do you eat it? Do you swallow down a cup of tea and a bite of something for breakfast before rushing off to catch your train? Do you snatch a hasty lunch at any hour at which you are at leisure? or do you forego lunch altogether, and take nothing between breakfast and dinner? If you are guilty of any of these acts of indiscretion, you must expect to suffer. Your unpleasant symptoms are probably in the main due to errors of diet. You must be very careful about your feeding; never take any indigestible food; never eat in a hurry, and never, not if a whole year's income depends upon it, must you run off directly after a meal to catch a train. You should eat slowly; little at a time and often, and take at least four meals a day. You should take tea in great moderation, and you should carefully guard against constipation from any cause.E. T.—What is the size of the spot on your chin? If it is small, it is a "spider nævus," and can be readily removed by touching its centre with a red-hot needle. Of course this must be done by a surgeon. No other form of treatment is of any avail. If the spot is larger than a split pea, it can hardly be removed in this way, but it will probably be amenable to some other form of surgical procedure. In any case we advise you to go to a surgeon about it, and not to try to meddle with it yourself, for you can do no good by external application.Mizpah.—We cannot advertise any special soap in this column. All soap used for the skin should be hard, opaque or semi-opaque, and either scented or medicated with carbolic acid, tar, etc. Never use any patent soap, and above all, never use arsenical soap.
Waiting in Hope.—Freckles are undoubtedly due to the sun. They are not caused byheatbut bylight. There is always a certain amount of pigment in the skin, and under the influence of strong light this pigment increases greatly in quantity, and becomes gathered together in small patches. These patches are freckles. Where the light of the sun is more intense than it is in our climate, the patches of pigment coalesce, and the face and other exposed parts of the body become uniformly discoloured. Constant exposure to the intense light of the tropical sun, through many generations, has produced the black or brown skin of the coloured races. Since the light rays which cause freckles cannot pass through substances coloured red, persons inclined to freckles should always wear a red veil, or carry a red parasol. Remaining in a darkened room for an hour or so after exposure to the sun will often prevent the face from becoming freckled. The best preparations to apply to the face for the removal of freckles are glycerine and rose-water, glycerine and lime-water, and toilet vinegar. Peroxide of hydrogen bleaches the pigments of the skin, but it is rarely necessary to resort to it for the removal of freckles, unless all other methods fail.
Curious Enquirer.—This is something new to us! That photographic films should be "splendid to put on the nose to remove red spots, or any redness," we have certainly never before heard, nor could we have guessed this curious and unexpected development of photography. Films consist of albumen, gelatine, or collodion, impregnated with an emulsion of an insoluble salt of silver, and how any of these could influence face "decorations" due to indigestion we cannot tell. Perhaps the silver might turn the spots black, but what other benefits the films could produce we cannot conceive.
W. P. W.—Your case is easy to understand, if it is true that you have heart disease. What do you eat, and how do you eat it? Do you swallow down a cup of tea and a bite of something for breakfast before rushing off to catch your train? Do you snatch a hasty lunch at any hour at which you are at leisure? or do you forego lunch altogether, and take nothing between breakfast and dinner? If you are guilty of any of these acts of indiscretion, you must expect to suffer. Your unpleasant symptoms are probably in the main due to errors of diet. You must be very careful about your feeding; never take any indigestible food; never eat in a hurry, and never, not if a whole year's income depends upon it, must you run off directly after a meal to catch a train. You should eat slowly; little at a time and often, and take at least four meals a day. You should take tea in great moderation, and you should carefully guard against constipation from any cause.
E. T.—What is the size of the spot on your chin? If it is small, it is a "spider nævus," and can be readily removed by touching its centre with a red-hot needle. Of course this must be done by a surgeon. No other form of treatment is of any avail. If the spot is larger than a split pea, it can hardly be removed in this way, but it will probably be amenable to some other form of surgical procedure. In any case we advise you to go to a surgeon about it, and not to try to meddle with it yourself, for you can do no good by external application.
Mizpah.—We cannot advertise any special soap in this column. All soap used for the skin should be hard, opaque or semi-opaque, and either scented or medicated with carbolic acid, tar, etc. Never use any patent soap, and above all, never use arsenical soap.
Ajax.—It is delightful and rare for us to be able to offer musical commendation twice consecutively. Your compositions are good enough for us to urge you, in reply to your question, at once to take harmony lessons. In spite of the merit of the chants, there are blemishes in them—consecutive fifths, etc.—which good teaching would enable you to avoid. We particularly like the close of the "Kyrie"; it is very musical. You should work hard, and may hope to succeed.Tam o' Shanter.—1. Much depends on individual taste and preference in the selection of a subject to study alone. If you are fond of languages, we should advise you to take up Italian, and get Dr. Lemmi's Italian Grammar. You might with advantage join the National Home Reading Union. Address the Secretary, Surrey House, Victoria Embankment, London.—2. Your friend could certainly study French alone; if she could get a little help with the pronunciation, it would be better. We should recommend her to procure Havet's French Course.
Ajax.—It is delightful and rare for us to be able to offer musical commendation twice consecutively. Your compositions are good enough for us to urge you, in reply to your question, at once to take harmony lessons. In spite of the merit of the chants, there are blemishes in them—consecutive fifths, etc.—which good teaching would enable you to avoid. We particularly like the close of the "Kyrie"; it is very musical. You should work hard, and may hope to succeed.
Tam o' Shanter.—1. Much depends on individual taste and preference in the selection of a subject to study alone. If you are fond of languages, we should advise you to take up Italian, and get Dr. Lemmi's Italian Grammar. You might with advantage join the National Home Reading Union. Address the Secretary, Surrey House, Victoria Embankment, London.—2. Your friend could certainly study French alone; if she could get a little help with the pronunciation, it would be better. We should recommend her to procure Havet's French Course.
M. E. J. (Malvern) kindly sent us some information about an extract we have repeatedly tried to trace. In consequence of her suggestion, we wrote to Messrs. Bemrose & Sons, 23, Old Bailey, E.C., who have forwarded us a small pink card headed "Resolve." On one side are the words:"I expect to pass through this world but once; any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to a human being, or any word that I can speak for Jesus—let me do itnow. Let me not neglect or defer it, for I shall not pass this way again."On the reverse side of the card we read:"This Resolve was written by a New York lady, much impressed with the thought of the uncertainty of life. Not many days after, she was at a meeting in Madison Square Gardens, where she had distributed some printed leaflets with the Resolve, when the hall roof fell in and she was one of those killed by its fall."The sentence has been frequently referred, by our correspondents, to Marcus Aurelius. We give the information just as we have received it. The cards, we may add, are 5d. per dozen, post free.M. H. Couplandsends Lilian the verse inquired for in "The Lesson of the Water Mill," by Sarah Doudney.Laira, A. S., Acacia, A Schoolgirl, point out that the verse Lilian quotes is the fourth, not the last. The last verse runs as follows:"Oh, the wasted hours of lifeThat have drifted by!Oh, the good that might have been!Lost without a sigh.Loved ones that we might have saved,Maybe, by a word;Thoughts conceived, but never penned,Perishing, unheard.Take the proverb to thine heart,Take, and hold it fast:—'The mill cannot grindWith the water that is past.'"The whole poem may be obtained for 1s. a hundred, from Andrew Stevenson, Stationer, Mound, Edinburgh; also as a "Stirling Leaflet, No. 52," from Peter Drummond, Stirling; also in thePractical Elocutionist, published by Blackie & Son. If Lilian will send her name and address to Mrs. Pawlby, 7, Maida Vale Terrace, Mutley, Plymouth, she will receive a copy.
M. E. J. (Malvern) kindly sent us some information about an extract we have repeatedly tried to trace. In consequence of her suggestion, we wrote to Messrs. Bemrose & Sons, 23, Old Bailey, E.C., who have forwarded us a small pink card headed "Resolve." On one side are the words:
"I expect to pass through this world but once; any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to a human being, or any word that I can speak for Jesus—let me do itnow. Let me not neglect or defer it, for I shall not pass this way again."
On the reverse side of the card we read:
"This Resolve was written by a New York lady, much impressed with the thought of the uncertainty of life. Not many days after, she was at a meeting in Madison Square Gardens, where she had distributed some printed leaflets with the Resolve, when the hall roof fell in and she was one of those killed by its fall."
The sentence has been frequently referred, by our correspondents, to Marcus Aurelius. We give the information just as we have received it. The cards, we may add, are 5d. per dozen, post free.
M. H. Couplandsends Lilian the verse inquired for in "The Lesson of the Water Mill," by Sarah Doudney.Laira, A. S., Acacia, A Schoolgirl, point out that the verse Lilian quotes is the fourth, not the last. The last verse runs as follows:
"Oh, the wasted hours of lifeThat have drifted by!Oh, the good that might have been!Lost without a sigh.Loved ones that we might have saved,Maybe, by a word;Thoughts conceived, but never penned,Perishing, unheard.Take the proverb to thine heart,Take, and hold it fast:—'The mill cannot grindWith the water that is past.'"
"Oh, the wasted hours of lifeThat have drifted by!Oh, the good that might have been!Lost without a sigh.Loved ones that we might have saved,Maybe, by a word;Thoughts conceived, but never penned,Perishing, unheard.Take the proverb to thine heart,Take, and hold it fast:—'The mill cannot grindWith the water that is past.'"
The whole poem may be obtained for 1s. a hundred, from Andrew Stevenson, Stationer, Mound, Edinburgh; also as a "Stirling Leaflet, No. 52," from Peter Drummond, Stirling; also in thePractical Elocutionist, published by Blackie & Son. If Lilian will send her name and address to Mrs. Pawlby, 7, Maida Vale Terrace, Mutley, Plymouth, she will receive a copy.
Anxious.—With reference to pensions accruing to the widows of officers, that of a captain is £50 per annum, and £12 to each child yearly; but should death have resulted from exposure, privation or fatigue, incident to active duty in the field, fifty per cent. more is allowed. If from wounds received in action, and within twelve months after having been invalided, his widow would receive twice the ordinary pension. But there are certain conditions to be considered.Isabel.—As much may be said in favour of one place you name as another. In the Isle of Wight, Ventnor is much esteemed. In the south of England, Bournemouth, Torquay, and Penzance. In the Channel Islands, the south aspects and shore of Guernsey and Jersey; and the Island of Sark for asthma. We know of no "papers nor magazines" that give the local information you require. But there are little guides, as well as local papers, respecting each place, in which you could find addresses and advertisements as to situations for persons needing employment.Pin-basket.—1. The Mosaic-work made of broken china is called "crazy-china," of which two illustrations were given in vol. xvi., page 636. The weekly number (doubtless to be had at our office) was for July 6th, 1895.—2. The German-speaking men of Europe wear wedding-rings. We have not observed whether in other countries the practice obtains as a rule of national observance.Petruchio's Kate.—We could not answer you in a few sentences, so must recommend you to procure a book on such games, viz., Brand'sObservations on Popular Antiquities(Chatto & Windus), see pages 205-215.Brown Bee.—If you failed to get that description of chocolate at the Junior Army & Navy Stores, and at so many shops, we recommend her to visit some of the large confectioners and grocers' stores in the City.M. S. C.—We do not know to which you refer, but a "thunder-bolt" is a shaft of lightning, or stream of electricity passing from the thunder-cloud to the earth. In geology it means a belemnite or meteoric stone, or fire-ball, which sometimes falls to the earth; an aërolite, at times found of enormous size;aersignifies "air," andathosa stone. It is a combination of metal and stone. Fire-balls, (bolides) and meteors are explosive, the meteors appearing during the day, and the fire-balls at night. Iron is specially present, but the metals appear to be an alloy.M. A. D.—We do not think you read our answers, or you would not ask a question already so often answered. There is no rule for the wearing of a ring on any special finger, excepting only the wedding-ring. But the third finger of the left hand is not kept exclusively for that.Mildred.—Your writing is too large and coarse-looking. Slope it a little from left to right, and reverse the plan in reference to the light and heavy strokes, the downwards heavy, the upwards light. It will be more graceful and artistic.Dear Mr. Editor,—I have begun making a collection of photos of bridges, and am very anxious to get some from everywhere (except Australia), especially Norway and Russia. Would some of your girls kindly lend a hand? and in return, I could send, not bridges, as I live in the bush, but hornets, beetles, or stamps. The bridges must benamed,unmounted, andnot more than 8×6 inches, as I put them in a book.Yours faithfully,Aunt Scis.Mrs. Geo. Barnard, Coomooboolaroo, Duaringa, Rockhampton, Queensland.
Anxious.—With reference to pensions accruing to the widows of officers, that of a captain is £50 per annum, and £12 to each child yearly; but should death have resulted from exposure, privation or fatigue, incident to active duty in the field, fifty per cent. more is allowed. If from wounds received in action, and within twelve months after having been invalided, his widow would receive twice the ordinary pension. But there are certain conditions to be considered.
Isabel.—As much may be said in favour of one place you name as another. In the Isle of Wight, Ventnor is much esteemed. In the south of England, Bournemouth, Torquay, and Penzance. In the Channel Islands, the south aspects and shore of Guernsey and Jersey; and the Island of Sark for asthma. We know of no "papers nor magazines" that give the local information you require. But there are little guides, as well as local papers, respecting each place, in which you could find addresses and advertisements as to situations for persons needing employment.
Pin-basket.—1. The Mosaic-work made of broken china is called "crazy-china," of which two illustrations were given in vol. xvi., page 636. The weekly number (doubtless to be had at our office) was for July 6th, 1895.—2. The German-speaking men of Europe wear wedding-rings. We have not observed whether in other countries the practice obtains as a rule of national observance.
Petruchio's Kate.—We could not answer you in a few sentences, so must recommend you to procure a book on such games, viz., Brand'sObservations on Popular Antiquities(Chatto & Windus), see pages 205-215.
Brown Bee.—If you failed to get that description of chocolate at the Junior Army & Navy Stores, and at so many shops, we recommend her to visit some of the large confectioners and grocers' stores in the City.
M. S. C.—We do not know to which you refer, but a "thunder-bolt" is a shaft of lightning, or stream of electricity passing from the thunder-cloud to the earth. In geology it means a belemnite or meteoric stone, or fire-ball, which sometimes falls to the earth; an aërolite, at times found of enormous size;aersignifies "air," andathosa stone. It is a combination of metal and stone. Fire-balls, (bolides) and meteors are explosive, the meteors appearing during the day, and the fire-balls at night. Iron is specially present, but the metals appear to be an alloy.
M. A. D.—We do not think you read our answers, or you would not ask a question already so often answered. There is no rule for the wearing of a ring on any special finger, excepting only the wedding-ring. But the third finger of the left hand is not kept exclusively for that.
Mildred.—Your writing is too large and coarse-looking. Slope it a little from left to right, and reverse the plan in reference to the light and heavy strokes, the downwards heavy, the upwards light. It will be more graceful and artistic.
Dear Mr. Editor,—I have begun making a collection of photos of bridges, and am very anxious to get some from everywhere (except Australia), especially Norway and Russia. Would some of your girls kindly lend a hand? and in return, I could send, not bridges, as I live in the bush, but hornets, beetles, or stamps. The bridges must benamed,unmounted, andnot more than 8×6 inches, as I put them in a book.
Yours faithfully,Aunt Scis.
Mrs. Geo. Barnard, Coomooboolaroo, Duaringa, Rockhampton, Queensland.