THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER

VOL. VIII. --NO. 355. 

OCTOBER 16, 1886. 

PRICE ONE PENNY. 

THE BROOK AND ITS BANKS. 

BY THE REV. J. G. WOOD, M. A. , Author of "The Handy Natural History. "

 "Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, As through the glen it dimpl't; Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays; Whyles in a weil it dimpl't; Whyles glittered to the nightly rays, Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle; Whyles cookit underneath the braes Below the spreading hazel. "

 _Burns: "Halloween. "_

[Illustration: THE BROOK AND ITS BANKS. ]

CHAPTER I. 

The many aspects of a brook--The eye sees only that which it is capableof seeing--Individuality of brooks and their banks--The rippling"burnie" of the hills--The gently-flowing brooks of low-lyingdistricts--Individualities even of such brooks--The fresh-water brooksof Oxford and the tidal brooks of the Kentish marshes--The swarming lifein which they abound--An afternoon's walk--Ditches versus hedges andwalls--A brook in Cannock Chase--Its sudden changes of aspect--Thebrooks of the Wiltshire Downs and of Derbyshire. 

A brook has many points of view. 

In the first place, scarcely any two spectators see it in the samelight. 

To the rustic it is seldom more than a convenient water-tank, or, atmost, as affording some sport to boys in fishing. To its picturesquebeauties his eyes are blind, and to him the brook is, like Peter Bell'sprimrose, a brook and nothing more. 

Then there are some who only view a brook as affording variety to thepursuit of the fox, and who pride themselves on their knowledge of thespots at which it can be most successfully leaped. 

Others, again, who are of a geographical turn of mind, can only see in abrook a necessary portion of the water-shed of the district. 

To children it is for a time dear as a playground, possessing theinestimable advantage of enabling them to fall into it and wet theirclothes from head to foot. 

Then there are some who are keenly alive to its changing beauties, andare gifted with artistic spirit and power of appreciation, even if theyshould not have been able to cultivate the technical skill which wouldenable them to transfer to paper or canvas the scene which pleased them. Yet they can only see the surface, and take little, if any, heed of thewealth of animated life with which the brook and its banks are peopled, or of the sounds with which the air is filled. 

Happy are those in whom are fortunately combined the appreciation of artand the gift (for it is a gift as much as an eye for art or an ear formusic) of observing animal life. To them the brook is all that it is toothers, and much besides. To them the tiniest brook is a perpetual joy, and of such a nature I hope are those who read these pages. 

Not only does a brook assume different aspects, according to theindividuality of the spectator, but every brook has its individuality, and so have its banks. 

Often the brook "plays many parts, " as in Burns' delightful stanza, which seems to have rippled from the poet's brain as spontaneously asits subject. 

Sometimes, however, as near Oxford, it flows silently onwards withscarcely a dimple on its unruffled surface. Over its still waters thegnats rise and fall in their ceaseless dance. The swift-wingeddragon-flies, blue, green, and red, swoop upon them like so many falconson their prey; or, in the earlier year, the mayflies flutter above thestream, leaving their shed skins, like ghostly images of themselves, sticking on every tree trunk near the brook. 

On the surface of the brook are seen the shadow-like water-gnats, drifting with apparent aimlessness over the surface, but having in viewa definite and deadly purpose, as many a half drowned insect will findto its cost. 

Under the shade of the willows that overhang its banks the whirligigbeetles will gather, sociably circling round and round in their mazydance, bumping against each other in their swift course, but glancingoff unhurt from the collision, protected from injury by the stout coatsof mail which they wear. 

They really look like unskilful dancers practising their "figures" forthe first time. They, however, are not engaged in mere amusement, but, like the water-gnats, are absorbed in the business of life. Thenaturalist knows, when he sees these creatures, that they do not formthe hundredth part of those which are hidden from human eyes below thesurface of the little brook, and that the whole of the stream is asinstinct with life, as if it had been haunted by the Nipens, theUndines, and the host of fairy beings with whom the old legends peopledevery river and its tributaries. 

They are just as wonderful, though clad in material forms, as any waterspirit that ever was evolved from the poet's brain, and have theinestimable merit of being always within reach whenever we need them. 

I will venture to assert that no fairy tales, not even excepting thoseof the "Arabian Nights, " can surpass in marvel the true life-history ofthe mayfly, the frog, the newt, and the dragon-fly, as will be narratedin the course of these pages. I may go even farther, and assert thatthere is no inhabitant of the brook and its banks whose biography andstructure are not full of absorbing interest, and will not occupy thelongest life, if only an attempt be made to study them thoroughly. 

An almost typical example of slow-flowing brooks is to be found in theremarkable channels which intersect the country between Minster andSandwich, and which, on the ordnance map, look almost like the threadsof a spider's web. In that flat district, the fields are not divided byhedges, as in most parts of England, or by stone walls--"dykes, " as theyare termed in Ireland--such as are employed in Derbyshire and severalother stony localities, but by channels, which have a strongindividuality of their own. 

Even the smallest of these brooks is influenced by the tide, so that atthe two periods of slack water there is no perceptible stream. 

Yesterday afternoon, having an hour or so to spare at Minster, Iexamined slightly several of these streams and their banks. The contrastbetween them and the corresponding brooklets of Oxford, also a low-lyingdistrict, was very strongly marked. 

In the first place, the willow, which forms so characteristic anornament of the brooks and rivers of Oxford, is wholly absent. Most ofthe streamlets are entirely destitute of even a bush by which theircourse can be marked; so that when, as is often the case, a heavy whitefog overhangs the entire district, looking from a distance as if theland had been sunk in an ocean of milk, no one who is not familiarlyacquainted with every yard of ground could make his way over the fieldswithout falling into the watery boundaries which surround them. 

Some of them, however, are distinguished by hawthorns, which take theplace of the willows, and thrive so luxuriantly that they may lay claimto the title of forest trees. Blackberries, too, are exuberant in theirgrowth, and in many spots the hawthorn and blackberry on opposite sidesof the brook have intertwined their branches across it and havecompletely hidden the water from sight. On these blackberries, the fruitof which was in its green state, the drone-flies and hawk-flies simplyswarmed, telling the naturalist of their multitudinous successors, whoat present are in the preliminary stages of their existence. 

Among the blackberries the scarlet fruit of the woody nightshade (afirst cousin of the potato) hung in tempting clusters, and I could nothelp wondering whether they would endanger the health of the youngMinsterians. 

In some places the common frog-bit had grown with such luxuriance thatit had completely hidden the water, the leaves overlapping each other asif the overcrowded plants were trying to shoulder each other out of theway. 

In most of these streamlets the conspicuous bur-reed (_Spargániumramósum_) grew thickly, its singular fruit being here and there visibleamong the sword-like leaves. I cannot but think that the mediæval weaponcalled the "morning star" (or "morgen-stern") was derived from theglobular, spiked fruit-cluster of the bur-reed. 

A few of the streams were full of the fine plant which is popularlyknown by the name of bull-rush, or bulrush (_Typha latifólia_), butwhich ought by rights to be called the "cat's-tail" or "reed-mace. " Ofthis plant it is said that a little girl, on seeing it growing, exclaimed that she never knew before that sausages grew on sticks. Theteasel (_Dipsacus_) was abundant, as were also several of the truethistles. 

In some places one of these streams becomes too deep for the bur-reed, and its surface is only diversified by the half-floating leaves of oneor two aquatic plants. 

On approaching one of these places, I find the water to be apparentlywithout inmates. They had only been alarmed by my approach, which, as Ihad but little time to spare, was not as cautious as it ought to havebeen. However, I remained perfectly still, and presently a little fishappeared from below. It was soon followed by a second and a third, andbefore long a whole shoal of fish were floating almost on the surface, looking out for insects which had fallen into the water. 

The day being hot, and with scarcely a breath of wind, the fish soonbecame quite bold. They did not move beyond the small spot in which theyhad appeared, but they all had their tails in slight movement, and theirheads in one direction, thus showing that although the water appeared tobe perfectly motionless, there must be a current of some sort, fishalways lying with their heads up the stream, so as to allow the water toenter their mouths and pass over their gills. 

If then these sluggish streams were unlike those of Oxford, where theground is low, and nearly level, how utterly distinct must they be fromthose of hilly and especially of rocky localities!

In the earlier part of the present year I was cursorily examining abrook in Cannock Chase, in Staffordshire. Unfortunately, the day wassingularly inauspicious, as the sun was invisible, the atmosphere murky, and a fierce north-east wind was blowing, a wind which affects animals, etc. , especially the insect races, even more severely than it does man. Even the birds remain under shelter as long as they can, and not aninsect will show itself. Neither, in consequence, will the fish be "onthe feed. "

On a previous visit, we had been more fortunate, trout, crayfish, etc. , testifying to the prolific character of the brook, which in one place isonly four or five feet in width, and yet, within fifty yards, it hasformed itself into a wide and treacherous marsh, which can only becrossed by jumping from one tussock of grass to another; and yet, again, it suddenly spreads out into a broad and shallow torrent, the waterleaping and rippling over the stony bed. Scarcely a bush marks itscourse, and within a few yards it is quite invisible. 

As we shall presently see, the brooks of the chalk downs of Wiltshire, and of the regular mixture of rock and level ground, which arecharacteristic of Derbyshire, have also their own separateindividualities. 

We shall, however, find many allusions to them in the course of thework, and we will therefore suppose ourselves to be approaching the bankof any brook that is but little disturbed by man. What will be likely tohappen to us will be told in the following chapters. 

CHAPTER II. 

Life-history of the water-rat--No science can stand alone--What is awater-rat?--The voles of the land and water--Their remarkable teeth--Therodents and their incisor teeth--The tooth and the chisel--The skate"iron"--Chewing the cud--Teeth of the elephant--Feet of thewater-vole--A false accusation--Water-voles in gardens--Winterstores--Cats and water-voles--Subterranean pioneering--Mental characterof the water-vole--Standing fire--Its mode of eating. 

Plop!

A water-rat has taken alarm, and has leaped into the brook. 

A common animal enough, but none the less worthy of notice because it iscommon. Indeed, it is in many respects a very remarkable creature, andwe may think ourselves fortunate that we have the opportunity ofstudying its habits and structure. 

There is much more in the animal than meets the eye, and we cannotexamine its life-history without at the same time touching upon that ofseveral other creatures. No science stands alone, neither does anyanimal, however insignificant it may appear to be; and we shall findthat before we have done with the water-rat, we shall have had somethingto say of comparative anatomy, ornithology, ichthyology, entomology andbotany, beside treating of the connection which exists between man andthe lower animals, and the reciprocal influence of civilisation andanimal life. 

In the first place, let us define our animal. 

What is a water-rat, and where is its place in zoological systems of thepresent day? Its name in science is _Arvícola amphíbius_. This titletells its own story. 

Though popularly called a rat, the animal has no right to the name, although, like the true rat, it is a rodent, and much resembles the ratin size and in the length and colour of its fur. The likeness, however, extends no further. 

The rats are long-nosed and sharp-snouted animals, whereas the water-rathas a short, blunt nose. Then, the ears of the rats are large and standout boldly from the head, while those of the water-rat are small, short, and rounded. Again, the tail of the rat is long and slender, while thatof the water-rat is comparatively short. Place the two animals side byside, and you will wonder how anyone could mistake the one for theother. 

The teeth, too, are quite different. 

Instead of being white, like those of the rat, the incisor teeth areorange-yellow, like those of the beaver. Indeed, the water-rat possessesso many beaver-like characteristics, that it was ranked near the beaverin the systematic lists. 

Now, however, the Voles, as these creatures ought rightly to be called, are thought to be of sufficient importance to be placed by themselves, and separated from the true beavers. 

The voles constitute quite a large group of rodents, including severalanimals which are popularly ranked among the mice. 

One very remarkable characteristic of the voles is the structure oftheir molar teeth. 

Being rodents, they can have but two incisor teeth in each jaw, theseteeth being rootless, and so set in their sockets that they areincessantly worn away in front, and as incessantly grow from the base, take the curved form of their sockets, and act much like shears whichhave the inestimable property of self-sharpening when blunted, andself-renewal when chipped or actually broken off by coming against anyhard substance. Were the teeth to be without this power, the animalwould run a great risk of dying from hunger, the injured tooth not beingable either to do its own work, or to aid its companion of the oppositejaw. Either tooth alone would be as useless as a single blade of a pairof scissors. 

There is another notable characteristic of these incisor teeth. If youwill examine the incisors of any rodent, whether it be a rat, a mouse, arabbit, or a beaver, you will see that the tips are "bevelled" off justlike the edge of a chisel. This shape is absolutely necessary to keepthe tooth in working order. How is this object to be attained?

In the solution of this problem we may see one of the many links whichconnect art and nature. 

Should our readers know anything of carpentering, let them examine thestructure of their chisels. They are not made wholly of hard steel, asin that case they would be liable to snap, just as does the blade of afoil when undue pressure is brought to bear upon it. Moreover, theoperation of sharpening would be extremely difficult. 

So the blade of the chisel is merely faced with a thin plate of hardenedsteel, the remainder being of softer material. 

Now, it is not at all likely that the unknown inventor of the modernchisel was aware of the analogy between art and nature, and wouldprobably have been very much surprised if anyone had stated that he hadborrowed his idea from the incisor teeth of the water-rat. 

Yet he might have done so, for these teeth are almost wholly formed ofordinary tooth matter, and are faced with a thin plate of hard enamel, which exactly corresponds with the hardened steel facing of a chisel. 

Any of my readers who possess skates will find, on examination, that thegreater part of the blade is, in reality, soft iron, the steel, whichcomes upon the ice, being scarcely a fifth of an inch in length. Thehardened steel allows the blade to take the necessary edge, while thesoft iron preserves the steel from snapping. 

Should the skate have been neglected and allowed to become a littlerusty, the line of demarcation between the steel and the iron can bedistinctly seen. Similarly, in the beaver and the water-rat, theorange-yellow colour of the enamel facing causes it to be easilydistinguished from the rest of the tooth. In most of the rodents theenamel is white, and the line of demarcation is scarcely visible. 

Now we have to treat of a question of mechanics. 

If two substances of different degrees of hardness be subjected to thesame amount of friction, it follows that the softer will be worn awaylong before the harder. It is owing to this principle that the edges ofthe rodent teeth preserve their chisel-like form. Being continuallyemployed in nibbling, the softer backing of the teeth is rapidly wornaway, while the hard plate of enamel upon the front of the tooth is butslightly worn, the result being the bevelled shape which is socharacteristic of these teeth. 

As all know, who have kept rabbits or white mice, the animals are alwaysengaged in gnawing anything which will yield to their teeth, and unlessthe edges of their feeding troughs be protected by metal, will nibblethem to pieces in a few days. Indeed, so strong is this instinct, thatthe health of the animals is greatly improved by putting pieces of woodinto their cages, merely for the purpose of allowing them to exercisetheir chisel-edged teeth. Even when they have nothing to gnaw, theanimals will move their jaws incessantly, just as if they were eating, amovement which gave rise to the idea that they chewed the cud. 

It is worthy of remark that other animals, which, though not rodents, need to possess chisel-edged incisor teeth, have a similar habit. Suchis the hippopotamus, and such is the hyrax, the remarkable rock-hauntinganimal, which in the authorised translation of the Scriptures is calledthe "coney, " and which in the Revised Version is allowed in the marginto retain its Hebrew name, "shaphan. "

The enamel also has an important part to play in the structure of themolar teeth. Each tooth is surrounded with the enamel plate, which is sointricately folded that the tooth looks as if it were made of a seriesof enamel triangles, each enclosing the tooth matter. 

This structure is common to all the members of the group to which thewater-rat belongs. It is the more remarkable because we find a somewhatsimilar structure in the molar teeth of the elephants, which, like therodents, have the incisor teeth largely developed and widely separatedfrom the molars. 

There is nothing in the appearance of the water-rat which gives anyindication of its aquatic habits. 

For example, we naturally expect to find that the feet of swimminganimals are webbed. The water-loving capybara of South America, thelargest existing rodent, has its hoof-like toes partially united bywebs, so that its aquatic habits might easily be inferred even by thosewho were unacquainted with the animal. Even the otter, which propelsitself through the water mostly by means of its long and powerful tail, has the feet furnished with webs. So has the aquatic Yapock opossum ofAustralia, while the feet of the duck-bill are even more boldly webbedthan those of the bird from which it takes its popular name. Thewater-shrews (whom we shall presently meet) are furnished with a fringeof stiff hair round the toes which answers the same purpose as the web. 

But the structure of the water-rat gives no indication of its habits, sothat no one who was unacquainted with the animal would even suspect itsswimming and diving powers. Watch it as long as you like, and I do notbelieve that you will see it eating anything of an animal nature. 

I mention this fact because it is often held up to blame as amischievous animal, especially deserving the wrath of anglers bydevouring the eggs and young of fish. 

As is often the case in the life-history of animals as well as of men, the blame is laid on the wrong shoulders. If the destruction of fish bea crime, there are many criminals, the worst and most persistent ofwhich are the fish themselves, which not only eat the eggs and young ofother fish, but, Saturn-like, have not the least scruple in devouringtheir own offspring. 

Scarcely less destructive in its own insidious way is the commonhouse-rat, which eats everything which according to our ideas is edible, and a good many which we might think incapable of affording sustenanceeven to a rat. In the summer time it often abandons for a time thehouse, the farm, the barn, and seeks for a change of diet by the brook. These water-haunting creatures are naturally mistaken for thevegetable-feeding water-vole, and so the latter has to bear the blame oftheir misdoings. 

There are lesser inhabitants of the brook which are injurious both tothe eggs and young of fish. Among them are several of the largerwater-beetles, some of which are so large and powerful that, when placedin an aquarium with golden carp, they have made havoc among the fish, always attacking them from below. Although they cannot kill and devourthe fish at once, they inflict such serious injuries that the creatureis sure to die shortly. 

I do not mean to assert that the water-vole is never injurious to man. Civilisation disturbs for a time the balance of Nature, and when manploughs or digs the ground which had previously been untouched by ploughor spade, and sows the seeds of herbs and cereals in land which haspreviously produced nothing but wild plants, he must expect that theanimals to whom the soil had been hitherto left will fail to understandthat they can no more consider themselves as the owners, and will inconsequence do some damage to the crops. 

Moreover, even putting their food aside, their habits often render themobnoxious to civilised man. The mole, for example, useful as it reallyis in a field, does very great harm in a garden or lawn, although iteats none of the produce. 

The water-vole, however, is doubly injurious when the field or gardenhappens to be near the water-side. It is a mighty burrower, driving itstunnels to great distances. Sometimes it manages to burrow into akitchen-garden, and feeds quite impartially on the different crops. Ithas even been seen to venture to a considerable distance from water, crossing a large field, making its way into a garden, and carrying offseveral pods of the French bean. 

In the winter time, when other food fails, the water-vole, like the hareand rabbit, will eat turnips, mangold-wurzel, the bark of young trees, and similar food. Its natural food, however, is to be found among thevarious aquatic plants, as I have often seen, and the harm which it doesto the crops is so infinitesimally small when compared with the area ofcultivated ground, that it is not worthy of notice. 

Still, although the harm which it does to civilised man in the aggregateis but small, even its most friendly advocate cannot deny that there arecases where it has been extremely troublesome to the individualcultivator, especially if he be an amateur. 

There are many hard men of business, who are obliged to spend thegreater part of the day in their London offices, and who find their bestrelaxation in amateur gardening; those who grow vegetables, regardingtheir peas, beans, potatoes, and celery with as much affection as isfelt by floriculturists for their roses or tulips. 

Nothing is more annoying to such men than to find, when the toils ofbusiness are over, and they have settled themselves comfortably intotheir gardening suits, that some marauder has carried off the veryvegetables on which they had prided themselves. 

The water-vole has been detected in the act of climbing up a ladderwhich had been left standing against a plum tree, and attacking thefruit. Bunches of grapes on outdoor vines are sometimes nipped off thebranches by the teeth of the water-vole, and the animal has been seen toclimb beans and peas, split the pods, and devour the contents. 

Although not a hibernating animal, it lays up a store of food in theautumn. Mr. Groom Napier has the following description of the contentsof a water-rat's storehouse:--

"Early in the spring of 1855, I dug out the burrow of a water-vole, andwas surprised to find at the further extremity a cavity of about a footin diameter, containing a quantity of fragments of carrots and potatoes, sufficient to fill a peck measure. This was undoubtedly a part of itswinter store of provisions. This food had been gathered from a largepotato and carrot bed in the vicinity. 

"On pointing out my discovery to the owner of the garden, he said thathis losses had been very serious that winter owing to the ravages ofthese animals, and said that he had brought both dogs and cats down tothe stream to hunt for them; but they were too wary to be often caught. "

I do not think that the owner of the garden knew very much about thecharacters either of the cat or water-vole. 

Every one who is practically acquainted with cats knows that it is nextto impossible to point out an object to a cat as we can to a dog. Shelooks at your finger, but can never direct her gaze to the object atwhich you are pointing. In fact, I believe that pussy's eyes are notmade for detecting objects at a distance. 

If we throw a piece of biscuit to a dog, and he does not see where ithas fallen, we can direct him by means of voice and finger. But, if apiece of meat should fall only a foot or two from a cat, all thepointing in the world will not enable her to discover it, and it isnecessary to pick her up and put her nose close to the meat before shecan find it. 

So, even, if a water-vole should be seen by the master, the attention ofthe cat could not be directed to it, her instinct teaching her to takeprey in quite a different manner. 

The dogs, supposing that they happened to be of the right breed, wouldhave a better chance of securing the robber, providing that theyintercepted its retreat to the water. But if the water-vole shouldsucceed in gaining its burrow, or in plunging into the stream, I doubtwhether any dog would be able to catch it. 

Moreover, the water-vole is so clever in tunnelling, that when it drivesits burrows into cultivated ground, it almost invariably conceals theentrance under a heap of stones, a wood pile, or some similar object. 

How it is enabled to direct the course of its burrow we cannot evenconjecture, except by attributing the faculty to that "most excellentgift" which we call by the convenient name of "instinct. "

Man has no such power, but when he wishes to drive a tunnel in any givendirection he is obliged to avail himself of levels, compasses, plumb-lines, and all the paraphernalia of the engineer. Yet, withnothing to direct it except instinct, the water-vole can, though workingin darkness, drive its burrow in any direction and emerge from theground exactly at the spot which it has selected. 

The mole can do the same, and by means equally mysterious. 

I may casually mention that the water-vole is one of the aquatic animalswhich, when zoological knowledge was not so universal as it is at thepresent day, were reckoned as fish, and might be eaten on fast days. Ibelieve that in some parts of France this idea still prevails. 

With all its wariness, the water-vole is a strangely nervous creature, being for a time almost paralysed by a sudden shock. This trait ofcharacter I discovered quite unexpectedly. 

Many, many years ago, when I was a young lad, and consequently of adestructive nature, I possessed a pistol, of which I was rather proud. It certainly was an excellent weapon, and I thought myself tolerablycertain of hitting a small apple at twelve yards distance. 

One day, while walking along the bank of the Cherwell River, I saw awater-vole on the opposite bank. The animal was sitting on a small stumpclose to the water's edge. Having, of course, the pistol with me, andwanting to dissect a water-vole, I proceeded to aim at the animal. Thiswas not so easy as it looked. A water-vole crouching upon a stumppresents no point at which to aim, the brown fur of the animal and thebrown surface of the old weather-beaten stump seeming to form a singleobject without any distinct outline; moreover, it is very difficult tocalculate distances over water. However, I fired, and missed. 

I naturally expected the animal to plunge into the river and escape. Tomy astonishment, it remained in the same position. Finding that it didnot stir, I reloaded, and again fired and missed. Four times did I fireat that water-vole, and after the last shot the animal slowly crawledoff the stump, slid into the river, and made off. 

Now in those days revolvers and breech-loaders did not exist, so thatthe process of loading a pistol with ball was rather a long andcomplicated one. 

First, the powder had to be carefully measured from the flask; then acircular patch of greased linen had to be laid on the muzzle of theweapon, and a ball laid on it and hammered into the barrel with a leadenor wooden mallet; then it had to be driven into its place with a ramrod(often requiring the aid of the mallet), and, lastly, there was a newcap to be fitted. Yet although so much time was occupied between theshots, the animal remained as motionless as a stuffed figure. 

When I crossed the river and examined the stump I found all the fourbullets close together just below the spot on which the animal had beensitting, and neither of them two inches from its body. Although theballs had missed the water-vole, they must have sharply jarred thestump. 

I was afterwards informed that this semi-paralysis from sudden fear is aknown characteristic of the animal. It seems to be shared by others ofthe same genus, as will be seen when we come to treat of the field mice. 

In its mode of eating it much resembles the squirrels, sitting on itshaunches and holding the food in its forepaws, as if they were hands. Iam not aware that it even eats worms or insects, and it may beabsolutely acquitted from any imputation of doing harm to any of thefish tribe. 

(_To be continued. _)

"SHE COULDN'T BOIL A POTATO;"

OR, THE IGNORANT HOUSEKEEPER, AND HOW SHE ACQUIRED KNOWLEDGE. 

BY DORA HOPE. 

"The late Miss Ella!"

"When are you going to turn over that new leaf you spoke of, mydaughter?"

"There's a little coffee left, but the bacon is quite cold. "

These were the exclamations that greeted a tall bright girl, as sheentered the breakfast room one morning. 

"I am very sorry, papa. I really meant to be down in time, but I supposeI must have gone to sleep again after I was called. " And being reallyvexed with herself for having so soon broken her good resolutions, formed for the hundredth time the day before, Ella Hastings accepted thecold bacon meekly, and even turned a deaf ear to the withering sarcasmsof her two schoolboy brothers, who were leisurely strapping togethertheir books, and delaying their departure till the last moment. 

"There is the postman coming up the garden; run and get the letters, Hughie. "

A solemn-looking boy of six years old climbed down from his chair, inobedience to his father's request, and soon came back with a handful ofletters, and settled himself patiently by his father's side to wait forthe empty envelopes, which formed his share of the morning'scorrespondence. 

An exclamation of surprise from Mr. Hastings caused his wife to look upinquiringly from the letter she had just opened, and he handed hersilently a telegram which had been forwarded, with other papers, fromhis office, where it had evidently been delivered late the previousevening. Kate, the eldest daughter, leaning over her mother's shoulder, read aloud the short notice:--

"Mrs. Wilson dangerously ill; letter follows. "

Mrs. Wilson was Mr. Hastings' only remaining sister. His mother had diedwhen he was almost an infant, and this "sister Mary" had slipped intoher place as mother, teacher--everything, to her little brothers andsisters; never leaving them, till the father having died also, and heryoung charges being all old enough to settle in life for themselves, shehad rewarded the faithful waiting of her old lover, and they had settleddown together in a quiet village a few miles from the noisy town wherehis business lay. Her happy married life lasted but a short time, however, and for the many years since her husband's death she hadpreferred to live entirely alone with her two maids and a strange medleyof pet animals--finding employment and interest for her declining yearsin her books and her garden. 

From being so long alone she had grown eccentric in her ways, and veryodd and decided in her views; but she kept a warm corner in her heartfor her favourite brother and his children, who heartily returned theiraunt's affection, though they stood a good deal in awe of her keenpenetrating gaze and sarcastic criticisms. 

She had always prided herself on her good constitution, and despiseddoctors and dentists as people who pandered to the fads and fancies of adegenerate generation--a generation who, according to her creed, weakened their backs and ruined their health by lounging on sofas andeasy chairs, while, for her part, though seventy years of age, she wasthankful to say a straight-backed chair was good enough for her. It maybe imagined that for this self-reliant, vigorous Aunt Mary to be takenseriously ill, so ill as to have to summon help, was a great shock, andMr. Hastings decided at once that he must go to see his sister, and thatone of his daughters should accompany him; but the telegram was soshort, and gave so little information, that nothing further could bearranged till the noonday post arrived, which always brought the lettersfrom Hapsleigh. 

The morning seemed endless, but noon came at last, and with it thepromised letter, which was eagerly opened and read. It was from Mrs. Mobberly, a near neighbour of Mrs. Wilson's. She described the suddenillness, and all that had been done for the sufferer. "The doctor saysthat for a day or two he cannot tell what the result may be, though wemay hope for the best. He has sent in a thoroughly trustworthy trainednurse, but he agrees with me that it would be a good thing if one ofyour daughters could come to take charge of the household, for even ifall goes as well as possible it will be a long and tedious recovery, andthe invalid must be kept perfectly quiet and free from all worry. "

"Well, girls, " said Mr. Hastings, as he finished reading the letter, "you must decide between yourselves which of you will go. As there seemsno immediate danger, we need not leave till to-morrow morning, so youwill have a little time for preparation; but however great a sacrificeit is for you to go, and for us to part with you, there is no questionabout it. Aunt Mary must not be left alone till she is quite herselfagain, so I will telegraph to Mrs. Mobberly that one of you will go withme by the first train to-morrow. "

There was no room for disputing the point when Mr. Hastings spoke inthat decided tone; moreover, the girls themselves would have said justthe same--that someone must go; but the question was, "who?"

"Kate, it must be you, " said Ella, eagerly. "I do not know anythingabout nursing or housekeeping, or anything of that sort, and you know Ialways say and do the wrong thing. "

Mrs. Hastings looked anxious and perplexed. "I really do not know whatto do for the best, " she said. "I do not see how I can spare you, Kate;for if I have one of my bad attacks I must have you at hand; and yousee, Ella, you would have everything to learn here just as much as atHapsleigh, and I think you would find teaching the children very hardwork. "

Kate, the eldest daughter, was her mother's unfailing assistant, andalmost entirely relieved her of the care of the three little ones;indeed, during Mrs. Hastings's frequent attacks of asthma, Kate was bothready and able to take entire charge of the household, and she feltthat to leave her mother with only Ella's help would be throwing morecare upon her than her delicate health could bear. She spoke decidedly, therefore; and, after a little more discussion, it was agreed that Ellashould accompany her father, prepared to stay as long as she might berequired. 

The rest of the day was fully occupied with packing and makingarrangements. Ella was rather apt to let her clothing take care ofitself, and, in a sudden emergency such as this, had to borrow right andleft. Indeed, Mrs. Hastings and Kate were both kept busy all theafternoon looking over and supplying the deficiencies in her outfit. 

"That dressing-gown will not do at all, Ella. It is most important tohave a thoroughly warm one when you have to sit up at night. Yours isvery pretty, but blue cashmere and lace are not suitable for a sick roomin cold weather. You will have to borrow Kate's thick flannel gown. Youshould have my quilted silk one, but in such a great thickness ofmaterial one's arms do not feel quite free to help an invalid, or shakeup a bed. "

"Here it is, Ella, " rejoined Kate; "and I have brought you my thickbedroom slippers, too. They are not so elegant as your Turkish ones, butthey are much warmer. Be sure you keep them by the side of your bed, sothat you can slip them on directly if you are called up suddenly. Youknow you take cold so easily, and it would be so awkward if you had oneof your bad throats at Hapsleigh. "

Mrs. Hastings felt very anxious about her daughter, called upon sosuddenly to take up such important and unexpected duties, and gave her agreat deal of loving counsel. 

"You will have to manage to get up earlier, dear child, " she said. "Youknow Aunt Mary's servants are always rather inclined to go their ownway, and they may perhaps try to take advantage of her illness to keepirregular hours and slight their work; and you must remember that youwill be responsible for good order in the house, and that is impossibleunless all the household are regular and punctual in beginning theirday's work at the proper time. I will let you have my little clock, andyou can set the alarum at whatever time you wish to get up. "

"Yes; I really am going to turn over a new leaf about that; but youknow, mother, I shall feel more obliged to get up now when I amresponsible for things going right. Oh, dear! what a dreadful thought! Iam sure I shall never manage. Why, I can't cook, and I can't keepaccounts, and I have no idea how many pounds of meat people want fordinner. I shall order a tin of Australian meat, and just have it atevery meal till it is finished, and then get another. "

"I am afraid the servants will soon give you notice if you do, Ella, "said Mrs. Hastings, laughing at her daughter's ideas of housekeeping. "You will soon get accustomed to the size of joints and puddings, if youget into the habit of noticing them, remembering how long they last. Butthere are two other pieces of advice which I want you to remember and toact upon. If your father decides that it is necessary for you to stayand act as mistress, he will tell the servants so; but you must assertyourself as mistress at once, and take everything into your own hands. You will find it rather difficult at first, but it will save you a greatdeal of trouble in the end. I have seen endless discomfort caused byyoung and timid housekeepers not liking to take the reins into their ownhands. But, at the same time, be very careful never to interfere orcomplain, unless you are quite sure that it is necessary, and that youare in the right. If you are in any doubt you can always consult Mrs. Mobberly; and you must make allowances for the fact that the servantshave always been allowed to do pretty much what they liked, and willnaturally expect to continue doing so; therefore do not complain unlessyou have unmistakable grounds for it, and never, under anycircumstances, speak hastily or angrily. If you are put out, wait tillyour vexation has cooled down a little; and then, if you are quite sureyou are in the right, speak quietly and kindly, but so decidedly thatthere may be no mistake about your intention of being obeyed. "

"Oh, dear!" groaned Ella, who was almost reduced to tears at theprospect of such serious responsibility. "I am sure I shall come homeignominiously in a week. I know just how it will be. Just think of AuntMary's scorn when she finds I don't even know how to boil a potato!"

There was no time for lamentations, however, and her mother and Kateboth comforted her with the assurance that at any rate no one wouldblame her if she did her best, and they would expect a few mistakes froma girl only just home from school. 

The next morning, at any rate, Ella was punctual, and at eight o'clockthey all sat down to breakfast. 

"I made tea for you, Ella, " said Mrs. Hastings. "I thought it would bebetter for you before such a long journey. Coffee sometimes disagreeswith people who are not very good travellers. And I advise you not totake bacon; it so often makes one thirsty. Here is potted meat; thatwould be better for you. "

Ella felt in very low spirits, and her mother's and Kate's affectionatekindness only brought the despised tears into her eyes. She could hardlytouch her breakfast, and was relieved when Kate left the table, andbegan to look after the small articles of luggage. 

"Robin, did you strap up the rugs? Oh, what an untidy bundle!" and themethodical Kate unfastened the straps and rearranged the contents. Firstthe large rug was folded lengthwise till it was just as wide as thelength of the bundle should be when finished. Then came Ella's shawl, anawkward one for a neat roll, as it had long fringe; but Kate turned inthe fringe all round first, and then folded the shawl itself till it wasjust a little narrower than the rug; the ulster was carefully foldedalso to the same size, and both were laid on one end of the rug. Finally, Ella's umbrella and sunshade were laid across the pile ofwraps, and all were rolled round carefully, so that none of the articlesinside protruded, and the rug, being longer than the others, hid all theends, and, when strapped round just tightly enough to hold all togethercomfortably without unnecessary squeezing, it made such a neat-lookingroll as compelled even Robin's admiration. Ella's travelling-cap hadbeen inside the bundle before, but Kate took it out and advised her tocarry it in her hand-bag, as being easily accessible if she did not wishto undo the strap. 

All was ready at last, the rugs, the hand-bag, and the tin trunk, towhich at the last moment Kate came running to tie a piece of red braid, by which to distinguish it, making Ella and the boys laugh at what theycalled her "incurable old-maidishness. "

"Never mind, " she replied, nodding sagely, "you will thank me when youhave to hunt for your box amongst twenty others exactly like it. "

Kate had suggested going to the station to see them off, but her fatherobjected. 

"We shall get on better alone, " he argued. "We settle ourselvescomfortably in our corners at once, unroll our rugs, and make everythingready before we start, instead of having to make spasmodic efforts tothink of last remarks and messages. Of course, if Ella were going aloneI should go to see her off, but as it is I would rather not have anyonewith us. "

Mrs. Hastings thought this a rather hard-hearted way of looking at thematter; but as Ella quite agreed with her father, feeling convinced shecould not be able to keep from crying if the farewells were too longprotracted, there was nothing for it but to yield, and as soon as thecab came to the door the parting was hurried through, and, almost beforeshe had time to realise that she was really going, Ella found herselfhalfway to the station. 

The railway journey was a long and troublesome one, involving severalchanges. Before midday Ella had recovered her spirits and her appetite, and acted on Kate's advice. "Do not wait for father to suggest lunch, "she had said; "you may be sure he will not begin to feel hungry till youare quite ravenous. " Remembering this, Ella laughed to herself at Mr. Hastings's surprise when she suggested that she was ready for her lunch, and proceeded to unpack her stores. 

"This is the first course, I suppose, " she said, as she produced twoneat white-paper packages, each with the name of the contents written onit. "This one contains potted meat sandwiches, and these are chicken. They look very nice, too. These sprigs of watercress between thesandwiches are a great improvement. "

"Yes, I must confess they are very good ones, " assented Mr. Hastings, after trying one of each kind. "I think someone must have been givingthe cook a lecture on the art of cutting them. Home-made sandwiches havegenerally too much butter, so that they are too rich to eat, and thepaper they are wrapped in is greasy and disagreeable; but these havejust the right quantity, and they are made with suitable bread--not, asI have often had them, of spongy bread, full of holes, through which thebutter and meat oozes on to one's fingers. "

In addition to these there were, for Ella's benefit, a few sandwichesmade with damson jam, from which the stones had been extracted. The nextcourse consisted of some small cakes and a few ripe pears. By way ofbeverage, Mrs. Hastings had supplied Ella with a flask of cold tea, madeweak, and with a squeeze of lemon in it, which she had always found thebest possible drink for quenching thirst; when travelling herself shealways took either this or lime-juice and water. Finally, knowing thatElla had a good appetite, and would probably get very hungry beforereaching her journey's end, her mother had told the cook to fill a smalljam pot with lemon jelly, and to provide a teaspoon to eat it with. Ellafound this most refreshing, and her lunch altogether was verysatisfactory; certainly the supply was rather too bountiful, but thatfact did not trouble her much, for she soon noticed a poor, hungry-looking boy on one of the stations, who thankfully accepted allthat was left. 

In spite of the length of the journey, Ella quite enjoyed the day; herfather was so kind and took such good care of her. He insisted on hergetting out of the carriage and walking up and down the platformwhenever the train stopped long enough, that she might not be tired ofsitting still; and when it began to get dark he made her put her feet upon the seat and tucked her up with the rug, and made her so comfortablethat, to her own great surprise, she went fast asleep, and only awoke asher father was collecting their books and wraps on nearing theirdestination. 

(_To be continued. _)

MERLE'S CRUSADE. 

BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY, Author of "Aunt Diana, " "For Lilias, " etc. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE NEW NURSE. 

In looking back on those days, I simply wonder at my own audacity. Am Ireally and truly the same Merle Fenton who rang at the bell at Prince'sGate and informed the astonished footman that I was the person applyingfor the nurse's situation? I recall that scene now with a laugh, but Ifrankly own that that moment was not the pleasantest in my life. True, it had its ludicrous side; but how is one to enjoy the humour of anamusing situation alone? and, to tell the truth, the six foot of plushand powder before me was somewhat alarming to my female timidity. I hearnow the man's startled "I beg your pardon, ma'am. "

"I have come by appointment, " I returned, with as much dignity as Icould summon under the trying circumstances; "will you inform yourmistress, Mrs. Morton, that I have come about the nurse's situation?"

Of course, he was looking at me from head to foot. In spite of thedisguising plainness of my dress, I suppose the word gentlewoman wasclearly stamped upon me. Heaven forbid that under any circumstancesthat brand, sole heritage of my dead parents, should ever be effaced. Then he opened the door of a charming little waiting-room, and civillyenough bade me seat myself, and for some minutes I was left alone. Ithink nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed before he reappeared with themessage that his mistress was now disengaged and would see me. Ifollowed the man as closely as I could through the long hall and up thewide staircase; not for worlds would I have owned that a certainshortness of breath, unusual in youth, seemed to impede me. At the top, I found myself in a handsome corridor, communicating with twodrawing-rooms of noble dimensions, as they call them in advertisements, and certainly it was a princely apartment that I entered. A lady waswriting busily at a small table at the further end of the room. As theman spoke to her, she did not at once raise her head or turn round; shewas evidently finishing a note. A minute later she laid aside her penand came towards me. 

"I am sorry that I could not attend to you at once, and yet you werevery punctual, " she began, in a pleasant, well-modulated voice, and thenshe stopped and regarded me with unfeigned surprise. 

She was a very lovely young woman, with an indescribable matronly airabout her that spoke of the mother. She would have been really quitebeautiful but for a certain worn look, often seen in women of fashion;and when she spoke there was a sweetness and simplicity of manner thatwas most winning. 

"Pardon me, " with a shade of perplexity in her eyes, "but I suppose myservant was right in stating that you had come by appointment in answerto my advertisement?"

"Yes, madam, " I returned, readily; for her slight nervousness put me atmy ease. "I have your letter here. "

"And you are really applying for the nurse's situation--the upper nurse, I mean; for, of course, there is an under nurse kept. I hope" (colouringa little) "that you will not think me rude if I say that I was notprepared for the sort of person I was to see. "

I could have groaned as I thought of my note. Was it possible that I hadspelt "advertisement" wrongly, and yet I had the paper before me; myhandwriting was neat and legible, but evidently Mrs. Morton was drawingsome comparison between my letter and appearance, and I did not doubtthat the former had not prepossessed her in my favour. 

I became confused in my turn. 

"I hope to prove to you, " I began, in a very small voice, "that I am afit person to apply for your situation. I am very fond of children; Inever lose my patience with them as other people do, or think anything atrouble; I wish to take up this work from love as well as necessity--Imean, " correcting myself, for she looked still more astonished, "thatthough I am obliged to work for my living, I would rather be a nursethan anything else. "

"Will you answer a few questions?" and, as though by an afterthought, "will you sit down?" for she had been standing to keep me company out ofdeference to my superior appearance. 

"I will answer any question you like to put to me, madam. "

"You have never been in service you tell me in your letter. Have youever filled any kind of situation?"

I shook my head. 

"You are quite young I should say?"

"Two and twenty last Christmas. "

"I should hardly have thought you so old. Will you oblige me with yourname?"

"Merle Fenton. "

A half smile crossed her beautiful mouth. It was evident that she foundthe name somewhat incongruous, and then she continued a little hastily, "If you have never filled any sort of situation, it will be somewhatdifficult to judge of your capacity. Of course you have good references;can you tell me a little about yourself and your circumstances?"

I was fast losing my nervousness by this time. In a few minutes I hadgiven her a concise account of myself and my belongings. Once or twiceshe interrupted me by a question, such as, for example, when I spoke ofAunt Agatha, she asked the names of the families where she had lived asa governess; and once she looked a little surprised at my answer. 

"I knew the Curzons before I was married, " she observed, quietly; "theyhave often talked to me of their old governess, Miss Fenton; her name isKeith now, you say; she was a great favourite with her pupils. Well, isit not a pity that you should not follow your aunt's example? If you arenot clever, would not the situation of a nursery governess be morefitting for you? Forgive me; I am only speaking for your good; one feelsa little uncomfortable at seeing a gentlewoman desert the ranks to whichshe belongs. "

My face was burning by this time; of course it must all come out--thatmiserable defect of mine, and everything else; but raising my eyes atthat moment I saw such a kind look on Mrs. Morton's face, such quietlyexpressed sympathy for my very evident confusion, that in a moment myreserve broke down. I do not know what I said, but I believe I must havebeen very eloquent. I could hear her say to herself, "How verystrange--what a misfortune!" when I frankly mentioned my inability tospell, but I did not linger long on this point. 

Warmed by her strong interest, I detailed boldly what I called mytheory. I told her of my love for little children, my longing to workamongst them, how deeply I felt that this would indeed be agentlewoman's work, that I did not fear my want of experience. I toldher that once I had stayed for some weeks at the house of one of myschoolfellows, and that every night and morning I had gone up to thenursery to help the nurse wash and dress the babies, and that at the endof a week I had learned to do it as well as the woman herself, and thatshe had told my schoolfellow that she had never seen any young lady sohandy and patient with children, and that they were happier with me thanwith their own sister. 

"The second child had the croup one night, " I continued; "the mother wasaway, and nurse was too frightened to be of any use. When the doctorcame he praised her very much for her prompt remedies; he said they hadprobably saved the boy's life, as the attack was a severe one. Nursecried when he said that, and owned it was not she who had thought ofeverything, but Miss Fenton. I tell you this, " I continued, "that youmay understand that I am reliable. I was only nineteen then, and now Iam two and twenty. "

She looked at me again in a gentle, scrutinising way; I could feel thatI was making way in her good opinion. Her curiosity was piqued; herinterest strongly excited. She made no attempt to check me as I launchedout into further defence of my theory, but she only smiled and said, "Very true, I agree with you there, " as I spoke of the advantage ofhaving an educated person to superintend the nursery. Indeed, I foundmyself retailing all my pet arguments in a perfectly fearless way, untilI looked up and saw there were tears in her beautiful brown eyes. 

"How well you talk, " she said, with a sort of sigh. "You have thought itall out, I can see. I wonder what my husband would say. He is a memberof Parliament, you know, and we are very busy people, and society hassuch claims on us that I cannot be much with my children. I have onlytwo; Joyce is three years old, and my boy is nearly eighteen months. Oh, he is so lovely, and to think I can only see him for a few minutes at atime, that I lose all his pretty ways; it is such a trouble to me. Hisnurse is leaving to be married, and I am so anxious to find someone whowill watch over my darlings and make them happy. "

She paused, as the sound of approaching footsteps were audible in thecorridor, and rose hastily as an impatient, "Violet, where are you, mydear?" was distinctly audible. 

"That is Mr. Morton; will you excuse me a moment?" And the next moment Icould hear her say, "I was in the blue drawing-room, Alick. I have sentoff the letters, and now I want to speak to you a moment, " and her voicedied away as they moved farther down the corridor. 

I felt a keen anxiety as to the result of that conversation. I was veryimpulsive by nature, and I had fallen in love with Mrs. Morton. The wornlook on the beautiful young face had touched me somehow. One of my queervisionary ideas came over me as I recalled her expression. I thoughtthat if I were an artist, and that my subject was the "Massacre of theInnocents, " that the mother's face in the foreground should be Mrs. Morton's. "Rachel Weeping for her Children;" something of the patheticmaternal agony, as for a lost babe, had seemed to cross her face as shespoke of her little ones. I found out afterwards that, though she woreno mourning, Mrs. Morton had lost a beautiful infant about four monthsago. It had not been more than six weeks old, but the mother's heart wasstill bleeding. Many months afterwards she told me that she oftendreamed of her little Muriel--she had only been baptised the day beforeher death--and woke trying to stifle her sobs that she might not disturbher husband. I sat cogitating this imaginary picture of mine, andshuddering over the sanguinary details, until Mrs. Morton returned, and, to my embarrassment, her husband was with her. 

I gave him a frightened glance as he crossed the room with rapidfootsteps. He was a quiet-looking man, with a dark moustache, some yearsolder than his wife. His being slightly bald added somewhat to hisappearance of age. In reality he was not more than five and thirty. Ithought him a little cool and critical in manner, but his voice waspleasant. He looked at me keenly as he spoke; it was my opinion at thatmoment that not an article of my dress escaped his observation. I hadselected purposely a pair of mended gloves, and I am convinced thefinger ends were at once under his inspection. He was a man who thoughtno details beneath him, but would bring his masculine intellect even tothe point of discovering the fitness of his children's nurse. 

"Mrs. Morton tells me that you have applied for the situation of uppernurse, " he began, not abruptly, but in the quick tones of a busy man whohas scant leisure. "I have heard all you have told her; she seemsdesirous of testing your abilities, but I must warn you that I distrusttheories myself. My dear, " turning to his wife, "I must say that thisyoung person looks hardly old enough for the position, and you own shehas no real experience. Would not a more elderly person be moresuitable, considering that you are so seldom in your nursery? Of course, this is your department, but since you ask my advice----" with a littleshrug that seemed to dismiss me and the whole subject. 

A wistful, disappointed look came over his wife's face. I was too greata stranger to understand the real position of affairs, only my intuitionguided me at that moment. It was not until much later that I found outthat Mrs. Morton never disputed her husband's will, even in trifles;that he ordered the plan of her life as well as his own; that herpassionate love for her children was restrained in order that her wifelyand social duties should be carried out; that she was so perfectlyobedient to him, not from fear, but from an excess of womanly devotion, that she seldom even contested an opinion. My fate was very nearlysealed at that moment, but a hasty impulse prompted me to speak. LookingMr. Morton full in the face, I said, a little piteously, "Do not dismissme because of my youth, for that is a fault that time will mend. Want ofexperience is a greater obstacle, but it will only make me more carefulto observe every direction and carry out every wish. If you consent totry me, I am sure neither you nor Mrs. Morton will repent it. "

He looked at me very keenly again as I spoke; indeed, his eyes seemed tosearch me through and through, and then his whole manner changed. 

I have been told that Nature had been kind to me in one respect byendowing me with a pleasant voice. I believe that I was freer fromvanity than most girls of my age, but I was glad in my inmost heart toknow that no tone of mine would ever jar upon a human ear, but I wasmore than glad now when I saw Mr. Morton's grave face relax. 

"You speak confidently, " he returned. "You seem to have a strange faithin your own theory, and plenty of self-reliance, but I am afraid that, like most young people, you have only regarded it from one point ofview. Are you aware of the unpleasantness of such a situation? If youcame to us you might have nothing of which to complain from Mrs. Mortonor myself, but we could not answer for the rest of my household; theservants would regard you as a sort of hybrid, belonging to no specialsphere; they might show you scant respect, and manifest a great deal ofjealousy. "

"I have faced all that, " I returned, with a smile, "but I think thedifficulties would be like Bunyan's lions--they were chained, you know. I do not believe these sort of things would hurt me. I should never beaway from the children in the nursery; I should be unmolested and athome. "

"Alick!" I could hear a whole petition breathed into that softly utteredword. Mr. Morton heard it too, for he turned at once and then looked athis wife. 

"Do you really wish to try this young person, Violet, my dear? It is foryou to decide; this is your province, as I said before. "

"If she will love our children and watch over them in our absence, " shewhispered, but I caught the words. Then aloud, "Yes, thank you, Alick, Ishould like to try her. I think she would make Joyce happy. I can go andsee Mrs. Keith this afternoon when I am out driving, and perhaps I couldarrange for her to come soon. "

"Very well, " he returned, briefly, but he spoke in the old dry manner, as though he were not quite pleased. "When you are disengaged will youjoin me in the library? I have some more letters I want copied. "

"I will be ready soon, " she said, with a sweet grateful glance at him, as though she had received some unexpected bounty at his hands, and ashe wished me good morning, and left the room, she continued, eagerly, "Will you come with me now and make acquaintance with the children. Ihave seen them already this morning, so they will not expect me, and itwill be such a surprise. My little girl is always with me while I dress. I have so little time to devote to them; but I snatch every moment. "

She sighed as she spoke, and I began to understand, in a dim, gropingsort of way, that fate is not so unequal after all, that even thisbeautiful creature had unsatisfied wants in her life, that it waspossible that wealth and position were to her only tiresome barriersdividing her from her little ones. Her sweetest pleasures only came toher by snatches. Most likely she envied humble mothers, and did not pitythem because their arms ached with carrying a heavy infant, aching limbsbeing more bearable than an aching heart. 

A flight of broad, handsomely-carpeted stairs brought us to a longshut-in corridor, fitted up prettily with plants and statuettes. Arocking-horse stood in one corner; the nursery door was open. It was along, cheerful room, with three windows, looking over the public garden, and fitted up with a degree of comfort that bordered on luxury. Somecanaries were singing in a green cage, a grey Persian kitten was curledup in the doll's bassinette, a little girl was kneeling on the cushionedwindow-seat, peeping between the bars at some children who were playingbelow. As Mrs. Morton said, softly, "Joyce, darling, " she turned roundwith quite a startled air, and then clambered down hastily and ran toher mother. 

"Why, it is my mother, " in quite an incredulous voice, and then shecaught hold of her mother's gown, and peeped at me from between thefolds. 

She was a pretty, demure-looking child, only somewhat thin and fragilein appearance, not in the least like her mother, but I could traceinstantly the strongest resemblance to her father. She had the straight, uncurling hair like his, and her dark eyes were a little sunken underthe finely-arched brows. It was rather a bewitching little face, onlytoo thin and sallow for health, and with an intelligent expression, almost amounting to precocity. 

"And where is your brother, my darling?" asked her mother, stooping tokiss her, and at this moment a pleasant-looking young woman came fromthe inner room with a small, curly-haired boy in her arms. 

As she set him down on the floor, and he came toddling over the carpet, I forgot Mrs. Morton's presence, and knelt down and held out my arms tohim. "Oh, you beauty!" I exclaimed, in a coaxing voice, "will you cometo me?" for I quite forgot myself at the sight of the perfect babyfeatures. 

Baby pointed a small finger at me, "O' ook, gurgle-da, " he said, in thefriendliest way; and I sealed our compact with many kisses. 

"Dear me, ma'am, " observed nurse, eyeing me in a dubious manner, forprobably the news of my advent had preceded me to the upper regions, "this is very singular; I never saw Master Baby take such a fancy toanyone before; he always beats them off with his dear little hand. "

"Gurgle-da, ook ook, " was baby's unexpected response to this, as heburst into a shout of laughter, and he made signs for me to carry him tothe canaries. 

I do not know what Mrs. Morton said to nurse, but she came up after aminute or two and watched us, smiling. 

"He does seem very friendly; more so than my shy pet here, " for Joycewas still holding her mother's gown. 

"She will be friends with me too, " I returned, confidently; "childrenare so easily won. " And then, as Mrs. Morton held out her arms for herboy, I parted with him reluctantly. 

There was no need for me to stay any longer then. Mrs. Morton reiteratedher intention of calling on Aunt Agatha that afternoon, after which shepromised to speak to me again, and feeling that things were in a fairway of being settled according to my wishes, I left the house with alighter heart than I had entered it. 

(_To be continued. _)

[Illustration]

AMONG THE HOLLYHOCKS. 

BY CLARA THWAITES. 

 Sing among the hollyhocks, "Summer, fare thee well!" Ring the drooping blossoms For a passing bell. 

 Droop the sunflowers, heavy discs Totter to their fall. Up the valley creep the mists For a funeral pall. 

 Lingering roses woefully In the cold expire. Heap the dead and dying For a funeral pyre. 

 While the gale is sighing, While the wind makes moan, Sigh among the hollyhocks Of the summer flown. 

[Illustration: "SIGH AMONG THE HOLLYHOCKS OF THE SUMMER FLOWN. "]

NOTICES OF NEW MUSIC. 

[Illustration]

STANLEY LUCAS AND CO. 

_O, hur vidgas ej ditt bröst. Liebe, liebe. _ Two Lieder. By Maude V. White. --The first, from the Swedish, has also an English set of words;the setting of the second is in German only, being a translation intothat language from the Hungarian. --There is a dreamy charm pervadingboth of these little ballads, which will be best appreciated by trulymusical and well-educated singers. 

_Two Locks of Hair. _ Song to Longfellow's poetry. By Sabine E. Barwell. --Very simple. The music is dedicated to Charles Santley, ourgreat baritone singer. 

_Alone with thee. _ Song by Gilbert R. Betjemann. Compass E to Fsharp. --An ambitious song, full of striking modulations and reallydramatic effects. The accompaniments are charming. 

_Ivy Green. _ A good song for basses or baritones. The words by CharlesDickens, the music by Arthur C. Stericker. --Plenty of go about it, andquite the song for strong, manly voices. 

_Wandering Wishes. _ Poetry by Lady Charlotte Elliot (from "Medusa" andother poems). Music by Robert B. Addison. --A very poetical setting of avery fanciful poem. 

_Our Darling. _ Ballad by Robert Reece, with music by BertholdTours. --This justly favourite composer has written the simplest, mosttouching, and melodious music to a very touching and sad story. It is acompliment to this ballad to recommend it to all who wish for a goodcry. It has this advantage over the maudlin griefs of the discontentedfolk to whom we have called attention in previous notices, that the poorbereaved parents who miss their little darling from the chair in whichhe used to listen to their fairy stories and tales of distant lands overthe sea, are content to regard him as at rest in the heavenly country, and in the angels' care. After all, if you do get the song, your tearswill be happy ones. 

EDWIN ASHDOWN. 

_Inez. _ _Zamora. _ Two Spanish dances for the pianoforte by MichaelWatson. --The first is a Habanera, and is redolent of _Carmen_ andSpanish want of energy. It is more characteristic than the second, although that is a very good reproduction of the typical peasant danceof all districts of the Peninsula. 

_Daphne. _ Valse brillante. _Celadon. _ Gavotte. Two drawing-room piecesof more than ordinary merit by J. H. Wallis. --Fairly easy to learn, andeffective when learnt. 

_May-Dew. _ By Sir Sterndale Bennett; transcribed for the pianoforte byJules Brissac. --We complained a few months back of someone havingconverted this lovely song into a part-song; we can only say of thepresent transformation, that when the voice part is at work all goesfairly well, and from a piano point of view represents the original; butthe two bars of symphony before the first and second verses of the songare stripped of all their original life, and a very mangled substituteis offered. 

LONDON MUSIC PUBLISHING CO. 

_The Broken Strings of a Mandoline. _ Words and music by Edith FrancesPrideaux. --The story of a little Italian street-player. The compass isfor sopranos; the melody is simple and not very original. 

_Sketches in Dance Rhythms. _ 1. Waltz; 2. Minuet; 3. Tarantella. ByErskine Allon. --We have before alluded to these sketches, of which Mr. Allon has composed such excellent examples. We prefer No. 1 of thepresent series, but do not consider these to be equal to former numbers. 

WEEKES AND CO. 

_Abendlied. _ _Im Rosenbusch. _ Two songs by J. H. Le Breton Girdlestone;the words, by Hoffman von Fallersleben, being translated into English byDr. Baskerville. --Most interesting little songs, and sure to givepleasure by their sweet simplicity. 

_Andante. _ Varied for the pianoforte, and composed by Henry A. Toase. Avery quiet, harmless production. Only three variations, and those not somuch of the andante as of its accompaniment. 

J. AND J. HOPKINSON. 

_Intermezzo and Minuet for Pianoforte. _ By George A. Lovell. --Two verynicely-written little pieces. The minuet is especially attractive. 

_Barcarole for Pianoforte. _ By Carl Hause. --A good drawing-room piece. The middle movement in F minor makes an effective contrast to the firstpart. 

HUTCHINGS AND ROMER. 

_The Little Sweep. _ Song. Written and composed by James C. Beazley, R. A. M. --There is no such title as R. A. M. A. R. A. M. And M. R. A. M. We know, but we must protest against this unlawful use of the name of our oldestacademy of music. The song is a stirring and dramatic account of how alost child was recovered by his mother. It is to be declaimed by acontralto. 

HUTCHINGS AND CO. 

_The Christian's Armour. _ Oratorio. By Joseph L. Roeckel; the textcompiled by Mrs. Alexander Roberts from Ephesians vi. ; interspersed withhymns from several sources. --A useful work for services of song orchapel festivities. There is a sameness about the work, and it suggestsa weary feeling towards the close. The choruses are mostly rather weakchorale. Occasionally an evidently fugal subject is announced, which isnever destined to form the subject for a fugue. However, the story iswell put together, the music is quite easy, and many choirs, unable toconquer greater difficulties, will feel at home in this so-called"oratorio. "

_Six Morceaux de Salon. _ Pour violin, avec accompagnement de piano. ParGuido Papini. Op. 66. --The author of "La Mécanisme du jeune Violiniste"has given us in these little pieces a charming addition to the_répertoire_ of the amateur violinist. Specially tender and expressiveis No. 4. The piano shares with the violin both the difficulties and theinterests of each of the _morceaux_. 

_Victoria Gavotte. _ For piano. By Tito Mattei. --A capital piano piece. We presume from the title that this is Signor Mattei's contribution tothe Jubilee Commemoration. 

ROBERT COCKS AND CO. 

_Gladys. _ Rustic Dance. Composed for the pianoforte by Howard Talbot. --Abright, telling piece. It would be very useful as an _entr'acte_ in yourChristmas charades. 

_For Old Sake's Sake. _ Song for contraltos. By Behrend. 

W. MORLEY AND CO. 

_Watching the Embers. _ Song. Composed by Ciro Pinsuti to Weatherly'swords. --With a pretty refrain, but for the most part made up of a seriesof common phrases. It is to be obtained in B flat, C, and D minors. 

_Childie. _ Song. By Behrend. Published in keys to suit all voices. --Thesong is very similar to all his others. An old lady advising a child todie young. 

_The Biter Bit. _ Song. Words and music by Henry Pontet. --A warning toany who would marry for money, and not for love. In learning the abovethree songs I am sure that singers will be as much distracted as I havebeen by little squares like lottery coupons announcing that somebodyelse's song cost £250. If this statement could appear elsewhere--say onseparate slips--the songs would be more pleasant to read. 

HENRY KLEIN. 

_The Land of Song. _ Song for tenors and sopranos by that clevercomposer, Franz Leideritz. Not so original as "Flowers from Home, " thememory of which still delights us. 

ORSBORN AND TUCKWOOD. 

_Sailing Across the Sea. _ Song. By Vernon Rey. --Prettily told and easyto learn. 

_Merry Melodies. _ A series of duets for two violins for schools andclasses, arranged by Arthur Graham. We see from the title-page thatthere are to be arrangements of the works of eminent composers, but thenames are not given. 

W. J. WILLCOCKS AND CO. 

_Offertoire and Fugue in B flat. _ _Grand Offertoire, founded uponsubjects in Schumann's Quintet, op. 44. _--These are two finely-writtenorgan solos by George F. Vincent. Valuable additions to our stock ofEnglish organ music. 

MARRIOTT AND WILLIAMS. 

_Twenty Miles to London Town. _ Song. Written and composed by Gerald M. Lane. --Mr. Lane is more fortunate in his music than in his words. Theballad--for genuine English ballad it is--is of the "Bailiff's Daughterof Islington" type, and is published in F, G, and A. 

_Captor and Captive. _ A song of Araby. By Edwin J. Quance. --A goodstirring song for baritones. 

BOWERMAN AND CO. 

_Deuxième Nocturne pour Piano. _ Par G. J. Rubini. --An unpretending pianopiece of the Gustave Lange type. 

EXPLANATION OF FRENCH AND OTHER TERMS USED IN MODERN COOKERY. 

PART I. 

_Allemande. _--Concentrated white velouté (see velouté) sauce, seasonedwith nutmeg and lemon juice, and thickened with yolks of eggs and cream. 

_Angelica. _--A plant, the stalks of which are preserved with sugar; asit retains its green colour it is pretty for ornamenting sweet dishes, cakes, etc. 

_Appareil. _--This word is applicable to a preparation composed ofvarious ingredients, as appareil de gateau (mixture for a cake). 

_Aspic. _--Name given to clear savoury jelly, to distinguish it fromsweet jelly. Cold entrées, which are moulded and have the ingredientsset in jelly, are also called aspics. 

_Assiette volante. _--A small dish (holding no more than a plate) whichis handed round the table without ever being placed on it. Things thatmust be eaten very hot are often served in this way. Little savouries, foie-gras, or cheese fondus in paper cases are thus handed. 

_Au bleu. _--An expensive way of boiling fish. A broth is made by boilingthree onions, two carrots, two turnips, some parsley, pepper, salt, sufficient water, a tumbler of white wine, and a tumbler of vinegartogether; the scum is removed as it rises, the fish is simmered in thebroth. This broth is called Court bouillon. Fish cooked thus is eatenhot or cold, with suitable sauce. 

_Baba. _--A Polish cake of a very light description. 

_Bain marie. _--A sort of bath-saucepan, which stands on a stove with hotwater in it, and has small bright saucepans stood in the water for thecontents to cook slowly without reducing or spoiling them. A bain mariehas no cover. 

_Bande. _--The strip of paste that is put round tart; sometimes the wordis also applied to a strip of paper or bacon. 

_Barde de lard. _--A slice of bacon. To barder a bird is to fasten aslice of bacon over it. 

_Béchamel sauce. _--Equal quantities of velouté sauce and cream boiledtogether. The sauce was named after a celebrated cook. 

_Beignets. _--Fritters. 

_Beurre noir. _--Butter stirred in a frying-pan over a brisk fire untilit is brown, then lemon-juice or vinegar, and pepper and salt are addedto it. 

_Beurre fondus. _--Melted, that is to say oiled, butter. 

_Bigarade sauce. _--Melted butter, with the thin rind and the juice of aSeville orange boiled in it. 

_Blanch. _--To parboil or scald. To whiten meat or poultry, or remove theskins of fruit or vegetables by plunging them into boiling water, andthen sometimes putting them into cold water afterwards, as almonds areblanched. 

_Blanquette. _--A kind of fricassée. 

_Boudin. _--A very delicate entrée prepared with quenelle forcemeat orwith fine mince. 

_Bouquet garni. _--A handful of parsley, a sprig of thyme, a small bayleaf, and six green onions, tied securely together with strong thread. 

_Bouilli. _--Boiled meat; but fresh beef, well boiled, is generallyunderstood by this term. 

_Bouillie. _--A sort of hasty pudding. Bouillie-au-lait is flour and milkboiled together. 

_Bouillon. _--Thin broth or soup. 

_Braise. _--To stew meat that has been previously blanched, very slowlywith bacon or other fat, until it is tender. 

_Braisière. _--A saucepan with a lid with a rim to it, on which lightedcharcoal can be put. 

_Brider. _--To put thin string or thread through poultry, game, etc. , tokeep it in shape. 

_Brioche. _--A sort of light cake, rather like Bath bun, but not sweet, having as much salt as sugar in it. 

_Brandy butter. _--Fresh butter, sugar, and brandy beaten together to acream. 

_Caramel. _--Made by melting a little loaf sugar in a saucepan, and assoon as it is brown, before it burns, adding some water to it. Sometimesused as a colouring for stews. Made into a syrup by adding more sugarafter the water, it is a very good pudding sauce. 

_Casserole. _--A stew-pan. The name given to a crust of rice moulded inthe shape of a pie, then baked with mince or a purée of game in it. 

_Cerner. _--Is to cut paste half way through with a knife or cutter, sothat part can be removed when cooked to make room for something else. 

_Charlotte. _--Consists of very thin slices of bread, steeped in oiledbutter, and placed in order in a mould, which is then filled with fruitor preserve. 

_Chartreuse of vegetables. _--Consists of vegetables tastefully arrangedin a plain mould, which is then filled with either game, pigeons, larks, tendons, scollops, or anything suitably prepared. 

_Chartreuse à la Parisienne. _--An ornamental dish made principally withquenelle forcemeat, and filled with some kind of ragoût, scollops, etc. 

_Chausse. _--A jelly bag. 

_Compote. _--Fruits preserved in syrup. Apple and any other kind of fruitjelly. This term is also used to designate some savoury dishes, preparedwith larks, quails, or pigeons, with truffles, mushrooms, or peas. 

_Consommé. _--Strong and clear broth used as a basis for many soups andgravies. 

_Conti_ (_potage_). Lentil soup. 

_Contise. _--Small scollops of truffles; red tongue, or other things thatare with a knife inlaid in fillets of any kind to ornament them, aresaid to be contisés. 

_Court bouillon. _--See _au bleu_. 

_Croquettes. _--A preparation of minced or pounded meat, or of potatoesor rice, with a coating of bread-crumbs. Croquettes means somethingcrisp. 

_Croquantes. _--Fruit with sugar boiled to crispness. 

_Croustades. _--An ornamental pie-case, sometimes made of shaped bread, and filled with mince, etc. 

_Croutons. _--Sippets of bread fried in butter; used to garnish. They arevarious sizes and shapes; sometimes served with soups. 

_Cuillerée. _--A spoonful. In most French recipes I have found tenspoonfuls equal to a quarter of a pint of fluid. 

_Cuisson. _--The name given to the liquid in which anything has beencooked. 

_Dariole. _--A sort of cake served hot. The name of small round moulds inwhich various little cakes are baked or puddings steamed. 

_Daubière. _--An oval stew-pan in which daubes are cooked. Daubes aremeat or fowl stewed in sauce. 

_Dégorger. _--To soak in water for a longer or shorter time. 

_Dés. _--Very small square dice. 

_Désosser. _--To bone; to remove the bones from fish, meat, game, orpoultry. 

_Dorer. _--To paint the surface of tarts or cakes with a brush, with eggor sugar, so that they may be glazed when cooked. 

_Dorure. _--The glaze one uses for pastry; sometimes beaten white of egg, sometimes yolk of egg and cold water, sometimes sugar only. 

_Entrées. _--A name for side dishes, such as cutlets, fricassées, fricandeaux, sweetbreads, etc. 

_Entrées_ (cold). --Consist of cutlets, fillets of game, poultry, &c. ;salads of various kinds, aspics, ham, and many other things. 

_Entremets. _--Second course side dishes. They are of four kinds--namely, cold entrées, dressed vegetables, scalloped shellfish, or dressed eggs, and lastly, sweets of any kind, puddings, jellies, creams, fritters, pastry, etc. 

_Escalopes. _--Collops; small round pieces of meat or fish, beaten with asteak beater before they are cooked, to make them tender. 

_Espagnole. _--Rich, strong stock made with beef, veal and ham, flavouredwith vegetables, and thickened with brown roux. This and velouté are thetwo main sauces from which nearly all others are made. The espagnole forbrown, the velouté for white. 

_Etamine. _--See Tammy. 

_Etuver. _--To stew meat with little moisture, and over a very slow fire, or with hot cinders over and under the saucepan. 

_Faggot. _--A bouquet garni. 

_Fanchonettes and florentines. _--Varieties of small pastry, covered withwhite of egg and sugar. 

_Faire tomber à glace. _--Means to boil down stock or gravy until it isas thick as glaze, and is coloured brown. 

_Farce. _--Is ordinary forcemeat, such as is used for raised pies. 

_Feuil etage. _--Very light puff paste. 

_Flamber. _--To singe fowls and game after they have been plucked. 

_Flans. _--A flan is made by rolling a piece of paste out rather largerthan the tin in which it is to be baked, then turning up the edge of thepaste to form a sort of wall round. Flans are filled with fruit orpreserve, and baked. 

_Foncer. _--To put slices of ham or bacon in the bottom of a saucepan, toline a mould with raw paste, or to put the first layer of anything in amould--it may be a layer of white paper. 

_Fontaine. _--A heap of flour with a hollow in the middle, into which topour the water. 

_Fondu. _--Or fondue. A cheese soufflé. 

_Fricandeau. _--Fillets of poultry or the best pieces of veal, neatlytrimmed, larded, and well glazed, with their liquor reduced to glaze. They are served as entrées. 

_Fricassée. _--A white stew, generally made with chicken and white sauce, to which mushrooms or other things may be added. 

_Fraiser. _--A way of handling certain pastry to make it more compact andeasier to work. 

_Frémir_, _frissonner. _--To keep a liquid just on the boil--what iscalled simmering. 

_Galette. _--A broad flat cake. 

_Gateau. _--Cake. This word is also used for some kinds of tarts, and fordifferent puddings. A gateau is also made of pig's liver; it istherefore rather difficult to define what a "gateau" is. 

_Gaufres. _--Or wafers. Light spongy biscuits cooked in irons over astove. 

_Glacer. _--To glaze; to brush hot meat or poultry over with concentratedmeat gravy or sauce, so that it shall have a brown and shiny appearance. Glaze can be bought in skins. Glacer, in confectionery, means to icepastry or fruit with sugar. 

_Gniocchi. _--Small balls of paste made with flour, eggs, and cheese toput into soup. 

_Gramme. _--A French weight. An ounce avoirdupois is nearly equal tothirty grammes. 

_Gras. _--Made with meat and fat. 

_Gratins_ (_au_). --Term applied to certain dishes of fish, game, poultry, vegetables, and macaroni dressed with rich sauces, andgenerally finished with bread-crumbs or bread-raspings over the top. 

_Gratiner. _--Is to brown by heat, almost burn. 

_Grenadins. _--Similar to a fricandeau, but smaller; grenadins are servedwith vegetable purées. 

(_To be continued. _)

THE SHEPHERD'S FAIRY. 

A PASTORALE. 

BY DARLEY DALE, Author of "Fair Katherine, " etc. 

CHAPTER III. 

DAME HURSEY THE WOOLGATHERER. 

[Illustration: "HE STRUCK ACROSS UNBEATEN PATHS. "]

When John Smith, as for reasons of his own he called himself, leftPierre, he pulled his hat well over his eyes and started off across thedowns in the direction of Lewes. He knew the country well, and partly onthis account, partly because he did not wish to be recognised, he struckacross unbeaten paths, where he was not likely to meet anyone, avoidingthe high roads as much as he could, and travelling as near as possibleas the crow flies, over downs and meadows to the village he was seeking. It was a good six miles, and he had neither time nor inclination topause and look at the scenery around him, so full of charm to those wholive among it, so repellent at first to the stranger's eye, which hasnot been educated to notice the various tints and colours which sweepover the soft rounded outlines of those purple downs, but is at oncecaught by the grey hollows of the hills and the patches of white chalkwhich peep out every here and there on the steeps, and at a distancelook like the perpetual snow of Alpine regions. The scenery of theSussex Downs is like the Sussex people in this respect--it requires tobe well known to be thoroughly appreciated; cold and reserved at first, it is only on better acquaintance you learn the sterling worth, thetruth, the real kindness of heart, and the hospitality whichcharacterise the Sussex people. And the downs themselves will not yieldall their beauty at once; you must live among them to thoroughly knowand love them; cold and grey and monotonous as they look at first, inthe autumn especially, you will see what a variety of colours they canshow when the fields are golden with corn, and the downs themselvesrichly dotted with wild flowers, and the clouds cast fleeting shadowsover the slopes, and the purple and green of the nearer hills melt awayinto delicate blues and rosy greys in the distance. And then in winterthe clouds play such tricks with the soft rounded hills and their whitechalk sides, which chalk will reveal itself in all its nakedness everyhere and there, that it is often easy to imagine yourself inSwitzerland, and difficult exceedingly to tell where the downs end andthe clouds begin, so softly have they blended together, those greyclouds, those white and purple downs. No, the downs are not monotonousto those who look with careful eyes, at least, though the casualobserver may see nothing in them but multitudes of sheep. Unique theymay be, unlike the rest of England they certainly are, but notmonotonous. And then the dales, with the villages nestling in thebottom, are so picturesque, and the green pastures, separated by dykes, have a homelike appearance, with the small black Sussex cattle withtheir long white horns, at least to a Sussex eye. 

Over some of these meadows the carpenter, with the little French baby inhis arms, now made his way. Hitherto he had been lucky and had met noone, but now he was approaching a village a few miles from Lewes, which, for the purposes of this story, we will call Bournemer, and though thesun had set, it was still too light for him to risk being recognised, sohe still kept to the fields, which he could the more easily do, as thehouse he sought was nearly a mile from the village. At last he saw itstanding in the next field with a clump of trees on one side of it; itwas little more than a cottage, though from the sheds adjoining it mighthave been taken for a small farmhouse; it was sheltered from the northby the down at the foot of which it lay, its red roof telling wellagainst the soft grey background in the evening light. It faced thefield, the road at the foot of the down running at the back of it, andalready there was a light in one of the lower rooms; the front door wasclosed, but the gate of the field was open, details which the carpentertook in at a glance, and interpreted to mean that the shepherd was goneto fold his sheep for the night, and his wife was at home awaiting hisreturn to supper. 

"He will be back soon. I must be quick; now is my time, " said thecarpenter to himself, making his way towards the house by the clump oftrees, which afforded him a little shelter. Here he paused for a fewminutes, and, after listening intently, put the baby on the ground whilehe took off his shoes. Then, picking it up, he crept quickly andnoiselessly across the path towards the front door, on the step of whichhe laid his burden, and then crept back to the trees, where he put onhis shoes, and with the purse which Léon had given him for the baby'smaintenance in his pocket, he made his way back to the boat on thebeach, congratulating himself on the success of his scheme. No one, heargued, was any the worse for it, while he was one thousand francs thebetter. He had wronged no one, as the baby was sure to be well takencare of. John Shelley was certain to take it in, and would probablythink the Lord had sent it to him, and, with a chuckle over theshepherd's simplicity, he went his way. 

The baby was asleep when he deposited it on the doorstep, but it wokeshortly after, and began to cry lustily for food, but the doors andwindows being all closed, its wailing did not penetrate to the inside ofthe house. But before the carpenter had been gone half an hour footstepsapproached the house, and the shepherd and his dog entered the gate ofthe field in which it stood. A fine, big, handsome man looked thisshepherd as he paused to fasten the gate; about thirty years old, fair, with a florid complexion, blue eyes, and a long, yellowish beard, a facemore remarkable for its kindly good humour than for its intelligence. Hewas dressed in a long smock, and he carried a crook, so that there wasno mistaking his occupation, of which, by the way, he was very proud;his father and his grandfather and their fathers and grandfathers hadbeen shepherds before him for many generations, and that he should everbe anything else than a shepherd was the last idea likely to enter JohnShelley's mind. A shepherd by birth and education, he followed hiscalling with an ardour which would have amounted to passion in a warmertemperament. His sheep were his first thought on waking, his last as heclosed his eyes at night, and he understood them and their waysthoroughly. The life suited him exactly; it might be a lonely life, wandering for hours on the downs without meeting a living creature dayafter day, except, perhaps, occasionally a neighbouring shepherd, but hewas used to it. It might be an anxious life, especially in lambing time, but he was lucky, and rarely lost any lambs. It might be a dangerouslife sometimes in the winter fogs, rambling about on the hills with therisk of falling into a chalk pit and breaking his neck, but he wasalways too anxious about his sheep when overtaken by a fog to think ofhis own danger. Then the wages were good, and the same all the yearround, with the chance of making some extra money in the shearingseason, and so much a head on each lamb that he reared; and to allintents and purposes he was his own master, for the farmer to whom thesheep belonged entrusted the management of the flock entirely to him. 

But while the shepherd was fastening the gate the dog ran to the baby, whose cry had reached his quick ears before it did his master's, andhaving sniffed all round it, he set up some short, quick barks, and ranback to the shepherd, calling his attention to the baby as plainly ashis inability to speak would allow him. 

"What is it, Rover? what is it? Down, sir, it is only the baby crying;the window must be open, " said the shepherd, as he approached the house, but Rover, as if to contradict his master, ran up to the bundle on thedoorstep, and barked louder than ever. 

John Shelley took longer to take in the fact that an infant was lyingcrying on his doorstep than his dog had done. He stooped and looked, andtook off his hat to rub his head thoughtfully and stimulate his brainthat he might grasp the idea, and then he stooped again, and this timepicked up the baby, and throwing open the door of the large kitchen, with its sanded floor of red bricks, stood on the threshold, holding outthe wailing child, and saying--

"Look here, Polly, see what I have found on the doorstep. "

Mrs. Shelley, who was sitting working, with her foot on a cradle whichshe was rocking gently to and fro, more from habit, since the baby wasasleep, than for any real reason, looked up and saw in her husband'sarms a bundle wrapped in a red shawl embroidered with gold. 

"What is it, John?" she asked; but a cry from the bundle answered thequestion, and she sprang to her husband's side in astonishment. 

She was a tall, good-looking woman, five or six years younger than theshepherd, with brown hair and eyes, and a rich colour in her cheeks, which came and went when she was excited; a bright intelligent face, not beautiful, scarcely handsome in repose, but which at times was soanimated that she often passed for a very pretty woman. 

"Give it to me. Oh, John! John! where can it have come from? The dearlittle creature! And see what lovely things it has? Only look at thissatin quilt in which it is wrapped, and, see, John, a toy of coral withgold bells! My pretty one, hush! hush! hush!" And Mrs. Shelley rockedthe child in her arms; but her astonishment and admiration got thebetter of her motherly instinct for a moment, and she proceeded with herexamination of its clothes. "Its nightdress is the finest cambric andtrimmed with real lace, and see this exquisite handkerchief tucked infor a feeder; look! there is a coronet on it, John. I verily believe the'Pharisees, ' as the children say, brought it. Do go and see if there isa fairy ring in the meadow, then I shall be sure they did!"

Now, Sussex peasants--shepherds, especially--were very superstitious inthe days in which this baby was found, and both John Shelley and hiswife half believed that the fungus rings, so often found on the downs, were made by the fairies, or "Pharisees, " as they called them. So, partly to see if he could find any further clue to the child, partly tolook for the fungus ring, John Shelley took a lantern and went out toexplore the premises. 

As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Shelley, who was an impulsive woman, gavethe little stranger the supper that by right belonged to her own infant. 

[Illustration: A VISIT FROM DAME HURSEY. ]

"My boy is stronger than this little fragile creature, and he must waittill I have fed it, " she said to herself. "Poor little mite, I don'tbelieve it has been undressed for days, its beautiful dress is so dirty. I shall have time to bathe it and put it on some of Charlie's cleanthings before John comes in to his supper. "

And as John was very slow and deliberate in all his actions, and hiswife very quick in all hers, by the time he came back the littlestranger was washed and dressed, and fed, and sleeping quietly in thecradle, while Mrs. Shelley nursed her own boy. 

"Well, John, have you found any fairy rings?"

"No, Polly; no, I can't make it out at all; it is very odd--very oddindeed. I can't think where the child came from, " said John, shaking hishead, slowly. "I don't believe the fairies brought it, though, " headded, after a pause. 

"Who do you think did, then?" asked Mrs. Shelley, quickly. 

"I don't know who brought it, but I tell you what, Polly, I believe Godsent it and means us to take care of it. "

"Take care of it! Why, of course we must, John. You don't suppose Idreamt of sending it to the workhouse, do you? Little darling! Why, itis the very thing we have been longing for, a little girl; it shall beCharlie's foster-sister. All I hope is, whoever brought it will let uskeep it. I love it already!"

"But, Polly, it isn't our child. We must take care of it, of course, forto-night, but you will have to go to Parson Leslie to-morrow and ask himwhat we ought to do to find out who it belongs to. "

"Indeed, and I shall do no such thing, " said Mrs. Shelley, hastily. 

But the shepherd was master in his own home, and announced decidedly--

"Then I must go to-night, late as it is. "

"And knock the parson up? It will be eleven o'clock before you getthere. Sit down and get your supper, do, John, and we can talk aboutconsulting him to-morrow. "

"That won't do, Polly; either I must go to the rector to-night or youmust promise to go to-morrow. Which is it to be?"

"There never was such a pig-headed man as you. If you set your mind on athing there is no turning you. I suppose I shall have to go, or you'llbe rushing off now, and I want my supper. One thing I am sure of, John, and that is, the baby belongs to rich people, and, I think, to somenobleman, for all the things have a coronet on them, and its clothes areall so fine. "

"Is there no name on any of them?"

"No, nor anything to give us the least idea who the child is. It hasevidently been accustomed to luxury, though, and somehow I fancy it is aforeign child. I never saw any baby's clothes made as these are, " saidMrs. Shelley. 

A foreign child was an idea John Shelley could not accept so suddenly. His slow phlegmatic mind could not travel beyond his owncountry--scarcely beyond the Sussex downs. 

"More likely to be one of the quality's children. They don't make theirclothes as we do, I expect; but if you show Mr. Leslie that coronet hemay be able to make something of it. "

And so it was arranged that Mrs. Shelley should go the next day andconsult the rector about their new-found treasure; but she fully made upher mind to use all the eloquence in her power to persuade Mr. Leslie toconvince John it was plainly their duty to keep the baby which had beenso mysteriously brought to them until its rightful owners claimed it. 

The next morning John Shelley was up betimes, as, indeed, he always was;but it was shearing time, and he was unusually busy, and it was, moreover, Saturday, and he hoped, with the help of the men who wentround the country shearing in the month of June, to finish his flockthat evening, so taking his breakfast and dinner with him, he told Mrs. Shelley not to expect him back till the evening. Across the dewy meadowsin the fresh June morning, the loveliest part of the day, went JohnShelley, startling a skylark every now and then from the ground, fromwhence it rose carolling forth its matin song, gently at first, butlouder and louder as it sprang higher and higher, until lost to sight, its glorious song still audible, though John Shelley was too muchoccupied with his own thoughts, and, perhaps, too much accustomed to thesinging of the lark, to pay much attention to it. Even his dogs, Roverand Snap, failed to wake him from his meditation, until he reached themeadow where he had folded his sheep for the night, and then everythought, except whether the sheep were all safe, vanished from his mindas he stood counting them. A few words to the dogs explained his wishesthat the shorn sheep were to be driven out and the unshorn left in thefold for the present; and then, after a great deal of barking on thepart of the dogs, and shouting from the shepherd, and rushing andscrambling on the part of the sheep, their bells jingling a notunmusical accompaniment to the thrushes and blackbirds, which werepouring out their morning song in the adjoining copse, this manoeuvrewas effected, and John led his shorn flock to the downs, walking infront with his crook in his hand, while the dogs brought up the rear, yelping and barking at the heels of any erring sheep that strayedoutside the flock. 

The shepherd was a man who concentrated all his thoughts on the businesshe had on hand, and as he led his sheep to the down on which he meant toleave them to the care of the dogs for the day, he was making a nicecalculation of how long it would take him and his assistants to finishthe shearing, when, just as he was about to leave the sheep, he wasaccosted by an old woman. She was tall, thin, with a slight stoop, ahooked nose, bright black eyes, and rough, crisp, grizzly hair, whichgave her rather a witch-like appearance; nor did the bonnet perched onthe top of her head, its crown in the air, tend to dispel this notion. She had a knotted stick in one hand, and a basket with some pieces ofwool off the sheeps' backs which she had collected from the bushes inthe other. It was Dame Hursey, the wool-gatherer, well known to JohnShelley and every other shepherd in the neighbourhood, with all of whomshe often had a gossip, and celebrated in the district as the mother ofan unfortunate son, a fine, promising young sailor, who, having beenconvicted of robbery some years ago, and served a long sentence in Lewesgaol, had never been heard of since, unless his mother was in hisconfidence. 

A great gossip was Dame Hursey; she always knew all that went on in theneighbourhood, for she led a wandering, restless life, never at homeexcept at night, sticking and wool-gathering in the autumn and winter, haymaking and gleaning in the summer, gossiping, whenever she had achance, at all seasons. If anyone were likely to know anything aboutthis strange baby, always supposing the fairies had had nothing to dowith it, it was Dame Hursey, and the shepherd, being relieved of anyfurther anxiety about the sheep, walked with her and told her the story. 

John Shelley was neither a quick-witted nor an observant man, exceptwith regard to the weather, every sign of which he took in, or he wouldhave noticed that Dame Hursey started perceptibly when he told her thetime he found the baby, and that a glance of quick intelligence shotinto her bright eyes as she heard the story; but when he had finishedshe gave it as her firm opinion that the "Pharisees, " and no one else, must have brought the child, and she urged John on no account to partwith it, as there was no telling what revenge the fairies might take iftheir wishes were set aside. And the old wool-gatherer proceeded to tellsuch wonderful stories of the terrible vengeance wrought by thesemysterious little beings on people who had despised their gifts, thatthe shepherd was glad to put an end to such unpleasant suggestions bywalking off at a rapid pace to his unshorn sheep. 

"It is strange, very strange, that I should have met my George the verysame night, coming from Shelley's place too. He has had something to dowith this baby as sure as wool is wool. I'll go round by Mrs. Shelley'sand have a look at this wonderful child; perhaps I may find outsomething. I doubt it will be a bad thing for George if he is found outthis time, if, as I suspect, he knows a deal more about it than we do, and he was up to no good last night or he would not have made me swearnot to say I had seen him as he did. Well, the child is safe enough withthe Shelleys, and I'll do my best to frighten them into keeping it, "muttered Dame Hursey to herself, as she bent her steps towards theshepherd's house. 

(_To be continued. _)

VARIETIES. 

"EXCELLENT HEART. "

Take a good-sized, tender heart. Extract all seeds of selfishness, andproceed to stuff as follows:--

1 lb. Crumbs of comfort. 

1 quart milk of human kindness. 

Several drops essence of goodness and happiness. 

Good dripping from the eaves of Love's dwelling. 

Blend these well with a little of the oil of Time to mellow and soften. 

Place the heart on a warm hearth with Love's rays full upon it and someof the light of other days. Move it now and then, but do not probe it. Keep the world's cold blasts from it if possible, but do not allow it tobe absorbed in its own juices. It will take time to prepare, but whenready is fit for king or peasant and welcome at any table. 

SAUCE FOR ABOVE. 

Pint or more good spirits, a few honeyed words; a little cream ofsociety may improve, but is not necessary. Carefully avoid cold water, vinegar, or pepper, or acidity in any form. 

The above will keep for years. --S. L. 

CONTENTED. --If you can live free from want, care for no more, for therest is vanity. 

THE STORMS OF ADVERSITY. --A smooth sea never made a skilful mariner, neither do uninterrupted prosperity and success qualify anyone forusefulness and happiness. The storms of adversity, like the storms ofthe ocean, arouse the faculties and excite the intention, prudence, skill and fortitude of the voyager. 

A WISE MOTHER. --The celebrated Orientalist, Sir William Jones, when amere child was very inquisitive. His mother was a woman of greatintelligence, and he would apply to her for the information which hedesired; but her constant reply was: "Read, and you will know. " Thisgave him a passion for books, which was one of the principal means ofmaking him what he was. 

TWENTY-FOUR NOTES IN ONE BOW. --The _Daily Post_ of February 22nd, 1732, contains a curious announcement with regard to Castrucci, the violinist, namely, that he would play a solo "in which he engages himself toexecute twenty-four notes in one bow. " This piece of charlatanism, somisplaced in a truly able musician, was excellently capped on thefollowing day by a nameless fiddler advertising his intention to playtwenty-five notes in one bow. 

A CAT STORY. --There was a favourite Tom cat owned by a family inCallander, in Scotland, and it had on several occasions shown more thanordinary sagacity. One day Tom made off with a piece of beef, and theservant followed him cautiously, with the intention of catching him andadministering a little wholesome correction. To her amazement, she sawthe cat go into a corner of the yard, in which she knew a rat-holeexisted, and lay the beef down by the side of it. Leaving the beefthere, puss hid himself a short distance off and watched until a ratmade its appearance. Tom's tail then began to wag, and just as the ratwas moving away with the bait he sprang upon it and killed it. 

HEARING WITH DIFFICULTY. --"Dr. Willis tells us, " says Burney, in his"History of Music, " "of a lady who could _hear only while a drum wasbeating_; insomuch that her husband actually hired a drummer as aservant in order to enjoy the pleasure of her conversation. "

COURAGE. --Courage which grows from constitution often forsakes peoplewhen they have occasion for it; courage that arises from a sense of dutyacts in a uniform manner. 

THE INFLUENCE OF FORTUNE. --Fortune, good or ill, does not change men orwomen; it but developes their character. 

WEAK MINDS. --Two things indicate a weak mind--to be silent when it isproper to speak, and to speak when it is proper to be silent. --_PersianProverb. _

A SUCCESSFUL WEDDING. --A New York girl has just enjoyed the triumph ofhaving the biggest wedding given in that city for years. She whisperedaround that the man she was to marry had a red-haired wife somewhere, who would be at hand to interrupt the ceremony. The church was crowded. 

TWO SIDES TO PLEASURE. --Pleasure is to woman what the sun is to theflower; if modestly enjoyed it beautifies, it refreshes and improves; ifimmoderately, it withers and destroys. --_Colton. _

THE ILLS OF LIFE. --There are three modes of bearing the ills of life: byindifference, which is the most common; by philosophy, which is the mostostentatious; and by religion, which is the most effectual. 

AN OBSERVATION ON ROGUES. --After long experience of the world, I affirm, before God, I never knew a rogue who was not unhappy. --_Junius. _

ANSWER TO DOUBLE ACROSTIC (p. 30). 

 1. L i P 2. A ristotl E (a) 3. M a r t y R 4. B l o c K 5. E l I 6. R e s i N (b) 7. T h ur lo W 8. S coevo l A (c) 9. I ndicato R (d)10. M e r a B (e)11. N a z E12. E clipti C13. L o K (f)

Lambert Simnel. Perkin Warbeck. 

(a). His adage was "Amicus Plato, amicus Socrates, magis tamen amicaveritas. " From his custom of delivering instruction whilst walking, hisdisciples were styled "Peripatetics. "

(b). Familiarly pronounced "rosin. "

(c). Left-handed. 

(d). Indicator Major, the great honeybird of South Africa. 

(e). See 1 Samuel, xviii. 

(f). Lo(c)k. 

[Illustration: A CROWN OF FLOWERS

being

POEMS and PICTURES

Collected from the pages of

THE GIRLS OWN PAPER]

EDITED BY CHARLES PETERS. 

The Poems are written by the Author of "John Halifax Gentleman, " SarahDoudney, Helen Marion Burnside, F. E. Weatherly, Annie Matheson, AnneBeale, Mrs. G. Linnæus Banks, the Rev. W. Cowan, Sydney Grey, EdwardOxenford, Isabella Fyvie Mayo, Clara Thwaites, Harriet L. Childe-Pemberton, the Dowager Lady Barrow, and others. 

Illustrated by Frank Dicksee, A. R. A. , M. Ellen Edwards, W. J. Hennessy, Davidson Knowles, John C. Staples, Robert Barnes, Charles Green, ArthurHopkins, William Small, Frank Dadd, the late Cecil Lawson, and others. 

 * * * * *

"As _A Crown of Flowers_ is carefully printed upon fine paper, fullvalue is given to the engravings, which is one of the features of themagazine from which they are selected, and shows what a marked advancehas been made of recent years in the character of such illustrations, which will, in the present instance, vie with anything of the kindproduced on this or the other side of the Atlantic. "--_The PictorialWorld. _

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

EDUCATIONAL. 

E. A. T. --There is a School of Telegraphy in Moorgate-buildings, at theback of Telegraph-street, E. C. All candidates for free admission musthave passed an examination in handwriting and the first four rules ofarithmetic under the Civil Service Commissioners, in Cannon-row, W. C. , aged not under fourteen nor over eighteen years. They must be giftedwith quickness of eye and ear and a delicate touch. In three or fourmonths they have acquired the art, working four hours a day. They mustbe proficient in the use of four instruments. The pupils in this schoolare only intended for service in London. 

CEDRICA. --In reference to Gall's or Mercator's projection, you mayperceive that by doing away with perspective you obtain the relativedistances, as well as the height of the mountains compared with thegeneral surface, without deducting through foreshortening. You writefairly well, but too large to be pretty. 

SINE. --The auroræ are closely connected with the earth's magnetism, although their exact relationship is unknown. The appearance takes placeequally round both magnetic poles. The most general opinion seems to bethat they are illuminations of the lines of force which undoubtedlycirculate round our earth. At all events, the corona forms itself roundthe magnetic poles, and its lines correspond to the earth's magneticfield. Displays of auroræ are almost always accompanied by magneticstorms, which so much affect our telegraph instruments, although thelatter may occur when there is no visible aurora. An artificial aurorawas produced by electrical means by Professor Lindstroem, in 67° northlatitude, which was found to exhibit the spectrum of the true aurora. You will find all information respecting the "Zodiacal light" in"Guillemin on the Heavens. "

C. H. C. --No examinations are required for teachers in high schools; butof course preference is always given to those who have passedexaminations, and they obtain better salaries. The senior or the higherCambridge examinations for women would be the best, and would ensure agood position. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

MARIE. --Your having given your parrot meat has given her a taste for rawmeat. Perhaps a chemist could suggest a wash or powder to shake in underthe feathers, that would taste bitter and disagreeable and yet proveharmless. Possibly your bird is troubled with small vermin, whichirritate the skin and induce it to pick at the roots of the feathers. Examine the skin and plumage. We have given a long recipe for destroyingthe vermin in canaries. 

TUM YUM. --You had better buy a little bottle of oil-gold and paint yourpicture-frame with it. See our article, "Lissom Hands and Pretty Feet. "

ERICA RAEBURN. --Your verses are not correctly written, but thesentiments expressed are good. When you make an adverb of the word"true" you should drop the final "e. "

M. H. M. --Write or see a map-setter, such as Wyld, or any other ofthose in or near Trafalgar-square and Charing Cross. The ways and meansof colouring and disposing of your maps will be explained to you bythese people. 

PECKHAM RYE. --The poet Wordsworth had an only daughter, Dora, married toMr. Quillinan. She was burnt to death in 1847, and left two daughters. The bishops are nephews of the poet. 

PHARMACEUTICAL. --The word "Pharmacon" can be found in all Greeklexicons. It is probably of Oriental extraction. It originally meant anymedicine taken internally or externally, and apparently its originalsignification was good--or, at all events, not bad. Then, secondly, itcame, like the word "accident, " to get a bad sense attached to it, andit was used for a "poisonous drug, " from which is derived its third andlast sense, an "enchanted potion, " or "enchantment. " In the NewTestament the word is translated "sorcery, " not "drugs. " See Rev. Xxii. 15. 

DAFFODIL. --Pampas grass may be cleaned by putting it into a large vesselof clean cold water, when after some time all the dust and dirt willcome out, and it may be lightly shaken till dry. It may also be bleachedwith chloride of lime. 

SUNBEAM. --Do not on any account do so dangerous a thing as to putparaffin oil on your hair. Besides, the very bad smell of the oil wouldbe most offensive to others if not to yourself. 

DELIA T. (Lausanne). --From your writing we conclude that you are veryyoung. If so, your verses give some promise of better ones when older. 

JACKDAY. --It is suitable for every day. You write very well. There is no"e" in truly. 

LITTLE EMILY. --See "Girls' Christian Names, " pages 39, 134, 235, 381, vol. Iv. 

OCKLAWAKA. --Certainly, it is quite improper to walk about alone with aman to whom you are not engaged. We know of no cure suitable for allalike for sea-sickness. Lie down on deck, drink water before being sick, and beware of starving. At the same time, do not select pork nor a suetdumpling just at first. In cases of very severe sickness, swallowingsmall scraps of ice before and after a spoonful of _consommé_ or jellyis desirable, and an icebag should be applied to the spine. 

A TRING GIRL should consult a doctor about the moles if veryunornamental. 

LADY JANE GREY. --The "seven whistlers" are curlew, or herringspearbirds, thought to be storm-bringers when heard overhead at sea. You willfind a story in Buckland's "Curiosities of Natural History" about them. 

ANNIE SPIKE should write to the Religious Tract Society, 56, Paternoster-row, E. C. , for the tracts she needs. The lines are notpoetry--nothing but badly-rhymed prose. 

HARTY. --Wills can be inspected at Somerset House, in the Strand, W. C. 

UNE PETITE FLEUR. --No one could interfere with you in keeping a privateschool, so far as we know. 

JAMIE'S DARLING. --We thank you warmly for your kind letter, and wish youmuch happiness in your new life and position. 

NO STONE UNTURNED must send her tale to a publisher; but we do not thinkshe will get much--probably nothing; but, on the contrary, will have topay, for a first attempt. 

ASPHODEL. --The 29th of April, 1870, was a Friday. When a man says he is"very much in love" with the girl to whom he is speaking, he means herto give him some encouragement to say more, and in a business-like, practical way. 

A FEARFUL ONE. --A polypus in the nose has to be cut out, but the patientmust be under the influence of chloroform. It is more usually a man'sthan a woman's disease. Your letters should be rounder. 

UNE DEMOISELLE. --It is our ordinary form of greeting to say "How do youdo?" It is an idiomatic phrase, and does not exact an answer as to thestate of your health any more than the salutation "Good day. " If anxiousfor information as to how you are, more direct inquiries will follow thesalutation. Only ignorant persons reply to "How do you do?" "Very well, thank you; how are you?"

A. B. --The first and second volumes of the G. O. P. Are entirely out ofprint, as also are all the indexes, excepting that for vol. Vi. None ofthese will be reprinted. We request our readers to take note of what wesay, as it will save them waste of time in writing for them. 

RUBY KINGSLEY. --We cannot continue giving space for repeating the storyof the willow pattern. 

 * * * * *

MISS KING, the Secretary of the Society for Promoting the Employment ofWomen, 22, Berners-street, Oxford-street, W. , writes:--In the G. O. P. ForSeptember there is an article (one of a series) on wood engraving by Mr. R. Taylor. I have read the articles with great interest, and I entirelyagree with the greater part of what Mr. Taylor says. But he writes as ifthere were no opening for girls in the trade. I fully admit that only asmall number are at present employed in it, but he writes that he doesnot believe that engraving can be effectually taught in schools orclasses, and that he has not met with a single individual who hasattained by this means skill enough to earn a livelihood. Now it is afact that there are 12 or 14 girls employed at an engraver's in theCity, who have learnt engraving at the City and Guilds of London ArtSchool, which was established about six years ago, and some of thesegirls are doing excellent work and earning very good wages. Engraving isan art which requires persevering study for four or five years at theleast, so that the school has not yet been established for asufficiently long time to have trained a large number of girls, but theinstruction given there is thoroughly good, and if the girls willpersevere as long with it as they would be obliged to do if they wereregularly apprenticed, I do not think there is any fear but that theywill succeed in getting employment; but their work must be good. If youwill kindly look at page 9 of our Report, published in May last, youwill see an account of the school. There are vacancies now in theschool, particulars of which I shall be happy to give to anyone who willcall here between 11 and 5. I shall be greatly obliged if you willmention this school and its successful work in the next number of theG. O. P. , for I fear that Mr. Taylor's statement is calculated to injureit materially. 

I am, dear sir, Yours obediently, GERTRUDE J. KING, Sec. 

A full account of the Kennington class was given in the G. O. P. , January, 1884, page 180, in the article on Art in the series of "Work for All. "