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[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] THE MURDER AT THE MANOR. BY BEATRICE HERON-MAXWELL and FLORENCE E. KASTWiCK. PROLOGUE. There are depths of character in many people that remain unsounded, became chance brings no experience into their lives that goes deep enough. There are lights and shades that rest unappreciated and undiscovered, because the environment does not throw them into suffi- cient relief. Looking back on temperaments and natures with the illumination of subsequent knowledge, one sees how complex were some that appeared so simple, how tragic was the under current of a smooth and easy flow of existence, how pos- sible it would have been to turn certain ten- dencies into nobility instead of ignominy, gran- deur instead of degradation. But while the tide flows on, and the land- marks, are obliterated by time or space, or cus- tom, one can only take on trust much that would be better doubted; one can only believe in the good faith of those near and dear to one, from whom in reality one should guard both life and honour. CHAPTER I. ESTELL.VK NARRATIVE. "Anne," I called, stepping out of the morn- ing room window, and crossing the lawn to the ha-ha. "Anne—Nancy—where are you?" There was no answer, but the gate into the orchard swinging loose on its hinges, suggested that Anne had recently passed through it was one of her "ways" never to shut [t, door after her. I came upon her presently, perched up on the forked branch of a pear-tree, that dipped close to the ground, serenely asleep. The Spring sunlight slanting through blos- som-laden boughs, turned the waves of her hair to ruddy gold; her lips, parted, looked crimson against the dead whiteness or her skin. But for the dainty rounded curves of cheek and chin, and shoulder, her head, pillowed on one arm, might have been a painting by Burne Jones, \nth the amorous, wistful pleading that he would have portrayed in her eyes, hidden by their closed lids. I had never in my life seen anyone I thought prettier than Anne. She stirred when I touched her, and put her hand petulantly over her face. "I don't want to wake," she murmured, "I was having such a lovely dream. Go away, star." "But Uncle Christophe..sent. for you," I lli"ged, "and it was nearly lunch time, so you would have to come in anyhow. The young 111 Un is here. He came by an earlier train." 0 Anne leisurely uncoiled herself and descended. "What is he like?" she said. The shadow of dumber was still in her eyes; she smoothed her muffled locks, yawning. "Very ordinary," I answered with indiffer- ence. I only saw him as he passed through the hall. Tall and dark. Rather dull and serious minded, I should say." For to praise anyone or anything to Anne was to prejudice her against them from the first; juid, without the faintest notion why, I wanted 10r to like the newcomer. She put her arm round my neck as we strolled ^Ack to the house; she was just so much taller as enabled her to do so comfortably— inveighed against this young man in parti- >and all young men in general. ,,A rpt.. hy did you let Uncle Chris set up a sec- 1 ctary ?', she sa.id. "You could have done the 1 1 ,7?Urse^> Star, and then we needn't have 'a(' "lis interloper. I hope he doesn't expect Us to entertain him in his off-hours." J did not argue either point. Two minutes ^ould decide Anne's opinion of the secretary. she did not like him, lie might whistle for ,e!' company, or employ his time with equal Profit crying for the moon; if she liked him— he would need no other entertainment. Ah said my uncle, as we entered, here ney are. These are my two nieces, Hazarden, Anne and Estella." It was the way we were always coupled, l first, and Estella second; yet I was a j0fhlling thing of four when they let me hold my ^aby sistsr in my arms, and told me I must love *lev dearly, because our mother had gone awav nd left us with only each other. But I would not have had it otherwise. Anne Was first with me as she was with everyone else. looked at her as she shook hands with Mr azarden, and read something in her face that O^led me; something new. It was almost as she resented the impression—whatever it was ^-that the first appearance of Rhys Hazarden <as making on her. And even in his grave dark face there seemed '11 answering hint of disturbing thought, wliere- our greeting, his and mine, was friendly and commonplace, just that of strangers who wish to. be civil, and who achieve it without effort. As soon as courtesy permitted, Mr Hazarden Ul'iied from me to Uncle Christopher and Anne. j,Jl° were standing together, my uncle's hand a,d affectionately on her shoulder. The secretary's gaze resting absorbed on nne, held a perplexed question in it. such as I i seen in many a man's face when he looked <\t her. I often wondered why men studied her '.° intently; it seemed to me that they might JUst as wejj iiave taken her for granted as it "ere—she was only a girl after all. She looked ^Hind presently, and met the secretary's look .'l*h one of disarming sweetness; a slow smile Owning round her lips. Are you getting bored with us already, Mr azarden?" she said. "We are very ouiet and °^imonplace here, aren't we. Uncle Chris?" Tr y uncle made a dissenting gesture.If Mr j harden is half as interested in old records as p,arn," he said, "the history of the Hundreds of ere will prevent him from ever feeling dull, here are some few of the documents we want 0 Hazarden." He pointed to a stack of Ii|je.rs three feet high on the library floor. It *s what I have, already written." His rested lovingly on the net square folio of in the centre of the writing table. A*r Hazarden took up the manuscript. This be a unique book, I lie said, in- < rl,o gatively, there is no existing history of I;, Hundreds of this county." v i ^one. To lovers of local history it will be tfi ,Ua,hle. and I hope it may have interest for general reader because of the many r-oman- traditions touched on in it." g. Anne had crossed to the table, and was tri- 2" with the paper-cutter. wj- I should not mind being a secretary in the i,she said, "but in the summer I should \r to m-v wor^ ol,t doors or not at all." azai-deii did not reply; he was watching tjJj Phiy of her hands little white hands with h'nger'B and filbert naii'.s, and! slender strl Small as they were they expressed y0lin§th—nervous strength and she had driven aji Maturin's team lately onoe or twice with eas-e that astonished and delighted him. V' ;is one of her many admirers; the fav- Wl! °ne' sometimes thought. t^j, r ,n fihe dropped the paper knife the secre- picked it up, and toyed with it in his turn. So a,gain the faint sudden rose-flush that was W6 ^nn<?> came into her cheeks. iHy let us show Hazarden his room." said We leading the way through the door at gijj ].ar e«d of the library. The house had ori- y ended here, but one of its many quaint t^hf^?5-' niade a century or more ago/had at- eutt^ itself to the library, and necessitated the \vaHa doorway in the solid outer stone narr°w landing was flanked by the wall f Usj but on either side of it rose two 8 staPs- opposite to each other. The e°vu^P?oac'hed a passage that turning a near lido-F f backwards to the main cor- i '^he house, out of which all the princi- t'd ^eclr°oms opened. The other flight asc-end- door, the entrance to tw'o rooms; and these, my uncle had decided, would be most suitable for his new secretary. Anne ran up the steps to the passage, and disappeared round the corner; but I, as house- keeper, followed Uncle Chris and Mr Hazarden into the two rooms. The first was a sitting room, the second a bedroom; both large, and light, and pleasant. "I thought you could have this little wing to yourself," said Uncle Chris; "but there are plenty of other rooms if you don't take a fancy to these." Mr Hazarden expressed entire satisfaction with them. "Where does this lead to?" he a.sked. and went towards a door ,over which an oriel window showed a glimpse of trees and sky. I found the key on my bunch, and setting it in the lock, opened the door. "You may like to go out this way sometimes," I said, "so I will leave the key there now." Outside the door a square flagstone with a railing, formed the top of a flight of stone stairs, winding down to the garden, just where it joined the ierraee, by a canopied archway of thick trees. "What a lovely view!" exclaimed Mr Hazar- den. The sweep of undulating park below the terrace ended half a mile off in rising wooded ground; to the left, the pond known as the Grey Pool, shimmered through its fringe of willows, softly green with their spring dress. The bean- i ty of our Manor trees was noted; long years ago they had formed part of a primeval forest. Then came the days when Brian the Varlet, so-called because he sprang into notice from the obscurity of the serving room, roamed in the glades with his handful of followers, until a successful raid transposed him into the Lord of the Castle, and his descendants into the Var- leys of Clere. The sound of the luncheon-gong broke into our silence, and my uncle hurried back to the library, bidding Mr Hazarden follow as soon as he was ready. Punctuality at the Manor was a virtue over- developed into a fault, Anne said; so she made a point of being several minutes late for every meal. On this particular day I remember she was so long in coming to the dining room that Uncle Christopher sent Penfold with a message to her, and I knew by the subdued air that sat on him when he returned what sort of all answer she had given. "Is Miss Anne coming?" demanded my uncle. "Miss Anne is not quite ready, sir," Penfold answered, with an effort to be veracious and yet credible. "What did she say? Had she not heard the gong?" Uncle Christopher was on one of his hobby-horses and riding a tilt at opposition. Penfold hesitated, and my uncle half turning in his chair, pushed up his spectacles irritably. ",She said that if you wanted her to come just as she was, sir, she didn't mind, but other- wise she would be ten minutes more at least, sir." I caught a twinkle in Mr Ha,zarden's eye; he evidently realised Penfold's difficulties. Just as she was," repeated my uncle; what do you mean?" Penfold's cough was a mixture of discretion and apology. Miss Anne was doing her hair, p sir. I think." I could imagine her flinging off her dress, ex- changing it for a dressing jacket, and pulling all her hair down—that unruly, live hair of hers, just as the gong was sounding. My uncle was speechless with annoyance; he glared at Penfold, until John distracted his at- tention by handing mayonnaise; and our secre- tary smiled openly at me. His smile lighted up his face wonderfully; without it there was a touch of melancholy about the dark grey eyes and set mouth. Presently Anne swept carelessly in. with a passing pressure of her finger-tips on Uncle Christopher's coat sleeve, and a murmured Sorry, Uncle Chris." She had been taking a good deal of trouble with herself—I could see that. Mr Hazarden had managed in that brief space of time to per- suade her that it was worth while. Well there was no chance now of his getting bored or tired with the work he had under- taken. or finding time hang on his hands in the off-hours of which Anne had spoken. She was wearing a dress of soft, cream-col- oured stuff, with bands of sable outlining the lace yoke and sleeves; and round her neck hung a chain of uncut torquoises about which she had some supers tition. "You are looking at my maseotte," she said across the table to Mr Hazarden; though I think in reality he was taking in the beauty of the whole dainty picture. "I only wear this on special days," she added, because it is my I luck.' and one cannot expect to be lucky every day. Turquoises are my birth-stone." Mr Hazarden was murmuring something about the prescriptive right certain people had to be lucky always. But Uncle Chris cut this compliment short by asking Anne what she was going to do in the afternoon. "Nothing very exciting," she answered. "I promised to go to tea with Lady Maturin, but I can easily throw her over. if you have anything nicer to suggest, Uncle Chris." But the sound of a horn. and wheels on the drive showed that Harry Maturin was not going to leave Anne's adventure to the chance of her caprice; he had driven over from The Hayes to fetch her in his dog-cart tandem He was shown in to us a moment later, and I saw him give a quick critical look at our secre- tary when they were introduced, with an air of saying Trespasser, beware 1" For of all Anne's lovers, and they were so numerous that I had not troubled to count them I think Harry was the most ardent, the most jealous, the one who suffered most. Anne received him graciously enough. Her mood of the morning had changed; one would have said that masculine surroundings were en- tirely to her taste, that life was interesting as well as real to her; that solitary dreams found no place in it. She was animated, sparkling. "I will drive with you or for yon." she said to Harry Maturin, "but Star must follow us in the Victoria to chaperon. And as she would be dull driving alone, you must invite Mr Hazar- den, too." H "My mother would be very pleased," said Harry, looking at the secretaiy. "You a.re very kind. Sir Henry," he answer- ed, "but I have my work to do." But Anne meant to get her own wav. Per- haps she wanted Mr Hazarden to see for him- self what a beautiful old home was waiting for her when she chose to become mistress of it. for The Hayes, where the Maturins had dwelt for centuries, was a show place, and they had enough money to keep it up well. I doubt if Lady Maturin would have tolerated her son's attentions to Anne if it had not been for the idea, grown into an accepted creed, that we were to be Uncle Christopher's heiresses, and that Anne, to whom lie showed a more pub- lic partiality, was likely to inherit the greater part of his fortune. So that, althoug Anne's manner and methods were too independent and high-spirited for her ladyship's taste, she had refrained from active opposition so far. There was, however, one inimical member of the household at The Have- a second cousin of Harry's; a grand-niece, and lady-in-waiting to the dowager. How she hated Anne Her name was suggestive of her character— Carmela Fortis. There was a touch of melan- choly wildness about her dark, inscrutable eyes j a hint of foreign grace and subtlety, and slyness in the turn of her small dark head, the poise of her lythe body; a suggestion of velvet-sheathed spitefulness in the clasp of her hands, and the way her lips tightened when she spoke. She was not in lov.^ with Harry Maturin. It would have needed a man with her own passion, ate southern nature to win her heart; but her mind was set on marrying him or keeping him unmarried; at least it seemed so to me. On this particular afternoon she was out walking with a visitor at The Haves, a barrister —Mr .Brian Stoekwell, K.C., noted. I had heard, for Iiis brilliant oratory, especially in the de- fence of criminal cases. They returned while Lady Maturin. Mr Haa- arden, and I were still sitting at tea in the hall, Harry having lured Anne away to his study to look at .some trophy he had won by his skill in driving. Mr Srjckwell took the seat next to mine, when Lady Maturin introduced him, and said, We have' been exploring your most interesting neighbourhood. Miss Varley. What a curious fatality there seems to be about special places Your Grey Pcol, for instance, --in unenvi- able repuataiioii. We could just catch a glimpse of the Manor park from Hayes Hill. Miss For- tis tells me that the Pool claims a victim once in every half-century." "I ihink my uncle has been digging up some old lore about it lately," I answered, and that there is supposed to be a curse connected with t it. It is a romantic old story. He is putting it in his History of Clere." "I have heard of Sir Christopher's antiquan- an tastes." lie said. "I hope I may have the pleasure of meeting him." "Mr Stockwell is writing a book on the Physi- ology of Criminals," said Carmela. "I often wonder when I see him studying people's faces what deplorable tendency he is finding in them." She laughed rather disagreeably I thought, and I fancied Mr Stockwell's glance at her seem- ed to indicate that he found a tendency to want of good taste in hers this sudden reference to his special study seemed both out of place and beside the mark. "1 showed him the photograph of a picture last night," continued Carmela. and asked him to delineate the woman's character from it. He pronounced it to be a perfect criminal type—it was' Mary Queen of Scots, painted when she was still at the French Court." She laughed again. There are certain types of criminality who express their character," said Mr Stockwell gravely, in one or perhaps two features. These are types that are easily recognised; generally sinister in appearance, often positively ugly. Such people one would distrust from a mere surface suggestion of brutality, with only a cursory glance perhaps. But the type-face of a feminine criminal, that comprises every feature- indication of vice, is beautiful. The shape is oval, the eyes large, full and calm, generally brown or black in colour, the eyebrows well de- fined, the nose small, straight, well-shaped, the mouth small, full, with folded lips. The hair may be fair or dark, but is luxuriant. Such a woman is capable of anything—she may be a lady of rank like the Marquise de Brinvilliers. a Queen-like Mary. But to whatever station of life she belongs she has the capacities that these features separately, and still more strong- ly in conjunction, express." It was quite a discourse. I think he felt lie owed it to himself after Carmela's statement. She bent over a screen of silk damask that stood on a side table, and drew from it two or three of the photographs that were resting on its folds. "Suppose we test your skill on a modern face," she said. "Try one of these—this one." She held out a photograph that I could not see from where I sat. Z, Really, Miss Fortis," said Mr Stockwell. if you will excuse me I would rather not. I do not set up to be a judge of character. My book is merely intended to be an aid to those who have to make a study of crime." But Carmela would not take the photograph back. This young lady is quite a stranger to you," she said. "I have often puzzled over her character. Tell me something of it." He looked at the photograph more closely, but still with reluctance. Then lie laid it down on a table beside him. "I am afraid it is really impossible." he said. "for me to criticise this face. It is—beautiful, and—the young lady is a friend of yours. It would be unfair." "I know why." Carmela replied tiiumphant- ly. "The face is very like Mary of Scotland's the features could be dissected with the same re- sult. Isn't that true?" Mr Stockwell tried to put aside the embar- rassment of her persistence. I am afraid I have inadvertently induced a dangerous taste in Miss Fortis," he said to me lightly, "she will be finding all kinds of possibilities in her neigh- bour's features now." And he rose and went towards Lady Maturin saying, "I wonder if your new orchid has flowered during the night." Lad-- Maturin's conservatories are her lio'bbv, and she proposed directly to conduct us to her favourite one. so that Mr Stockweli's adroit refereuce ended the conversation. As I passed the table on which he had placed the photograph I recognised it with a start of annoyance. It was one of Anne. taken in a Puritan fancy dress-a dress that sd her off to perfection, and she was, as Mr Stockwell had said, beautiful in it. The conservatory was hung with stephenotis which depended from the roof in long sprays, and all around was tropical foliage, rare and exquisitely green, luxurating in cultured wild- ness the atmosphere was moist, and balsamic, heavy with warmth and fragrance. As we entered he came into full view of Anne. who, standing at the far end with Harry, was toying with an orchid he had just picked for her. I saw the recognition slowly dawn in Mr Stockwell's face as he looked at her. "Who is that young lady?" he said to me. I told him it was my sister, and with a vagu? feeling that Anne would soon vindicate herself to him. I introduced him to her. Mr Hazarden had just joined her, however, and beyond a bow she took no notice of Mr Stockwell. Instead she dropped the orchid with her usual negligent air and walked away. Both Harry and Mr Hazarden saw the flower fall both made a movement towards it. and stooped so simultaneously to grasp it that as each relinquished it to the other it fell between them. Then Anne, who was looking back, stretched out her hand imperiously. "My flower!" she said. Give it to me, please." And Harry slowly picking it up took it to her. Mr Stockwell watched the little scene with alert eyes; Carmela was watching it, too. She moved towards him and said under her breath, "What did I tell you? You see?" So she had been speaking of Anne to him be- fore they met, and with unfavourable criticism evidently. "For whom was the flower intended?" asked Mr Stockwell in the same low tone. For the new man. Sir Christopher Varley's secretary, of course," said Carmela; she is playing him off against Harry." I It was amazing to me, the length to which her jealousy was carrying her. I felt it was really dangerous to Anne to have such an un- scrupulous, undisciplined enemy, with whom the ordinary obligations of social courtesy and re- straint had no weight. Mr Stockwell apparently did not relish being the confidant of her jealousy, for he walked after me and said. find this hot-house air very oppressive. Miss Varley. I am a hardy English annual, and not exotic in my tastes, I fear. May we come outside and talk?" I told him that I thought I must be saying good-bye for we had a long drive home, and when he asked whether lie might come over to the Manor before the conclusion of his visit to The Hayes, I assented, as a matter of course. I felt glad, too, the lie should meet Anne again, and see for himself how unworthy Car- mela's thoughts of her were. They all came out into the porch to see us off, and Mr Stockwell spoke for a few moments to Anne, while I made my farewell remarks to Lady Maturin. "You should drive a motor," he was saying, "it would satisfy your desire for rapid move- ment. It is the swiftest sensation I know. and blows the cobwebs right out of one's brain." I should not think there were many in yours," Anne said smiling, "you look as if you kept a broom handy. But I shall drive a motor at the first opportunity that comes. We are very behindhand here: there does not seem to be one in the county." Harry took this as a reproach evidently, for he said quickly, "I am thinking of trying some next week. If y:>u are interested in them, Miss Anne "I am interested in everything new." she said. I like a change." And then as Harry was about to take his place in the dog-cart, she added. "But I am driving home with Estella. I couldn't think of letting you drive over to the Manor twice on my account." He looked both hurt and angry, too much so to question her decision. "Take the cart round." he said to the groom quietly. "I shan't want it to-night." J. And. Anne, seated herself next to me in the Victoria. "I won't crowd you." said Mr Hazarden, as we waited for him to get in. "I'll walk back, thanks. Miss Varley." Anne frowned. It is six miles. Mr Haz ar- den; you will be late for dinner—the unpardon- able sin at the Manor." Harry called out to the grcom, who was just turning the corner to the stables. Bring the cart back," lie said, and when Mr Hazarden protested that he did not like driving other men's horses, he added. I'll run you over to the Manor gates myself then." There was nothing more to be said; and we drove away, the dog-cart passing us before we reached the lodge, and keeping well ahead. We passed it again on its return journey when we were skirting the plantation, and Harry lifted his hat with a formal salute as he drove by. Anne made no comment on anyone except Mr Stockwell. "I hate lawyers." she said. they have such a cut-and-dried manner. And they are cold-blooded too always searching for mo- tives." Mr Stockwell does not answer at all to that description." I answered. "I thought he talked particularly well." "Oh! He is 'fluent enough, but I distrust him. I don't know why." "He is a distinguished-looking man." I said. I like that waving iron-grey hair." "He seems to have made a conquest of you. Star," she answered lightly, "but I shan't let you marry a barrister. I don't want an inquisi- torial brother-hi-law." We saw no more of Mr Hazarden that even- ing. except at dinner; for afterwards Uncle Chris took him straight to the library, and they were still there, immersed in old manuscripts, when we went to bed. (To be Continued.) -+-
FASHION AND THINGS FEMININE.
FASHION AND THINGS FEMININE. By MISS IDA MELLER. AN OVERALL FOR THE BLOUSE. A most useful garment for the woman who helps in the dusting of the home or in kitchen affairs is an overall of linen or holland. with long sleeves. The overall sketched is of Lucerne blue linen with white spots, and is made with a deep shaped yoke, cuffs to correspond ,and a frill at the hem. Many overalls are sleeveless, with a mere frill on the shoulders, but the sleeves of a dress need protection just as much as the rest of the toilette, and, indeed, are often the parts that soil quickest. A CASHMERE BLOUSE. Good management means money in the pocket, and this applies to dressmaking as to other things, for good management in cutting out can save a yard or so of material and avoid waste. The girl who makes her own frocks, or. at least some of them, can make her pin-money go twice as far as her sister who "gives out" all her dressmaking, for besides saving the cost of the seamstress's time she saves, too, on material if she is at all clever with her fingers, for the home dressmaker can generally manage to cut more economically than the paid needle-woman. I have seen a very pretty, though absolutely sim- ple walking costume, made with a plain gored iskirt :and loose-fitting coat, combining the ..r charms of the sac and kimono, turned out from only four yards of 54-inch cloth, while a rem- nant of four-and-a-half yards of rather narrower material, of the voile family, has been sufficient to make a dainty frock consisting of an umbrella skirt and cross-over blouse-bodice. Talking of the ever-popular blouse, let me commend io my readers the box-pleated model sketched, which is of cream cashmere, with embroidery and tassels between each pleat, the tight-fitting cuffs to the sleeves corresponding with the front of the blouse and the collar also showing embroidery. This is the latest design in woollen blouses, and is very pretty with floral or cross-hatch embroidery, worked in cream or pale blue silk, or in pale gold or brown. A ROSE-TRIMMED HAT. There is practically but one hat that is ac- knowledged this season, and that is the mush- room. or the Cloche as it is now called. In size, it is larger than ever, and is produced in rough and smooth felt, silk, beaver, velvet, and coarse, soft straw. The "Cloche" hat sketched is of olaret-col-
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cured velvet, with a double row of silk roses, packed closely together, as its sole trimming, the colour of the flowers matc-hing the velvet. save in the centre of each. where ir graduates to a paler shade. The hat is typical of an all- prevailing mode, and is copied in felt with eqtml success. Hats of similar shape are trimmed with loops of ribbon instead of flowers, while others, agaift, bear full erownrs of plain or moire silk. The hat made of stretched silk. either shot or plain. is one of the Leading vogues of the .sea-on. AUTUMN FASHION NOTES. A material that is invariably to the fore in the autumn is velveteen, and one of the most fashionable colours in which it is s?e)i is autumn-leaf brown, and this finds a charming accompaniment, in touches of pale coffee-colour, ed lace, introduced, possibly, as a vest, cellar, and cuffs. Venetian and Amazon cloths. Scotch tweeds and striped suitings are among the most serviceable of stuffs for the everyday coat and skirt, particularly smart being the new grey-and- black striped woollens, each strip2 about hilf- an-inch wide. These wide stripes suit tall fig- ures. and look their best when displaved on cos- tumes made with plain, rather long skirts and tight-fitting single-breasted coats, reaching to the knees or beyond. For house dresses, cashmere and nun's veil- ing are doing excellent service, a simple stvie adopted being the pinafore bodice with kimono 2' sleeves and the skirt arranged with a few folds on the lower part. HAPPINESS AND DISAPPOINTMENTS. The secret of happiness lies to a great extent in the willingness to give and take." If this is not recognised by those running in double harness, the chances are that they will miss a great, many of the sweets of life. Mistakes, it is said. are the stepping stones to knowledge, and without them we should never advance. They serve a purpose and are useful experiences if we determine to profit by them and avoid old pitfalls in the future. But, un- fortunately. there are those—and they are injiiv —whose troubles in life seem to be numerous and cast in one groove, for the reason that tliev fall into the same mistakes over and over again and fail to learn a lesson from any experience they may go through. In divided households it is a common ambition among the various members to live apart and seek for happiness in other spheres than home. Some of the more impulsive ones object, per- haps, to living by rule as regards hours or meals, or to granting consideration to the other members of the family in the many little ways required where several live together. If only I had rooms of my own," each one is a.pt to say, ""and could go and come when I liked. I should be perfectly happy." Would you? That remains to be proved. Happiness is not synonymous with selfishness, and I have known those who have uttered the cry quoted to find, when installed in rooms of their own. away from the family circle, that they were met by an emotion they had never reckoned on, and that withheld from them the state of perfect happiness they had relied on reaching. They found themselves lonely. They could go and come as they pleased, the hours they kept interfered with no one, kept no one waiting but it was this very fact that brought them disap- pointment. It was not pleasant, after all. to be of no account to anybody. Indeed, it was rather humiliating to find that nobody was awaiting them on their return, nobody cared when they came or went. Thev gradully began to understand that it is a privilege to have others to consider, and thtt there is joy in giving up and making little sac- rifte28 greater than in living to oneself alone. We need sometimes to be taken out of our daily -environment to see things as they really are and focus them correctly. SOAP BALLS, OR SAVONETTES. Soap balls, whicn are generally to be found the toilet table of the Parisienue. are mad" from mild toilet soaps, sefiited at wilL with tli-i- addition of powdered starch or farina and some times sand. In some of the finest savonettes of the FrencI) perfumer, white sweet-almond paste (meal) re., places, either wholly or in part, common starch or farina. The spherical shape is usually given to soap- Z, balls by pressure in a mould, and the round shape by roughly forming them intoballs with the hands, or by taking a lump of the prepared soap in the left hand and acting on it with a conical drinking glass, with a rather thin edge, held in the right. By placing the glass and ball of soap in contact, and turning them, in every direction, the rounded form is soon given. When the balls have become dry and hard, the surface-' is scraped and rubbed L; render it smooth and even. Scented balls, if intended to be kept long, should be covered with tin-foil. In the best savonettes formed of the ordinary toilet soaps and starch or farina, the soap, em- ployed is highly scented to compensate for the dilution, or a proportionate quantity of the characteristic odorous ingredients of the soap is added to the mass before forming them into bails. Soap used for savonettes should be new. as old soaps are troublesome to melt without em- ploying a degree of heat that is injurious to them. The heat f,hould be that of steam. To make simple savonettes, take lb of fin? 2 curd soap shavings; lib. of yellow soap shav- ings, pint of soft water. Melt the soaps in tlis • water by continued gentle lie,-it, then stir in -Jib., of powdered starch or farina, and. when tli- mixture has cooled a little, add I fluid ounce each of oil of bergamot and oil of lemon, and 1 fluid drachms of essenr'al oil of almonds. Thor- oughly incorporate the whole, and when the mass, by cooling, has acquired the proper con sistency, form it. at once, into balls. BANANA CREAM FOR INVALIDS—AND OTHERS. Bana cream, a delicious, nourishing dish. is made in the following way:—Soak joz. of geia tine in rather less than ± pint of water, dissolve it gently over the fire with j- pint of milk, sugar to taste, the juice of half a lemon, and three bananas, skinned and passed through a sieve. Simmer all for a few minutes; then let the mix- ture cool. When cold, stir in lightly pint of whipped cream, and pour all into a wetted mould. Set it by in a cold place, and when re- quired turn it out on to a dish. THOUGHTS FOR THE WEEK. Beauty without kindness dies unenjoyed and underlighting.—Dr Johnson. A contented mind is the greatest blessing a man can enjoy in this world.—Addison. The soul, by an instinct stronger than reason, ever associates beauty with truth. — H. Tucker man. Whenever we deviate from the line of moral rectitude, we must inevitably do wrong to our selves or others. I:) Success rides on every hour—grapple it and you may win; but without a grapple it will never go with you. True contentment depends not upon what we have. A tub was large enough for Diogenes. but a world was too little for "Alexander.—Co! ton. Why do we grudge our sweets to the living*. Who find, at best, too much gall. And then with open hands kneel, giving Unto the dead our all? Patters of all the designs appearing in this. column can probably l>e obtained from the nearest pattern-cutting agency; but any read- ers who find it difficult to secure patterns locally, should send postal order, value Is. 6-Jd.. for blouse or short coat pattern, or 2s, 6-kl. for costume pattern, to Miss Ida Mell-er c/o the Ediiar. ♦
! MAO 3YNLLETH.
MAO 3YNLLETH. CENTRAL WELSH BOARD EXAMINATION RESULTS. Honou-e: WilJfum Aahton Evans, John Peaie Kichird O.-wald R-mlancU (one distinction) Senior certificate Robert William Evat s (one distu.cion), Blodwren Hamphreya (three distic- nous), Reg.nald Doug:aa Jstne?, AK.,ee> Ireno Lfwtt*. Junior certificate: Amelia Gwendoline Br-ff-e Io"r\h Gwilym Davieø (two < isti.ction*), John David L?an*, May Amelia flugh-P, Evan Jofen J.t (1) (011., Evan John Jones (2) Jane Jom-g (lw,, dis incti nil), Thomas Edward Jonra, khz-.herh M»ry Lr-wi« (three distinctions),, Myfanwy Morgan, Jo.-ph Bdw*rd }'*rrv (two | tinctions), M*rErtr* £ David Mor^n Richards Loudon mat! Mil*! ion, Jwn., 1907: Mair Davi«^ 1 Asbtoa KVftn», *ml J*,kn pt,at*
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