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crALL RIGnTð RKERVED.1 i THE…
crALL RKERVED.1 THE FLAMBARDSMYSTERK BY c 5PJ WILLIAM MAGNAY, BT., "The Red Author of "The l-Ieire3s -of the Season,^ "The Red Chancellor," "The Master Spirit." &c. CHAPTER XVIII. (Continued.) A SUSPICIOUS RESTITUTION. I had not been for more than ten minutes -turning over in my mind this new develop- ment, wivn word was brought that Mr. Rolt would like to see me, and next minute "he came in. His manner had reverted to the nervously apologetic, which was his -anomalous characteristic. "Have you tee-i young' Rixon?" were my ifirst woni". "No," he answered with a quick glance sol curiosity" "He has just come in search of you." "Oh, what does he want?" Holt inquired casually. "To tell me that the missing :bank-notes have been found?" I stared at him in astonishment. "Then you have seen him?" "No," he assured mo. You have heard the news at the itation?" Ho laughed. "Neither the one nor the .-other, my dear Mr. Crofton. I have just come by train from Stanbridge. But I rather anticipated what you now tell me has come to pass." The blank wonder in my face seemed to ■amuse him. "I have been waiting for the reappearance of these notes," he laughed. "Where did they turn up? In a drawer of -the writing-table or behind the safe?" Th:,t's it. Behind the safe," I almost gasped. "Quite the best place," was Rolt's cool Comment. "The old man might quite con- ceivably have thrust them t-hore. Only in that case our search would have brought them to light." "Then you don't think he did?" I asked, 4rather inanely. "No, I don't," he answered bluntly. "And voti have a shrewd idea who really -did put them there?" Though I felt the question was futile and, moreover, absurd, I could not, in my excitement, help asking it. "Naturally," he responded. "I tell you I fully expected they would be returned—and found. Where is your friend, Mr. Gels- ton?" I took the hint from his question that he did not want to answer any more of mine. "He is up at Morningford Place finishing Mrn. Jurby's portrait." "Rather dark, even for portrait painting, -isn't it?" he suggested. "Or is your friend -going for a Rembrandtesque ettcet?" Something in his manner gave me a vague touch of uneasiness. "No; he is usually back long before this time. I have been taking on myself to tell him he ought not to go up there any more." "Why not?" Rolt demanded shortly. "Well," I answered, a little awkwardly. "WI don't know what your opinion of the people up there may be; but I have ven- tured to have my doubts about them." Rolt nodded. "I won't say you are wrong," he replied. "But we shall know more in a few days." "And in the meantime Gelston can't afford to throw up a good commission," I said. "After all, he knows nothing against the Jurbys beyond the hint he has had from me. "o. I understand that," Rolt replied, with a touch of gravity. "Perhaps it is a pity. "How do you mean?" I asked, my curio- ■ litv prompted by his tone. "Onlv that it would put him on his guarù; Rolt answered in a more casual 'tone. "I'll tell him when he cones in," I said. wBut I have not much to go upon," 1 added ..pointedly. But Rolt did not take any hint. "Per haps he will have something to go upon b, that time," he returned with an enigmati, cal smile, nodding and turning abruptly from tite room. CHAPTER XIX. JUREY TRANSFORMED. With Rolt's departure I was left in a per. turbed state of mind. Coupled with Gel- Eton's unusual delay in returning, the de- tective's vague hints were indeed enough t< alarm me. I began to review all the sus- picious incidents which had come to my notice in connection with Jurby and hu friends, and to appraise their significance at the utmost vahie. Then a new turn ol thought would succeed, and I asked my- self what possible reason there could be tc fear anything was wrong. Granted that the people at Morningford Place were a bad lot, how could that touch David Gelston? They had treated him fairly enough, indeed, unusually so, in giving him a cheque for the portrait at the first sitting. So) taking .a common-sense view of the situation, I .asked myself what possible object they. could have in bringing him to harm. They had probably asked: him to stay to dinner,-I told myself. "Whatever they may be in other respects, there is no gainsaying their hospitality. Yes, that is pretty cer- tain to be the explanation, and I am a fool to worry myself over so very simple a matter. David would probably not want to stay, but Jurby has a very pressing manner, And will have made it almost impossible for his invitation to be refused without rude- ness. And, after all, from David's point of -view, there is no particular reason why it should not be acceptc-d. He will have a far better dinner than they give one here." Accordingly I determined to worry no more about my friend's absence, and went down to the coffee-room for my own dinne By and by, however, my fears and suspicions returned. In view of recent events it was impossible to keep my mind from dwelling on possibiiiti. I recalled Jurby's curious questioning as to the reason of Gelston's departure and! sudden return. If Jurby had anything to do with Rixcn's death, what more likely than that he should suspect Gelston of having seen something incriminating, and so stand in fear of him? If, as was more than probable, Rixon's slayer had been actually on the premises when Gelston carried the maimed dog to the house, he might have seen and subsequently recognised him. Might not the man whom G elston had indistinctly seen through the window imagine that he had been recog- nised, and that his life hung on Gelston's word ? These were disquieting speculations, and so uneasy did they make me that I deter- min-cd to walk up to Morningford' Place and see what had become of my friend. Accord- ingly I lighted a fresh pipe and set out. It was a moonless night, and as I walked Along the dark road my apprehensions had full play. I felt a certain sense of respon- sibility for Gelston's welfare. I had brought him down to this place, I reflected regret- fully, and- had landed him unwittingly in the midst of the evils of a tragic mystery, .and introduced him into what was beginning to look like a coterie of evildoers. So Ï vowed that, even if all was right, I would not let Gelston go there again until I heard -what Rolt had to say on the subject. As I walked up the drive I noticed that <the usual signs of comfortable habitation were no longer visible in the house. It may have been fancy prompted by apprehension, but I thought the place looked changed, dark, and—save for the suggestion of a light at one of the lower windows—deserted. The hall seemed in darkness; usually a wel- come light had illuminated the stained win- dows on either side of the entrance door. But now all was gloomy, suspiciously so, according to my thoughts, as I rang the bell. For some time no answer came. I stood waiting in a state of indefinable fear, which increased at every succeeding- moment of the delay. I rang again; this time more sharply; and in a few moments had the satisfaet-ion of hearing a door open and the sound of footsteps. It was all very strange and alarming, for still no one came to answer my ring. I took a step aside, and tried to look through the coloured windows which flanked the porch. I could see a light, as of a e- lie, and a man's figure pt.-S before it UJ),1 :-pear. Then the light was brought, nou- :d set down; next moment a bolt was drawn, and the door opened by a middle-aged woman/servant. "Ia Mr. Gelston still here?" I asked. "No, sir," the woman answered in a de- cided tone. "Mr. Gelston has been gone some time." The reply, although scarcely unexpected, rather nonplussed me. "Can you tell me when Mr. Gelston left? was my next ques- tion. "Oh, I should say it was two or three hours ago, er more," she said, showing a disposition to shut the door in my face. "He had not returned to Morningford when I left the town just now," I said. "If he went away from here two or three hours ago I can't understand what has become of him." "I am sure I can't tell you, sir," tha woman declared bluntly. "All I know is Mr. is not here." As she was speaking the bell rang sharply. "I must go," the woman mut- tered, and before I could say another word she shut the door upon me. The position was now anxious and per- plexing enough. For a while I stood there undecided as to my next move; then I took a turn down the drive to determine what was best to be done, for I was now tho- roughly alarmed for my friend's safety. If, as the woman said, he had left the house two or three hours before, why had he not returned to "The Geor-L-"? It had been his practice to come straight back, and then we would go off together for a walk. Two or three honrsT Why, if he had gone for a stroll by himself that winter's evening, surely he would have returned before I left. Of course he might have come back and just missed me, wherefore the sensible thing seemed to be to hurry back to "The George," and if there were no news of him to return and seek an explanation from Jurby him- self. With which decision' I set off at a sharp walk for the town. I waa not surprised on arriving at the hotel to find that Gelston had not returned. Without a momont's delay I set out again for Morningford, with a mind obsessed by fear and anger. That a fine fellow like David Gelston should have fallen a victim to Heaven knew what foul practices of that gang of scoun- drels filled me with rage. Perhaps, had I been less excited, I should not have started off as I did without first taking word of my suspicions to the police. But being in no mood for calm thought, I rushed off, intent only on confronting Jurby, about whose character I had no longer any doubt, and demanding an explanation. All Rolt's hints and half-veiled warnings came back to me, and I bitterly regretted not having pressed him for an explanation and secured his immediate help in looking after my friend. But now it was too late, and I had to fall back on my own courage and determination to extricate him from this mesh of villany, for such I at last felt fully persuaded it was. I soon reached my destination, swung open the gate, and hurried up the drive. The aspect of the houpe was exactly as when I had left it some half-hour before. I gave a good pull at the bell, being determined not to be put off this time. As before, there was delay in answering it, and I soon rang again. Sha.rply now on the alert. I became aware that I was being reconnoitred from the side of the deep bay window which commanded the porch. For a moment a ehutter was slightly opened, and I could tell that a face appeared looking out. Then, when the peep-hole had closed again, there came an indication of movement in the hall, a candle was brought forward as before, and the same woman opened the door with a sharp, Y es, sir?" "I want to see Mr. Jurby at once," taid. "You can't eee Mr. Jurby, sir. He is not at home," was the uncompromising reply. "Then," I returned sharply, "I must see Mrs. Jurby, or someone in the house." "You can't, sir. There's no one to bo seen to-night." And with that the woman made to close the door. I had, however, anticipated the move, and put my foot against the jamb to prevent tho door from shutting. "I am not at all satisfied with what you told me about Mr. Gelston," I eaid reso- lutely. "He has not returned home, and I must come in and make further inquiries." The woman sturdily held the door fast against my blocking foot. "You can't come in," she said with counter determina- tiou. "I don't know you, and it's my orders not to let anyone in to-night." U I am Mr. Crofton," was my rejoinder. "Mr. Jurby knows me well. I must insist on 6eoing him at once." "But 1 tell you you can't, sir. He is not here," and she tried to force the door to. With the opinion I now held of Jurby and his set I had no scruple in opposing the woman's orders. "I am going to stand no nonsense," I de- clared. i mean to come in and find Mr. Jurby." With that I put my shoulder to the door and began to push it open. The woman tried desperately to hold it against me, and as she was or considerable strength her effort was for a few moments successful. But weight and muscle were on my side, and, as it was quickly evident that she must give way, she sent up a cry for help. In an instant a man appeared and came quickly towards us, but only to reach the door as with a final push I got through and into the hall. By the dull light of the candle I half re- cognised Jurby. I say half recognised, be- cause so far as the light showed him to mo there seemed a strange alteration in his ap- pearance. He certainly locked like Jurby, and yet in face and form a Jurby of twenty years younger. His rather stout figure was now comparatively thin, his greyish hair quito black, his movements alert and active. And yet there was about him something that un- mistakably indicated Jurby. I stared at him in some perplexity, wondering whether it could be the man I knew or a younger brother. Only when ho at last, spoke was I satisfied that the man I sought stood before me. He had come towards me certainly with hostile intentions, for his demeanour was decidedly threatening. But now, as, having forced my entrance, I addressed him by name, he peered forward into my face, affecting not to recognise me in the dim light, and then with a complete change of manner exclaimed cordially "Why, it is you, Mr. Crofton. This is unfortunate. I am so sorzy if I have been deni-ed to you. Do como in." He motioned me towards the dining-room. As I followed him I noticed in a recess under the staircase a quantity of ready packed and strapped luggage. Its presence was not difficult to account for, and the suggestion of these people's immediate de- parture made me more than ever determined to stand no trickery from them. "I came to find out what has become of Gelston," I said, pausing on my way across the hall. Tho curiously rejuvenated face of Jurby expressed genuine surprise. "Gelston? Haven't you seen him? lie left here a little later than usual, between five and six, it must have been. The portrait is finished, and we had a discussion about a suitabla frame. But do come out of the cold halL" I wondered whether the man was lying. I His explanation was given plausibly enough, j and yet everything around suggested sus- picion. He held the door open, and, determined to find out tho truth, I passed into tho foom. (To be Continued). j
| CREAM TARTS IN HISTORY.…
CREAM TARTS IN HISTORY. I The cream tal t is a form of pastry that has made its i;:<r.. ;u literature and his- tory. A cream ta/t figures in the sombre htory of the M.dici family. The Grand Duke of Tu.-eany had recently been pre- sented by his Duchess with a .on and heir, which, according to the scandal of the period, Duchess Blanche had purchased of a poor woman, and foisted upon her husband as her own. Cardinal Ferelinand, the brother -of the Grand Duke, and, failing legitimate iewue, the heir to his wealth and honours, was in possession of the secret, and prepared to make use of his knowledge. Thereupon the Grard Duchess approachc-d him witB blandishments and Dlimifi(.nt r offers, on the tacit understanding that he should hold his tongue about the matter. A magninccnt banqa-t was pr?j-?red to cele- brate the family arrangement, wh?eh the Cardinal attended with the less misgiving i that he possessed a magnif.eent opal ring, given him by hiz,, father Cosmo, that pos- ¡ sessed the pro¡wrty of changing colour at the approach of any poison. Dessert waa served, and with it a cream tart known to be a favourite dish with His Eminence. The Grand Duke thereupon fatuously, and not noticing signs of disapproval from Madame Blanche, informed his brother that the tart had been made by the Duchess's own hands for the Cardinal's special sweet tooth. The tart was handed to the Cardinal—the opal r turned pale. His Eminence gracefully de- dined it, alleging an express ordinance of hi^ physician against his favourite dish. said the Duke, "my wife's pains shall not be wasted." He helped himself to a quarter of the tart, and placed it on his plate. Blanche was caught in her own snare. If she prevented her husband from eating it, she wa lost, for her guilt would ¡ be clear. If he ate it and died 6he was also lost, for the Cardinal, who hated her, would see justice done upon her. She took the part that the historian describes as "noble and generous": that i, she took a portion cf the tart and ate it. Next day Duke and | Duchess were dead, and Ferdinand reigned in their dead. i
■-.^ I BLACK COUNTRY BELIEFS.
■ I BLACK COUNTRY BELIEFS. t The Black Country is very superstitious A dog howling in front of a house in the night is a sure sign of the approaching death of one of the household. The dog, however, must howl in the front and not at the back of the house. A marble rolling down the stairs means that one of the chikl- ren is bound to die. When baking was in- variably done at home there was the super- stition that if the top of the loaf came off in the oven death would soon overtake some member of the family. A Black Country miner is full of superstitions. If he dreams of fire or meets on going to work a cross- eyed woman or a wooden-legged man he will not descend the mine. Something is sure not descen<l the m i i,.e. ?l to happen if he does—at least, he thinks w. The strangest of all superstitions, however. is associated with common or garden pars- ley. There is nothing wrong about sewing the seed and raising the herb, but it must not be transplanted. Most terrible things, .they believe, are bound to happen if this is done!
FIGHTING FISH.
FIGHTING FISH. It is the custom at Singapore to stock garden ponds with queer fish-many of them of the fighting variety so dear to the heart of the Orientals. These fish are so combative that it is only necessary to place two of them near each other and irritate them a little to bring about a lively con- flict. They charge each other, with tins erect, at the same time changing colour in their excitement from the dullest of greens to brilliant reds and blues. Indeed, confine- mcnt in close quarters is not needed to arouse their combative propensities. Place two glass jars clbse together, with one of these fighting fish in each, and they will at once swim round and eneleavour to charge each other through the interposed glass. Even a single fish, seeing itself reflected in a mirror, will dart at its own image, and, irritated all the more by its failure to reach the supposed enemy, will assume brilliant hues; seeing its reflected antagonist do the same, it will redouble its efforts.
!FIREPLACES OF SNOW. I
FIREPLACES OF SNOW. I Sixty degrees below zero is the frightfully cold atmosphere experienced in Alaska. Dwellers in that dreary region make fire- places of snow pressed into blocks like bricks. When the fire, is lighted the snow, of course, melts on the surface; but when the fire is out this freezes so hard that the next fire causes it to become only damp. A snow fireplace used only for cooking pur- poses will last an entire winter.
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Standard suits will shortly be on sale in France. As only 22,000 yards of standard cloth have been made the suits will, for the time being, be reserved for refugees, dis- charged men, and similar cases. The Earl of Lytton stated in the House of L-ords that a measure is being prepared deal- ing with the superannuation of teachers in secondary schools, and it is hoped that it may be introduced and passed in the course of the 6eseion.
HOME DRESSMAKING. i
HOME DRESSMAKING. i FOR A LITTLE BOY. Most mothers, I am sure, will be glad to sec this ne.:t little pattern of a small boy's overall knickers and a smart little blouse to wear underneath it. A pattern of this kind is particularly useful for summer, because knickers of this typo carried out in service- able material and worn over a blouse are ideal garments for the beach, the garden, or the country. THE OVERALL KNICKERS. Now as to the patterns. Lot us begin withvtbe knickers. These should be made in substantial washing material, such as drill, strong gingham, linen, holland, cotton gabardine, etc. Any colour may be chosen I [Refer to H. D. 240.] I for this design, but I would suggest a dark shade, such as navy blue, dark grey, or nigger brown. This overall-knickers will take one and three-eights yards of material 40in. wide for an average boy of from four to six years. THE PATTERN.—The pattern comprises three pieces, the front, the back, and the pocket, all of which, of course, have to be cut double. THE CUTTING OUT.-FDid the selvedgea together, and lav the pattern upon it in the way shown in the diagram. It must be re- membered that no turnings of any kind are allowed for in the pattern. THE MAKING.—Tack together the slightly curved leg seams, and also the front and back seams. Try on the garment and mako allV alterations necessary. Next sew the seams in the same order and make the inside neat by turning in the raw edges to face each other and running them together. Now turn in and tack the raw edges all round the neck, the straps, and the armholes, and face tlicm, on the wrong side, with strips of j material cut on the cross., Sew buttons on to the ends of the front straps and make buttonholes in the ends of the back straps. Hem up the legs at the knees. Turn and gew a hem at the top of each pocket, sew into place on the knickers, and your gar- ment is ready to wear. THE BLOUSE. I For this little blouse you will want one and a-lialf yards of 40in. material for a boy of from four to six years. With care, it may be cut from 36in. fabric, but 40in. stuff is easier to manage. Jap silk, zephyr, lawn, linen, or similar washing stuffs may be used for this blouse. THE PATTERN.-There are seven pieces in this pattern, and, in addition, you will need linings for the collar, cuffs, and yoke, all of which may be cut from the pieces of material left over. No turnings are allowed for in the pattern. THE CUTTING OUT.—Lay the pattern on the material, as shown in the diagram. You will notice that it is folded 6elvedges together. Lay the oollar, the back, and the yoke to the fold. Cut the collar lining on the cross, as shown by the dotted line in the sketch. THE MAKING.—Tack together the under- arm and shoulder seams and try on. Join these seams by French sewing. Gather the upper edges of both front and back and stitch these gathers on to the edge of the yoke. Now turn in the edges of the yoke lining, pin or tack it carefully into place, and hem all round. Face the left hand front with a piece of material about lin. wide. Run the box pleat on to the right hand side, and fell it down. Make the fastenings. Lay collar and lining face to face, run round the edges, and turn inside out. Put the collar on. Join the sleeve seam by French sewing, put into the armholes, and bind. Join cuff and lining into rings. Slip on into the other, faces together, sew along the bottom edges, turn inside out, and sew on to the sleeve. Make a deep hem round the bottom of the blouse, and thread with elastic.
Advertising
HOW TO OBTAIN Paper Pattern of the above BOY'S PLAYING SUIT. Fill in this form and send it, with remittance in stamps, to MISS LISLE. 8, La Belle Sauvage, LONDON, E.C. 4. J^ri^eclearlj. Name Address I Pattern No. PAPER PATTERNS. Price 9d. each, post free. PATTERNS cut to special measure, 1/6 each. MISS LISLE will be pleased to receive suggestions and to illustrate designs of jjeneral use to the HOME DRESSMAKER.
MOTHER AND HOME.
MOTHER AND HOME. Wives should watch themselves" and beware of growing into chrunic fault-finders and slaycs to domestic duties. Many women get into the haLit cf worrying over everything just because there is nobody to --beck iiem and pull them up before the habit becomes fixed. Reme-nrbor how cheery and charming you were before your husbnnd married you; how you were pleacsed with his efforts to please you, and how you took an interest in his work; and try to take the same pains to make things agreeable for him now, even though you have been mariicd for years. A RECIPE OF HEALTH. Keep busy—activity is life. The genuine joys of life are to be got from useiful effort, and to hunt for piensure is to I<?e it. D<? your work and f j?icasure will come to you. Health ia your due and will flow to you naturally if you do r.ot get too anxious about it. God is on our side. FIGURE BEFORE FASHION. Study your figure first and fashions and gowns afterwards. If you are very thin, avoid the untrimmed, cloEC-fitting dievs. The slender woman should hide her angu- larities with trimmings and flounces. Only the woman with ample curves can wear plain tailor-made gowns with effectiveness. In short. one of the arts of dress is to dis- guise defects and to heighten the "gcexl points." A girl with ill-shaped arms should wear full sleeves, and if they must be shcrt let her avoid black velvet bonds, tulle bows, or bracelets, as th ese eimplv draw attention to what may, perhaps, be her only ungrace- ful feature. VBRY THIN EYEBROWS. If you have thin eycorows, when you go to bed at night apply a little castor oil on the tip of your finger; vaseline will answer the same purpose if you do not like the smell of the oil. Be careful that none of it goes into your eyes. HOUSEHOLD UTENSILS. The necessary utensils for house-cleaning must be of good quality. It is false economy to purchase cheap brooms and brushes, for not only do they last but half the time, but they also fail to do as good work. Plenty of dusters and rubbers, no stint of soap or polish, but a sparing use of soda—these are points worth remembering. A carpet- sweeper, to be ueed in lieu of a broom or brush, except when a room gets its H turtl- out," is also to be recommended, :16 by its use less dust is raised, hence the dusting proopss is shortened. For taking up crumbs after nieals a sweeper is invaluable. A plentiful supply of newspapers aDd ti-sue pa-per for polishing windows and mirrors will also be .of great use. Pieces of velvet or plush are splendid for rubbers for doors and woodwork, and a velvet pad should alwavs b? kept for the purpose of rubbing up poJIshed surfaces. A bottle of ammonia is ako very handy, as often a stain which might in time become noticeable may be re- moved by its usy. To CLEAN A MACKINTOSH. A very good way to clean a mackintosh is to lay it flat on a table and wash it. Use a small, stiff, nail-brush for the purpose of scrubbing the mackintosh, and when the whole is finished rinse well in clean cold Nv a.. er and dry in the open air; on no ac- count dry near a fire, or even in a warm room. SCORCHED WHITE SILK. Squeeze nil the juice from a fair-sized onion, and to this add a little pure white soap, shredded finely, and a little fuller's earth, and stir these into half a pint of gcod vinegar. Boil the mixture until all the soap is discolved. and then put aside to ceel. I Spread a little of this compound o- r th< scorched silk, and leave to dry. Then wash out the Mouee in the ordinary way and dry in the open air. The remainder of the mix- ture can be bottled for future use. TREATMENT O? HEARTBURN. j If you have heartburn, either the diet is badly regulated or the digestive organs re- quire attention. Persons finding how quickly a. dose of alkaline medicine removes the uncomfortable sensation of heartburn are very apt to continue their indulgences, rather than to practice the self-denial re- quisite to effect a cure of the cause. Much beno-fit is derived from the use of bismuth in heartburn. A small teaspoonful of powdered charcoal ta.ken at bedtime will often allay heartburn if liable to occur in the night. Some persons find Spanish liquo- rico useful in cases of heartburn. YOUR FEATHER-BED. I When your feather-bed becomes lumpy, removo the feathers frcm the tick and place them in the copper, with the latter stiil hot from recently-boiled water. Give the feathers a stir occasionally, and leave them in until the copper is quite cold. TAKE CARE OF YOUR EYES. j We work our eyes, the mcst delicate mechauism in the body, with far less mercy than any other part of it. Knowingly but thoughtlessly we continue our reading in the twilight, or by a flickering gaslight far above our heads. In the daytime we face the light when we work, or allow the sun- light to dance on the pages of our book. We find it too much trouble to adjust ourselves so that the light will come over the left shoulder, or too expensive to change a lamp elvade which we know causes a glare that is very bad indeed for our eyes. We frequently leava our windows unshaded, so that the "blessed light" becomes a deadly glare, irri- tating and tiring to even the strongest eyes. Walls are left white to increase the glare, or are covered with large, tortuous figures and inharmonious colours. We weary the little focussing muscles of our eyes by bv reading in trains or by watching the nving objects from the window. We go to moving-picture shows, and wonder why our eyes ache and twitch when they are over. One should never use the eyes for study or work before breakfast or after the strength has been reduced by disease or a nervous strain. A book should always be held about eighteen inches from the eyes. The light for work should be steady, and for an entire room diffused rather than spotty. EXCESSIVE PERSPIRATION. I To dc awaj with excessive perspiration under the arms, bathe the arm-pits with tepid water and a. little tincture of benzoin night and morning. Then apply this powder; tlb. of pure borax, loz. or ordinary baking soda, 1 drachm of any preferred soehet powder. Get washable shields, and pin fresSk ones in your bodice every day. To LIGHTEN BROWN BOOTS. I To lighten brown leather, mix together a gill of milk and a pennyworth of liquid ammonia. Apply a little of the mixture to each boot on a piece of sponge or clean rag, and put aside to dry. When the boots are required for use again, clean in the ordinary way. Keep the mixture tightly corked, and further applications can be made to the boots when they tihow a tendency to darken.
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A boiled cryg which is uot required can be boiled up again, and will not become hard im the process. The teeth of a tort.^ise-fihc-l comb may be restored to their original brightness by the use of olivq oil, which is ai,-4) u-.od to clean shell-pins. If vou are troubled with motiis in your feather bods, boil tie foataers in waici for a short time; tlven put them in sacks al.d dry them, working tiiem with t-h* hands all the time. Mark on the handle of TOTir garden hoe or rake two notches for each feet of the length, and one for e&ck half-foot. When planting cut time ooraes, it will s«ve you the bother of measuring with a line. A great eecret of tea eeowray is to add omly a small quantitr of boiling water at first and allow it to "dr&r" before adding tbe rest. Tea so made is much better and stronger than when all the watsr is added at onco. Tumblers that he.T? contained milk should be rinsed in cekl water before being washed in hot. Putting tho inilky i into hot water has the eyact of ciouaing the glasa permanently. A capital •loe-ns?r for varnished and stained woodwork m tea-water. Thi may be made by peering boiling water on spent tea-leaves, str»ii»i»g the liquid after waaxia through cloth or aauslin. To cn china, rmse the cups in clean eekl water, and afterwards wan them in hot water. By rinsing the articica in cold water Yl prevent the slams from the tannin, either tea or coffee, becoming fixed and spoiling your set. SAVING SOAP. You can save soap when washing t'he kitchen table by using sand, which whitens the table when dry. Wet the table, sprinkle with saxd, ar.-d rub hard with a wet cloth. This saves scrubbing brush and soap. BORAX ron FLANNELS. I Borax added to the wasamg Y.?t<T "I fan- ne? will preTønt &hiin?ge, b?ai<I<-r. ??piug the clothes a g??ad colour. Lse about ?ox. to every gallou water. I SOAP ECONOMT. Tako one ponnd of carbolic soap, one packet of carbosil, and six pint-. of boiling water. Shred the &oar), al-I trk- and boiling water, and stir till dissolved. Pour into st.oll jars and turn cut when cold. This has been trieel and frvrnd excel- lent for washing clothcs and scrubbing pur- poses. HOME-MABB STARCH. Home-mado starch for delicate materials can be made frem two dessertspoonfuls cf I cornflour mixed into a thin. pas£, ? small quantity of good -o;?p added, and a little j over one quart of ?oll-,ng water. I A USEFUL ANTISEPTIC. Every housekeeper should have on hand a supply of boracic acid. It is an exceedingly useful antiseptic, and for burns it is un- usually excellent. Drop !2oz. of boric acid crystals in a glass quart jar and fill with water. This makes the saturated solution. Take a piece of gauze or cheesccloth, satu- rate with solution, and lay on the burn. Apply very moist. I FINGER-MARK9 ON PAINT. Dirty finger-marks on white paint are a great eyesore. Here is a cheap way of cleaning them off. Soak a small square of flannel in paraffin oil and keep it in a tin box. When you notice the dirty finger- marks, take oat the flannel, dip it into a little poudered whiting, and the marks come off like magie. Then rub with a dry cloth. FLIES AND MEAT. To protect meat from flies dlriig the hot weather, get sonle thin coarse muslin, and make it into bags of the required size. Through the hem at the open end run a piece of tape. After any dish of meat is taken from tho table it should be siipped at once into one of these bags and the end securely tied SOME USEFUL RECIPES. A SAVOURY PIE.—Put two cupfuls ot rolled oats into a dish, pour over half a pint of milk and let it stand all night. Next day make up as an ordinary padding, adding more milk, ard put in the oven to cook. When done, add the grated rind of half a lemon, two ouncos of grated cheese, two on i olis L,1 1 onions 'cho-opedl, half a pound of ll-eooked tripe, cut into small pieces, salt and pepper to taste. Turn into a greased, pie-dish and bake until browned. GOLDEN RICE.—Boil seme rice, as muc h aa you will require, for the number cf at the meal, drain it, put in a frying-pan with a little hot olive oil and a small onion cut into slices. Season with pepper and salt. Fry until the rice goes a paSe golden colour, then di.,h up and pour round it a thick gravy made with a kidney soup quare. POTATO CHEESE.—Boil some large mealy potatoes in their jackets. When ccol peel them, and reduce them to a pulp by grating or rubbing them through a fine sieve or colander. To every seven pounds of this pulp add a pint of scur milk and salt to taste. Knead the whole very thoroughly together, and cover it up, to remain three or four days. At the end of that time knead it again, form it into cheeses, and place them in small buckets to drain. Dry them in the shade of layers of pots. Potato che-ese is always much improved by keep- ing. CASSEROLE OF BnOAD BEANS.—Chop five or six spring onions and iry them in a with loz. margarine or other fat. When tender sprinkle in a teaspoonful flour, stir until quite smooth, then add half pint good stock or gravy made from meat extract. Have readv one pound of cooked broad beans, add" them to the onions with a tea- spoonful finely-chopped parsley. Stew gently for about twenty minutes, season with pep- per and salt and serve in the casserole. RHUBARB IN SAGO.—Boil one tablespoonful of sago (soaked overnight), with one tea- spoonful of sugalf. in three teaeupfuls of water till it becomes clear and quite soft. Put one pound of stewed and sweetened rhubarb at the bottom of the pie-dish, pour the sago over it, and bake for half an hour in a moderate oven. Serve with custard. POTATO CAKES.—Mash the required quan- tity of potatoes, add a little bacon fat or dripping and Rome seasoning and shape into cakes the size of a tumbler. Dust tlero with a little flour, and fry brown in drip- ping in a frying-pan. The fat in the pan. must. be quite hot to prevent the cakes breaking, but need not cover the cakes, aa they arc turned over to fry on both sides- The cakes can be used a garnish for such dishes as liver and bacon, fried sausages, oc mince of any kind.
I IDENTIFICATION DISCS. I
I IDENTIFICATION DISCS. In the U.S. Navy officers and men are i supplied with an identification disc on one tUlle of WlllCll is an etched fingerprint frcm the index finger of the wearer, the duplicate of the print being filed in the Navy Depart- | ment. On the other side of the disc is engraved the man's name, with the date of i hi-j birth and enlistment. Of course, there might be two men with identically the same name, with the dates of birth and enlist- mont the same; but any difficulty arising from so remote a coincidence will be got over by the finger-print. It is, however, [ about the metal of the disc that the inven- tion mainly scores. This is Monel metal- about 70 per cent, nickel, 1^ per cent. iron, and the rest copper—silver-white in colour; and, after being subjected to a certain pro- ce. it is guaranteed not to corrode or perish by ifre. Supposing the wearer's body I was entirely consumed by fire, and no trace were left of him, his identification disc, ili found, would be undamaged, even the finger- print.
TROUSERS WHILE YOU WAIT. I
TROUSERS WHILE YOU WAIT. I When the poor people of Gauchos, who live in a primitive state in the Southern Argentine Pampas, need a pair of trousers, they kill an old horse and strip off the hide of the forelegs, as one would draw off a glove. These are drawn, hair side in, over feet and legs up to the hips, when they adjust themselves like tights. They are worn continuously day and night until they are worn out and a new pair required.