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THE HOUSE IN PICCADILLY.
THE HOUSE IN PICCADILLY. A Tale for Maidens, Wives, and Widows; and, incidentally, for Elderly Gentlemen. BY &.NNIE THOMAS (MRS. PENDER CUDLIP), AUTHOR OF "Unfulfilled," "That Other Woman," "The Love of a Lady," Philip Morton," &c. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] CHAPTER VIII.—(Continued.) Augusta knew even Jess what to wish an hour afterwards, when Florence raised her feverish head from her shoulder, and went and flung herself upon the bed, murmuring- Gussie, it's all so black it will drive me mad. I think." Isn't Florence coming down to luncheon Gussie ?" asked Mrs. Knightly of her eldest daughter, as the latter took her place at the table that morning. No, mamma she's not well; and I have advised her to lie stiil and get some sleep." Not well, indeed," replied Mrs.. Knightly petulantly. All my children seem to be turning against me; it's high time I had some one else tc care for and be kind to me." Augusta made no answer, for her eyes were raised to her father's portrait; and she felt at that moment that she could not speak. "I suppose you 11 have no objection to go into the park with me, Gussie ?" her mother said after a shoit time. 'None whatever, mamma; Florence will be better alone," she replied, remembering that Colonel Crofton would probably ride by the side 01 the carriage, and that it would look lessparticntai if there were two ladies to be escorted. How shall I give that man my hand, she thought, as, accord ing to her anticipation, he rode up and saluted them. How shall I give him my hand, knowing what I do ? But I must be careful above everything to guard the secret of poor Floy's weakness. Mrs. Knightly was a great fool, but she was not fool enough to affect to be in love. She was only flattered at Colonel Crofton having elected to raise her to the honour and dignity of being his wife when so many younger women had, as she knew, sighed for him in vain. But she was a great fool nevertheless, for she thought it was herself he wanted, and not, her money-bags. She was weak, too, in supposing that Colonel Crofton would play the part Mr. Knightly had delighted to play, and allow her to worry him, and monopolise, and harass him with small attentions, and generally drive him to the verge of mild madness, as had her first husband. Colonel Crofton, too, was the reverse of weak therefore he did not act the sentimental lover to the mother of the woman he had really loved—when that woman was present. Therefore her drive was simply unpleasant-not unendurable, as she had feared it would be-to Augusta. Colonel Crofcon talked more to her than he did to her mother, and though Gussie felt dreadfully indignant with him for doing so, she was, out of common politeness. compelled to answer him. The result of that con- versation was, that she no longer wondered a" Floy s infatuation, for he charmed her in spite of herself. And he determined on using his influence with Mrs. Knightly, as soon as they were married, to punish Gussie for having refused him, by settling her fortune upon her in such a way that if she married Frank Tollemache she would lose it. Does mamma know anything ?" Florence asked, as her sister bent over her anxiously on her return from that drive. No, dear, nothing; try not to fret, Floy I have sent for Mr. Weston, and if he can talk mamma out of this projected marriage, which under any circumstances would be so dreadful—why there's no saying what may follow, Floy." Oh, Gussie, Gussie! do you think he will? then I may be happy after all." She must be fond of him indeed, if after all she can consent to be made happy by him, thought Augusta but she only said- Yes, Floy, dear as there is no accounting Tor taste." Now Mr. Weston was the old lawyer who dis- liked his friend's will, which he had been com- pelled to draw up, however, in spite of disliking it, and despised his friend's widow. Woe for the woman who loves, and has no mother, says a writer in whose works Florence was deeply read; but as she lay tossing feverishly on the couch in her room, alone, sad, sick, and solitary, when Gussie had departed to waylay and instruct Mr. Weston, sne might h ive been forgiven for thinking-Woe for the woman who loves-and has a mother who is matrimonially disposed. He might not be worth all this suffering and sorrow, all these heart-burnings and brow-burn- ings that poor Florence was undergoing on his account; but not the less did she suffer, and would continue to suffer. She loved him very truly, and dearly, and devotedly, whether he was worthy of it or not. If he had been proved guilty of a thousand faults, and these had all been carefully collected and spread out before her, she would not have loved him one whit the less. She would have trailed her golden head in the dust at his feet, at his bidding-she, who would have put her little foot remorselessly on the neck of all the rest of the world. She was not one to love to order, and leaveoff doing so directly circumstances would have rendered it advisable. The strings of the harp of her life had been swept by too strong a hand for them ever to cease to vibrate. So under the pre- sent aspect of things, poor Florence was utterly miserable. You will be careful, very careful, Mr. Weston, that you say nothing mamma can feel hurt or offended at," Augusta said, as Mr. Weston was quitting the room where he had had half an hour's undisturbed conversation with her. My dear Miss Knightly," he replied, tremu- lously, wiping his spectacles, which had got slightly dimmed during the interview with his old friend's daughter, My dear Miss Knightly, I will be care- ful depend upon my prudence and discretion. I will put it to her calmly and dispassionately, that -she can't be such a fool." Oh dear! oh dear! thought Augusta, as he walked away up to the drawing room, if he says that, we are lost, lost. I had far better have waited till Georgie and Rupert came home. She sat anxiously in that dark lofty dining-room, where her father had sat and been hospitable for 80 many years, waiting for the sound of Mr. Weston s anything but fairy footfall; meanwhile there was a stormy scene upstairs. On being told, judiciously, by Mr. Weston that Colonel Crofton only wanted her money, Mrs. Knightly had tearfully repeated the offer she once made Gerald, namely, of giving them everything but when Mr. Weston had expressed himself de- lighted to accept these terms on behalf of her children, Mrs. Knightly had hysterically refused to stand by her offer, or hear anything more on the subject; and the end of that meeting was anger. I. Letting Rupert marry in the way he has, was a disgrace, yes a disgrace to you, madam but if you marry that sharper, you'll be a disgrace to your whole family." Mrs. Knightly comforted herself under this speech by mentally stating that she had always said Weston was a brute. She must go her own way, and a bad one it is, I fear," he said to Augusta, when he came down. I shall have nothing more tc do with her, or her affairs." CHAPTER IX. MRS. KNIGHTLY RECEIVES HER FRIENDS. THEY were at home at last, after having had the pleasantest tour in the world, home, at the house in Kensington Gore, which old Lord Cliflord had vacated for a smaller one on the Bayswater side of the gardens. Georgie and her husband had both begged the kind old man to remain in his own house, to live with them still but he had firmly refused to do so, though he was touched by their so evidentlyand heaitily wishing it. They were better alone, he said, in the house which was theirs now, and his no longer. He would still be near them still be enabled to come and see his darling Georgie. He had wished to refurnish the house, that his daughter might find it all bright, and fresh, and new when she came back there as a bride; but they had both pleaded that he should not do this; the old belongings would be dearer to them both, they said. But when they came borne, Lord Clifford was there to meet- them, and after dinner was over he led them into what had been his study but in place of the old veneered book-cases, and shaky writing-tables, and hard horsehair chairs, he had compromised with his feelings, when he had been requested not to RT*- funish the whole of the house, by collecting a quantity of splendidly carved oak library furniture and beautiful bronzes, for this room, which would be Rupert's now, And the tears of the daughter, as she hung on his arm thanking him for this special mark of attention to her husband, were pleasanter to him than anything had ever been before; ay, pleasanter even than had been the first sight of those orders and rewardcof gallantry which were hung on his uniform coats over his brave old breast. Soon, though, there was a sorrow in their midst. Mrs. Knightly, Mrs. Knightly, junior—"received her friends." She met Rupert's sisters at the door of her drawing-room (she had decided to receive her friends in the evening), regardless of propriety, looking prettier than ever, they both thought, in this first flush of her happiness, and in her magni- ficent wedding dress of white satin and llonitcm lace. And her bright eyes had never been brighter nor her lovely little face more glowing than when she whispe ed. "Dont be surprised, Gussie. whoinsoe\ei- you may see." The whisper and fond, loving, sisterly, sympathetic clasp of the hand fortunately prepared Gussie for almost the first person she saw was Frank Tollemache. The first sight of him told Gussie that if he was prepared to throw prudence to the winds and ask her to marry him, she could be no longer strong. And in spite of that cloud which Colonel Crofton was hanging over them, Mrs. Knightly could not have found a happier pair than Augusta and Frank Tollemachc amongst the two hundred and odd who thronged her saloons on this her first recep- tion of her friends as Hupert Knightly s wife. The Dowager Mrs, Knightly had not chosen to be present, though Georgie and Rupert, who had 6edulouslv refrained from touching upon unplea- sant topics, had both implored her to join them. But Colonel Crofton was there, and by his pre- sence severely tested poor Florence's self-control. Gerald was there, too; but a cloud seemed to have come over the gay young soldier; and not even In-. favourite sister Georgie could win him to be other than moody and gloomy. He had some private grief, evidently; and when Georgie pressed him on the point, he admitted that he had, and promised he would come up and talk to her about it. Young Mrs. Knightly was a star, a gem. an anything that is bright, flashing, brilliant, and lovely-in her bridal robes and wreath, and with her dark perfumed hair turned loosely up from her pretty white brow. And Augusta might have sat for a portrait of the Serpent of old Nile, so superb was she in her dark, proud, southern beauty, set off and adorned as it was by jewels and rich raiment. And still even Colonel Crofton was fain to confess that, lovely as both these were, lovely as many other women who were present that night were, Florence eclipsed them all. he had wailed and wept so for the last three weeks that any other woman's good looks would have been utterly washed out and destroyed. But she had only brought herself to the perfect purity and white- ness of a marble statue-a marble statue with great brown eyes full of life, too full almost, and golden rippling hair. Always beautiful she was; now startling lovely, far lovelier than when the rose of happiness and health had reigned above the lily in her cheek Indifferent to everyone else, scarcely heeding what others said to her, she was keenly alive, every nerve was strained to catch the lightest sound that fell from the lips, the lightest look that came from the eyes of this man who had so won every atom of her heart, that she could not take it from him, though cruel fate had ordained that he should marry her mother. And seeing this, Mrs. Knightly —Rupert's wife—determined to throw herself into the breach before a chasm yawned for ever between happiness and Floy. My plan is, Gussie," said Frank Tollemache. "to shut up the H all for a few years, pay off all the servants, with the exception of one old gardener and his wife, who'll live in the Hall to keep it from going to pieces through the damp, and go abroad. I shall be-we shall be able to come back in a few years, you see, and everything will be as right as possible." Augusta's answer was, Well, Frank, we'll talk about it to-morrow; it's very hard though that 1 can't have what I ought to have if I had. there need be no shutting up of the Hall, and going abroad." That's right of you both," said Georgie. encouragingly, who had heard these two speeches take the leap bravely, and you'll light all right on the other side of the hedge, I daresay." The next morning at about one o'clock Gerald Knightly was sitting, gravely conversing with his brother and sister-in-law. And who is Tiny Braybrooke ?" asked the lady. The sweetest little thing in the world." That's no answer, my dear Gerald; who is she ? What is she ? and where does she live ?" She's an orphan and an heiress; she's the sweetest and prettiest little thing in the world; (no offence, Georgie, I don't mean that she's prettier than you, but she's no different:) and she lives at an old place called the Woodlands, between Bromley and Beckenham." "And why won't she marry you, Gerald? the sweetest and prettiest might consider herself next, to me, also the most fortunate woman in the world to gain you. Why won't this Miss Braybrooke think so? Only think, Rupert, Gerald unsuccess- ful in a love affair It isn't exactly that, you see," replied Gerald, rather touchingly; "but two years ago-more than that when I asked her, she said, I No! she'd only marry a guardsman.' 1 haven't asked her since, but I know she likes me." So that was the reason you wanted to change, was it, Gerald?" asked Rupert, laughing; "and how old may the young lady be now ?" About eighteen." "Well, I'd try again if I were in your place, Gerald, and trust to our mother coming round en- tirely. Georgie's going over to speak to her to-day but 1 understand now, old fellow, the full extent of that generosity towards me which has induced you to refuse all my mother's offers of serving you. Georgie shall go and call on this Miss Braybrooke in a day or two. You take my ad vice: sixteen never knows its own mind, and try again." "I shall wait now," replied Gerald, "until this affair with Crofton has blown over, as it will surely, if Georgie takes it in hand." But when Mrs. Rupert Knightly entered the drawing-room of the Piccadilly mansion that day, she saw that something unusual had occurred and on being put in possession of the facts, she deter- mined on not creating extra confusion in the house by speaking just then to her mother-in-law about Colonel Crofton. Augusta had told her mother that she was going to marry Frank Tollemache in a fortnight. And Mrs. Knightly had refused the one request Frank and Gussie had made to her -that her daughter might be married from her house. Augusta would not permit Georgie or any one else to try their eloquence where she had failed, so it came to pass, at the end of a stormy fortnight, that it was from her brother Rupert's house that she want forth as Lady Tollemache. The wedding was a very quiet one, for they had all felt that in the absence of their mother it coulc not be otherwise. It was quiet, too, for another reason. They did not like to put any public slight upon Colonel Crofton (for they all felt that some way or other he would soon be related to them), by excluding him from a ceremony at which many of their mutual friends, who would soon know ail about the state of affairs, should be present. So they got out of their difficulties by not asking any of th-Îr mutual friends. Mies Braybrooke, otherwise Tiny, was there, in the character of a future sister-in-law, for Gerald had taken Rupert's and Georgie's advice, which was wonderful, considering he had asked them to give it, and Tiny had shown herself wiser at eighteen than she had been two years before. It had all been rapidly arranged for she had only one relative -an uncle-o consult. He was one of Gerald's brother officers. and had always intended that such should be the end. She was a I tiny,' indeed a blue-eyed mite; small, and fair, and delicate. She looked as if E. rough wind would blow her away altogether, or a rough word break her in two. In her double character of beauty and heiress, Tiny had been very much spoilt; and a less thoroughly generous tempered man than Gerald might have doubted the wisdom of intrust- ing his happiness to such a stormy little creature s keeping. For she was one of those fairy-like beings with large flashing turquoise-coloured eyes and fragile forms, who can on occasions behave like hurricanes. However, Gerald was troubled with no such doubts, as he looked down into the sweet, childishly-lovely face that was lifted to meet his gaze with such ingenuous fondness; and after a day or two's communion with that pure, unsullied, warm, truthful nature, Gerald's sisters were not, troubled by such doubts ei her. Florence and C'elestine Braybrooke were Au- gusta's bridesmaids, and with the Rupert Lnightlys and Gerald, were the only persons present at that quiet wedding which, after all the hindrancet3 that had been thrown in its way, came off early in September. So when most of their friends were down at their places in the country, enjoying themselves, Sir Francis Tollemache had just concluded arrangements for shutting up his old house, and letting his shooting for a few years. till such time as he cou d come back and take his place in the county again-an unencumbered man. (To be continued.)
[No title]
KEATING'S Powt),Eu.-Killa bugs, fleas, moths, beetles, and all insects (perfectly unrivalled). Harm- less to everything but insects. To avoid disappoint- ment insist on having Keatings." SEE the signature of Thomas Keating is on the outside wrapper, with- out which none is genuine. No other powder is effectual. Sold in Tins, 3d., 6d., and 1B. Fun Fome tin.e n- Committee of the Victorian Cabinet fins beeri inquiring iiit(i ()f the I'os-tHl Department. T ii" to the conclusion that there is no room f ir fur; her i retrenchment, mid timt, no saving c»n t><" ef.ected UnlefB dismissals lire IIp,d, Font 11uNi>itKI> women citr»rette winker? li'ive come Out on strike at. Kbikow. They demtind the removal of a new machine which h'is been introduced. The machine has been damaged and some nind<>«» have been broken, but, there haa been no further dis- turbance of order.
., BONNIE. II
BONNIE. II A ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LOWLY VrB. Her real name was Sarah Aun, but her father always called her Bonnie." A puny creature, big- headed, with a putty-coloured face, indeterminate fea- tures, and pale, prominent eyes that had apparently let nothing pass unnoticed. Even judged by the standard of the unhealthy children who inhabited the squalid quarter that was her birthplace and her home, Bonnie was distinctly unattractive. But to her father she was beautiful as the morning, and wise beyond all mortals. Her mother's death had followed swiftly on the birth of Bonnie. She had been a bad lot, Bill Cat- lin's wife, and Bill's life with her had been one of misery and squalor unimaginable. Yet as he stood by the still form, holding the squalling baby awkwardly in his rough arms, he sobbed, and a tear rolled down his sallow cheek and splashed into the red and very ugly face of the child, evoking a yet louder howl. For he was Sorter used to th' old gal, an' it did seem tough to see 11 her lying there so quiet like an' not makin' a row." Still Bill could not disguise from himself the fact that the exchange of mother for child was an alto- gether blessed one. A baby conldn't scold from morning till night, and drink all your wages. Couldn't give you black eyes and throw things at you when you came home. Couldn't frequent the lowest of saloons and keep the vilest of company—at least. while it remained a baby, and Bill's was not a nature that ever took heed for the future. A baby could do none of these things, but it could apparently compel love, and Bonnie was all the world to Bill Catlin. For her he hurried home as soon as his work at the pickle factory was over, without loitering at the saloon, as bud been his wout during his wife's life- time. For her he washed himself scrupulously every day, and got a cheap shave on Saturday nights. For her he paid Mrs. Bostock of the ground floor front one dollar a week to look after her while he was at work. He had moved from his old lodg- ings after his wife's death to a better room close to the factory, so that he might get home during the dinner hour; and this room he kept a marvel of cleanliness. And he never hesitated over the purchase of anything for Bonnie, though he looked well into his money matters before he allowed himself the luxury of a bit of tobacco. And he pestered Mrs. Bostock so persistently with injunctions as to the care of Bonnie that finally that good lady, between laughter and exasperation, told him to Get along with his jaw, she 'adn't brought up half a dozen kids for nothin' As she observed afterward to the ground floor back, She couldn't understand a han'some chap like him bein' so sot on a ugly little crittur like that babby o' his'n, when there worn't a gal in the hull street as wouldn't have him to-morrer ef she could." But Bill had far too much thought for his child's happiness to think of marrying again. There was once a man bold enough to hint at the extreme plainness of Bonnie. He rose from the pavement a moment later minus two front teeth, and with a badly cut upper lip, a sobered and wiser man, and ever after was careful to keep out of reach of Bill's arm. Sunday was the day to which Bill looked forward all the week. As Bonnie grew old enough there was always money forthcoming for a day's outing, out of the unsavoury smells of the tenements of New York City, and away into fresher air. Sometimes up into Central Park; sometimes across the water to the Palisades. Once a glorious never to-to-be-forgotten- day, on the top of a 'bus up Fifth Avenue, to the Park, and then to the menagerie. This happened when Bonnie was, perhaps, three years old. A breathless, scorching Sunday, when the sweat poured down the rubicund face of the 'bus driver, behind whom sat Bill, his face shining with joy and scap, and Bonnie resplendent in her Sunday best. Bill looked down at her with complacent pride; he took great pains with her apparel, and felt she was a credit to his unerring taste. Her bonnet was of purple plush, adorned with drab lace, her coat of red curly cloth, was tied at the neck with ribbons that, through much handling by hot, moist hands, had acquired a dingy, magenta hue. Her socks were of a gorgeous and terrible plaid. Round her neck she wore a string of blue beads. The omnibus jolted along up the avenue, and every moment brought forth something fresh for the two to feast their eyes on. Now a hand-cart loaded with fruit, now five or six factory girls strolling arm- in-arm along the pavements in hats magnificent with flowers and feathers. And now it was a candy store full of sticky and greasy delicacies that caught the observant eye of Bonnie, and called forth a piping shout of delight from her as she sat swinging her plaid legs about by the side of her happy father. 'Ullo Bill," said a man who mounted the 'bus at Union-square. Got the kid with you? Well, kiddy, wot's the news ?" Bonnie deigned him no reply, but inspected him critically with her fishy eyes. My heyes She do look cute though," said the man, with a grin. He wished to be polite, but he could not truthfully say Bonnie was pretty. She is that," declared Bill, emphatically hain't yer, Bonnie ?" The child turned her unsmiling gaze on him. She said nothing, but reached out her little skinny hand and laid it on Bill's knee. Look at that, now," cried Bill, delightedly. Well, hi'm blessed said the man. Don't look overstrong, do she, Bill ? A bit peaky-like, don't yer think ?" be added politely. A cloud of anxiety came over Bill's face. D'yer think so ?" he asked, looking down at the little pinched face. But she allus is like that," he added, brightening, an' yer can't say as anything ever ails 'er." That day at the menagerie was an immense success. They were enchanted with everything the kangaroos and the giraffes, the elephants and the great white bears in their pit. But most of all Bonnie was charmed with the monkey house. They seem to exercise a fascination over her and she over them, and she sat up in Bill's arm and grimaced at them till they were wild with rage, and Bill roared with laughter at her little distorted face. Yes, it was a glorious day, the happiest they had ever spent, the happiest they were ever to know. That summer was one of furious heat and dryness it sapped the strength even of the strongest men, and it told terribly on the feeble constitution of Bonnie. She grew whiter and more frail with every long weary day that passed; she was languid and heavy-eyed, and Bill racked his brains and spent his money vainly on delicacies to tempt her failing appe- tite. Even the Sundays that they spent in the country away from the stifling and unfragrant odours of their home made no improvement in Bonnie. Then Bill took her to a hospital -himself white and haggard with anxiety. The doctor inspected her and said she had no constitution; he gave Bill a tonic for her and said encouragingly that perhaps with the cooler weather But the cooler weather came without bringing any return of strength to Bonnie indeed, as the autumn went on she seemed to grow weaker still. Bill was beside himself with grief. He took her again to the hospital for treat- ment, but the doctor frankly told him he could do nothing for her. Even if I took her as an in-patient it would be no good," said he. I n. They never went out on a ounday now, out ail day long he would sit by the fire with his Bonnie in his arms, sometimes singing her to sleep in a husky voice. So the weeks passed, and Christmas came. And Bill bought her a furry monkey on a stick as a Christmas present, hoping against hope that it would give her pleasure. And, oddly enough, it did seem to please as Bill laid it in her arms on Christmas morning, for her wasted fingers closed around it at once, and a little smile broke out oa the tiny wan face. And all day long she lay holding it fast, and it was not till she had fallen asleep that Bill could gently take it away, lest its weight should be too great for the frail body. And no sooner was she awake next morning than her hands were moving restlessly in search of her treasure. "What yer want, Bonnie?" asked Bill, bending over her. Monkey," said Bonnie, laconically, and when it was put in her arms she seemed quite contented. Dyer remember the monkeys at the park, Beauty ?" asked Bill, and a suspicion of a grin hovered about her mouth. Bill looked out of the window it was a mild, open day. "Bonnie," he said suddenly, would yer like to go an' see them monkeys agin to-day ?" The glimmer of a twinkle came into her dull eyes. Yus," she whispered. So Bill dressed her tenderly, putting on the red curly coat and the violet plush bonnet that had been laid aside so long. And then he wrapped his big coat right around her so that no cold might possibly get to her, and lifting her carefully in his arms, set off This time the journey was made inside a street car, Bill sitting at the further end, holding Bonnie very gently, lest the jolting over the rough stones should hurt her. The change seemed to have revived her, and she watched everything that passed with some of the old inquisitive interest in her eyes. By the time they reached the park entrance her face was bright with excitement, and Bill's heart was lighter than it had been for weeks. She was so much better to-day, perhaps she would get well after all, and they would be so haupy again. He carried her straight into the monkey-house and held her up in his arms. | "There!" he cried, "there they be; look at em, I Love? make faces at'OMI Bonnie." And Bonnie bravely screwed up her P°°J *jttle fac<O into the most hideous grimace she could think of, and Bill chuckled with joy, convinced that she must be much better. But the iijot.ke vLq were, tf- too cold and miserable to take any no*ice, and onh huddled closer in the corners of their cages all;j turned away their heads. And presently Bonnie grew weary, and turned away her head, too, and laid her face down on Bill's shoulder. "Are you tired, then, Bonnie?" asked Bill, twist- ing around his head to look at her. She only looked at him with languid eyes. Want to go back 'ome agin ?" then asked Bill. She gave her head a slight nod and closed her eyes; her face looked grey. Bill wrapped the coat right around her again, and quickly left the house. The brightness of the shoit winter day had fled, and the sky was leaden above them, and the brightness had fled from Bill's heart, and it, too, was heavy as lead. By the time he reached a car the dusk was falling, and a clammy grey mist was creeping up. Bill sat down at the further end of the car with Bonnie in his arms. She lay very still in the folds of his coat. 'Ullo, Bill, anything the matter with the little 'un ?" It was the conductor who spoke; he had worked with Bill in the factory before he got on the car line as conductor. She's ill," said Bill briefly, drawing the little figure closer. The conductor nodded. I wouldn't 'a brought her out ef I'd been you," he observed. She wanted to come," said Bill. The conductor nodded again. Some one rose in the car and be went out on to the platform and pulled the bell. The passenger got down, and the car went on again. One by one the passengers got out till only Bill and his little one were left. Presently the conductor came up again. How is she now, Bill, he whispered. She's very quiet, she ain't moved," whispered back Bill, and then he put back the folds of the coat a little from her face. She was, indeed, strangely quiet, and her face looked marble white in the dim light of the oil lamp. The conductor bent down toward her-bent closer still—then suddenly he raised his head. Good heavens!" he muttered, and then he looked into Bill's face. Bill, Bill," he whispered, don't yer see Why she-she's dead-she must 'a died whilejyoA was in 'ere. I'm awful sorry for you, ole man, really I am." "Dead," muttered Bill, "dead!" He gathered her close to him. "Dead!" he repeated monoto- nously. I say, Bill," said the conductor, don't look so awful bad-now don't. But Bill seemed scarcely aware of his presence, and so the conductor went outside to tell the driver all about it. And the car went rattling on over the rough streets, and Bill sat alone inside holding the little figure close to his breast and muttering now and again Dead, my Bonnie, dead At last the car stopped, and the conductor came and touched him cn the shoulder. Yer gets out 'ere, Bill." Out ?" repeated Bill, vacantly. Yes," replied the conductor, yer gets out an' walks home." "Home?" repeated Bill, again the same toneless voice. Yes," replied the conductor, this is the proper place where yer gets out." Bill rose obediently and got down from the car and stood in the road. I'm awfully sorry for you, Bill," said the con- ductor again. I hopes you'll soon get over it." Dead whispered Bill, my Bonnie." I'll take yer as far as the sidewalk," said the con- ductor, and led Bill across the road to the curb. I don't like to leave yer now, but I can't do nothin' else," he said; yer'll go home now, won't yer, Bill ?" The driver shouted impatiently from the car. The conductor ran back across the road and jumped upon the car. Bill stumbled as far as a doorstep and sat down on it. And as the car rattled away down the street, the conductor, looking back, saw him sitting there staring across the road with his Bonnie clasped closely to his breast.
FEARFUL POWDER EXPLOSION.
FEARFUL POWDER EXPLOSION. An explosion in the cartridge depot outside Rust- chuk city occurred on August 6, almost simul- taneously with the arrival of the train in which Prince Ferdinand was travelling. Out of 305 boys and girls employed in the depot, the dead bodies of 56 have been recovered, 30 are iu hospital, while 25 are fatally injured. Only a small number escaped unhurt, the rest being blown to atoms or drowned in the Danube. A large powder depot near the one where the explosion occurred was saved, otherwise the destruction would have been enormous. Prince Ferdinand visited the scene of the disaster and also the hospital, and dis- tributed a considerable sum among the familiesof the victims.
IBRITISH IRONCLAD FIRED ON.
BRITISH IRONCLAD FIRED ON. By mail advices received on Saturday a singular occurrence is reported from WRoosung, China. Her Majesty's ship Immortalite arrived there on June 28, and while preparing to anchor was fired at twice from one of the mud forts, the second shell coming within 30 feet of the cruiser. Cap- tain Chicbester at once prepared for action, and his guns were turned broadside on to the fort, from which the firing immediately ceased. Explana- tions were demanded from the Chinese officials, who apologised for the action. It seems that a high official from Pekin was on a visit to Woosung to in- spect the troops drilled by foreign instructors, and he gave orders for the Chinese marines to fire the heavy guns ashore, in spite of the remonstrances of the foreign instructors that the Immortalite was within range.
THE KAISER IN RUSSIA.
THE KAISER IN RUSSIA. At eleven o'clock on Saturday morning the German squadron was seen approaching St. Petersburg. A quarter of an hour later the booming of Imperial salutes greeted the Hohenzollern as she steamed into the Bay at the head of the escorting fleet. As soon as the Emperor William appeared on the bridge the Russian ships nearest the Imperial yacht struck up the German National Anthem, while the salutes of their guns mingled with the ringing cheers of the onlookers, who crowded the vessels in the Bay and both banks of the Neva. At noon the Czar and Czarina, with a brilliant suite, went on board the Hohenzollern. The Emperor William hastened forward to meet them, and both Emperors embraced and kissed each other repeatedly and affectionately. After the Czar and Czarina had stayed a quarter of an hour on the Hohenzollern, the Russian and German Sovereigns went on board the Alexandria and proceeded to Peterhof Palace. All the Russian, newspapers regard the visit as a fresh proof of the ties of relationship and traditional friendship uniting the two states. At the State dinner at Peterhof, the Czar, pro- posing the health of the German Emperor and Empress, said: This fresh manifettation of the traditional bonds which unite us, and of the good relations so happily established between our two neighbouring Empires, is at the same time a precious guarantee for the main- tenance of general peace, which forms the object of our constant efforts and our most fervent wishes." Shortly afterwards the Emperor William raised his glass and proposed the toast of the Czar and Czarina. Returning thanks for his appointment as Russian Admiral, and for his cordial reception. His Majesty said: "Your Majesty's unalterable resolution to keep your people in peace in the future as in the past finds in me also the gladdest echo, and thus we will pursue the same paths and strive unitedly under the blessing of peace to guide the intellectual de- velopment of our peoples. I can, with full confidence, jay this promise anew in the hands of your Majesty, and I know that I have the support of my whole people-that I stand by your Majesty's side wrb my whole strength in this great work of pre- serving the paaee of nations, and I will give your Majesty my strongest support against any one who may attempt to disturb or break this peace." The city and the ships on the Neva were splendidly decorated with flags and flowers to-day. The streets were densely crowded. About eleven o'clock in the morning the German Emperor and Empress landed from the Hohenzollern. They were presented with bread and salt by a deputation of the municipal authorities. Their Majesties, who were everywhere greeted with tremendous cheering, visited t,he fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul, where they laid wreaths on the grave of Alexander III. The Im- perial visitors subsequently proceeded to the Winter Palace.
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A LONG-DISTANCE electricity transmitting installa- tion is about to be laid down in California, where power is to be taken from a stream that flows through Santa Ana Canyon, and conveyed thence a distance of 80 miles. The pressure of the current is to be 33,000 volts. The fall of water utilised is 750ft. ver- tically in a course of 2200ft., and four turbines will gather the energy developed. DURING the recent French Naval Manoeuvres the cruiser Friant, of the Northern Fleet, to which she has been constantly attached during the past three years, kept up a continuous speed of 1G knots an hour for six days and nights in succession, and then Bteamed from Cape Finisterre to Quiberon with the news of the ecemy's approach at a speed of 17 knots. She only used 18 out of her 20 boilers, and never once had recourse to forced draft, whilst half the stokers on board were apprentices.
THE WOMAN'S WOULD. -
THE WOMAN'S WOULD. OUT of 2f, models for waists shown in one "e tie LEADING London modiste's, something over onp ¡'"Jr hud little barque sSirts or some arrangement fur wearing outside of the dress skirt. A novelty is a belt or CORSLET with a frill of lace anywhere from Sin. IIJ 16m. deep. A very narrow ruche of lace 3in. or -4IN. wide may be gnthered to a belt or corselet. This arrangement has become almost, a necessity, bec:nire of tiiv unspeakable annoyance experienced PI women in having the belt, and wuj"t, part AT tin- back, a most untidy and ill-kept effect, and < I which is liable to happen even with the INUFT, careful attention to fastening up, and what voit-ei, think is a positively secure attachment. TLW- arrangement that holds the belt to the skirt, wlnd, is either a pin, button or clasp, is admirable HP as it goes, but in a short time it spoils the share ot the belt and very soon necessitates a new one. A couple of safety pins in the back of the skirt seem Ie, be the safest and most convenient device. These should be of large size, should pin into the dress U-Jt and entirely through the corset. The stitch by the pin must, be short, else the pull will bend the pin and drag it out of the sheath. With a pinned- up belt and this belt and ruffled drapery, there is no danger of the unsightly parting which is the cause of more vexation than almost any item in the dress of the present day. DREss materials (says a resident Parisienne, writing in the Rural World) are of light shades, while not forgetting the marked preference for white. Next comes grey pearl, trimmed with white, rose, or heliotrope. Transparent stuffs continue to be also in vogue, worn over a bright silk the belt and collar are assorted to the silk. It is the ornamentation of the robe that attracts most attention at f;ishionnb!I* gatherings. The forms, the coupes, whether belonging to jupesor corsages, are well known but not so the garnitures. The majority of the jupes display one or several rows of circles, close or distant, sometimes with insertions, passementeries, ruches, or flounces, more or less large, either in lace or resembling the jupe. This cerclage is often reproduced on the corsage, and even on the sleeves, which exhibit these rings from the wrist up to the shoulder. At a rerpo. garden party one toilette was particularly admired it was in mauve silk, draped with black lace, crossing on the breast, and forming a collar behind. Upon the jupe the same lace was gathered back at the height of the hips, then, crossing on the jupe, extended and fell to the hem of the dress. But while black lace is extensively worked up in the trimming of dresses. white lace is equally dominant, not only for ornamen- tation, but in hats, ombrelles, and even for summer fans. While the circle form of trimming jupes is in high favour, the plain jupe is always in season. It is to be hoped that this rage for the circle garniture will not lead to the adoption of the robe of other days completely covered with flounces, or to the tunic, with all its drapings and gatherings-up, For the corsage the ornamentation is concentrated upon the shoulders and the front. This arrangement adds volume to the bust and reduces the waist, but suggests the wasp or bee corselet. The blouse is trimmed much on one side, and the material so cut as to allow the lining to be perceived, or the corsage, which is of another tone. The bolero, while adapting itself to light tissue blouses, is always in a bright shade, and becomes slender and tall figures. The dress materials—linens, cambrics, spot or plain muslins—let it be remembered, are but secondary matters. Fashion this season is occupied with the manner to arrange the niches, incrustations, em- broideries, insertions, and laces elegance resides in utilising these accessories-not at all simple—lightly and gracefully. IT is a very great mistake (writes a Somersetshire lady) to keep choice lace for years without washing. Many women beheve that it is ruined by soap and water, and will keep some cherished length for years and years, turning yellow with age, and rotting with the dust it has accumulated, till it really drops to pieces. And all the time it is easy to preserve it by keeping it clean. Squeeze the lace-do not rub it- carefully in lukewarm soapsuds, in which a little borax has been dissolved-say, half-a-teaspoonful of borax to a quart of suds, and afterwards rinse it several times in clear water. Wrap a large bottle closely in white flannel, and sew tightly over the flannel a piece of soft cotton. Then wind the lace about the bottle, taking care that it lies flat, without wrinkles carefully pick out any loops that may re- quire it with a pin, and stand the bottle in the air to dry. Do not stand it in the hot sun, and do not dry it by a fire. If it is desired to give lace the yellow appearance usually associated with old specimens, wait until it is quite dry, dip a soft handkerchief in a cup of black coffee, and sop it as with a sponge. Then dry again as before. THE putting up of short blinds to look neat and smart is a great point in the appearance of a house. The old method used by our mothers of running them on tape which was secured to hooks at each end is not good enough for us. Still, brass rods made on purpose are expensive. A good and simple plan is to have a running top and bottom of the muslin curtain, and to procure a couple of stair-rods exactly the width of the window. Have a brass hook at each end of window-frame, run your rod through the running, and drop it into place on the hock. Nothing looks better. The running should be a double one, so as to secure a heading. Stair-rods of almost any length can be procured for a few pence at any second-hand furniture shop, whose owner will always produce quite a bundle of odd ones. Now that so many folk are off to the seaside there are several things which it is useful for young mothers to know and remember. One is to be careful hbout the rooms they take, and, if possible, to get seme friend on the spot to see that the people who were tenants before them have all been well. More than once bad illnesses-even scarlet fever—has been, to the present writer's own knowledge, taken in rooms. Not that the lodging-house keepers are always to blame people are often not as straight- forward with them as they should be when they take rooms for their children to recover from illnesses Another danger lurks in the popular paddling." It is good for children to run barefoot on the sands, and even in and out of the water; but to stand for hours, as careless nurses often let them do, with their feet cold and the hot sun beating on their heads, is dangerous for any children, much more delicate ones. If children paddle they should wear large shady hats, and someone should see that they run about enough to keep their feet warm. PUTTING on a patch appears one of the easiest things in the world yet, in fact, to do it properly is by no means easy. Measure at first the size of the hole to be covered, remembering that if the space around it be worn thin the patch must cover it all. Cut the patch out by a thread and lay it on the wrong side of the garment to be patched, smoothly and evenly, taking care that thread runs with thread. Baste carefully, so that there shall be no wrinkles on either side, and hem down the edges on tne wrong side as neatly as possible, turn the garment on the right side again, and cut the hole straight, for a round or irregu- larly-shaped patch will at once thrust itself into notice, as it is impossible to match the threads. Trim the edges of the opening off by a thread, making a tiny diagonal slit at each corner, turn the edges in again by a thread, having previously basted the patch down smoothly, close to the edge of the opening, just leaving enough to turn in all around, which done, hem down on the patch once more by a thread. If this is done properly, your patch will set as smoothly as though it had grown over the hole. In mending boys' trousers it is better to piece, if you have suffi- cient material. That is, rip the leg up both seams as far as necessary, cut off the worn part evenly, and stitch on a new bottom, taking care to match the check or stripe if there is one. Damp the seam on the wrong side, and press open quite flat. Stitch the leg up again, hem the bottom, and, if carefully done, the garment is as good as new. If the cloth is scarce, set a piece into the hole, matching the threads exactly; baste a piece of silesia underneath across the leg, and darn your patch in with very fine sewing silk, the exact shade of one of the colours of the cloth, sinking your iititches to have them as nearly as invisible as possible. The edges must fit together quite closely. THE simplest way to free a mattress from moth is to adopt the professional plan-bake it; but that is not always convenient. Therefore take it out into the garden and spray it over with benzoline, keeping it in the shade then expose it to the sun for some hours until the odour of the benzoline has gone, and the moths will have gone with it. That is better than dusting pepper into it and beating it—though simple benting will often prove effectual. In fact, all such things should be taken into the open air frequently and beaten. The moths don't like it, and quit such unpleasant quarters. Be careful when using the benzoline to avoid setting the whole on fire. CHINA may be mended as firmly as a rock in the following manner: Two persons will be needed for the work, however, for the manipulation must be done rapidly. The necessary materials are a little unslaked lime, pulverised, the slightly-beaten white of egg. and a small hair brush, such ao is used for gum. Put the white of egg on the broken edges of both pieces to be joined, and immediately dust one EDGE with the powdered lime; put the two edges accurately and firmly together, hold in place for a minute or two, and then lay aside to dry.
NEWS NOTES. -
NEWS NOTES. ANOTHER distinguished publicist—another man of ability in the ranks of those who devote the best energies of their lives to statecraft and the good of their fellows—has fallen before the senfeeless violence of an irresponsible and crack- brained assassin. Senor Canovas was a goud man for Spain, working the nation's adminis- tration with a full regard to constitution^ stability. No matter; he was the head and front of authority, and anarchy—with hr,l) seems always to be allied iiisaiie marked him out for slaughter. Cunningly, t h, Premier's end was compassed and now Spain mourns, and order-loving Europe joins in hot grief. The worst of it is that no drastic dealing with the insignificant assassin in such a case m- this can right the wrong or bring back the lost life of a reputable statesman. It might be wci.' worth the while of the whole of the European Governments to lay their heads together for the purpose of effectually scotching the Socialist movement; not only in the direction of circumventing violent transgressors, but also to the end of removing such legitimate griev- ances as give malignants an excuse for life in the eyes of the undiscerning. There can be but little doubt that London gives sanctuary, as things are, to many who are working mischioi against authority abroad; and thoroughly con- certed action might do much to prevent the success of wrong-doing. POOR Senor Canovas was a good man for Spain. He was one of the leaders of the movement which brought Alphonso XII. to the throne and has since done much for the re- pression of Carlism and the consolidation of the existent monarchy. He was a moderate, sagacious, and large-hearted man; and his sacri- fice by the hand of a worthless extremist is a calamity to the land he has served so well through a long succession of years. Senor Canovas was a personage of expansive views, and won some distinction in philosophy, law, and journalism before he permanently entered the thorny path of statecraft. THE Trades Union Congress, which will fore- gather in Birmingham next month, has gone in for a comprehensive programme. The mem- bers aim, at this meeting, at materially assist- ing the cause of the eight-hours day, and at promoting extensive electoral reforms, the amendment (from their view-point) of the Poor Laws, factory legislation on lines acc ept- able to the operatives, the payment of members of Parliament, and many other things which will be shocking to the Conservative, and, per- haps, a little hasty in the eyes of the ordinary orthodox Liberal. But Trades Unionists are nothing if not go-ahead and they will not be likely to be deterred from pursuing their aspirations by mere conventionality. THE Select Committee which has reported upon Government offices in London-as regards eligible sites for extension of the existent accom- modation-is in favour of sparing from demoli- tion the historic No. 10, Downing-street." with which so much of importance connected with successive First Lords of the Treasury has been connected. This is well, for London's landmarks of the sort are few enough. But if the Select Committee's suggestions are carried out in entirety, the stolid old mansion will loose a good deal of its identity for they recommend that its DowniDg-street front should be masked by" erecting a new building with a good archi- tectural facade," and that its Park front should be cased in stone, so as to harmonise with the north and west fronts of the old Treasury buildings." KAISER and Czar have been kissing lavishly and in all things making much of one another. This is somewhat amusing, taken in connection with the outpouring of opulent affeotion which France and Russia have striven lately to ex- hibit before the eyes of amused Europe. William the Only protested deeply his abound- ing love for the young Czar, whose fulsome felicitations of his illustrious visitor found in the German Sovereign the gladdest echo." Behold how these heads of States love one another! Poor President Faure is for the moment quite forgotten. But a time will come PEACE, lovely Peace, has taken up her abode at Brussels for a while; and their sits benig- nantly president of an International Confer- ence for promoting arbitration between all States involved in dispute. May the olive branch thus extended have permanent influence and prevail in the councils of the nations How great would be the blessing to the Universe It was especially pleasing to see assembled at the Conference which opened in the Belgian Capital on Saturday delegates from the United States; and Mr. Barrows, a Bostonian and member of Congress, in which he called atten- tion to the fact that all appearances showed a period of history to be approaching when the security of peace would no longer depend upon mere geographical distance, but upon the high ideals, fraternal sentiments, and reciprocal interests which are tending more and more to unite the nations of the earth. This is the sort of feeling which will hasten the end of the era of deadly and senseless war, with all its dread and costly accompaniment. THE luxury of law is at all times costly to all persons concerned in the procuration of its application-save to the lawyers retained by the parties on either side, and the law officials appointed, at adequate salaries, by the State, for its administration. Mr. Justice Vaughan Williams, as a sensible individual—altogether apart from his connection with the study and practice of the law—might well, therefore, give vent to lamentation that in cases of actions before juries for the recovery of damages for personal injury the costs are of so heavy a nature. Well might the judge say that he tried an action in which scientific (meaning thereby mainly medical) evidence was given without feeling that the consequent expense made it very difficult to deal with. The amount of damages is usually in such instances quite insignificant compared with the costs. And so it will continue to be, so long us lawyers have a controlling hand in the making of law. The cost of litigation will not readily be reduced by those who live thereby. WE send from these isles almost a hundred and fifty thousand hundredweight of cured herrings annually to Austria, where they know what a well-cured herring is. That speaks well for one branch of British industry for which the raw material is procured at home. It appears, however, that while the superiority of our article is admitted in a country where the best is çpreciated, our traders do not do so well as they might do if they adopted more enterprising and pushing methods. This seems, somehow, to be a block in the way of latter-day British merchandising in more than one direction. We let the foreigner beat us by visiting the buyer and finding out what exactly he wants, the while we wait for him sending us orders, reliant on the excellence of our wares. But the fullest result cannot be obtained from the best productions unless all possible con- sumers be made aware of them and the produc- tions be adapted at all points to their con- venience. A word to the wise should be suffi- cient.
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THE City of London has selected Mr. Seymour LuclIs to plint. the picture they are going t.o present to the lioynl Exchange. Mr. Lucas is a well-known historical subject painter. It was as a wood-carver and sculptor, however, that he began his art career. PROM wood and plaster he went to paint, and his grst training was under the eye of his cousin, John XENIPLETON Lucas a course of study at the evening class of the St. Martin's School of Art followed, and eventually Mr. Lucas became a student of the bodv of which he is now an Associate. He has studied abroad, visiting Spain again and again, and in the course of his travels he has acquired a large collection of armour and many costumes. A L'RorosAi, is on foot for the establishment, of a permanent, tribunal at Tangier for the settlement of the claims of European merchants against Moorish debtors. There have been, it appears, a number of very serious disputes of late, in which German, British, and Spanish houses have been concerned. Germany now proposes that a tribunal of the kind should be established to facilitate and enforce the payment of native indebtedness. The Sultan, however, stipulate* Ihllt the Moorish Government should be well repre- sented on any such tribunal, and to this Germany obiects.
GARDENING GOSSIP.
GARDENING GOSSIP. (from Gardening Ulustrated.") CONSERVATORY. Freeeiae which have been thoroughlv rested should be repotted for early flowering. Put eight or nine bulbn in a 5in. pot, and stand outside for a time till some growth has been made, but do not plunge the pots overhead, as it draws the plants up too much, and to get an abundance of fine flowers the plants must be strong and robust, and the bulbs should not be kept too long out of the ground. I have known more than one instance where bulbs, potted late out of the came bag from which he early batch was taken, proved very inferior-a clerr proof that earlilpotling is best. The potc for late flowering can be kept- out- side as long as possible, and afterwards moved to cold frames, and taken to warm greenhouse a few at a time as required. Ro-nan Hyacinths and other early bulbs should be spn often now, and some potted as soon as they arrive and plunged in ashes or Cocoa-fibre for fix weeks. The conserva- tory should have abundance of ventilation now on calm, warm days. All the air possible may be given with advantage, and a considerable portion left on all night, but when windy and wet take off most of the hir. Permanent plants in the border will take a good deal of water now, and a little weak stimulant may be riven with advantage. If nothing better is at hand, tie up a peck or so of soot in a bag and sink it in a tub, and use alittle of the soot-water in each canfuL And this soot-water, when clarified with lime, is » good insecticide and mildew destroyer, and half-pint or a pint may be placed in each pot of syringing water for Azaleas and ether plants liable to thripf and fly. The days an shortening, and it will soon be necessary to think of reducing the climbing growthr when they are allowed to get thick in summer. Tro- pajolum Fireball is a bright, showy thing in winter; may either be grown in pots or planted out. STOVE. Almost everybody now grows a few Orchids Den- drobiuiji nobile, Cypridoiuiu insigne and others, art not difficult to grow or expensive to purchase, an<? after growth is completed may be moved to a drier atmosphere to ripen the growth. They will dc now in the vinery for a cosple of months. Begonie Gloria de Lorraine is a very pretty winter-flowering- kind of dwarf busby habit, producing very freely large trusses of rosy-carmine flowers. This is one of the best winter-flowering kinds, and should be in every collection. Epiphyllums should be in a cool-house ripening, in order to flower freely later on. Will not require so much water now, but must not be dried toe much or the growth will shrivel. Eucbaris Lilief for winter-flowering should now receive cooler, driei treatment to rest the plants and prepare them for the great effort later. When it is desirable to start them again, givs a good soaking of liquid-manure, and once or twice a week afterwards till the flowers are open- ing. Gardenias will now be resting in a lower tem- perature, and only shaded sufficiently to preserve the dark-green colour of the foliage. Propagate Gloxi- nias, Begonias of the Rex section, and Saintpaulias from leaf-cuttings now. Keep close and shade. Firs need not be used in stove now till the weather changes again. WINTER CUCUMBERS. Where there are several houses one may be planted now and another in October. In December the houses planted first may be cleared out and planted again to come in March. It is better to set out young plants than struggle on with old ones in a more or less exhausted condition. Use a good proportion of good loam in the compost when planted in very light stuff. They make a lot of growth in the latter, but the growth is lacking in firmness, and the fruits will not come so large. Take them on quietly for a time now without much fire -beat; none at all on bright days and warm nights. TOMATOES FOR WINTER. Very strong, vigorous plants set out now will give a good return in winter. Ham Green Favourite is a good winter sort in a light house with a temperature of 65deg. at night. This house must be well venti- lated, a little air being left on at night, except when wet and cold or frosty. Do not crowd the plants. If planted in a single line along each side of a span- roofed house running north and south and trained near the glass, good results may be expected. Ferti- lise the blooms when the pollen is dry, and allow no check for want of moisture. Really good loam very slightly enriched is the best soil for winter work. Top-dressing may be given after the bottom bunches are set and swelling. ORCHARD HOUSE. The result here will be in proportion to the care given and the condition of the plants at the roots. Keep all young shoots pinched back now. A rich top- dressing on the surface of the pots containing Peaches and Nectarines will be better than too much liquid stimulant. To give flavour there must be abundant ventilation, and when nearly ripe reduce the water supply a little. Too much water spoils the flavour. VINERIES. If the roots are healthy, it is next to impossible to over-water inside Vine borders whilst the Grapes are swelling rapidly, and the water contains some stimu- lant. Ichtbemic guano, With's or Clay's Fertiliser, Patent Silicate, nitrate of soda, or anything else for a change in moderation, or say loz. to the gallon of water. We generally scatter the manure over the border and water it in with the hose. COLD FRAMES. These are now in most places being rapidly filled with winter-flowering stuff—Cyclamens, Primulas, Cinerarias, Begonias, Poinsettias, and other things useful for winter. WINDOW GARDENING. If any plant wants a larger pot let it have a shift now, so that the pot may be partially, if not quite, filled with roots before winter. Cactuses should be placed outside to ripen, also Scarborough Lilies. Pot Roman Hyacinths and Freesias. ROSES FROM CUTTINGS. That Roses can be grown upon their own roots and do well is a thoroughly-established fact. At the same time, we do not go so far as some and say they should always be grown in this form, experience showing that many varieties are considerably aided by the help of a foster stock and roots. But as this part of Rose propagation has been dwelt upon under the headings of budding and grafting, we will dismiss it and simply state that all vigorous and free growers are capable of good results upon their own roots alone. Indeed, as pot plants, the beautiful Teas and Noisettes are far better when grown in this form. But the chief gain, especially to the amateur not thoroughly acquainted with Roses and stocks, is in the entire absence of suckers. How often, even in the present days of universal Rose growing, do we see a plant carefully tended and pruned, when in reality the whole, or, at all events, the chief part of its wood, is not the desired Rose, but useless suckers from the foster stock. It is certain that in the United States Roses thrive better upon their own roots than is the case with us; but that we can also have good plants and profitable beds in this form is becoming better known every year. Now that the first crop of bloom is past there is much suitable growth to be found upon all Roses. The short piece of wood from below a bloom that was cut, or has faded off, is generally in the best possible condition. Take a piece of three or four eyes, cut off close below a leaf or eye, and your cutting is ready. Some remove the two lower leaves, but we find this quite unnecessary, and even get a greater percentage of success by leaving them on. It is quite immaterial whether the cuttings have a heel or IImall portion of older wood attached or not. In this instance we are not aiming for roots without undue risk of suckers in the future, as is the case when preparing stocks for Roses but would much prefer suckers from the base of the young plants. Still, we can root a cutting without a heel just as well. Insert thickly and deeply in a compost of leaf-soil, turfy loam, and coarse sand in equal proportions. Give a thorough watering, and then stand the pots in a box, over which you can place sheets, of glass and keep perfectly close. Stand these upon a shady border, or, better still, upon the cool and moist floor of a conservatory. Do not allow too direct sunshine, and if drying off much, give a second good watering and again keep perfectly close until roots have formed. When first potting off, replace in the box for a week or two, and gradually inure to full exposure. TUFTED PANSY PEMBROKE; There is much to admire in this handsome rayle.. variety. The flowers are of large size, almost cir- cular in shape, and very even and neat. The colour is bright rich yellow, fading slightly on the edges of the upper petals. The flowers are freely produced on long footstalks, this fact alone rendering them very useful for vases and similar receptacles. The blossoms are fragrant, a few flowers distributed about a room scenting the whole apartment. The constitu- tion is excellent, and there is good reasons for believing that this variety will be largely grown.
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FisyT.-Fish should always be perfectly fresh when cooked. To select fresh ones, observe the eyes; if they have a bright, life-like appearance the fish is fresh if, on the contrary, the eyes are sunken and dark-coloured, and have lost their brilliancy, they are certainly stale. Some judge by the redness of the gills, but these are sometimes coloured to deceive customers. CUT off the flap of sirloin of beef and sprinkle salt over if the weather be warm, then boil and serve -old. CLEANING BED-TICKS. Wash the bed-tick, and rinse it well in cold water, to which some perman- ganate of potash has been added. This will render it perfectly sweet. Should any stains remain they may be taken out with chloride of lime, afterwards rinsing the tick when dry. Wax the inside well before putting in the feathers, otherwise they will work their way through.