The Merthyr Express

Ss[ -It i3 simple P op is simple B nowadays. H To do the raising H ■ and ensure light H M and dainty cakes use Hj 1 2 oz. of the sure B M raising powder "— H "Paisley I ra ou r I to i lb. of ordinary B flour. Home Baking with Paisley B Flour is not only more B wholesome but costs less B than buying from the shop B or using cake mixtures. W II Paisley Flotr is and itttgL B rei. packet3, wit h ncipec*a'V851'^ B will raise lib. of flour. ISf ——-——-

POET'S CORNER. I 1ELLING THE BEES. I Sen is.the place; right over the hili Runs the ath I took iYpu can see the gap in the old wall still, And the s-epping-stoncs in the shallow brook. flChere is the house, with the gate red-barred, And the i>oplars tall, tA.nd the barn's brown length, and the cattle- yard, 'And the white horns tossing above the wall. IMere are the beehives ranged in the sun; And down by the brink Ðf the broo!- are her poor flowers, weed-o'er- run, Pansy anil daffodil, rose and pink. A 7 ear has gone. as the tortoise gOf-S, Heavy anl slow; (And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows, fADd the same brock sin.as of a year ago. Where's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze; And the June sun warm "angles his wings in the trees, < Settling, > then, over Fo-nside farm. I mind me 1-ow with a lover's care From my Sunday coa.t tbrushed off the burrs, and smoothed my hair, 1.A.nd coolfcu at the brookside my brow and throat. fiince we parted, a month has passed, To love, it year; Vown through the beeches I looked at last On the little red gate a.nd the well-swept near. lean see it c.11 now—the slantwise rain Of light througrh the leaves, tThe sundown's blaze on her window-pane, The bloom of her roses under the eaves. JJust the same as a month before— The house and the trees, trhe barn's brown r;ab!e, the vine by the door- I Nothing changed but the hive of bees. (Before them, under the garden wall. Forward and back, KVrent drearily singing the chore-girl small, Draping each hive with a shred of black. (Trembling, I listened; the summer sun Had the chill of enow; For I knew she was telling the bees of one Gone on the journey we ail must go. CThen I said to myself, "My Mary. weeos For the dead to-day (Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps The fret and the pain of his age away." But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill, With his cane to his chin, The old man sat; and the chore-girl still Sung to the bees stealing out and in. fAnd the song she was singing ever since In my ears sounds on.- rStay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence! Mistress Mary is dead and gone!" -By John Greenleaf Whittier. 'i

PrBLlSHED BY SPECIAL AKBANC £ &J The Road to Love BY MADAME ALBANESI, Author of "Capricious Caroline," "The Strongest of All Things," "Susannah and One Other," "Lore and Xiouioa," "The Way to Win," etc., etc. COPYRIGHT. CHAPTER XIX. ■ Richard Varley kept his promise, and about week later he re-appearcd at \Vynche. Sev- eral letters had passed between himself and El- ten in the meantime. He had written to her about Walter Bamcith. She had written to him on the subject of Miriam's father. "I have really come down this time on pur- ipoae to see you," he confided to Ellen, when they stood apart for a moment. "We are all. glad to see you," she answered. 'Va need your calm presence." And indeed the life at Wynche was now lived in what might be termed an electrical atmos- phere. Ellen felt all the time as though a etorm was about to descend upon them, and ithis although outwardly l.iatters had been run- ning with extraordinary smoothness; and many fkleasant arrangements had been made. It is tone that Lord Norchester's mother kept almost Wcclun-vely to her room, and that Ellen felt with conviction that she was remaining on at iWynche very much against her will. These facts, however, were not known to the outside world, and the knowledge that the Dowager JLady Norohester and Lady Evelyn Wynche were Staying on at Wynche indefinitely with young Lady Norchester caused not only a sensation in he neighbourhood, but a marked difference in £ he attitude of those living round and about. 'Every day there were callers from one or another of the important families. Old friends krf Lady Evelyn's rode or drove over to see her. jThere was a sense of life and vouth and oven ty about the old house, and Lady Norches- gter mingled in everythinfr. P She suddenly developed a mania for dress, fcelegrams and telephone messages were sent to London, and packages kept arriving almost :eve hour. Tho weather was glorious, and .the Wynche gardens were looking most beauti- ffuL The day on which Richard Varley came "down there was an impromptu garden party. Tennis was being played, and Lady Norchester, ;wearing a most exquisite muslin gown, was :88&ted on the lawn watching the game. Lady Evelyn was one of the players, and as the saw Varley arrive she mtseed her ball, thereby upsetting her partner very much. She was such a child still that she wanted to fling idown her racquet and run across the grass to greet him. Ellen remarked this. "Lady Evelyn is dying to come and speak to you," she said. And Varley laughed and waved his hand to .the girl in the distance. "Shall we have a little stroll?" he said. lAs they walked out of earshot, he added: "Now, are you not going to let me tell you what a wonderful little creature you are? Sure- ly you ought to be very proud, Miss Milner. See what has been accomplished since you have been here!" "I wish I could think that I had done last- ing good," said Ellen, involuntarily. "Rome was not built in a day," Varley an- swered. "The marvel is that you have done what you have done. If Harry has these kind I of surroundings there will be no more wander- ings abroad for months. Now that you have succeeded so well with the wife you must turn your hand on him. I believe lie has a real aense of duty, only it has been sleeping all this time." "I am sure Lord Norchester has a true sense of duty," Ellen said. The colour rushed to her cheeks as she spoke, and she averted her face, for she did not want .Varley to see her blush. His eyes and his sense were quicker, however, than her move- ment, and that rush of colour provoked a sud- den turmoil of uneasy thought. They drifted into business; he told her that he thought he could be of some help to Bar- neith, and then he spoke of Miriam's father. "I agree with you," Varley said, "it is most important that old Cottridge should be got away from here. As long as he remains the old scandal and gossip will be kept alive." "It is not so much the harm he does to others," said Ellen. "as the harm he does to W- iriam. I have seen him; be certainly is a erv disreputable old man." "There is only one way to manage him," said Varley, "Harry must stop gl vinc. him a penny long as he remains in the village. I have •always been so sorry that Mrs. Cottridge did not live; she was a most superior woman. o.Miriam has her beauty, but not her character." They were both glad to talk on impersonal subjects, for against the will of both a certain restraint bad arisen between them. As they ¡ <6 f turned to stroll back to the others Ellen said: "I think in a little while I shall be leaving here. Lady Norchester has no longer any need for a companion." "You must not stay an hour longer than you wish," Varley said, quickly. "When you feel that you are ready to go I suggest, Miss Milner, that you should stay for a time with some of your father's relations in Ireland. They are not rich, but they are of a very different calibre to the Barneiths. I feel sure you would not have any disagreeable experiences with them. I must tell you," he added, "that I have been in communication with some of your cousins, and their letters have pleased me very much. A short stay at any rate might be advantag- eous." Ellen thanked him warmly. "How kind you are!" she said. "I don't know any of these people except by name; but after all they belong to my father, and that should make them very nice. I am grateful to you for this suggestion because, as I have just said, I do not think I shall stay here very much longer." Unremarked by either of them they had been overtaken by Lord Norchester, and as he joined them he heard this speech. "You are going away?" he queried quickly, "but not immediately?" "I am persuading Miss Milner to go to Ire- land, and make acquaintance with some of her relations," said Varley, very easily. "Oh! yes, of course, you would like that, wouldn't you?' the younger man said. looking across at Ellen; then he added: "Here comes Evelyn. You must make her spoil that game. Dick," he added. "What a kid she is! Just as crazy about the things she used to like, as she was when she was two years old. She was always fond of Dick," he added, as Lady Eve- lyn and Varley, shaking hands, dropped a little behind, then very quickly and almost under his breath Norchester added: "You are not going away, Miss Milner, are you? Has — has any- thing happened? I mean anything to make you wish to go away from here?" With a great effort Ellen answered him with a smile: "Nothing has happened, but, you know, I can't stay here for ever, Lord Norchester. I came here to be a companion to Lady Norches- ter while you were away; now that you are home "Please don't co," he said. "You—you've made such a difference here. I don't know what Miriam would do without you—or any of us. As for myself I owe you a debt of grati- tude which I shall never, never be able to re- pay." Ellen tried to answer him, but something more than confusion, put an unusul senRe ot restraint upon her. She changed the subject when she spoke. "I saw you playing tennis just now—you managed very well, still I think you ought to keep that left arm in a sling. Dr. Martell might not approve of so much exercise." "It feels nearly well. and I am so glad to be doing something, staying upstairs in my room was pretty dull business. Of course, you know," Lord Norchester added with a little twinkle in his eyes, "1 could have come down much sooner, but I had to play cut a little game I had started——" They were strolling on when Miriam sudden- ly called to her husband. Her voice had a harsh ugly note in it. a note which Ellen knew only too well. and feared in consequence. "Lady Norchester wants you," she said, hur- riedly. "Please go." He went immediately. She did not watch him, nor did she hear what passed between them, his wife and himself, but she was quite sure that it was not of a pleasant nature. A sense of unhappiness suddenly weighed Ellen's heart, and with it came a sense of unrest. "The sooner I am away from here," she said to herself, "the better. I ha.vo done all the good r can do now; perhaps I shall do harm if I stay longer." She withdrew from the garden, and went slowly mto the house. Whilst he was talking to some of his guests, Lord Norchester watched her go, and longed to follow her. He was burning with resentful anger Miriam had not chosen her words well. "What do you want to go walking up and down for with that girl," she had asked him, "just to make everybody talk. Aren't there lots of others here you can flirt with? She's only my companion, you might remember. It's like her cheek to tack herself on to'you." He scarcely knew how he had restrained him- self to answer her. There had been a little pause before ho had been able to find words, then he had said, with a little shrug of his shoulders: "My dear Miriam, when will you learn a little common-sense? And when will you be tired of making these ridiculous absurd scenes? If I am to ask your permission each time I want to speak to everybody, things are coming to a pretty pass!" There had been no more said between them, but in a very little while everybody present realised that something had upset Ladv Nor- chester; indeed, she did not wait for tea to be served, but flounced off and left her guests to be looked after by Lady Evelyn and Norchester. His sister stole her hand into his for an instant, then whispered as Miriam disappeared "Dear Harry," she said, "don't look so sad!" He only pressed her hand, however, and reo leased it. Another time he would have broken out into a sort of boyish vexation; but Nor- chester was ceasing to be a boy the seriousness, the tragic significance of his marriage was only just coming to him! I ^HAPTER XX. r Before he left for town again Richard Varley gave Ellen the letters from her Irish relations to read, and she told him that she would put herself into communication with these cousins almost directly. "I will let you know all my plans," she said, and she thanked him warmly lor what he was doing with regard to Walter Barneith. "He has not written to me again, and I think he won't bother me any more," she added. "All thanks to you." Varley only smiled. (( have impressed upon Harry," he said, "the vital necessity of dealing very promptly with old Cottridge. If you get the opportunity please insist on the importance of this, won't you? Harry seems," Varley added, "for some reason or other, very much out of spirits this time. I expect that although things are so much better than they were, there is still much that tries him." Then, as he held out his hand in farewell, Richard Varley said, ".A t a.ny rate you have given me a promise, you will let me know your movements, and you v/l bt me do anything I can do for you?" "Yes, yes," said Ellen. "I shall gladly ask you to help me." With these words she went to Miriam's room; but with surprise she was told that Lady Nor- chester had gone out. "She changed her dress," the maid said, "and she said she was going to the village. Her ladyship seemed to havo something that she was particularly anxious to do." Just a little uneasy, because this was not at all in keeping with Miriam's habits, Ellen went to her own room, where she was joined almost directly by Lady Evelyn." "I want to come and talk to you," the girl said," and talk she did. and the subject of all she said was Richard Varley. Perhaps she was hardly conscious of how much she confessed in her eager chatter about this man. But Ellen's heart grew very tender as she listened, and more than ever there came upon her the sense of necessity to take herself away from all those people: For she knew now that though he were to offer his love to her again and again, this was a gift she could never take from Richard's hands, and it hurt her to realise that she should even innocently rob Evelyn Wynche of that wich she so ardently desired, and which was so precious to her. She said nothing, however, except to answer Lady Evelyn's questions, and to adept a tone of com- plete sympathy; she was above all very careful not to let the other girl realise that she had grasped so vital a secret. But whefn she was alone she leaned back in the chair with closed eyes, and she told herself that she must uproot these new affections which were going so deep into her heart. She must leave Wynche. She must take herself away from an influence which was becoming dangerously sweet, and which might become a danter to another person. » » • The Dowager Lady Norchester had grown in- to the habit of sending occasionally for Ellen. She liked to hear tha girl read, and then they talked together, not of things present but of old days, of people and of events which had figured in Lady Norchcster's youth, and had a cherish- ed place in her memory; and always Ellen's father was prominent among these figures of the past. The day after Varley had been, when they had been sitting together for a little while El- len told the Dowager Lady Norchester of her intention to leave Wynche. "I came here,' she said, "with a special pur- pose, and I feel rather as if I were staying on unnecessarily." "That is a wrong idea," Lady Norchester said, in her quiet, grave way. "I regard you as a moat important and forcible factor in the af- I fairs here; at the same time, my dear child, I can realise, as Richard Varley has already told me, you are not properly placed here; and I have been intending for some days to make a proposition to you, and that is, dear Ellen, that when you leave here you should come and live with us. There are, as you told me, relations in Ireland but we have grown to know one aji- other, and as the child of a man whom I loved and honoured, I am only too glad to give you that proper protection and care which you ought to have. I don't urge you to do this immediately," Lady Norchestsr added, "be- cause strange as it may seem, I want you to stay here a little while longer. I am g.ing to leave Evelyn here in your charge. You are only a girl, it is true, but you have a wo- man's head and a woman's heart; and I can safely trust Evelyn in your hands. I want to go abroad; I want to go alone." After a little pause, she added: "Richard Varley has often tried to make me see that my life was a dull and tiresome one for Evelyn. Since I have been here, and she has met you, I realise how true i. that is. She needs gaiety and young compan- ionship. She is such a child still, and children must not always live under a grey sky. We will settle it that you stay here with Evelyn un- til I come back from abroad, and then, if you wish it, you will join us in London." In her quiet, dignified way, Lady Norches- ter refused to listen to Ellen's stammered words of thanks or to hear any protest. i "We have grown so closely together," she j said, I feei syre ij is a pleasure to you ,1' -4 .=-. -> to do anything that gives me happiness. Then, dear child, you must not refuse to fall in with my plans, for it will be a great happiness to me to have you with me." In the same breath she added "I do not think that I shall come back to Wynche, when once I have gone away from it. We are playing a part, Miriam and I; but we are not good actresses, and the strurc is all too small for us. If only I could realise that my boy has some peace in his life; if only I could feel that the future woud compen- sate for the past, I should try and resign my- self but though you have done such wonders, I am very nervous, Ellen — I am only too sad- lv assured that there can never be happiness for my boy with such a nature as Miriam's." Lady Evelyn joined them at that moment, and the subject was not continued, and after a little while the two girls loft Lady Norchester to herself. It seemed that Lady Evelyn had something on her mind. "I hate to come and tell you stories," she said, as she and Ellen made their way out to the gardens, "but my maid told me something just now which has upset me. You know that Miriam went out yesterday afternoon? She went to the village. There is a certain old woman who stays there who tells fortunes. She used to keep a. shop, but now she travels about. Do you know, Ellen, my maid declares Miriam went to this woman to have her fortune told yesterday. Of course," Lady Evelyn added, "there is nothing in that; but she should be more careful; she knows how people talk about her—how eagerly they watch her how glad they are to chatter about her." "What can I do?" asked Ellen, in a. low, troubled voice. Lady EveJyn kissed her, full of contrition. "Oh! darling," she said: "I am so sorry, now I have worried vou but I thought I ought to tell you, Ellen, because you have had such an extraordinary influence over Miriam." "I wilt speak to her," said Ellen, quietly And Lady Evelyn kissed her again. "Thank you. you are such a darling. Now I must tear myself away. I have promised to ride with Harry. By the way, Ellen, you haven't been in the saddle since you have been here. Dick is always telling me what a won- derful horsewoman you are. Do come for a ride Ellen caucht her breath,-the suggestion filled hor with delight, and then she shook her Iiend. "Lady Norchester will want me," she said. "Oh she never really wants you — she only keeps you standiug about. Suppose you go and ask Aer." With a. nod Ellen ran into the house again and upstairs to Miriam's room. There <- she found Lady Norchester in the hands of a dress- maker sent down from town. She just shook her head when Ellen asked her if there was anything she could do. Miriam was engrossed in the matter of the moment. "No—no—go away: don't bother me!" she said impatiently. "Yes go out—do what you like—only don't worry Swiftly and with Jrembling hands. Ellen changed her clothes, slippp.d ,nto her old riding habit, which lay at the lictto'v. of her box, and pinned on the old cap that she used to wear so frequently It was a glzmpw 0i her old self which the mirror gave back to her. and just for an instant tears clouded her vision then gaily like a child she ran downstairs to the hall where Lord Norchester and Lady Evelyn were waiting for her impatiently. "Ah! that is good," said Norchester. as he saw her: "I hardly hoped you would come. You are so elusive, Miss Milner: whenever I come near you, you seem to vanish." "One vanishes so easily in this bi" house." said Ellen, trying jo be composed and natural; but her eyes were dancing, and joy was in her heart—a joy all the swecier because it came un- bidden She fell in love with the mare she had to ride, and stood whispering to it and stroking its nose till Lady Evelyn was mounted. Then Norchester put her in the saddle. He pushed aside the groom who was about to do this: and he arranged her habit and settled her stirrup himself "Now, you look as you ought to look!" he said: and just for an instant involuntarily lie laid his hand on the girl's small gloved hand holding the reins. Then he swung himselt in- to the saddle, and they rode down the avenue stretching in front of the house. Miriam had dismissed the dressmaker bv this time, a.nd was standing at her window as this little cavalcade started. Her heart began to throb wildly, as it always did when she saw her husband, and then there came upon her a rush of bitter jealousy. She had not at first recognised Ellen but as she scanned the figure riding besIde Norchester with keen, eager eyes, she realised in a little while that the dainty- looking horsewoman was no other than Ellen. She was more than jealous now; in Miriam's heart there was resentment and hot anger. Bv what right had Miss Milner dared to ride out with her husband and with Evelyn? What were they talking about? Now they were laughing together. Perhaps they were laughing at her. Had not the fortune-teller warned her only the day before to be careful with Ellen. Had not the cards told her that this girl was a danger-would even be treacherous? And what could be more dangerous than this inti- ? macy ? Indeed, the sight of Ellen on horseback was a. blow, too, to Miriam's vanity. When thev had first married Norchester had tried very hard to induce his wife to ride, to encourage her to share his love for all country pursuits; but Miriam was afraid of horses. She would not even let him teach her to drive. Thore was so nyvih that she had to learn! A sense of hopelessness pressed upon her, and with a little moan she sat down and leaned her head against the window. If only she could put the" past back, if only she could have been strong enough to have resisted temptation! True, she would not have been Harry's wife, but would her un- happiness have been less than it wa-s now? And while she sat there weeping hot tears and cher- ishing the bitterest animosity in her heart for Ellen, the girl was talking about her, conscious pornaps, that this ride which was such a de- light to herself, would not please Miriam. Ellen regretted openly that Lady Norchester was not with them. "Have you taught her to nde?" she asked. The young man shook his head. (i^o, I tried, and she didn't care about it." "Suppose you try again ?" said Ellen. He gave a shrug of his shoulders. "It would be no use. Miriam doesn't care a pm about it. She is terrified of horses." "I am not the bravest person in the world," said Lady Evelyn. Though she was not very clever she felt the tactful drift of Ellen's con- versation. "I can never do anything more than sit on a horse and trot, I get a little nervous even when I canter." "Oh rubbish said Norchester. "You used to rido with the best of them when you were a. tiny little thing, Evelyn." "Yes, but I am out of practice. I never care to ride in town. Look how Ellen sits! I believe she could jump those trees." Ellen laughed and blushed, but Norchester looked at her with keen admiration. "Would you like to do some jumps?" he ask- ed her. She shook her head. "I. too, am out of practice," she said; "and besides the ground would be too hard; we have had no rain. I live always in the hope," she added involuntarily, "of being able to ride to hounds allain some day" "Why do you say some day? Of course, vou will ride to hounds," Lord Norchester said decisively. o have some fine runs round here." "I am sure it is a good country," said Ellen; "but I shall not be here in the winter." "You won't be here in the winter?" There was dismay and some other note in Norchester's voice, a note which brought a thrill in Ellen's heart; but re-awakened at the same time a sense of the necessity of being prudent. She regretted now that she had come for this ride. Ellen was above all things loyal and honourable, she could not blind herself to the truth that Lord Norchester was more than casually attracted to her. It must be her task to check the growing sympathy, this almost re- vealed desire for her sympathy. She rode on for the remainder of the ride with a heart that was heavy and cold. She was oppressed with sorrow. The thought of Miriam called to her for pity. the remembrance of her duty to this other woman gave her strength. Nevertheless, it was impossible for her not to let her heart cry aloud its grief at the loss of that which could have made her life so wonder- ful, so beautiful, and which could never, never be! She went to Miriam's room before changing her habit; but the maid told her that Lady Norchester had a very bad headache, and was lying down. "I don't think her ladyship will be well enough to dine downstairs to-night. She beg- ged me to tell you this, miss, when you came in; and to say that she did not wish to be disturbed." Ellen went to her room thoughtfully. She did not quite understand this sudden indisposition. Miriam had seemed in such unusually good spirits, and had been chatting freely with the dressmaker just a little while before. A kind of apprehension stole over the girl. "Oh! She must not be made more miserable," she said, "and through me; that would be terrible! I must go away, and I must refuse Lady Norchester's offer." To leave Wynche and to go and take up her life with Norchester's mother and sister would be not only to strike a blow at Miriam, but to bring about herself constant intercourse with Norchester himself, the very thing she must avoid, no matter at what cost. "I will write to Mr. Varley," she said, as she took off her riding habit wearily enough. "I will take his advice, and go to Ireland. All my relations cannot be like the Barnaiths; with some of them I may hope to find sympathy and friendship, at any rate, I must not stay here, I must go away for Miriam's sake and mv own." » < Lady Evelyn was the only lively person oj the three at dinner that evening. Norche3tei seemed strangely preoccupied, and Ellen con- fessed to being tired. She was certainly very pale, and she ate practically nothing. Aftei dinner as they sat alone in the drawing-room she said to Lady Evelyn "I am afraid I am going to upset your moth er's plans. She wishes me to stay here with you while she goes abroad but I want to gc away. I have had some communications from my father's people in Ireland, and they wanl me to go to them," she added, quickly. Lady Evelyn looked surprised and very dis appointed. "Oh Ellen dearest, don't do this. Don't gc away just yeL It is selfish of oie, but I fchou £ ;:( we were going to be so happy here! I am afraid my mother won't let me stay." You have your brother," Ellen said, "and your brother's wife and, Evelyn, dear, I be- lieve if I were not here you would drop into closer sympathy with Miriam. We are always together, and this is, I fear, hurtful to her; and besides I came here to undertake different du- ties, and I seem to do nothing. It is not possi- ble that this can last. You don't think, do you," asked Elleu, almost passionately, "that I want to leave you, that I want to go av:ay from your love and sympathy? We cannot always do the things we wa.nt to do, Evelyn, dear." She was trembling a little, and Lady Evelyn, without grasping the cause, realised that she was very agitated. "If you must go, darling," she said, "you must; I won't bother you, and I will explain to mother." And she kissed Ellen tenderly. They started apart as the door opened, for both thought that it might be Miriam. Instead it was Miriam's maid. "I am looking for her ladyship. miss," she said to Ellen. "She is not in her rooms, though she said she'd let me put her to bed when I'd ha.d my supper. I am afraid she has gone out into the grounds without a wrap." I will find her," said Ellen, very quickly. She took the lace shawl from the maid's hands. "Stay here, Evelyn," she said. "I will come back to you." Outside when the door was shut, Ellen looked at the maid: "You wanted to say something else?" The woman nodded her head. "Yes, miss, I —I am just a little anxious; her ladyship was so queer to-night. She cried for more than an hour, and put herself in a dreadful way, she said as I wasn't to tell you about it, but I think you had better know, miss. I've never seen her ladyship so upset; she was just like a mad creature. 1-. I daresay it is very stupid of me, miss, but I feel nervous as if—as if something were going to happen. (To be continued.)

FUN AND FANCY. "Where were the Kings of England crown- ed?" was a question on an exa-mma-tton paper. "On their heads," wrote a boy in the space left for the answer. "Oh she cried. "Your conduct is enough to make an angel weep." "I don't see you shed- ding a tear," he retorted; gnci his reaoy wit saved the day. Teacher (to smallest boy in class): "What well-known animal supplies you with food and clothing?" Smallest Boy (after some thought): "Father." "Papa," said the darling daughter of the household, "how did you propose marriage to mamma?" "Don't ask me," answered the old man. "I can't remember a thing about it. Go and ask your mother. She managed the whole affair." Jones (to Brown, who has been relaang nis wonderful adventures in Russia.) And I sup- pose you visited the great steppes of Russia. Brown: "I shovdd rather think so. and walked I up every blessed one of them on my hands and knees." Freddy (to schoolfellow): "My how that new babv at your house cries, T ommy." Tommy I (indignantly) He doesn't; and, anyway, if you had no teeth and no hair, and your legs were so weak you couldn't stand on them, I guess you d cry, so there." The examiner wished to bring home the les- son of the fate that befel idle people. He asked, the class who were the people who got aal tney son of the fate that befel idle people. He asked, the class who were the people wno got all tney could and did nothing in return. There was silence, but at last a little girl. mindful of her home, said, -'Please, sir, it's babies" "Did you hear that the Ollenbys had sepa- rated?" "No. What's the trouble?" she wouldn't think of leaving town." "And wanted her to move to their country place, ana where are they now?" "She has gone to her mother out on the farm, and he is living with his parents in town." "Yes," remarked papa at the tea-table, "you can never judge a person's weight by his ap- pearance. For example, I don't look very heavy, do I? and yet I weigh fifteen stones." "Jeanie doesn't look very heavy, either," thoughtlessly I remarked Jeanie's young man. "and yet—that is-I mean-" Ho stopped, and Jeanie blushed. "Henry, dear," said the fond wife, "I gave you a letter to my mother to post last week." "Yes, oh, yes," said Henry, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Of course you posted it?" "Oh, certainly," replied Henry. "Well, that's funny, because I wrote her postponing her visit, and here's a letter from her saying she's coming to-morrow." Whereupon Henry wished that he had a better memory. One passenger wanted to read, but the man opposite would persist in talking as the train moved swiftly along. After several brief re- plies, the reader began to grow tired. "The grass is very green, isn't it?" said the would- be conversationalist pleasantly. "Yes," said the other. "Such a change from the blue ancf red grass we have been having lately!" And he was left severely alone. A lady whose husband had been cremateo took down the urn containing his ashes from her mantelpiece, with the intention, no doubt, of dropping a tear on his beloved remains, when she was surprised to find the vase was empty. She rang for her maid and asked her if she had thrown them out, when the girl replied: "Lor', missus! was that your husband? Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am, but I've bin and used him all up for tooth powder! Little Johnnie had been taken a round of calls by his mother, and at the house they had visited last he had made some remarkable state- ments in boasting of the grandeur of his own home. "Now, Johnnie," said his mother sternly, as they sat in the omnibus on their way home, "you should never tell fibs, and if I catch you doing it again I'll punish you very severely. Now, sit well back in the seat and draw in your legs, and try and look as small as you can when I tell the conductor you are only three." She was the most countryfied of country cousins, and as she walked along a city street in a would-be fashionable hat, brave in purple quills, tilted well at the back of her head, a very, very home-made green linen sac coat, and other articles of village attire, her appearance occa- sioned some little mirth even in that not par- ticularly fashionable quarter. "Everybody seems to know me here! They do stare so!" she remarked with the most bored air, turning to a patient elderly female who accompanied her. To MOTHEBS.—Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup has been used over fifty years by millions of mothers for their children while teething, with perfect success. It will relieve the poor sufferer immediately. It is pleasing to taste; it produces natural quiet sleep, by relieveing the child from pain, and the little cherub awakes "as bright as a button." Of all chemists, Is. lid. per bottl*.

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. ROVER'S DUTY. Little girls and boys should always heed the advice of father and mother, as well as little dogs. You will see in this story that if Rover had listened to Tiger he would be strong and well now. "Your duty," growled Tiger, the old father dog, one evening, "is to stay at home at night and guard the place, but, instead, you go rov- ing about where you have no business to lie. Why, only last night a man had come up fie paddock and through the garden gate, and had even knocked at the door, before I woke up and was able to let people know about it I am get. ting old now, and hard of hearing; it is time you took my place instead of roving abroad." "Yah! Yah!" snapped Rover, shewing his teeth and bristling up in defiance, as he stalked away to unearth a bone which he had "planted" some time before for future enjoyment. "Tiger was a good old dog. He had served his time faithfully, but was now too old to do much more than sleep. Rover was young and foolish, and a rover by nature as well as by name. Night came on, a beautiful moonlight night, so calm and still, except for the occasional cry of an owl. Good old Tiger was sleeping peacefully. Rover had disappeared, gone forth, as usual. on his night wanderings. Suddenly the stillness was broken by the sound of two quick shots fired, followed by the yelp as of a dog in pain. Tiger woke up and began to howl and bark mournfully. He knew the meaning of the shots. A neighbour had complained of his sheep and cattle being wor- ried at night by stray dogs, and he had sig- nified his intention of lying in wait for them some night with a gun. Next morning, said to relate, Rover was found by the doorstep, dead. He had been wounded and had just managed to crawl home to die. If he had not got into the bad company of stray mongrels he would net have been killed. Poor Rover! If he had but listened to faith- ful old Tiger! HOW SHE GOT IT. A little girl was sent by her mother to the grocer' store with a jug for a quart of vinegar. "But, maanma," said the little one, "I can't say that wqrd!" "But you must try," said the mother; "for I must have vinegar, and there's no one else to send. So the little girl went, with the jug, and, as she reached the counter of the shop, she pulled the lid of the jug up with a pop, swung the jug on the counter with a thud, and said to the astonished grocer: "There Smell of that and give me a quart!" MUST BE MARGARINE. They were seated round the family tea-table -r)apa, mamma, little Nora, little Mary, and little Margery—tucking away at watercress and currant-buns as hard as they could go. The conversation-I n between the bites-turned to Ireland, and little Nora asked papa what her name was in Irish. "Noreen," said papa. "And what is mine?" inquired little Mary. "Maureen." "And mine?" clamoured little Margery. "Oh," answered papa, "I don't know what yours is!" "Well," reflected the little girl, "if Nora is Noreen, and Mary Marreen, I suppose I must be Margarine!"

USiS J30 -JT FOLiStt—

FOR MATRON AND MAID. ASK YOURSELF. "Why am I not popular?" asks the girl who craves a good time. It is folly to grow em- bittered and talk about "money being all that counts" and the "shallowness of society's fav- our." Such excuses might hold good if you didn't know girls without a ray of looks or two pennies to rub together who never lack friends a.nd invitations. Answer your "Why" truthfully, and you gen- erally find yourself to blame. The girl who is ) spiteful or insincere, who is sugary sweet to face and vinegarish or worse when out of range, the girl who is only agreeable when she feels inclined, or who can only be pleasant when there is something to gain; the girl who is so inter- ested in herself that others' interests are neg- lected the girl who works people and gets rid of them when no longer useful; the lazy girl, the faraway, dreamy girl, who talks with wan- dering eye; the snubby or superior or the af- fected girl, one and all need seek no further for the secret of unpopularity. HAPPINESS IS SUNSHINE. Happiness radiates goodwill and sunshine. The men and women whose eyes see only the grey commonplaces of life's daily struggle fail in their duty to the world and themselves. Happiness helps, pessimism hinders. Love beauty, and it can be discovered in many forms; this will bring happiness. FANCY WORK. When embroidering, golden brown and bright yellow silk should appear on a brown back- ground on a dull blue cloth, work is effective in different blues, with a note of brilliant orange. A line of .black here and there looks well, and the introduction of different stitches at certain points of a design will help it considerably. GET REFRESHED When lying in bed bo careful that the ear lobe lies flat and is not doubled under the weight of the head. Much mischief to the beauty of the cars of cnildren is caused by carelessness in this respect. When you lie down, relax every muscle; let the bed support you, don't try to support the bed if you wish to be refreshed and'ready for the next day's duties. These are but simple little habits some easily contract in sleep or half wakeful hours, which do more harm to health than they are sometimes aware. EVERYDAY POINTS. There is no general rule as to what the busi- ness world does for a woman. With each there is a different result. Some girls are not so sus- ceptible to environment as others, or affected deeply by companionships. But there are rules that apoly in all phases cf a woman's life, and they certainly hold good in the world of commerce, as a girl must meet it. Pleasant looks and speech, an alert, intel- ligent manner, a certain reserve, an avoidness of slang, an appropriate style of dressing—all these are important. If lacking, they should be cultivated. THE HUMAN MEED. Selfishness is one of the ugliest components of character. To live with an utterly selfish person is the greatest of hardships, unless one wishes to be constantly embroiled in a. series of family quarrels. No one has practically any rights which the selfish person will regard. "Bethink thee of thy deeds," says an old writer, and it is wise counsel. Say to your- self, "Now, how should I feel if I saw some- one else doing that?" and you will get a pretty fair estimate of what the world is thinking of you. You may be surprised by what you find .out about yourself in this way, and you may not be pleased, but it will certainly help you if you are determined to kill the selfishness that is too prone to run rampant in everyone's na- ture. LITTLE DUTIES. The wise mother gives to each of her children a definite duty about the house, and then holds liiin responsible for it. Children enjoy their play-time much more, and have much more re- spect for property if they early learn from ex- perience how quickly it can be damaged and what untiring care is necessary to keep things in order. Boys as well as girls should have their share in household tasks. For its own sake, as well as for the sake of an orderly and livable house, a child's rela- tions to that house should be early defined, and the parents should see to it that this relation is kindly but firmly maintained. WHERE FASHION REIGNS. Wide ribbons are again used for lacing up smart shoes. Silk and wool fishnet is one of the new mix. tures for up-to-date guimpes. Irish crochet gives place to no other as the ideal decoration for summer gowns. Fringe belongs to millinery as well as to frocks for trimming. The separate coat is to be far more import- ant this summer than for several years. Crepe weaves are growing in favour. Wools and silks as well as cottons and lisle threads have adopted them. Though not what are known as pastel shades, most of the summer colouring is in soft tints. Silk-covered cord is a special trimming that makes a gown look individual. Many topcoats of silk have only three quarter sleeves. Overdresses of coloured silk and net belong to lacy mid-summer gowns. One cf Alice blue net had wide borders of taffeta silk. The net also showed medallions of the silk worked around with the creamy shade of the under gown. Long silk sashes to match in colouring the top coat is effective and smart, especially with a simple dress. Pockets, many of them dummy ones, belong to tailor-made suits. Wistaria ottoman silks made up for a young matron is to be worn with a. very large black hat. Cream-tinted half-sleeves and yoke belonging to this gown were worked with fine wisteria, blue embroidery silk. TWO PARTIES TO A CONTRACT. When a woman marries she expects much of her husband. She constructs obligations which he must faithfully fulfil in order to be consid- ered a model husband. She expects him to con- tinue the loverlike attentions, even when she has dropped into little careless ways of dress. She demands that he shall entertain her as he once did, forgetting that in those days she was putting down her best foot forward, while later she allows excuses of smaller or greater im- portance to account for her insufferable dull- ness. A woman should regard as a duty of no small sort her own mental development. If she has children, it is certain that she will need to grow and enlarge her horizon to be a guide for them. If she has no children, she has even greater need for growth, for she must supply the entertain- ment and interest which children afford. HINTS FOR THE HOME. A tablespoonful of turpentine boiled with clothes helps to whiten them. Boiling water will remove tea and many fruit steins. Pour through the stain as soon as pos- sible. Clean flat-irons by rubbing bees-wax over the bottom while hot, then rub off with a, clean cloth. Many laundresses wash them thoroughly once a week before heating. To clean pale green Wilton carpet, dip clean piece of flannel or rag into turpentine, and rub carpet, then again with chamois leather. It will make the carpet look like new and will not hurt the most delicate shades. Afternoon Tea. Delicacies.—Cocoanut cakes: v lb. desiccated cocoanut. one small tin of beat condensed milk. Well mix cocoanut into the milk, place a teaspooaful into the pat-ty tins, and bake fifteen minutes a light brown. Theae are delicious and easily made. When washing new prints to prevent the col- our running, soak first in cold water, to every gallon of which has been added a handful of salt. Wash in tepid lather; give at least two soapy waters, squeeze and rub gently with the hands. Do not rub soap on them, rinse first in tepid, then cold water. To every gallon of .cold water add a teaspoonful of ammonia or salt. To Improve Appearance of Table Linen.—Af- ter washing and boiling, add to rinsing WMel- a few drops of blue mix in a bowl a large handful of starch with cold water, when smooth mix well with rinsing water. Dip in the linen, rinse carefully. Wring, but only dry slightly, mangle as wet as possible; hang before fir? cr in sun till almost dry, then iron. The things will look like new. New earthenware dishes should always be boiled before they arc used. Place a large fish- kettle or a big pan on the fire; fill it with cold water, and place the waje at the bottom, takIng- care that the water completely covers it. Let the water come to the boil slowly, and then remove the pan from the fire, and leave the dishes to cool in the water befora you take them out. This would render them much less brittle.

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