) [All R-tchts frescswcf/.l THE TEMPTATION OF ADRIAN NORREYS. BY JULIAN ASHTON. AUTHOR OF Lovd's Reward, A Spirit's Curse,$c., 10. CHAPTER I. I THE WELL-BELOVED." Tell us of Life, and Love's young dream, Show the prismatic soul of Woman Bring back the Light whose morning .beam, First made the Beast erect and Human." Robert Buchanan- OLGA, Olga she's come. The carriage is coming up the drive now." The new governess, Elsie P" Yes, the new governess. Oh, I do wonder what she is iiKe. Mamma has kept it all so very secret. I cau t think why. Wouldn't even let us see her photo- graph. I do hope she isn't tall and plain. I do hope she won't call us 'my dears,' as that horrid Miss Smythe did. It would be so dslightful to have a nice governess, one who would be a companion to us in- stead of a schoolmistress." You need a schoolmistress just now more than a com panion, Elsie de, "said her elder sister, stroking the long fair hair of the child as she spoke. You can't write a letter without dreadful mistakes in the -spe,ilixig; you can hardly speak grammatically, I'm arraid and, above all, don't you think that the kind of governess you ought to have is one whom you should be a little afraid ef, instead of a companion to you ?" No, I doa't, there, protested Elsie Norreys with a pout. I should hate her, as I did Miss Smythe. But I'd do anything for a teacher I loved, and wouid slave at my lessons to please her. But I say, Olga, do let s run up to the house, and see what's she's like. It's no use guessing when we can find out in a minute for ourselves." Olga rose from the garden seat where she had been resting after a rather long walk, and followed Elsie to the house. The sisters were a pretty couple. Elsie, just eight years old, with merry blue eyes and long fair hair, full of animation, was a curious con- trast to Olga. The latter was seven years older than her sister, with lovely deep brown eyes and hair, and e, thoughtful look on the young face. In fact, Mrs. Norreys' friends always spoke of Olga as old for her years," and the remark was true. She was a great reader, and took a deep interest in many sub- jects which girls of her age have not dreamed of touching, even in these days of advanced education. Mrs. Norreys was a widow. Her husband, General Norreys, C.B., was killed in the Crimean War. The sorrow of want, however, was not added to the sorrow of bereavement, as the General was a fairly rich man, and his widow was not without good private means of her own. So they continued to live on in the handsome country house in Yorkshire, some three miles from Scarborough, close to the sea coast, and conveniently near the village railway station. Miss Norreys preferred to conduct the education of her two girls at home, and the last governess proving unsatisfactory a new one was engaged. It was her arrival which had so excited the curiosity of Elsie, and it must be admitted, in some degree, that of Olga also. The carriage had deposited the new governess and her trunks in the hall, and driven round to the stables by the time the two girls reached the house. But Mrs. Norreys had already conducted her guest upstairs to her room with that gentle kindness which made her loved by all who knew her. So Olga and Elsie had to wait in the drawing-room for a while, and curb their impatience as well as they could. A little tabie bore the materials for afternoon tea, and thoughtful Olga noticed that the cream was absent. Ringing the bell, she desired the parlourmaid to bring it, but before the girl could leave the room, Elsie addressed her eagerly: Have you seen her, Kate: what is she like. Do tell me." Olga was on the point of checking her sister's im- petuosity, but Kate willingly answered. She seems a very nice young lady, Miss Elsie, but rather shy and nervous, with her strange haste and such like. But she is such a little thing." Little ? Kate," said Olga, her own curiosity fairly roused. Yes, miss, I was quite amused when 1 first see her. I don't think she can be more than five feet high, and—but she's coming," and as Kate disap- peared through ihe door Mrs. Norreys and the new governess entered. Olga, and you, Elsie, dear, this is Mias M'Keith, said their mother. Welcome her to Ashburnford." How do you do, Miss M'Keith ?" said Olga, pleasantly, I hope you are not very tired with the long journey." And as she uttered the words she thought inwardly, "What a dear little lady she seems. I am sure I shall like her extremely." And I'm very glad to see you, Miss M'Keith," cried Elsie, impulsively. I've such pretty places in the woods to show you, and you'll like my rabbits, I know." While Elsie's inward criticism was, Oh, the darling, I shall love her so much, I know I shall." Yes, the children's estimate was right. Vida M'Keith was only five feet in height, but formed in such perfect symmetery that there was not the slightest suggestion of "dwarfishness." On the con- trary, the exquisite figure, lovely brunette face, per- fect reiinement of manner, and sweet, musical voice, all combined to impress you with the idea that the dainty little creature was just what she should be, as an almost ideal, certainly very loveable woman. She took the girls by the hand in turn and kissed them affectionately. There were traces of tears on her face, though she had endeavoured to remove them before she came down. But they occasionally showed themselves again, glittering on her long eyelashes like crystals. Yet they were tears of happiness, the uncontrollable tokens of deep thankfulness of finding herself in such very different surroundings to what she had feared. For when Mrs. Norreys had herself conducted the timid girl to the dainty little room which was to be her own—tastefully furnished, looking out on a lovely prospect of hill and dale, wood, and blue sea— had assisted her to lay aside her travelling cloak, and expressed the hope that she would be very happy among them, poor Vida, completely overcome by auch unlooked-for and motherly kindness, could only east her arms round Mrs. Norreys' neck, and burst out crying for sheer gladness. She had been afraid of encountering coldness, perhaps unkindness, and here she found herself in a second home. No wonder she was still agitated, and scarcely mistress of herself. But tears of happiness do not remain so long as tears of sorrow. The smile soon came back to Vida's gentle face, and when the dainty refresh- ment of afternoon tea was handed round shb felt more composed and able to join freely and merrily in the conversation. Yes, that is the portrait of my son Adrian," said Mrs. Norreys, answering an inquiring glance of Vida's. "He is at Cambridge, but comes home on Wednesdey; he has just finished his University course. He took his B.A. last week, passing very well. I don't wonder you suspected it was my son's picture, people say he is wonderfully like me." The likeness was wonderful. There were the same deep piercing eyes, the same straight, delicately- shaped nose, small mouth, and earnest, thoughtful gaze. The heavy moustache, of course, introduced a distinct feature in the countenance, otherwise the resemblance was marvellously close. "And he is such a duck,' cried Elsie, eagerly. Everybody likes him, and Lucy Renwick said the other day that no girl could be with him long with- out falling in love with him, and My dear Elsie," interrupted her mother. You little tell tale. Besides, you must learn not to repeat such things, they are not for a little girl like you to hear." But it's true, mamma," protested Elsie. She did say it, and when I asked her if she was in love herself with Adrian, she laughed and said, Of course but he won't have anything to say to me, worse luck.' So there, mamma." Mrs. Norreys smiled, but Vida's quick perception enabled her to see instinctively that the mother was very fond and proud of her son and that she was not really displeased at knowing that he was so universally admired. What do you think of her, Olga?" said Elsie in a half whip per, when Mrs. Norreys and Vida left the room shortly afterwards. "I think she is very nice," replied Olga, quietly. "She will be a charming companion for me, even though she is my governess, and older than I am I am sure we shall all like her very much. Like her-love her, you mean," cried Elsie. And you and me and she (Elsie's defiance ot grammar always showed itself most strongly when she WEl; excited) will be sisters, and she'll be like another daughter to mamma; and oh, I say, Olga, I do belieye she'll really be our sister and mamma's daughter some day, for if Adrian doesn't fall in love with her and marry her, I'll—well, I'll think it a. miracle." You foolish child," said her sister. "Miracles don't happen now; so don't talk nonsense. And Adrian has something else to do than fall in love with every face be meets." Ah, but suppose he can't help it?" suggested Elsie. Well, we'll see." CHAPTER II. CHAINED—NOT JOINED-TOGETHER. THE Melbourne Theatre was doing good business. London managers had grumbled it the baduess of the season; but Mr. Harold ^*»'ners laughed at tile complaints of his brethren. It's their own fault; and yet they try to lay the blame on the public," he remarked to his stage manager, over a glass of very dry sherry in his private room at the theatre. Give people a good play, and you'll get good houses. I don't even put much trust in wonderful scenery and effects. Of course, these set off a play, and are not to be despised, but, after all, what is it that fetches the public. Real life on the stage, with .its joys and sorrows, its tempta- tions and trials. Their sympathy is fired by that; the most, ignorant and uncultivated feel the power of that, though they couldn't put it into fine language. That's the secret of how to fill your house." Well, you seem to have found your good play this time, sir," replied his faithful employe, for Temptation and Triumph is just filling us to the doors every night." And is a proof of what I said," returned the manager, filling himself another glass, and pushing the decanter across to his friend. No scenic effects, no startling novelties, only three sets-a country scene, a drawing-room, and the deck of a yacht, that's all. And yet how the piece takes. Because it's human nature. A man has made a very foolish marriage, secretly, and is led away by impulse and passion, which he mistakes for love. The fatal awakening and repentance soon follows. He would give anything to be free, but he is bound. His wife —a bad lot—offers to let him marry the girl he has fallen in love with, and swears she will never betray him; all this for a handsome consideration, of course. He knows he can trust her, for it is her own interest to keep dark. Shall he make himself and the girl happy for life, or not? and it's just the working out of that question which so interests people that they are crowding to see it." The acting is good, that's another point, sir. Miss De Cuizen plays the wife splendidly. I wonder if the same plot often happens in real life ?" Going on at this very minute, my dear follow, in numbers of cases that you and I know nothing of. But you must be going downstairs now, the doors are open. What a row. Hear them strug- gling into the pit and gallery." Mr. Harold Somers was quite right. The theatre was filling fast. In a few minutes after the doors were opened the popular parts of the house were crowded as usual, and the audience waited with patience till the lights should go up, the band com- mence, and the great green curtain ascend on the first scene. As the occupants of boxes, dress circle, and stalls began to come, a little before the time fixed for com- mencing, a tall, and very good-looking, young man strolled in the dress circle and found his way to an excellent seat in the front row, but rather towards the left side of the stage. He smiled as he noticed the occupant of the seat on his right. Ah, Norreys, old fellow, you here; there is good luck. Run up from Cambridge ?" Yes," replied Adrian Norreys, lazily dropping into his comfortable stall. I'm in town for three days before going home, came up partly on business. Heard a lot about this piece, and thought I might as well spend the evening here as anywhere.' Carelessly said, but the young man's cheek flushed slightly as he spoke. Adrian abhorred deception and falsehood; his upright honourable nature de- tested evasion and equivocation. Yet he found him- self obliged (as he thought) to practise these hateful failings now while he loathed himself for doing it. He dared not tell his friend that there was one theatre, and one only, in all London which he cared to visit; still less would he have admitted that there was one woman at that theatre with a claim upon him. That theatre was the Melpanene, that woman, Miss Sybil Clare, the leading lady. Well, you'll see a good piece and good acting, returned his friend. there's a fine situation in the third act, and Sybil Clare plays it well. I saw the play last week, and like many other people, felt I must see it again. But how did you manage t) get, a dress circle seat for to-night, old man ? They're booking three and four weeks in advance, and I shouldn't have thought one was to be got at a few hours' notice for love or money." Quite right; but I had a piece of luck. This stall ticket was returned to the box office yesterday by the owner, with instructions to re-sell it if possible. There was no difficulty in that; only I was very for- tunate to get it." No doubt of it. But there's the curtain going up. Now you'll see for yourself, and I shall be curious to know what you think of London's new actress." The first scene of the really powerful play which was stirring the metropolis of that day opened very quietly. A country lane, with a distant view of the village of Rockvenow. Spencer Farleigh, a young artist from London, is staying at the village for the sake of painting a lovely bit of scenery, wood, water, and hill, which lies close to it. This picture he hopes to have accepted by the Academy next May. A figure is wanted for the foreground, and meeting with Susette Clarke, a farmer's daughter, he asks her to be his model. Susette is rather a remarkable girl. She has received an education beyond her position ia life, is possessed of striking beauty, though of a bold, vigorous type; and has a large share of natural shrewdness, not to say cunning. Disgusted with the dreary prospect of life in a vil- lage, tUe determines to seize this opportunity of escape, 9tnd endeavour to capture the rising young London artist. She sets herself to fascinate him, and he, who has hitherto been devoted only to his art, falls an easy prey. Carried away by impulse and passion, which he mistakes for love, he secretly marries Susette, and the seeds of temptation and triumph are sown. In the second act, re-action has come. Spencer Farleigh and his wife, after their secret marriage, had spent a fortnight in remote parts of the Tyrol, but, short as the honeymoon was, it proved enough to develop irreconcilable differences of taste and habits. A mutual separation is agreed upon, Farleigh making his wife an allowance of two-thirds of his income, willing to undergo any sacrifice if he can only live alone. She takes up her residence in Brighton, he returns to London. None know of their marriage except the officials at the registry office in Switzerland, where the marriage took place: Farleigh rises in fame and wealth, and would be content if it were not for the secret chain which binds him to his wife. Then a great sorrow is added to his burden. He falls madly in love with a beautiful young girl whose portrait he has painted. His affection is re- turned, but their union, of course, is impossible, though he dare not tell her the true reason. In the third act, Farleigh's wife has by some underhand means become possessed of the knowledge of her husband's lost affection. Far from reproach- ing him, she offers to keep the fact of their marriage a lifelong secret. No living soul shall ever know it. He may marry the girl he loves without the slightest fear of exposure, Susette is absolutely indifferent as to what he does, if only he will make her a largely- increased allowance, which he is now well able to afford. This is his temptation and the scene where he hesitates, and the unscrupulous wife plies him hard with specious arguments in favour of her offer. But triumph follows on temptation, and Spencer Farleigh, though sorely tried, resolves to follow the path of duty and honour. In the whole of that crowded audience, there was not one who followed the play with such intense, painful interest as Adrian Norreys. There were times when he completely forgot that he was in the theatre; and only saw the enactment of a real life draaia. As the curtain fell on the termination of the piece, amidst a roar of applause, and the two chief personages, Spencer and Susette, came forward to receive a well-deserved oration, Adrian's friend re- marked carelessly: Does it well, don't she ? I say, see the wedding- ring on her finger; it's plain enough through my opera-glasses." o You forget she is playing the part of a married woman," said Adrian. Sharp, my dear fellow very sharp. But I don't think it's only a part of the get up. I met her the other afternoon at Lord Esterhaugh's. They were having private theatricals, and he'd engaged her at an awful expense to take the leading lady's part; he grudges nothing for his private stage. She was playing a young girl's part then, and others besides myself particularly noticed that she wore a wed- ding ring. There's something in that, I'll lay long odds. odds." (To be Continued.)
MISS KEELING'S RECOVERY. The doctor paused on his way to the door and turned back. Do you know, Miss Keeling," said he, that I met an acquaintance of yours the other day. I won- der if you remember him. His name is Venner, though he is more usually known to his friends as Dick. Ah! those cushions are slipping again. Allow me. So 1" A flush spread over the patient's face as she thanked him when his quick fingers had arranged her rugs. "I had no idea, Doctor, that he was a friend of yours. Why did you not tell me before ?" Doctor Woodley looked penitent for a moment. The fact is, Miss Keeling," he confessed at length, that;I was not quite sure how you would receive the news. Your guardian might like to know it, but up till now I have not told him." Miss Keeling sat quite motionless, her eyes fixed intently on the isolated clump of poppies that bright- ened the sweep of lawn beyond the French window. The flowers seemed to grow as she watched them, larger and larger, until they were as tall as the rhododendrons that bordered the driv*. Then as surely they dwindled to little scarlet speck's. "Why?" she asked suddenly, as her thoughts came back to his last observation. The doctor drew his chair a little closer and bent over towards her. Dick Venner is a very old friend, who shares his troubles, when he has any, with me. The last matter on which he spoke concerns you considerably, Miss Keeling. So, knowing what I do, I decided that it would be needless to inform your guardian that he was a friend of minp. You agree with me, do you not ?" Yes." The doctor appeared much relieved by the reply. I shall take greater interest in my patient now than before," he cried, and shall prescribe strong remedies if they are necessary." A smile lit up the pale features in reply, a smile that faded to a wistful and thoughtful look when the lodge gate had clanked behind her visitor. The morning that had been one of surprise to her gave way to an afternoon of perplexity. It would appear, as the old nurse remarked more than once that after- noon, that Miss Winnie was very excited. About three months afterwards the village of Kings Norris found itself thrown into an unpre- cedented state of excitement. The young lady at the Manorl House—for that was the way the good village folk alluded to Miss Keeling—had suddenly disappeared. So had the new doctor. The village buzzed with questions, but no news was forthcoming, and the gossips were obliged to return to matters of history. Mr .Fenter was a widower of considerable means, to whom his business partner, Mr. Keeling, had handed at his death the care of his only daughter and her fortune. It had been her father's express wish that she should not marry without her guar- dian's assent, even when she had come of age. Should she then wish to marry in opposition to Mr. Fenter's wishes see could do so, but only at the expense of her fortune, one half of which would be divided is certain porportions between her guardian and severel specified charities. King Norris had criticised this provision unfavour- ably, but this was probably due to the fact that Miss Keeling's guardian was by no means popular. The new doctor had only been among them four months. and was thus still an intruder and stranger, or there would have been many more ready to thank him for the discomfiture of Mr. Fenter. All, however, awaited the return of the latter with the greatest interest. His conduct on reaching the Manor House was a source of keen disappointment. He made a few in- quiries after Miss Keeling here and there and had a short interview with the local sergeant of police. He neither started in pursuit of the runaways nor an- nounced his intentions with regard to Dr. Wood- ley. The general mystification was complete when the young doctor suddenly returned ten days afterwards, resumed his practice as if nothing untoward had happened, and gracefully declined to speak on the subject of Miss Keeling. The history of the firm of Keeling and Fenter in- terests the present story as regards that period alone in which Keeling's failing health compelled him to entrust everything to his junior partner. The long series of internal friction that followed Mr. Fenter's high-handed policy resulted in Mr. Venner resigning the managership of the firm. His son, Dick indig- nantly quitted his post at the same time, as a protest, he.gave out, against the imputations that had been made with regard to his father. Three years afterwards certain things came to the knowledge of Mr. Keeling that caused him to com- municate with the younger man, who was at that time a partner in a growing and successful wool firm in Sydney. Dick Venner decided, after reading the letter, to pack his baggage and return to England. The first news that reached him on his arrival in London was that Mr. Keeling had been taken sud- denly ill and died a fortnight before. The interview with her guardian that followed his first call on his old friend Miss Keeling was an un- pleasant one for the younger man. Mr. Fenter was noted for the bluntness of his speech, and well did he justify his reputation. He was the guardian of his late partner's daughter, by terms of a will whose particulars he recited for Dick's benefit. He would have no advances to his ward, aud Venner would not be allowed to come and see her again. Dick returned to London crestfallen and looked up Frank Woodley, who was at that time a qualified assistant to a busy doctor in Chelsea. His friend smoked on thoughtfully after hearing the account. Why is he so bitter towards you ?" he asked at length. There must be some reason." He hated my father before me," replied Dick Venner disconsolately. The accusations he made against him slowly killed him, and now he seems de- termined to keep Winnie Keeling and me apart. If I persist I endanger half her fortune. Fenter seems to hold the position." "I am not sure about that," exclaimed the other. Did it ever strike you that it might be distinctly to his benefit to keep you away from his ward, You said that the letter you had from her father shortly before his death was a cordial one and exonerated your father from many of the charges that had been brought against him ?" Dick Venner said nothing, but handed his friend the letter he had received in Sydney. My dear fellow," remarked the doctor as he fin- ished the perusal of the letter, what I suggested just now was a wild theory. I was trying to think of a motive, and what I said I should have kept to myself until later. But give me time to work it out and in the meantime hope for the best." It was some weeks afterwards in the same surgery that Venner concluded the reading of an advertise- ment in a medical paper. A sound little practice in the heart of Warwick- shire," he repeated. Good roads, one horse, and excellent hunting. I think this will suit you admirably." Woodley pushed the visiting book on one side and leisurely knocked the ashes out of his pipe. My dear Dick," he protested, can you tell me where the cash for these £ 1500 premium practises is to come from ? Do you think I'm worth half that ?" Perhaps not, but 1- His friend shook his head. "It won't do!" he exclaimed. I wouldn't borrow even from the oldest of my friends. So no more of Kings-what is the name ?" Kings Norris." Frank Woodley looked up suspiciously. The name is familiar somehow," he cried. Where have I heard it ?" A man named Fenter lives there," was the obser- vation that came in reply. So does his ward, whose name is Miss Keeling. Now you begin to understand ?" Woodley threw himself back in his chair and in- dulged in a long whistle. Very pretty scheme," he remarked at length. Very pretty. And can you tell me, supposing I do go, what will happen ?" What will happen ?" echoed his friend with a grim smile. You do not do your abilities justice. With a little diplomacy-your usual tack your theories, your endless resources—my dear Woodley, is it impossible for anything to happen?" The interview that Docter Woodley had with Mr. Fenter on his return was conducted on lines that the latter had not anticipated. The first surprise was provided when his own assertion that the last will of Mr. Keeling was made two years before his death was promptly refuted. The last will," observed the doctor calmly, was made a fortnight before his death. How I came to procure the copy of it that I have in my pocket might interest you but cannot alter the present situation. You should remember, however, Mr. Fenter, that when you bribe people to buy their silence you only induce them to offer their secrets for sale to the other side." Mr. Fenter, who bad been alternately supercilious and dismayed, took up the conversation in a light and careless manner that he had a considerable difficulty in maintaining. "Only a little joke of mine, Doctor Woodley," he explained. You know that we only discovered this last will about a week or so ago. We found it in an old cabinet and sent it on at once to my solicitors." I saw it myself a month ago," said the other man drily. A month ago, I should say. I stand corrected. Articles of the will are much the same as the pre- vious one. Bequests the same—my position as guar* dian the same," he continued with a satisfaction that was apparent. His visitor nodded. "And the condition that if I, or anybody else, married Miss Keeling without your assent being given, a considerable portion of the property falls to you ?" Is perfectly correct." But in the new will there is a proviso that should Miss Keeling decide to marry the only son of the Mr. Venner who was once manager of the firm the bulk of the estate should go to them. The fact that your assent to this marriage is required is not brought into question." Mr. Fenter acknowledged that such was the case. So, once married to anyone else, with your sanc- tion or without it, this clause could not come into effect. You would have proclaimed the finding of this second will, I suppose, as soon as this fortunate occurrence had taken place ?" The elder man rose up in anger as he heard the irony of the last remark. You choose to insult me, Doctor Woodley," he exclaimed. In the first place you take away my ward from this roof- ".Vardon me, you are labouring under a misap- prehension. I may have escorted Miss Keeling to the railway station and gone on by the same train myself. Some people, so I am informed, say I have taken her away and married her. We never ex- pressed an intention of marrying, and we are not married nowf Mr. Fenter steadied himself against the table. It is false t" he gasped. Or if it is not, where is she?" I'm not certain, but any information you require, my friend Dick Venner will be able to supply you with. I may say for your edification that your ward became his wife yesterday afternoon." The elder man took two steps forward with elenched fists. Then he stopped, and the letter that the doctor had just taken from hie pocket and offered him he snatched at quickly. When he had read it through he tore it in pieces and flung it on the burn- ing coal. "I had no idea," said he with a sneer, that Mr. Venner included so talented and hypocritical persons as yourself among his friends. I trust that as he has ruined your prospects here he will repay you well- with his wife's money I Doctor Woodley walked out of the Manor House without replying. He could well afford to disregard such taunts just then, for he had achieved a little triumph in its way-such a little triumph that does not fall to the lot of every matter-of-fact professional man, as his friend Dick Venner used to remind him afterwards.
I THE WOMAN'S WORLD, A SENTIMENTAL idea, which owes its origin to the beautiful Countess of Warwick, is that of planting in one's garden flowers associated in one's mind with particular friends. Lady Warwick has one of the most charming gardens in England, filled not sc much with flowers of to-day, but with old-fashioned favourites of long ago. One corner of this garden she delights to call the Garden of Friendship, and it is here that she plants all the flowers that remind hei of friends and near ones, each blossom being fragrant with a memory. IN order to foster among Englishwomen an inte- rest in agricultural and horticultural pursuits, the Women's Agricultural and Horticultural Inter- national Union has been formed. According to the, speakers at the annual meeting, Englishwomen lag- far behind their sisters of Belgium, France, Holland Germany, and Denmark, in working the land. Pro fessor Bottomley, of King's College, however, was optimistic, and indicated in a long address how Englishwomen might gain from the land, if not a fortune, an excellent livelihood. Farms, he said, should be cut up into small holdings, and worked on co-operative principles-a plan well known in France, and especially in Nantes, where, thanks to the women, the London market is well supplied with excellent radishes and lettuces. THAT the system is practicable here was shown by several ladies present, who, after training at Lady Warwick's Hostel, are successfully now keeping cows, making butter, and rearing poultry. Those ladies, with little capital, might, according to Mr. Brown, an authority on poultry-keeping, take a leaf from the book of the Yorkshire and Lancashire workers, who for a trifling rent, obtain the run of pasture land for their poultry. The pasture is, if anything, improved, and as the crops are frequently moved the bilds flourish. IT is again asserted with most particular empha- sis that the hair is really and truly-this time-to be dressed low. Why, one would wish to know, since all of us, except the Art girl, are delighted with our present fluffy locks. They say that the modes of the moment are bad for the hair, but in that case they should be particularly good for the hairdresser. Yet it is they tell us, this ungrateful person who, sitting in conclave, has decided that the bair must come down. Why the objection to the present mode we are not told. Perhaps the manipulation is too easy, and so the hairdresser is not called for so often as he would expect perhaps the fluffy style makes the most of the locks that are ours by nature, and so we do not need to resort to the buying of locks to add to our own scanty ones. For the present, then, the at- tempt is being made to induce us to wear our hair about the middle of the head, very little waved and without fringe. SPOTS on the face are generally an indication that the general health is out of order. If you suffer in this way live as plainly as possible, avoiding highly- seasoned dishes, cakes, sweets, and pastry, and get plenty of fresh air and exercise, and if the spots still continue coming, consult a doctor. A CLEANSING lotion: Take one pint of rose or elder-flower water, and add to it drop by drop, stir- ring all the time, half an ounce simple tincture of benzoin. This emulsion smells delicious, and is excellent for the skin. For some people the addi- tion of a few drops of glycerine improves it. Use it to wipe over your face during the day instead of washing it. To whiten the neck spread a good layer of the following paste on a soft rag, tie round the neck before getting into bed, and leave till morning. One ounce of honey, one teaspoonful of lemon-juice, six drops of oil of bitter almonds, and the well- beaten whites of two eggs. Add enough fine oat- meal to make a soft paste. In the morning wash with luke-warm water, and any good soap. If your neck is very brown you may need to apply it two or three nights. FOR sunburn, use the following lotion for your face two or three times a day: Cut a fresh, medium- sized cucumber into small chunks, let soak in half a pint of milk, boil for ten minutes, and strain, press- ing or squeezing out as much jHice as possible. Another remedy is to boil parsley in a little water for a few minutes, strain, and add an equal quantity of strained lemon-juice. Rub over your face at night. DON'T try to start your range fire on the top of cinders if you want it to burn brightly. If the grate is not often properly cleared of cinders and dust a fire will often sulk all day. The cinders can be turned to much more advantage if they are mixed with small coal and used on top afterwards' Masses of clinkers sometimes gather on the firebricks and prevent the oven from heating. To remove, throw a handful of commoa salt on when the fire is hot, leave for a little while, and then tap sharply with the poker, though if they are very bad they may need a second application. CLOTHES lines are made much more durable by boiling for 10 minutes before they are used. EMBROIDERIES should be ironed on a thin, smooth surface over thick flannel, and only on the wrong side. THE smaller a roast of meat the hotter should be the oven at first, that the least possible amount of its delicate juices may escape. COMMON starch, mixed with cold water to the thick- ness of cream, should be applied to a burn or scald. Keep it wet with starch, and it will bring out the fire. To take mildew out of linen, mix soft soap, fine starch, and lemon juice to a paste, using equal parts. Spread thickly on both sides of the cloth and lay on the grass, day and night, until the mildew dis- appears. NOTHING is so easily spoiled or made shabby as a veil. Instead of tossing it into a crowded drawer, to lie in a tumbled heap until wanted again, stretch it carefully over a bit of cardboard or other stiff material, as is always done in the shops. IF two pairs of shoes are kept in use together, wearing them alternately, the shoes will give more service and last longer than two pairs worn one after the other. Shoes, like many other things, become tired, and require an occasional rest to do good work. IF you have no meat-safe, and are troubled with flies, wrap your meat in a cloth wrung out of vinegar and water as soon as it comes from the butcher's, wetting it again as it gets dry. WHEN you are giving up fires leave all the steel well polished; then smear lightly over a very little unsalted lard, give a final rub with a soft duster, and the grates will not rust during the summer. FOR paraffin stains on cloth, make a paste of fullers'-earth and water to which a little ammonia has been added. Spread this on the spots, rubbing it in slightly if they are very bad. Leave till thoroughly dry, then brush out, using a clean brush for the purpose. Repeat if necessary. A GOOD polish for glac6 kid shoes is vaseline. Rnb in a little over night, then in the morning rub the shoes briskly with a soft cloth, and they will polish beautifully. The vaseline helps to preserve the kid, too, and if the shoes are getting shabby a little lamp- black may be mixed with it. A LADY whose work on behalf of domestic servants is well known and appreciated writes: "Do not forget that girls in service are human beings, and that their stock-in-trade is their health. No one offers them a home permanently if they are ill they are generally removed to a hospital. It is the exception when a girl can remain in a place, even in which she has lived for several years, and be cared for through a protracted and serious spell of illness. Politeness begets politeness; kindness, kindness; and, though we may be exacting in a way, if we give kindness in return things will move smoothly. On the other hand, many a kind-hearted housewife, who heaps upon her servants all the courtesies imagin- able, is so unsystematic that it is almost impossible to do the work of her house and keep in health and temper."
FREE TRADE IN THE ARMY. Already a trace of Lord Roberts's influence at Headquarters is apparent (says the Morning Feit) in the initiation of what would at one time have been considered an altogether impossible reform in the Army. The essence of Lord Roberts's much- guoted article in the Nineteenth Century, which, though published many years ago, is still considered to contain his profession of faith as far as the pri- vate soldier is concerned, was that a man enlisting in the Army should practically be able to do pretty much as he liked about remaining therein. The title of the article was Free Trade in the Army," and in it Lord Roberts advocated such freedom in the matter of length of service that. the recruit who repented should be set free at slight expense, and that no man need serve for more than three years with the colours unless he chose to do so; while, on the other hand, any man who wished to make the Army a profession could do so by re-engaging at the end of three years for another four years to complete seven, and then again for a further five years to complete twelve, and yet again for another nine years to complete twenty- one years with the colours for a pension. Lord Roberts went even further, and suggested that, not- withstanding that a man might have just entered on or be in the midst of his current period of service, he should be allowed to go into the Reserve on show- ing sufficient cause; and it is in this direction that Lord Roberts's influence has made itself felt, for it appears that sanction has been given in certain cases for the discharge to the Reserve of men whose periods of service have not expired, they having the opportunity of civil employment in the public service, which would otherwise be lost, to them. Always pre- suming that proper safeguards will be provided against imposition, such a departure in favour of the soldier cannot fail to produce an excellent effect on the popularity of the Service.
SIR WYNDIIAM SPENCER PORTAL, BART., holds the record in England and Wales as chairman of a public body. Sir Wyndhan has been a guardian of the Whitchurch (Hants) Union for about 54 years, and has occupied the chair for no less than 50 years. He is a director of the London and South-Western Railway Company, and was chairman of the directors up to 1899. For about 22 years he has been chairman of the Hampshire Friendly Society. Next in order of merit comes Mr. Thomas Higginson, J.P., who has been chairman of the Lutterworth Guardians for 37 successive years, and closely following him is Mr. Nicholas Roch, J.P., D.L., who has presided over the Tenby Guardians exactly 36 years. THE Rev. Bernard Wilson, who succeeds the Bishop of Stepney at Portsea, gained his early cleri- cal experience, like the latter, at Leeds. He first came for his theological training to the Leeds Clergy School, where he remained for two years. Then, being ordained deacon in 1882, he became curate of All Souls' Church in that city. After three years he went out to Australia as chaplain to the newly-con- secrated Bishop of Brisbane, Dr. Webber, and did excellent work in the capital. Then he returned to the mother country, where he was for some time rector of Kettering before succeeding the present Bishop of London as head of Oxford House and rector of Bethnal-green. CYCLISTS Will no doubt hear with interest that Colonel Saunderson, M.P., was one of the very first to take the old velocipede seriously, and to introduce it into the North of Ireland. He frequently made long journeys on this queer machine, and the sight from the fields and cabins of a tall, fearsome-looking figure spinning upon noiseless wheels affrighted the innocent folk. But it was at night, without his iamp, and with the chains of his pedal rattling in accom- paniment to the sighing of the wind, that he provoked the terror that got him known as the Ghost." He 'i is an athlete, and, with a town house close to Hyde- park, he goes out every morning for a spin westward, and in his khaki smalls is a very different man from the heavy Guardsman of the afternoon. PgPftoFEssoit C. Lm NEVE FOBTER, D.Sc., his Majesty's Inspector of Mines, is retiring from a post which he has filled for nearly 30 years. His blue- books on mines and quarries are well known and in- dispensable works of reference, while certain of his undergronnd experiences have naturally been attended with more or less danger. At least on one occasion he was, with others, placed in imminent peril through carbonic oxide fumes, the result of an explosion in the Snaefell Lead Mine, Isle of Man. During the inter- val which ensued before aid could be rendered from the surface, and while his companions were being drawn up each in turn and in various stages of un- consciousness, the plucky Government inspector made pencil notes of his sensation and the sur- rounding conditions, and these proved of curious psychological and physic logical interest, if of no better value.
I MARKET NEWS. MARR-LANE,-There was less disposition to entes into engagements at market than anticipated, and American cablegrams kept prices steady, but a want of confidence still prevails on the part of consumers, although prices in general were steady. English wheat here is just about exhausted, and the country markets are very bare, while sellers retain firmness. White ranges at 29s to 31s and red, at 27s to 30s, according to sample, delivered up. There are at present strong influences in force, which keep holders of foreign descriptions indifferent, and most of the cargoes arriving continue to be ordered away to Continental destinations. No. 1 Northern Spring, old, quoted at 31s 6d landed; and new at 31s 3d, No. 1 hard Manitoba, old, 33s 6d. Hard Kansas. 30s ex-ship and 30s 6d ex-quay. Australian, 29s 6d to 30s ex- ship, and 30s to 30s 6d ex-store, 4981b. New Zealand, Tuscan, 29s 6d to 30s, 4961b., ex-store. Russian still held above the level of this market, being mainly shipped to other destinations. Although a little more was being asked for American ilour (which moves in sympathy with wheat), consumers declined to respond and quotations kept much on the same level as those previously current. American first patents 24s 6d to 25s 6d; second ditto, 23B to 24s. Bakers' grades scarce and firm. Firsts, 20s to 21s seconds, 18s to 19s. Country flour maintained top price, town made 29s net. All English patents, 21s 9d to 22s ditto stone, 20s; roller whites, 19s 6d to 20s. Cascadias, 22s 3d ex-store. French patents, firsts, 21s to 21s 6d and seconds, 20s to 20s 6d. Hungarian firsts, 28s and seconds, 27s 6d. At the London Millers' Association meeting the price of Town households was fixed at 24s 6d and whites at 27s 6d per sack, delivered to the baker. Grinding barley rather easier for Persian ex-quay since last week, and scarce ex ship being nominal, while the former position rules at 17s to 17s 3d; Odessa, 18s 3d, ex-ship 18s 6d, ex-quay. Shipments of American oats are moderate. Russian being heavy, and consumers again had the advantage, ex- cept with regard to white clipped, which remains scanty. American mixed clipped quoted at 15s ex- ship and 15s 6d ex-quay; white clipped, 15s 9d ex-ship, 16s 3d ex-quay 401b. Common white Libau, 14s 6d ex-quay, and bold white Liban in the same position, 17s 6d. Kiln-dried Riga, 15s ex-ship, 381b. New Zealand, ordinary bluff, 22s 6d to 23s, 3841b., ex-store. Flat maize in less scarcity ex-ship, at 20s to 20s 3d for mixed Ameri- can, new, and 19s 9d ship due in about a fortnight. Round corn firm. Odessa, 25s 6d ex-quay; and new Plate, 23s 6d. There is nothing fresh to report in the market for imported beans and peas, both being still out of season. Egyptian splits, 21s; and Mazagans, 20s 9d ex-mill, 3201b. New Zealands nominal. Of peas, Maples, 35s to 36s, 5041b. ex- store. Canadian white peas held for 30s to 30s 6d ex-granary. American maize germ meal continues to come up slowly, landed parcels being upheld but for June despatch £ 415s per ton would be accepted. Hay well maintained. LONDON METROPOLITAN CATTLE.—The inquiry was of a generally quiet character, and trade at late prices made quiet progress for both prime and second qualities. Fat butchering cows were in quiet request from country buvers. Quotations: Scotch, 4s 8d; Devons, 4s 6d; Norfolks, 4s 4d to 4s 6d; Lincoln shorthorns, 48 2d to 4s 4d and fat cows, 3s 8d to exceptionally 3s lOd per 81b. A fair supply of sheep and lambs were penned, and although busi- ness in both wethers and ewes ruled slow, late quota- tions were without appreciable change. Quota- tions. 71 to 8-stone Down wethers (clipped), 5s 2d to 5s 4d; 9-stone ditto, 5s to 5s 2d; 10- etone half-breds, 4s lOd to 5s 8-stone Scotch, 5s 4d; 9-stone Yorkshires, 4s 6d to 4s 8d; 10 stone Down ewes, 4s to 4& 2d: 11- stone half-bred ditto, 3s 8d to 3s lOd. Lambs met with slow support. 5-stone fat Downs, 6s 6d to 6s 8d per stone; 6-stone ditto, 6s to 6s 2d per 81b. to sink the offal. Calf trade and supply nominal. No pigs were offered. Milch cows, offered E15 to E22 10s per head. Coarse and in- ferior beasts quoted 2s 4d to 3s 2d second quality ditto, 3s 6d to 4s; prime large oxen, 4s 2s to 4s 4d ditto Scots, &c., 4s 6d to 4s 8d coarse and in- ferior sheep, 3s 2d to 4s; second quality ditto, 4s 4d to 4s 8d; first, 5s to 5s 4d inferior lambs, 5s 8d to 6s; second quality ditto, 6s 2d to 6s 6d; and firsts, 6s 6d to 6s 8d per 81b. Total supplies 1090 beasts, 8480 sheep and lambs, 10 calies, and 30 Eng-4 lish milch cows. SMITHFIELD MEAT.—Supplies fair, but met a slow demand, and onlya small business was passed. Quota- tions Beef: Scotch, 3a lOd to 4s 4d; English, 3s lOd to 4s American, Deptford killed, 3s 9d to 3s lid; Liverpool, 3s 8d to 3s lOd; American refrigerated, hindquarters, 3s lOd to 4a; forequarters, 2s 2d to 2s 4d. Mutton: Scotch, 4s 4d to 4s 6d; English wethers, 4s Od to 4s 4d; ewes, 3s Od to 3s 4d; lamb, 5s 4d to 6s 4d. Veal: English and Dutch, 4s to 4s 4d. Pork English, 4s to 4s 2d; and Dutch". 3s lOd to 4s per 81b. ¡ POULTRY AND GAME.—Quotations: Fowls: York." shire, 2s 6d to 2s gd Essex, 2s 6d to 3s: Boston, 2s 3d to 2s 6d Surrey, 3s 6d to 4s 6d f Sussex, 3s Od to 3s 6d; Welsh, 2s to 2s 9d; T Irish, 2s Od to 2s 6d American, 2s to 2s 6d: Turkeys (cocks), 5s to 6s 6d; (hens), 4s tooe; goslings, 6s to 7s Od; pigeons, 7d to Is 3d Aylesbury ducks, 4s to 4s 6d wild rabbits, dA, i6,, 8d tame lOd to Is 2d each; Australian, 6s 6d to* 7s 6d per dozen. Russian: Fowls, Is I'd to Is 4d; partridges, Is Id to Is 4d; ptarmigan/ Is to Is 2d; black game, Is 3d to Is 5d each Dutch1 plover eggs, 3s Od per dozen. BILLINGSGATE FisH.-English salmon, Is 9d to Is lOd Scotch Is 9d to 2s Irish, Is trout, Is 6d to Is 9d; soles, Is to Is 4d; slips, to Is 2d; red mullet, Is 2d to Is 9d dories, 2d to 4d per lb.; turbot, 7s to 9s 6d; bril?-?a 6d to 7a; halibut, 5s to 7s; lemon Boles, 58 to 6s; p"lWaicgef, plajce, English, 4s 9d to 7s; Faroe, 2s per it" pi steamer plaice, 42s to 44s per trunk; Aberdeen' plaice, 35s; whiting, 6s to 12.; hake,:10s?bl'S? skate, 7s to 8s; bream, 5s; cod, live, l4S 'tio"17*? dead, 10s to 12s per box; English mack6ii?l, lti"tbl 15s per 60; large steamer haddocks, 12< per trttttk loose, 2s 6d per stone; live eels, 14. to 24s; dead,' 9s to 15s per draft; lobsters, 15s to 35s per score. COVENT GARDEN. Apples, Australian (Sou £ h), V ictoria, and Tasmanian, case, 10s to 13s; apriw cots, per box, 2s; bananas, per bunch, ditto, loose, per dozen, Is to Is 6d; cherries, box, Is 3d to Is 6d ditto, per sieve, 7s to 10øt;oo nuts, per lb., 5d.; figs, per dozen, 2s to 6. > godse^-1 berries, per sieve, 2s 6d to 4s; grapes, Mhscats, home-grown, per lb., 2s to 5s; ditto, New Hatn-i burgh, per lb., Is 9d to 3s; ditto, Belgian, blac&y lb., Is to 2s melons, each, Is 3d to 2. 6d ;??ec? tarines, per dozen, 8s to 12s; peaches, per dl>t;m 4s to 12s pines, each, 2s 6d to 5s 6d; SapuaMai nuts, per lb., Is; strawberries, A, per lb.. Is 6d to 2s; ditto, B, per lb., 8d to Is 3d. s CAMBRIDGE CATTLE.—There was a fair show ot' fat beasts, but trade was slow. A small show of store beasts. A large number of fat sheep to hard; trade not so good. A large number of iambs wero" shown, and prices were lower. Some good lots dfJ store sheep were offered, and all cleared. There was-' a good show of fat pIgS, prices being slightly lower. A fair trade for store pigs. A fair trade for hay, straw, and roots. Prices: Beef, 6s 9d to 7s 6d; straw, and roots. 5^ s 2d lamb, 9d to 9 £ d rper lb.: mutton, 4s 2d to bs 2d; lamb, 9d to 9d per lb.; pork, 5s 6d to 6s. RJCAWNG CATTLE.-Veal and lamb sold best. The latter was in small supply, and made 6s 6d to 7s per jtone best, 6s to 6s 4d secondary. Veal made 6s to 5s 6d best, 58 4d to 5s 8d secondary. Best beef realised 4s 4d to 4s 8d, secondary 3s 6d to 4s 2d. Mutton sold at 5s 2d to 5s 6d for best, 4s 6d to 5« for secondary. CORK BUTT r,it.-Firsts, 83s seconds, 81s thirds, <6s fourths, 68s; superfine, 89s fine, 83s choicest boxes, 96s; choice 84s. GRIMSBY FIsH.-Average price: Plaice, 5s te 5s 6d; lemon soles, 6s per stone; soles, lOd to Is per lb.; live dabs, 10s; dead ditto, 7s; live codlings, 10s; dead ditto, 6s; kit haddocks, 14s; gibbed ditto, 16s; live ditto, 16s per box whitings, 2s per stone; gurnets, 4s per box; j turbot, 8d to 9d; brills, 7d per lb.; live ling, 4s; I dead ditto, 2s live cod, 5s 6d dead ditto, Is to 2s; live skate, 3s to 4s 6d dead ditto, 2s 6d each Findon haddocks, 2s 6d to 3s 6d live halibut, 5s to 5s 6d dead ditto, 4s to 4s 6d English shrimps, 3s; foreign ditto, 2s 9d; prawns, 3s Od per stone; kippers, 2s 6d bloaters, 3s per box; catfish, 15s live coalfish, 12s; dead ditto, 8s per score; Eng- lish oysters, 6s 6d; American ditto, 4s per 100; smelts, 2s per box: whelks, 2s 6d per wash salt cod, 8s per cwt.; lobsters, lOd; salmon, Is 6d; grilse, Is 3d to Is 6d per lb.; conger eels, 2s to 5a each; hake, 50s to 60s roker, 12s; mackerel, 4s, crabs, 4s per score; fresh herrings, 3s 6d; salt ditto, 3s per 100; red herrings, 3s 6d per box; sturgeon, f-3 3s to Eb each; tusks, 10s per score; ace, Is 6d per cwt.