County Observer and Monmouthshire Central Advertiser Abergavenny and Raglan Herald Usk and Pontypool Messenger and Chepstow Argus

lALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] THE MURDER 1. AT NUMBER THIRTEEN: A Romance of Modern Life. BY JOHN K. LEYS, Author of The Lindsays," &c. dec. CHAPTER IX. THE IRREPRESSIBLE MAJOR. THREE days after my interview with Miss Men- teith, the day before Charley's last appearance before the magistrates, I met Major Bond in the street. He drew me aside, and as I saw that he Was primed with something fresh, I determined to make light of whatever he might say, for, to tell the truth, I was horribly afraid of what the Major might do next. "Well, Major, what is the latest in the detec- tive line of business ? I asked, affecting a jocose -air. What was the last point you were to in- vestigate ? I know there was something.—To be sure You were to find out the subject of conver- sation between Miss Braithwaite and a man called Dangerfield, when he called on her the other day. Wasn't that it?" Not exactly," said the old fellow, with some- thing between a smile and a frown on his jolly round face. I did think it was worth while to make one or two enquiries about Dangerfield, however. The result can have no possible interest for you." "Very little, I assure you. I don't even know the man by sight. Who is he?" Oh, so far as I can make out, one of those loungers who come to while away the summer here. He stayed at the Royal, but lately he has gone into lodgings at the other end of the town. i.ne.th the mark, I expect. He used to go about with an old Jew money-lender, or something of that sort, when he first came here-a man named Jacobs." A money-lender, do you call him? Well, he may be a money-lender, too, for anything I know- probably is. But if it is the same man—a stout German Jew in wide-awake and spectacles—he is the head of one of the most notorious Private Enquiry offices in London." You don't say so cried the Major, his eyes beaming with excitement. This is most inter- esting "Pooh, my dear Major, what does it matter ? It can't concern us. I should have been glad to know what the man wanted with Miss Braith- waite, though," I added, inconsequently. Curio- sity seemed to the gallant officer so natural a failing, that it did not occur to him to ask why I Wanted to know about Mr. Dangerfield. "As you say, it is of no importance," he observed, "I am told that the man is one of the 'Crowd she always has dangling after her. What is of importance is to know whether it can be proved beyond a doubt that that girl committed the murder. And I came upon three distinct pieces of evidence last night-two last night and one this morning." I could have kicked the fellow, he looked so pleased, when I remembered what his success meant for Ida Braithwaite. But I did the gallant Major » an injustice. He had forgotten the human aspect of the case, as completely as a doctor forgets, ii wr- ing an operation, that the consequence may be death to the patient. Well done I won't say that you have mistaken your profession, but you certainly would have made a capital detective. What were the pieces of evidence, may I ,ask? Well, I found two persons, a man and a wo-, tan, who met Miss Braithwaite on her way to Sea View Gardens on the night of the murder, and two people who saw her when she was on her way back." "That corroborates the evidence of the torn lace, certainly," said I, with a gravity I could not help feeling—" Who were they? What do they •say ?" The first is a policeman, C 23, who was on duty at the corner of Falkland Square. He ktMMM the lady by sight very well, and he says he, s&W her pass his corner just before the quarter past ten chimed from St. George's." I noticed that this corresponded exactly with what Miss Menteith had told me. "And the other ?" I asked. The other was a dressmaker, who had been taking a dress home to a customer. She also knew Miss Braithwaite by sight; and she says that she met her just after the quarter was chimed." ''Where ? dIn Madison Street." "But Falkland Square is nearer Sea View hardens by a hundred yards than Madison Street! So one of your witnesses must be wrong. Either IIheturned and went back, which is not likely, or the policeman saw her after the quarter struck, or the dressmaker saw her before she heard the chime Upon my word, you are right!" exclaimed the Major, rubbing his nose with a comical air of embarrassment. "It shows how careful a witness ought to be. Yet I am perfectly certain that each of them said just what I told you at first. I took a note of their words." He consulted a small notebook, and continued—"Exactly as I told you. The policeman said he saw the lady before the chime sounded, and the woman said she noticed her afterj she heard the chime yet one of them must have been mistaken." I thought that I should like to have examined them myself, but I feared to call attention to the incident by doing so, "And the other two wit- Xei$es-those who saw her on her way back to Wingrove House—-what do they, say ?" V 11 Well,, one of them was the policeman. She padhim again at the corner of Falkland Square. He can't speak positively to the hour, but it was loot Jong after half-past ten. The other was Oliver 1 r Simpson. I daresay you know him. He is an acquaintance of Miss Braithwaite, and he says he Was surprised at seeing her out by herself at that ur 1119 time of night. He knew her by her dress, he Said, for she was on the-other side of the street." What street ? I asked, absently, for my mind Was filled with the reflection that the police coald 3lot be long in ignorance of these facts. Craven Street," was the reply. al,craven Street I echoed; why that is not fteat Falkland Square. What I mean is, that supposing Miss Braithwaite went to Sea View Gardens on the night in question, she might have returned to Wingrove House by Falkland Square, or she might have gone by the shorter way, through the bit of open ground and Craven Street; she could not have passed through Craven Street and by Falkland Square as well, unless she took a Very queer roundabout." Perhaps that is what she did. At all events, that is what the witnesses told me." And I say that they, or some of them, have Made a mistake. In fact, you can see for yourself that everyone of them lies open to doubt in that "Spect., The first pair contradict each other flatly the question of time, and now these two give a ttOst unlikely account of her return. Very odd, that." As the Major stood knitting his brows I saw Miss Menteith on the other side of the way, and bidding the Major a hasty good day, I crossed over to speak to her. Nothing fresh has occurred'? I asked, when we had shaken hands. Nothing, except that Ida puzzles me more and *&ore. She is dreadfully upset on account of Mr. protheroe. That I can quite understand. Indeed, it would be very strange if it were not so. But What I do not understand is her so suddenly mak- 3jng a friend of Mr. Dangerfield. He called again last night, and they were quite a long time together. I was in the room part of the time, but *"ey spoke in a tone so low that it was plain that tj*ey did not wish me to hear what passed between theiarij and of eourse I made no effort, to listen. Do know anything of this Mr. Dangerfield ? Hardly anything—or I might rather say, noth- Ing whatever." "I don't quite like the man's looks he seems ^ave a sly look." j.y dear Miss Menteith, I don't think these prejudices go for much," I said, with a smile. Perhaps not. And yet my instinct has seldom Illif3led me in these cases." Would it not be well for you to ask Miss raithwaite what his business is with her, or at least make some allasion which would invite a confidence from her ?" "That is just what annoys me. I have done so, and she would not say a word. I daresay he admires her, and she is accustomed to have plenty of men calling in the afternoon. But this was after dinner." j "Has Lord Ormidale called ?" Only once, and then Ida was out. I believe he has gone back to London." I was glad to hear this, for in the press of more important matters I had quite forgotten that his lordship would expect to hear from me on the question of the purloined letter. But all I had to tell him was that my mission had failed, and that Lord Ormidale must take such steps as he thought j necessary without further reference to me. I was glad to think that he had left Eistcliff. You have not had the two maids dismissed— the two who might possibly miss the revolver?" I asked in a low tone. "No; the housemaid, you may remember, is an I' old servant of the house, and very fond of Ida. She may be trusted to hold her tongue. As to the other girl, Julie, I suggested to Ida that she did not really want her, and that it would be better to part with her. Rather to my surprise, Ida agreed with me, and gave the girl notice to go." It would have been safer to give her a month's wages and get rid of her," said I. "The girl may be a witness that might be better out of the way." "It's of no use. Ida told me that when she spoke of her going the girl cried, and asked what she had done, and Ida good-naturedly said that she might stay." "Do you think Miss Braithwaite suspected your reason ? I can't tell. But this morning-I suppose I must tell you-Ida virtually denied having taken the revolver when she went to Sea View Gardens. The subject of burglars came up at breakfast, and she said-" 'There is a revolver in the house, I know, but I haven't touched it for months. I looked at my companion. The drawn look about her mouth was pitiful to see. You think she said that on purpose ? said I. The answer came in a voice so low that I could barely catch what was said. "I thought she wished to dwip it beforehand," said Miss Men- teith. CHAPTER X. THE MAGISTRATE'S DECISION. ON the following morning I was in the police-court by ten o'clock. It was the day when it was ex- pected that Charley Protheroe would be either set at liberty, or, more likely, committed for trial. Long before ten the little building had been crowded to its utmost capacity. Not merely tlrs court itself, but the passages and waiting-rooms were crammed with people. Even some of the county people had breakfasted early, and driven in to see how it would fare-with the man who, as everybody had believed, EBfl taken a man's life to save the girl he loved from shame. For somehow the truth, or something very like it, had leaked out. The story of the purloined letter had been told by the hotel porter. It did not take a very keen intelligence to leap to the conclusion that to keep Lord Ormidale and Vinet apart had been one object that Protheroe had had in view. The engagement, or quasi-engagement, between Vinet and Ida Braithwaite had been well known, and it was also known that Lord Ormidale had been paying marked attentions to Ida. There had been a good deal of talk and gossip on the subject among the young people at Eastcliff. It was also known that Vinet had darkly hinted to some of his associates that Ida Braithwaite dared not throw him over,, that he was not afraid of Lord Ormidale, and that if Lord Ormidale knew every- thing, he would have nothing to do with Ida Braithwaite. All this, and a good deal more to the same effect, was poured into my ears by Major Bond, as he sat beside.me at the solicitors' table in the well of the court. I was for once in my life obliged to the little man, for it was necessary that I should know how much wa-s public property, and what was the drift of the r urrent of public opinion. On the whole, as far as 1 could make out, it was not unfavourable to Charley; and I looked upon this as a good sign. The magistrates took their seats, and after some petty offenders had been dealt with the case of Charles Protheroe was called. As the prisoner took his place in the dock, look- ing wonderfully calm and self-possessed, a note was put into my hand. It was from Ida Braith- waite. "It seems that all the world knows"—so ran the note-" that Pierre Vinet had had letters from me which he would not return, and that Mr. Protheroe most kindly promised that he would try and get them back for me. This was the reason of his callipg at Sea View Gardens, and staying so long. The case was urgent, and Mr. Protheroe was determined to get my letters that night if possible. If it will do Mr. Protheroe any good, or if there is the slightest possibility of its doing him good, I will say this in open court. It explains his presence in the house; but as I thought it possible that for me to come forward as a witness might do more harm than good, I thought it better to write to you in the first place. I am in one of the waiting-rooms, and I will come into court the moment I am wanted.-I. B." It was clear to me that Miss Braithwaite's evidence would do Charley more harm than good, as it would supply a possible motive for the crime, and I determined not to call her but the court was too crowded to allow of my sending her a message. Besides, there was no time. The pro- ceedings had begun. There was little additional evidence te be pro- duced, the only fresh witnesses of importance being those who had inspected the house, and were brought to say that on the night of the murder it had been ransacked from top to bottom, Several locks had been burst open, the contents of open drawers had been tumbled about, and not only Vinet's writing desk, but the very books on his bookshelves, had been overhauled. But there was no one to identify the revolver- no one who could say that he had ever seen the prisoner with such a weapon, or had ever seen one in his rooms, or known him to carry or use one. This was my strong point; and I adopted the theory that the surgeons who had said that the wound could not have been self-inflicted were wrong, and that after all the deceased had com- mitted suicide. I I saw that one or two of the magistrates favoured this idea, and I pressed it home as strongly as I dared. I knew that I was only acting in accordance with Charley s wish in refusing to screen him at the expense of inculpating Miss Braithwaite. But I made up my mind that if he were committed to take his trial, I would not leave him to imagine that he would be suffered to carry his quixotic defence of Miss Braithwaite so far as to endanger his own life. At the trial the whole truth must come out, even if I had to turn informer my- self. It was half-past twelve when the bench of magis- trates retired to their room to deliberate as to how they would deal with the case, and I believe that there was not a man in the court but wished that they would dismiss it, while there was hardly a man who did not expect that the prisoner would be committed for trial. At a quarter to one the magistrates returned, and I waited for the decision almost as anxiously, I am sure, as Charley himself. The chairman was a pompous but hard-headed old gentleman, who had been called to the bar in his youth, and used this circumstance to ride, roughshod over his brother magistrates in the most unmerciful way. He sat down, glanced around to make sure that all the magistrates were seated, and that all concerned were in their places and duly attentive, and began— Charles Protheroe, you have been brought before us charged with having caused the death of one Pierre Vinet, under circumstances with which we are all familiar. The evidence shows that you were alone at Number Thirteen, Sea View Gardens, for a considerable time that night, -that you broke open several locks-at least there is the evidence of Mrs. Collins to show that this was probably "done by you. What your object was in so doing, we can only conjecture; but there is this point in your favour that there is nothing to show that you knew that the deceased was on the premises while you were waiting in the house, and the revolver has not been traced to you. If the dead man had been found in the house itself, or if there had been marks showing that the body had been carried out from the house. th^- "Sie womld have assumed a very different aspect. As it stands, the magistrates are of opinion that there is not sufficient evidence to connect you with the unhappy death of Mr. Vinet (who, after all, may have committed suicide), and we, therefore, order your discharge." [ These words came as a surprise as well as a relief to everyone in court. Mr. Superintendent Smith, who had confidently expected a committal, stared at the chairman as if he had taken leave of his senses, so that I almost laughed outright. My first care, after grasping Charley warmly by the hand, was to go to the waiting-room, to tell the good news to Miss Braithwaite, and to Miss Menteith, who, I had no doubt, was with her. But it was some time before I could make my way out of the court, and when I reached the waiting-room, Miss Braithwaite was not there. As I and Charley walked from the court-house arm-in-arm, I saw, a little way ahead of us, two men walking side by side, and apparently in con- sultation. One had the burly figure of Mr. Superintendent Smith, the other the insignificant appearance and perky stride of my dear friend Major Bond. The conjunction struck me ae ominous. Come and have something to eat," said Charley, and, above all, let us have something to drink He was in the highest spirits-and no wonder. We went into a restaurant, and nothing would satisfy Charley but ordering up a magnum of champagne for the purpose of drinking my health. We were finishing our meal when the Majoi entered and took a seat near the door. I went up to him, and sat down at his table, foi I felt uneasy. We began chatting of the result of the magistrates' enquiry, and of various indifferent things, I becoming each moment more anxious, as it struck me that the Major had something or his mind, and he was not nearly so open with me a! he usually was. At last, able to bear the sus- pense no loDger, I put the question to hiu straight:— Have you any intention of telling the police about the little things you have found out —the indications that Miss Braithwaite had been-" The Major looked down, glanced up at me, and nodded mysteriously. I have just mentioned the matter to Superin- tendent Smith," he said, looking me straight in the face, as if to brazen it out. "You have!" I suppose the Major saw something of my feelings reflected in my face, for he said, with a certain pomposity of manner- I hold it to be the part of every good subject of the Queen to aid the authorities when they require assistance. If people are to range them- selves on the side of criminals, we may bid farewell to everything like a stable government and a pure administration of justice." Very true, as a general rule, but I should have thought that there were occasions-It is no matter, we can discuss it at some other time." One moment," said the Major, laying a detain- ing hand on my arm. I thought he might have something to say for my private ear, and I bent down to listen. You will be glad to know," said he, in a hoarse whisper, that the unpleasant consequences you foretold Mould follow for myself, in case of my giving information to the police, are not, in Super- iiil-eiKii'in. Smith'*opinion, likely to happen. The •Superintendent thought you were quite mistaken. He tbo.iyia tb;it if it did become known that I had played n lailiji' hnpoxtant part in this affair, it would r.. !:er redo'I to my credit than otherwise. But I ii ;.i!e him promise to keep my name out of it for the present. Mind you do the same." The man's egotism sickened me. I tore my sleeve out, of his grasp, and without so much as looking at him, went over to the corner where Charley was sitting. Come out at once," I said, shortly. He saw by my face that there was something wrong, and followed me at once out of the restaurant. Now, then, what is it?" said he. Charley, dear old fellow, you must brace your- self up, for I am going to deal you a dreadful blow. Innocent or guilty, Miss Braithwaite is in the greatest danger. I have known for some time that beyond a shadow of a doubt she was at Number Thirteen, Sea View Gardens, between ten and eleven o'clock -on the night of the murder. She was seen setting out, seen going and returning, and she left a trace on the ground itself-a scrap of lace, which has been fitted into the lace of her dress." Charley stood still on the pavement, folded his arms, set his teeth, and looked me straight in the eyes. "Besides, the revolver I stopped short, remembering that as far as I knew the police were as yet in ignorance of the most damning fact of all, and that there was no need to repeat it to Charley. "Ay, what of that?" he asked, in a voice that frightened me. Oh, there's no time to go into all the details," I cried, impatiently. The point is that I have just heard that the police are now in possession of these facts. There cannot be the smallest doubt that Smith will think it is his duty-and unquestionably it is his duty-to swear affidavits and apply for a warrant at once. Miss Braithwaite may be arrested at any moment. The question is, what are we to do ? Do Why, we must prevent their arresting her, that's all," he said, and he took to his heels then and there, running as hard as he could pelt in the direction of Wingrove House. Luckily, I was as good a runner as Charley for a short distance, perhaps a trifle better. You wouldn't be so mad as to attempt a rescue single-handed, or, indeed, under any circum- stances," I whispered, as I panted along beside him. 11 No-only going to warn her." The distance was not great, but I was not in training, and I was heartily glad when we entered Mr. Braithwaite's gate. A four-wheeled cab had crossed our path once or twice-that was the only disquieting circumstance I had seen. We walked to the door as fast as we could, and rang the bell. "Is Miss Braithwaite at home?" I asked the girl who opened it. If you will step inside, sir, I'll enquire," said the girl. As I crossed the threshold, I heard a step on the gravel behind me. I wheeled round and found myself face to face with Superintendent Smith and one of his constables. "I think we had better step inside, too," said he. with a grim half smile. I saw Charley clench his fist, and in another moment the Superintendent, big as he was, would have been stretched on the doorstep but before he could strike the blow, before I could lift hand or foot to interfere, his hand dropped at his side. We had heard inside the sound of a heavy fall and a woman's shriek rang through the house. (To be continued.)

I LONDON TUBE FATALITY. I An accident of a very alarming nature oc- eurred about 8.15 in the evening at the Hol- born Station of the Piccadilly Tube. The lift shafts at this station are about lSOft. deep, the actual fall of the lift being about 140ft. At the top of the shaft is the engine-room. A lift had just descended, and the man in charge was about to open the gates when the body of a man came hurtling through the roof, colliding with one of the passengers and knocking him to the floor, while others sustained kicks and blows. The man turned out to be one of the com- pany s employes, and it was said that he had fallen from the engine-room down the shaft the roof of the Otis lift collapsing under his weight. The man, a station foreman, named Tomunson, received injuries which caused al- most instant death, and two passengers, a young man and woman, were slightly cut about the head, and were removed to King's College Hos- pital, but not detained. ° o

THINGS THOUGHTFUL. Few in these days would hesitate in sayin^* what success is. The passion for wealth "tujd the intense desire to get on in the world have so eaten into our natures that there is a common tendency to estimate even life itself by the money gauge. When a man is in busi- ness there are agents who can tell the busi- ness world "how much he is good for," and when he dies one of the most general ques- tions is, "What was he worii?" Tne ten- dency is to appraise him according to his possessions, and not according to his per- sonal qualities. If he dies poor, we sa- he has made a failure of life if he has nw,- a large fortune, we speak of his brilliant suc- cess. That mode of speaking presuppose?, that the aim of the man was to make inon- y. If it was that, then we are justified in measur- n- ing his success by the amount he made. But the man himself might at the close cf his life call it a failure, even if he had made mil- lions. The succcssful man is he whose aims in life are worthy of a man, and who a them. To develop a fine character, gentle, lovable, useful, devout—that is a worthy aim. It is opet-, to the poorest, and most humble, and he who attains it makes a success the us h he die poor. He has gained what he strove for, and that is essentially a success. To do some good and helpful work in the world is another fine aim. The transformed slums of some great city witness to the suc- cess of the labours of some devoted settlement s 82t worker. There are many men whose names shine ii.' history, and whose memories are im- perishable, who died poor. We make a mis- take when we place so great an emphasis as we do on wealth. A man's life does not con- sist "in the abundance of his possessions." They are outside the man, and when he goes out of this life stripped of them all. his -suc- eess is estimated by what he is, and by what he has done. Time is like a river, ir.' which metals and solid substances are sunk, while chaff and straw swim upon the surface. Suppose any man shall despise me, said Marcus Aurelius. Let him look to that him- lelf. But I will look to this, that I be not discovered doing or saying anything deserv- ing of contempt. Shall any man hate meT Let him look to it. But I will be mild and beLievolent towards every man and even to him, ready to show him his mistake, not re- proachfully, nor yet as making a display of my endurance, but nobly and honestly. What we have most to desire is to maka our countrymen think. IMPROVE THE TIME. Be wise to-day; to-morrow's sun In brilliant splendour may arise, And find thee with thy work undone, With lifeless, cold, unseeing eyes; Neglect no duty in the way, Be wise to-day! Be wise to-day! Be true to-day; the crooked mind A labyrinth of mischief makes; When lost therein, 'tis hard to find The path of rectitude, when wakes The outraged sleeper, Conscience. Nay Be wise to-day! Be wise to-day! Be kind to-day; the flying years Shall bear dear ones to homes above;. Too late may be to-morrcw'is tears, To-morrow's tardy words of love; The moments pass so swift away, Be kind to-day 1 Be kind to-day! — The victory is most sure For him who, seeking faith by virtue, strives To yield entire submission to the law of con- science. It is often said with considerable emphasis that it is more important to "be" good than to do anything or to say anything in par- ticular. But in order to get the force of this, it is well to know what is meant by "being" good, and whether there is the possibility of befng good without doing and saying what is good, and leaving unsaid and undone what is wrong. And it is also well to consider whether one is going to be satisfied with being good and living a colourless, passive, nega- tive life, contented in the thought that all that is necessary is to "be" good and excusing one's self from active and positive influence under the claim that the most good, after all, is done by simply being good. Let be thy wail, and help thy fellow men, And make thy gold thy vassal, not thy king; And fling free alms into the beggar's bowl, And send the day into the darken'd heart, And more-think well. Do well will follow thought. Father Graham, as everybody ir the neigh- bourhood called him, was one of the old- fashioned gentlemen. He was beloved by everyone, and his influence in the district was great, so good and so active was he. A young man who had been badly insulted came to him one day full of angry indigna- tion, declaring that he was going at once to demand an apology. "My dear bov," Father Graham said, "take a word of advice for an old man who loves peace. An insult is like mud; it will brush off much better when it is dry. Wait a little till he and you are both cool, and the thing is easily mended. If you go now, it will be only to quarrel." It is pleasant to be able to add that the youn^ man took his advice, and before the next dav was done the insulting person came to beg forgiveness. One couplet of Pope's has been quoted by Mr. Ruskin as giving the most complete, the most concise, and the most lofty expression of moral temper existing in English words- "Ne'er elated while one man's oppressed, Never dejected whilst another's blessed." From the Alaskan mines comes a story which is worth repeating. A young Swede, whose opportunities had been so limited that he was nothing but a stable boy before he went to the mines, was fortunate enough to secure a good claim, and to dig a consider- able amount of gold out of it. His partner, also a Swede, asked him one day, "What are you gotng to do with your money?" "I mean to do more for the world," was the quiet answer, "than the world ever did for me He meant it, too. This ex-hostler has since given something like fifty thousand dollars to endow a college and a hospital in the far West. z;1 In tie quest for happiness we cannot do- better than put in practice the precepts of the great- Persian-first, the good thought; second, the good word; third, the good deed -and then I entered into Paradise. How often, when the quiet night wooes us forth to commume with Nature in her chas- tened robes, is our spirit thronged almost to oppression by thoughts new and inexpres- sible. When the bright moon, just risen above the hilltop or on the peaceful waters, tinges the cloudy curtains that hang about the couch of the departed day, draws out the long, mysterious shadows, and locks in her white arms the slumbering earth; then, as we look above, can we sav with him who knew so well how to express'his lofty thought: Ye stars, which are the poetry of heaven A beauty and a mystery, ye create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named. themselves a star."

GARDEN GOSSIP. Planting Dahlias.—It is time to plant old tubers, concerning which there is not a little confusion as to the best way to proceed. The tubers do not need to be started nor trans- ferred to pots to be grown on. All that is essential is to split up the stock so as to pre- serve one or more tubers, each with one or two buds showing. Set these in selected posi- tions, keeping the buds not more than four inches under the surface. In due time the shoots will appear above ground, just as potatoes do, and if the soil is rich they will rush away at a great rate. Tuberous Bego- nias may be treated in the same way as re- gards planting. The Double White Meadow Sweet. — Good alike for the plant borders and for waterside, the double form of the common British meadow sweet is just the plant with which the amateur can make a start in flower gar- dening. It grows anywhere, thrives where- ever it is planted, provided it can get plenty of plant food, and its floral display is as lavish as it is beautiful. The plant's habit is a model of luxuriant growth, delicately lobed leafage clothing stems one yard high, and these clustered so densely as to support effec- tively a foamy mass of double white flowers that rival the Arabis in purity of colouring. Early Chrysanthemums. — Well rooted plants from cuttings may be planted where they are to bloom, or set out in lines in a re- serve space of ground, whence, at any time, they can be transferred to fill spaces which have become vacant. Some nicely decom- posed manure is helpful if dug in just under the surface, and the ground round the plants should be made quite firm, this inducing a dwarf, floriferous growth and the production of roots close to each plant. Chrysanthe- mums in pots are now safe out of doors if stood in a sheltered position, and not exposed to the morning sun. Pinch the points out of those intended for bush plants and for sup- plying flowers for cutting. Selaginellas.—It is a good plan to raise fresh plants of these at this season. Fresh young ends of shoots, if dippled into sandy soil, quickly form new roots, and soon grow into healthy, fresh looking plants. For a few days after insertion in the new soil a dewing over with the syringe should be given several times a day. S. caesia or uncinta is a favourite for placing in pots for standing along the edges of stages; the trailing growths of a bluish tinge are much in re- quest for mingling with cut flowers. Smilax.—Seeds sown now will give plants which will provide some useful sprays of material before the winter. Plants from an earlier sowing ought now to be ready for pot- ting singly in small pots. The plants need gentle warmth and a moist atmosphere; grown in a dry, cool house, the growths are too dense and sturdy to be really useful for decorative purposes. Supports should be sup plied for the growths. Lawns.-It is unwise to allow the grass of lawns to grow much before cutting. If cut at short intervals at this season the lawn be- comes much finer, is easier kept in order throughout the season, and on the whole re- quires less labour. < Evergreen Shrubs.—Although the gener- ality of the shrub planting is done during the autumn and winter, it is wiser to wait until the roots have started into fresh growth with evergreen kinds. Now that root growth will be again active, the earliest op- portunity should be taken to move any that require such attention, retaining a good ball of soil about the roots, and watering them thoroughly into their new quarters. Should hot, dry weather supervene it will be good practice .not only to provide abundance of moisture at the roots, but also to syringe the tops of the plants at frequent intervals. :Ii: Planting Violets.—The sooner this is car- ried out the better, as it is very desirable that the plants shall have secured a strong hold of the new soil before hot, dry weather sets in. The ground for their reception should be deeply and thoroughly worked, and if at all poor some manure must be incor- porated as the digging proceeds. The popu- lar and vigorous Princess of Wales should be allowed 15 inches in all directions, and the smaller growing varieties 12 inches. Choose healthy young growths for planting, and make the soil very firm about them. It will be absolutely necessary to provide water dur- ing intensely hot weather. Trimming Ivy.—This is an operation that could have been carried out some little time ago if it had been necessary, says "The Gar- dener," but, as early cutting means a longer period of bareness, nothing would have been gained. However, it is now time that the work was brought to a conclusion. 1. Opera- tors need not fear to put severely, as new growths will soon push forth, and the naked- ness of the wall will soon be again covered with shoots brighter in colour and far more attractive in appearance. Peas for Succession.—Main crop Peas should now be got in, not making larger sow- ings than are deemed necessary at one time. The soil will have to be in the finest possible condition if the plants are to do their best in the matter of cropping, and the seeds should be distributed thinly in flat bottomed drills. As soon as the plants are through the ground and the thinning has been done, twiggy sticks should be- placed to support them until such time as they require the permanent stakijs. Fruit Thinning.—Peaches and apricots on walls will be ready to thin, being not too severe on the young crop, and partially dis- budding growths at the same time. All of the last named that are badly placed should be removed, and if leaf curl is present on peaches the affected foliage should be en- tirely removed and burned. It is advisable to leave a good number of apricots on the under side of the shoots, these affording pro- tection from late frosts, which not infre- quently cause much loss, Strawberries.—Finish off all arrears of planting; those planted earlier will benefit by having the hoe frequently run between them. Established plants may now have a liberal mulching of litter from the stables laid down amongst them. If this material is used at onee, by the time the fruit is ripe the litter will be clean, and prevent the berries from becoming gritty. # # • Onions.—Onions started in heat are now quite ready to transplant. The soil in the boxes, if a little dry, allows the plants to separate with better roots, and the plants also take to the soil better. It is always ad- vantageous to draw the roots through a muddy composition, which does away with the need for watering after planting. For ordinary use the rows should be 15 inches apart and the plants four inches. Hoe the ground when planting is completed. Celery.—Where it is necessary to have an early supply, trenches ought now to be opened and manured. The plants for placing in them must be prepared by hardening in their boxes beforehand. It will now be need- ful to prick out the main batch of plants upon a prepared bed of compost. As ground can be spared, other trenches should be thrown out, so that they may be in readiness when the plants are ready. Lettuces and Radishes.—The former may be planted along the ridges thrown out from the celery trenches, and radishes may be sown thinly in the same position. Owing to the depth of soil and consequent moisture, very fine lettuces are "suallv grown in this manner.

HOME HINTS. j I Use lemon juice and salt to remove iron fust, ink, and mildew from white goods. 'n A little charcoal, mixed with olear water and throw into a sink, will disinfect and de- odorise it. Always scald rhubarb before cookii g, for it requires so much less sugar, and yet loses none of its flavour. If you wish a cake to be light put it into a good hot oven at first, and let the heat di- minish after the first twenty minutes. Soap and candles should be bought some time before they aro needed, as they waSLe less quickly after being kept. To restore artificial flowers hold them over the steam of boiling water for a few minutes and they will be renovated. To clean Venetian blinds, wash each lath separately with water to which a little am- monia is added. Sponge with clean water, and dry with a soft cloth. When using celery seed instead of celery, for which it is an excellent substitute, do not put in too much. If there is much, the do- coction, instead of tasting like celery, will taste like varnish. Soiled or discoloured photographs may be cleaned by sponging them with clear, cold water. The cardboard mounts may be cleaned by means of stale bread rubbed over them lightly. Here is a simple tonic for the hair. Put a teaspoonful of salt in half a pint of water, and rub a little on the scalp every dav with a small sponge. The effect at the end of a month is astonishing. Rice thoroughly washed, thrown into a large kettle of rapidly-boiling water and boiled continuously for twenty minutes, then drained and dried in the oven or over the fire, will be white, dry, and mealy, and look like a great plate of snow. A broom supporter made of spools is a simple and convenient device. Screw two large empty spools high up on the middle frame of a door, just far enough apart to allow the handle of the broom to slip in. The broom part rests on the spools. Boiled Lentils.—Boil a pint of lentils in water which should be slightly salted. When quite tender, drain and place them in a saucepan, adding a small piece of butter, some chopped parsley, and a suspicion of minced onion. Stir well together and serve. Bachelor's Pudding. — Take one egg, its weight in chopped suet, flour, minced apple, breadcrumbs, sugar, and currants. Stir in a little baking powder, mix well, adding a little milk. Grease a mould, fill three parts full with this, and boil fast for three hours. Flavour with ground ginger and nutmeg if required. Farmer's Salad. Prepare a quantity of lettuce by cutting into shreds, and if one has watercress or garden cress a fourth quantity added to the lettuce is a great improvement. Just before serving, mix with a dressing made by beating half a pint of sour cream until stiff and adding slowly two tablespoon- fuls of strong vinegar, two of melted butter, a, saltspoonful of salt, one tablespoonfu! of sugar, and a dash of cayenne pepper. This is essentially a farm salad. Fur often gets rubbed and crushed, and the best way to freshen it is to brush it with » clothes brush that has been dipped in cold (vater and then shaken as dry as possible. Brush the wrong way, then shake thoroughly, and dry in the open air, beating it occasionally with a stick. Some kinds of fur need to be combed when dry, but it must be carefully done, or the hair will be combed Dut in the process. French Stew.—Put two pounds of lean beef into a pan of hot water, bring to the boil, and skim carefully. Then let it simmer very gently for one and a half hours. Wash a small cabbage, scald it, and cut in four. Add it to the stew with a carrot scraped and cut up, and a small bunch of herbs. Simmer for half an hour. Then add an onion, two turnips, and four potatoes, and simmer very slowly for another hour. Serve the meat with the vegetables round it. Shoulder of Mutton. Bone a small shoulder of mutton, and place onion stuffing in the cavity. Roll up the meat and make it into a firm roll. Slice turnips, carrots, and celery, and place in a baking tin with one pint of stock. Stand the meat on the vege- tables, cook gently till thoroughly done, basting frequently. Dredge the meat well with flour, so that it will be frothed, and serve with the strained gravy round. Savoury Roly-Poly. Prepare a suet crust with fib. of flour and ilb. of suet or use less 4 4 quantites if for a small dish. Roll It out thinly, and cover first with a layer of chopped raw potatoes, then some finger- lengths of fresh uncooked beef, a little hopped parsley or onion, and a good season- ing of pepper or salt. Wet the; edges, roll up, tie in a floured cloth, and boil two hours. Cooked meat may be used instead of fresh meat, in which case do not boil the pudding so long. Mix one pound of powdered borax and half a pound of granulated sugar, and when they are thoroughly blended roll the whole with a rolling-pin. If this mixture is put in the rrevices round the parts frequented by black- beetles they will quickly disappear. It is not dangerous and can be freely used, and is also one of the cheapest and best remedies that can be found. Calves' Brains on Toast.—Wash and boil a pair of calves' brains. When cooled, throw them into cold water to blanch them. Drain and chop fine. Add to them a tablespoon- ful of minced ham or tongue and four table- spoonfuls of cream, or as much milk, to which has been added a tablespoonful of melted butter. Pepper and salt to taste. Make the mixture very hot. Heat it on squares of hot buttered toast, and sprinkle over the top fine bread-crumbs fried to a crisp golden brown in a little butter. Considerable difficulty is often experienced in the case of new shoes and boots in getting them to acquire a good polish at the outset. An excellent plan, and one, moreover, which is successfully followed by many professional bootmakers, is that of rubbing the surface of the leather with a cut lemon. This should be left to dry on, when the blacking should be applied in the usual manner and the boot or shoe polished with a very stiff brush. For a rough skin nothing is better than the following complexion food. Half a pound of olive soap chipped and dissolved in one gal- lon of boiling water. Let it cool, then add a quart of the best alcohol and one ounce of rosemary. Rub into the skin every three days. When ironing, the best thing with which to rub the irons is a fairly large pad of folded brown paper. This will also serve to test their heat. Besides this a cloth should b > kept at hand on which to wipe off any flakes of soot or dirt. A small piece of wax k excellent for producing a gloss when rubbed on the iron, and paraffin has the Same effect also.