Exeter Advocate, 1901-6-6, Page 6A WICKED GIRL.
thongli M'iee gla Hope drove hp
, from the : Pines in ObedellS ahxietY
about her sister's health; IldieS HOPP
b4d slipped quietly out and cretibl
not
tgclandfotIId,again Ella carne '..daiting
the following , days, bitt. always
.Derry areaabeelA it Were possible,
and iE not poeeible was reticeat and
abstineted, totally unlike the Deery
her s!eter knew.
YOU. 4•Ve cti,ffel.'00:b ,in every v.e.,,v,
Derry," she , one day eeMPlaieed!
."htle Meet of all different to me;"
and. ,Derry triede to auswer gently;
and. Me, to enew that she shruns un-
der her.' sister's :touch, hatieg herself
for doing so.
And, Derry," Ella said, another
clay; . "you never call me Sambo
no a,
"Why. Derry?"
1. have outgrown it/ said Derry,
Sa'A.(1.3).(.'-t.e here .iniver followed any of
. the old jests or .merry little ,cyni-
cisms or pretty laughter; .and yet the
, moinent .. her sister -. had left. her,
!Derr.; eapised herself for :.her . own
Miegjeings,, and for that .paseionless;
spiritless feeling which was so neW
1 . ' Something must be dope," ehe
1 crie!), in hoz- thoughts one morning
as she rose Wearily 'to ,hog,•in another
1 Clay. "Surely nothing is SO heed to
!beer as one's own cruel enspicien.
1 This cliareg•e in am is terrible." •
And et chanced : to ho ehat Very
interning that Ella sent Sarah Eales
i up to. Harrack'S with a meseage.
I, "Seralt," Said the eglie,
i plunging at once into -what sha
Iliad determined to say, "sit there
i end listen to .me. Listen -With .all
i your .meinory " alive, ' and tell. inc
I whether you have ever heard this be-
Srcl'cw13. and heavily at first, her
, .
1 fleece's refusing to beaker any notes at
, ,
. , , , i , even to the end un-
willing) Derry played the air she
, had played to tr'rimeope Basset,
I "Have yoy ever heard it, Sarah?
I You used to be a pretty singer aed.
!pick up every tune you. heard. Po
you i
• i that?"
"Why, Miss Derry?"
(almost calmly as her hanlls
, rested in her lap, "because 1 arn
curious to know where I have heard
it. You have, Sarah?"
"Yes, often."
"Where?"
"At home, of course, Mess Derry..
i I go movhere else now, except here "
1 "Ther. Mrs. Martin plays ft, or one
of the servants has sung it. That's
i it. isn't it, Sarah?"
L "No, Miss Ella plays it. No one
else, Miss Derry"—rather timidly,
after a long silence—"aeen't you
"Yee...". said Derry, rising' slowly.
"I forgot you; Sarah. :: I am very
sorry. Oo now.
"And have you no 'message?" .
l'roni that morning there 'came an-
other change in Derry's manner to
. '
LY 3X3tRY CECIL EL(CONTINTIED,)
"Oh thank you Derry,'' cried
_Primrose, impulsively, in the joy of
hearing' music once , egain: And she
rose and stood. at the glass -door,
looking out into the gathering dark.-
,.ness.
Half an hour afterward, just as
gongDerry was gong to leave the piano,
a sudden thought occurred to her.
"Primrose," she began, without look-
• g reeund, "call you tell me what
this melody is? , I have had it in my
head for days, and yet I don't know
what if is. Not that that is remark-
able, because I know so little abotat
music. I never Wa$ like you, or .even
Ella, I d.on,'t suppose I shall proper-
ly follow it, but I will try, Listen,
will you? and tell me if you know
it.
As Primrose did not speak
when the tune was over,
Derry played it through a second
time, turning to ask ,what it was,
started to find her companion it:end-
ing close behind, her face as pale as
death, her eyes feverishly bright,
while her trembling hands were lock-
ed together.
"Where—did you hear that?" she
a.siced, brea thlessly.
• "What is it? I do ,so want to fled
'out." returned Derry, speaking light-
ly to hide her great astonishment,
even her alarm. • "Pretty, is it not,
though so sorrow-ful? You are such,
a musician, Primrose, that I felt
sure you could tell me."
"Where did you hear it? Was it—
from Steven?"
no. I am, certain," said
Derry, angry with herself that her
cheeks should burn at the question.
"Why do you ask?"
s it from—Oliver?"
"Oh, no," (readily enough, 3 -et
with an unconscious haughtiness in
the prompt tones). "If it had been
from your brother Oliver, I should
have never remembered it, as it is
so long since I saw him."
"You are sure? Quite sure?"
"Sure. Quite sure," replied
Derry, with honest warmth. "As
sure as .ever a person could— Oh,
Primrose, what is the matter?"
"Nothing," said Primrose, leaning
heavily against the instrument., "on-
ly I could have believed at that
moment that it is possible to die of
sudden joy. Derry, you mean it?
That Oliver never—"
"My dear," interrupted Derry, in.
deep earnestness, "I know your
brother very little, and I have never
heard him play or sing a note. Nev-
er."
"Oh. Father. in Heaven! forgive
me that I ever thought it possible."
"Primrose, why do you want to
know where I heard this air? It is
beautiful, 'but does it not make you
think, just at first, of a bar or two
in one of Seeebert's symphonies?
Oh. my dear!" for Primrose Basset,
with her head upon the piano, was
r if hcr heart would bro'ck
BLit Derry seemed. to know that
though these were the first tears reie
had shed since her brother's mur-
der, they were not tears of distress,
and so she let them have their way,
leading Primrose to a couch and
putting an. arm round her in silence.
"Derry, I have frightened you,"
said Primrose, lifting- her wan face,
when the tears were exhausted, "but
you will tell me how—where you
heard that air?"
"1 must think. Why do you Want.
to know?"
"Of course 7 ought to explain,".
said Primrose, in. piteous apology.
lier fingers were locked in her lap.
her mournful eyes fixed on Derry's
symnathizing face. "I began ohe
• tight ---that one night of my
to piny from meuaory that haunting
, phrase of Schubert's Unfinished Sym-
phony which you recognized. But it
did not come. My own ,thought
s+
came instead, and led me till there
came that air. I suppose I compos-
ed it, you would say. I played and
played it, getting it less imperfect
eaca time, until. I had absorbed it.
,I had never. played it helore that
night. I have never played it since,
you know. I have never taken out
my violin since, so you understand,
Derry? When I began to play that,
thinking- it out so that it had no
being before, - I had just left my
brother in his room writing; • and
when I had finished playing it for
the last time, I went back and.. he
was --dead. Oh', surely you under-
stand me, Derry? Whoever heard
that, must have been there—that
night,at thdt exaet tit -no, while
Miles was—murdered."
"I --T understand. And you know
now that—I—have heard it." Te
h
-voice was utterly unlike Derry's,, and.
'startled even the girl herself.
"But where did you hear it?" per-
sisted Primrose, uncomprehending
even the possibility of the suspicion
to Whiell Derry pointed. "You Will
tell 1110. Think what, ie means to
me."
"PTow can I. remeraberl"
"Oh, you can if you try, and you
.trv, I know."
"You must give me time," said
Derry, unaware that she spoke in a
whisper. "I often forget things."
will wait. It was not Oliver?
Tell in6 again."
"It was not Oliver,"
`'Thank GocT!'' with a sigh of deep-
est gratitude. "Derry, You• will un-
derstand preeently. I will tell you
more,. when 'you have remembered.
You Will try to let it be soon?"
"I will try to think," said .Derry,
and fancied she spoke quite hope-
fully, in her sympathy with Prim-
rose. But when she was left alone,
she knew there was riO need -,
of, try
ing. Thought held her ----bewildered,
Yniserable thought'nntil Mrs, Frayd
came crpeping dowa, .in abnormal
WakethInc.ss and a blanket, a long
, two hotirs alter m idnight , to en -
Area Miss Hope', to go (.0 bed. Du
even Mrs. Frayd's dull eyes :=A\17
next morning that the girl could
have had no sleep, and graditally
v tot,i a. deethan per change an this,
esrecialty when she found that •
_ .
,
on y she no
'longer shun her, but she sought her
everywhere; met her where she could;
.elurg to her, seerne"cl to watch her
troubled mother watches a sick
child; steadfastly 'protecting, pasehm-
ately tender, always pitiful and Lip -
holding
And this utter change which Derry
shrunk from analyzing had a strange
effect on her sister. Ella grew ner-
vous and irritable, chafing under her
sister's sad yet tender gaze, until at
last Mrs. Martin, seeing tears so
often in her pet's pretty eyes, de-
clared she must take her to town,
for that her sister's worrying pres-
ence, folloaing- on her great sorrow,
was killing her. Ella, had tears
again in her eyes when she had re -
Ported her aunt's decision to Derry,
but Derry read an indescribable re-
lief beneath the plaintive regret.
"No." she said, standing back
when Ella proffered a farewell kiss,
"you are not going away for days
yet. I will not say good-bye till
—the last minute."
"I think, Derry," said her sister,
kindly, "you, too, look rather ill."
(Look rather ill! with the fire burn-
ing in her brain, and brightening her
eyes so terribly1), "You should go
away too, dear. 011, bow I wish
you. were not quite so eccentric!"
CHAPTER II.
"She'e been out since early morn-
ing, Miss Basset. 1 warrant she s
wandering about the Dewring woods,
for nothing else fits her lately. I
wish she'd more company. I never
in my life saw any one altered like
her, never, though she does • try
dreadful to be cheery with me like
she used, and Amos says the same;
and there's that child Penkus
fore \ cr crying, just because
she sees the lady cry, and
I never did find the little imp ready
to cry for herself, however wrong-
doing."
In the first pause of Mrs. Frayd's,
Primrose Basset; inquired which way
Miss I -rope generally walked home
from the -woods, and after receiving
voluble' directions,_ started to meet
Derry. She came -upon her unexpect-
edly, just within' the little grove ' of
firs above liarrack's where she had
stood to talk with Steven on his
first day in 'Dewring, '
'I wish you had called for' me to
go With you," said PrinaroSe, lifter
her greeting, noticing how solitary
the girl looked. "I would have loved
a morning in the woods,
with you,
and would have brotiglit' you home
better' time than this:"
"1 believe that 1 clici hope to find
you on nay way," ,returned Derry. "I
get so sick of myself. ISTasia't it the
Duchess of Marlborough who was
sick of hereelf fOr very selfishness?
I'm like her. I, camelionie on pur-
pose past yotir moat. See, 1 gather-
ed this little yellow Nvallflewer there,
and stood for long to listen to the
rooks. They were not eo busily ar-
gumentritioe as when 'We listened
last, Primrose. I suppose they have
• got, all their arrangements about, eli-
gible siCes and building leases off
their minds, I coinated ten • t
''0h, yes, Mrs. Prayd alway!,
makes me take sandwiches.''
"Then it is a ceustoin of yours tc
go off ie this way? How glad 1 an
that Ella is returning."
Mies Basset had been looking into
her compunion'S face and so could no
help but see that her wordwere o
surprise to Iplia's sister, InStinctive-
ly elle glanced away TIOW," and. Spoke
Witt a demonst:ratiye unconcern,.
'My news of course is only' second
hand Yell Will be the first to hear
"Elia has 'bald nue nothing,"- said
Duey, heavily. •
''Nor me,- Primrose hastened to
add. "I have only my own news,
that Oliver will be here to -night. I
have to says to myself over and ovei
and over, that Oliver is coming, else
I should never realize if in tinie tri
he prepared to meet him.-
-But you said Ella was returniug.!
Has slut written to you?"
"011, no, Oliver told me.",
"ltow strange!"
"No," said Miss Basset, in a slow
way, "for Oliver is—has been ac-
cepted by your sister. They are en-
gaged."
Oh, 1 didn't mean to
stb.rtle you, Primrose, I might hew
Understood,'' said Derry, looking
straight before her with a terrible
blankness in her eyes, might have
guessed, 1 suppose."
"Even I never did," returned Prim-
rose, ill the same diffident way, "and
yet I knew they 'Were contirmally
meeting, for, Oliver has constanpy,
written to me' since, — Steven's
death, when he first thought of ,corn-
ing' home., • Dut if I had even guessed
he desired it. I should never, have
felt he would be able to prevail upon
11152 to—fbrget MileS. I am glad, for
Oliver's sake. You will be glad,
Derry?" wistfully interrogative.
how ill you' look! I
wish you would go „home. It is
plain to me that ,staying here 10 not
good for you. . You Miss your fel,ther
and your work, and everything b-
loregime to the life you love. I can
not bear to see you so. To me, no
wonder this winter has been ,so ter-
rible, but for you, it isn't right.
Tau cen surely now— ( ,
"Nov,'.'' said , Derry, with a Jong
indrawn. breath, "if it. killed me I
must stay. Primrose, you asked in
yesterdae if I would try and feel to
you as a sister. If so, I must take
your brother for. mine. I must"
(pausingly) "take Oliver for my
brother. Do you still wish what
you asked?"
"It would •be a delight to me,"
Miss, Basset declared, with shining
eyes. "And now, more even- than I
thought it would be when I asked,
you, Derry, for then I did not know
that, my brother, on- hie return,
would have some one dearer to hini
than, I can ever be again."'
"Nec that Ella—. Flow glad I
are " With a short unmirthful
'to see this tig,ly mill again! Do
coMe iti with rne, Primrose.
suppose I have tired . myselL more
than I thought. Yet -really- the
woods were .beautiful.'-' You ,slineld
have seen hew, fresh and young ,:the
brient wood -sorrel looks aanone- the
dry leaves of last year, 'and I found
sonde violets. I did indeed, oh,
don't go, you must come in and haye
tea, with me."
"l'es," Primrose answered in her
quiet 'nay. "I,,avant to ask you
how you like my brother Oliver.*
really believe that if you could have
helped it .you would never 'even have
told nor You had met him. Tell me;
Derry, did you like him?".
"Yon will sec," Derry • answered,
holding open. the glass -door; but her
companion saw, before paseing
through the ,flash of fire in her. eyes,
aed the deepening- of the delicate
color in her cheeks. . `Tut pleas,"
Derry cnntinued, easily, as she fol-
lowed, ,"-We will now drop every-
body except our own two selves,
and haye a dear little cozy cad
=Ad.'s tea. I like being an old
maid, Primrose. Do you think any
destiny in the world is so free from
worry as an old maid's?"
* * et. • *, * *
Next evening a little note reached
Derry, informing her Of her sister'
arrival ate the Pines; but .no answcr
was returned, and after waiting LWO
days in vain for a letter or a visit, El-
la, surprised,'but not anxioes, walked
up to ,learra,ek's. Derry was stand-
ing at the piano with her .ba,ele to
the door when Ella entered the
rooms, and the younger sister pauied
in silence, as if delightfully antici-
pating Derry's start of loving , aa-
tonishment on turning to discover
her. .But Derry did not turn, and so
Ella had to mane her presence felt
by going. up and kissing her.
"I :thought you would be glad to
see me,' 1 she .began, plaintively.
"1 thought so, I hoped so," falter-
ed DernY; but I am afraid of aty.•
self --of what I might say."
."S-d„y nothing, dear," advised Ella,
in hor gentle Way; “especially if it
would. be on that old sad topic."
And Derry obeyed her and said
nettling, though' anguished thoughts
were surging. to ,her lips, while Ella
told her tale, with the old pathetic
cadence in, her chill, sweet voice. She
spolZe of •the great loneliness of her
life since she had lost Miles; of
hew. while in ,London, his brother
Oliver had tried to take' his Place
and to cheer her, arid was so like her
own lover, that she had gradually
grown to.feel almost that it was he.
Of how Oliver was fond of her, and
at last had won her promise to be
his wife, Of how her annt Crystal
rejoiced, as she had always wished
her to ,reign at the tower, a.nd how
she was quite sure that Derry would
rejoice too, When. ',Elias ceaseclepeak-
ing there was an odd silence in the
little room, More than once Derry
tried to break it, but the words
would not come, and when Ella, not
unnaturally.resenting this curious be-
havior, r 0$0 to so, 'the Older sister
rose 'too, and putting her hands be-
hind her to lean agaiest the arm of
the couch from which shc had risen.
looked into her sister's face, win) 0,
look Ella, did net even try to under -
Stand --- so full was the gaze of
love,., of pity and of horror,
one elm. There they go Immel ILila, is it a, drea.m that you -
row would marry Miles' brotiaor? Oh,
punctual they al Nvays are,"
how you will fill my heart with
"Derry, have you had anything to
eat striae you started?,. • (r0 Lai: CONTINIIIM.)
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SALADS AND SANDWICHES.
Hindoe Salad.—Arrange four alien,
of tomato ou a boa of shredded lettuce
aome Shave celery Gal two of the
slices and ,on the other two aorno fine-
cut; water ereS,S. Garnish with
small piecee of tomato and serve with
Erench dreasing.
Tonlato and Cucumber Salad.—Ar-'
range alternate slicea of tomato and
cucumber until six, olic.es have been
piled one on top of another, arrange
on lettuce, leaves and garnish with
atrips of red and green (peppers. Re
MOVC aeede from pepper g anil parboil
one minute before using.
Monte Carlo Salad.—Remove pulp
from grape fruit, add an equal amount
of f. inely chopped celery and apple cut
in ,5Mall pieces. Mix with mayon-
naise, 'maslt with mayonnaise and gar-
nish with ooaked carrot cut in shapes
and taufflea.
Pepper and Grape Fruit. Salad. -11e -
move the top a from six green pep-
,
pera, take out the eeeds and refill with
g.rape fruit pulp, finely cut celery
and English walnut meats. TJse one-
half aa much celery ae grape fruit,
three halvea of walnut aneats and if
liked one half teaspoon of finely
chopped green pepper to fill 'each
pepper. Arrange en chicory or let-
tuce learea and serve with green
may,onnaiac.
the flower of faahlen in the city, and
almost every Country garden that has
oat fvlalawi:tra bfaold aeati a,basta
lyllpraints
gblioome.luumupt
how few dream of the fiosibi1iiy of
having these favaritea all winter, ex-
cept by perchaaing them at a fabu-
lona price from the floriSt. Thio lux-
ury ie, however, not beyond the reach
s of anyone who has a bit of ground
and oven a very nmdes1 income.
Thio is the way ono young lady
Manages to wear vloleta all winter,
and elle takecare of them herself.
In May She pots her young plants,
leaving thorn to grow in a partly
shaded place all summer. In Septem-
ber they are act: in cold frames. The
plants begin to bloorn in October, and
bloom until spring. , A good plant will
produce 50, the more prolthe kind
several laundred blooms in 'a season.
The frame a were placed in a south-
ern exposure and every plettaant day
lifted the sashes a trifle for ventila-
tion, and in extreme( weather covered
them with heavy sacking,, and also
for further protection banked the
earth closely around the frames. This
te' a little trouble of course, but one
that no lover of violate will regret
Since it ie SO Well repaid. The best
and most prolific double violate are
the Marie Louise and the California,
the last named being of immense
size_
CURIOUS CITY GARDLSS.
Green Mayonnaiee.—Mix one tea-
spoon each of mustard, salt and pow-
dered sugar, add a few, grains of cay-
enne, the yolka of two eggs and one-
half teaepoon of vinegar. Add very
gradually one and one-half cup$ of
olive oil arid aa the mixture thickens'
dilute with vinegar and lemon juice,
adding in all two tablespoons. To one-
half of this amount add one-quarter
cup of heavy er,eam beaten etiff and
color green with color paste.
Thrcnoh DreSsing.—Mix three-quar-
ters teaspoon salt, one-eighth tea-
spoon of paprika, two tablespoons of
lemon j1.110e and. Iota- tablespoons of
olive. oil.
Noieette Sand wiches.—Scald one-half
cup of milk, add one-half cup of boil-
ing wates, and wheal lukewarm, three-
quartara of a yeast cake dissolved in
three tablespoons of luke-warm wa-
ter, one-half tablespoon each of lard
and buttes, two tablespoons of mo-
lasses, one cup of nut meats, one-half
cup of white flour and enough en-
tira wheat flour to knead. Make a.nd
bake. the same as ordinary bread. Let
t10 loaf tand 21 hours then slice as
thinly as peesible and put currant
jelly or orange raarnaalade between.
Cut in fancy ahapcs if liked.
German Sandyrichea.--Spread Slices
of zweiback thinly with jelly or mar-
malade and /aprinkle with finely cut
Englaela walnut meat.
Zw eiback.—Cool one-half cup of
scalded milk until lukewarm, add two
Yeaat cakes, one-half teaspoon of
stock and one cup of flour ; corer and
let .rise until very light, then add
'one-quarter cup of sugar, one-quar-
ter. cup af butter, three unbeaten eggs
and flour enough to knead. Shape
like finger rolls and place on buttered
sheet in roars two inches apart. Let
rase. again and bake 211 minutes. Cool
and slice.
• HANGING WALL PAPER.
As it is hard to find a professional
paper hanger', to go into the coun-
try, many women do their own pa-
peiring. The profesaional hanger in
zny childhood waa a woman, and she
went about town and country doing
the paper hanging, writes a corres-
pondent. The houses were low stud-
ded' to what the modern ones, are,
making the work much easier. I
learne,d from thaa lady how to paper
retinae, and have formerly papered
some of ray own rooms with' it sister's
help. An amateur "should Select pat-
terns that match readily. The cheap-
er' paper a put on eaeiest.
Trim froni the rolls the widest mar-
gins. All the zone needed Should be
brimmed before beginning the job.
Make the tpate _the clay before, using
three quart' water, half cup" sugar
and it little glue diaeolved in the wa-
ter. Wet two pinta flour to paste!
and atir into the, water when it boils.
Mix thoroughly and remove at once
from the fire, as, cooking spoils the
sticking quality. Place a long board
on .two.table, Place a iroll of paper
,on it and cut into the deeired lengths,
making aure the figures match. This
La done by placing tile firat piece' cut
an top of the roll, the figure on the
aame,figure holoivv. Turin all the pieces
cut faco downward an tha board,
leaving the margin of each a little
beyond the edge of the other.
T,ake a paste bruah and 'apply the
paate evenly to the uppermoet piece,
Catch 'the bottom part way ruponialt-
Eng the piece ahortar to handle. Begin
at some door and work from left 'to
right. 'Hold the top of the piece in
your fingers', and by the,. aid of a
stepladder stick he piece to the top
of the side of the T00111 ; or as far
up aa will be covered' by a border.
'Mae lateet bi not to have a border.
'lake a brush broom, sweep the paper
down with long, light ,stbrokes. If
wrinkles appear, pull up from the bot-
tom and aweep thena out. Make sure
your first piece is put on straight
and exact as the. following ones will
follovv, with no trouble.
Now, take the next atria) and pro-
ceed as before, matching the top fig-
ure with great care. Trim off the
auaplus length, if any, with a sharp
knife, at the baee beard, flaying fin-
iehed the sides of the room, put on
Ilia border, cut inta .yard lengtlas. If
the ceiling it papered it should be
done before the sidea of the roonn
WINTER ,VIDLETS POTTED IN
MAY.
,Violete, hare beeoine par excellence
Ha Loudon Crops Are Raised in a Barrel,
or An Open Umbrella.
Many people have such it deeply
rooted love for flowers that they will
go to any amount of trouble to raise
a few blooms even under the most
apparently impoasible circumstances,
says the 1.iondon Mail.
(Instances of this occur' in the East -
end of London, wh,ere sometimes the
only available garden is a barrel. In
order to make the most of this, how-
ever, it iS bored. all over the sides
with holes about ,two inche.$ in dia-
meter, into each of which a plant of
some description is placed, in addition
to thoae planted- in the usual way
an the top, so that a good display
is obtained, in the minimum amount
of space. These barrels frequently
look' vetry pretty and effective when
all the planta are in bloom. ,
The 5tatement that these are gar-
de,ns under bedclothes is supported by
no leae of an authority than that of
the Very Rev. S. Iteynohls Hole, Dean
of Rochester. A district visitor in the
Midland, when calling upon a poor wo-
man, noticed how few were the cover-
ing a to her bed. Upon being aelted;
she admitted that she had another
blanket, and was renaonetrated with
for not using it, as the weather was
bitterly cold. It at length tranaPir-
ed that her huaba.nd had taken it to
cover some plat$ he was rearing in
a tiny greenheuse, in the hope of sav-
ing them from being •
'KILLED BY THE FROST.. !
Surely devotion to flowers could hard-
ly go much further than this.
Not a fear suburban householders
usually find their gardens just out-
side the scullery door, and they ex-
creta& their hortituitural ingenuity
upon the tiny slip of nsround in which
the considerate jerry builder has
carefully buried 'hie superfluous half -
bricks. In various parts of the coun-
try, notably at Nottingham, there
are cottage gardens three bailee away
from the reaidencee of their owners,
ao that when visitors are invited to
"come and there a look , around the
garden" it means a somewhat leng-
thy excursion. Thee allotments are,
however, 'greatly appreciated and
carefully attended, despite the fact
that the time' taken in getting to
and from them plays Sad havoc with
their owner' scanty leisure.
Of gardenin cemeteries, there ap-
pease to be only a solitary example
in thia country, the ona which Sir
Joseph 'Ruston of 0.ryatal palace fame
formed at Coventry.
Gardena may be,made on open um-
brellaa a$ far, as oiataining a substan-
tial crop of mustard and cress is con-
cerned. It ia only necessary to open
the unabrellaa wet it thoroughly, and
aprinkle. the seed over it. If the fab-
ric ie kept damp -the Reed will soon
begin to sprout, and in it few weeks
a nice quantity of the salad, may be
cut. The same thing may be done
in a dinner plate with the aid of a
strip of an old flannel shirt, a piece
of felt, otr other sirailar cloth, provid-
ed it is 'kept moist.
THE SHEEP'S CONGENIAL HOME.
Sheepnaen are agreed that low, wet
landa are net congenial eheep quar-
ters. In Countriee where there is ex-
cessive rainfall these animals do not
succeed. and hence rarely are found
in such sections.
High, dry, hilly country Se,eang tobe
peculiarly adapted to sheep husband-
ry. Sheep seera to delight in roaming
over ,the graea-tenoed, 'mounds, bluffs
and rnountatne, anct it is wherethe
topography conforms to this deserip-
than that,
tlaey quite la,ogely are
Lound. ; : •
While broken land 1,0 regarded , as
better for liheep raising than level
ea. prairie land, 11 10 nevertheless true
that on the latter ticame of the best
ancl most widelY known fluelee are
found.
No otherclimatic condition seems
.
so unfavorable to the, sheep induatry,
a.s rainfall. Cold rains penetrate ,the
vary MarrOW in the animalS' bones,
and unleae they are properly housed
when such rains prevail loss follows.
Sheep lik-o to makc paths over IOUS
and close. along the brook's edFc—Lhe p
pl.° turesque country. That
they are naturally inclined to hilly-
land is attested by, the fact that they
climb upon barrels, boxes or bales of
hay in the barn, and when chewing
their cud in the pasture stand with
their front feet resting on a little rise
if it natty ha found.
surrERING BRITISH HUSBANDS.
They lir:maize o Solely lot' l'roteelloD
ig-tlust Drunken
A peculiarly pathetic band of
Lan existed laetween a small com-
pany of (mien gathered lin one of the
rooms of St. George's hall,. Westmin-
ster Bridge aoad, says the London
Chronicle. They were the husbanda
with drunk,en wives, and they had met'
Lor the purpoae cif forming it society
to secure legal protection for ahem -
selves and others. in like case.
They were mostly superior work-
ingmen—cne might have been Stephen
Blackpool atepped straight. out of the
pages of "Hard Times"—but °there
were evidently in a better position.
They had all the same tale .to tell. '
was to be May day all our lives,"
said the chairman, "when we tonic our
girl nvives tochurch, but this curse
of drink has broken our heart:a and
ruined our homes." Although the
company was Ismail, the arganizer of
the meeting, a.cabinan with tvrentY-
five years' experience of a drunken
wife to look back upon, gave tlin as-
surance that he might have got many
thousands to attend. But some
could not come because their wives
bad pawned their only decent suit of
clothes for drink. Others did 110/L
care to make their affairs known in'
•any gathering, of their fellow, 120.01:14"
a number eculd not afford to take a
Long 'journey to Westminster.
For grini tragedy there was noth-
ing to choose between any of the
tabes unfolded. Some had left their
wives in bed, recovering from Satur-
day's bout; all dreaded the effect of
the Mother'example on the clail-
Areal,
ESPECIALLY THE GIRLS.
One w,arkingroan had bought back his
household effects Six times in twenty-
five years, his wife having sold, them
article by article for drink. -
"Here," exclaimed another, with!
dramatic effect, "is what I found be-
fore left home this morning," and
ho produced it. bundle of twenty-five
pawn tickets—naute witnesses of a
wrecked home.
"I've got hundreds of 'em," said a
weather-beaten cabman; "I sell 'em
every six menths."
Ando the terrible indictnaent ran
its course, but with a strong chival-
rous sentinaent in it. In apite .of its
Liiereees.
"I love mY iwife," said one; "my
wife is a perfect an.gel when she is
sober," exclaimed another, with the
emphasis of strong conviction.
";We married these women, and we
cannot. utterly ca,st them off," said
a gentlemanly young fellow., "but wo
must have snore protection than fha
Law at present gives us." If there was,
any disaent to this "casting( off" sen-
timent it came from a main of tbirtv
years' experience, wha admitted he
was weary of it. His 'wife wag ad
drunkard, a.nd he said, with some-
thing like a wail in hisi voice, "Myi
daughter, a young thing of twenty-
five, only lately married, has been'
led away by her mother's example,.
and is Maw lost—lost."
One speaker suggested the formes;
Una of a sort of isolated community!
of men with drunken wivez, and, iri
the ultimate resort, emigration with
the children, leaving tho women al
a burden upon a country which would,
give no remedy to the men. It area
agreed to forni an association to be,
called "The Husbands' Protection So.
ciety 'Against Drunken Wives," and
to agitate 'for an amenclment to tho
Taiahop of Winchester's Habitual
Drunkards' bill, which would put
the husbands on an equality with the
wives with regard to, facilities fon,
procurirtg a. separation order.
MEDICAL DECEPTIONS THAT CURE.
In Many Cases limagInallon Does 'Mori
Good. l'hau MedleMe.
We are campelled to deceive our pa..!
tint, Said one of the doctorsi at it
,
great Landon -hospital_ the other day.
By doing so we can often effect cures
for imagination is in many CaSteS more
likely to do good than all the media
cini&snin the world.
There ia in this hospital at the pros.
coat time a young man who has noV
slept for weeks without first re-
ceiving a hypodermic injection of
pure !water. Fie believes he is get.
ting it quarter of a grain of mor-
phia iwith each injection, and as he
has not discovered the deception 'the
treatment works like a charm.
I had a patient a few, months agii
'W/10 was suffering from imaginary
paralysis, and -who could noti be bene,
fited by the use of drugs od the elec-
tric current. BY prearranged plain,
he was informed by a person supposl,
ed to be interested in hia cage that
na.agnetism, not electricity,. -was what
he needed, and since 'then he, has
shown marked improvement under the
ceoastant application of a wooden
magnet painted to resemble the, germ
-
We article.
New, aaad then a Ca33 presents ian
ann.usbag, phase. One woman poo-
eessed idea that her heart was
growing to her side, and, did not im-
prove under the ,treatment accorded
her, Than I made up some medi-
cine compound of the naos,t muscat.
hag drugs, and the patient was or''
dered to take doses hourly. After
the first 'day's treatment she said
she was well enough to go home,
That medicine could have had abso-
lutely no effect, but it was intense-
ly amety, sio that it wag purely ir
cast of faith, cure.
Jawson—}IoW (lid your automobile
Journey turn 'cut? Dia.,),vo-Beanti...,
tally! Although I ran over two pe-
estrtaris and three bleyclea and
knocked Ovo waggons into a ditch(
,c
my motor wars not at all, injured, and
arrivd jaet on time.
Mrs. Nubbins—My husband i
perfect brute. `Friend—you amaze
me, Mrs. Nuibbins----Since the baby
began teething, nothing would quiet
the little angel but, pulling his'papa'a
beard—and yesterday, he went and
ad lbs beard ahaVed. Olts
Coal is cheapest in, Austria, aver.
aging 69, et the pit's mouth, against
s, in Englancl, arid es. 2d. iu lirance, h