UNCLE TOM.
He came from the darkness without into the warmth and brightness of
the hall, and threw back his heavy Inverness cape, revealing a square,
bearded face, a broad, well-knit figure, and a pair of shrewd and not
unkindly brown eyes.
“You are our Uncle Tom,” said Oscar, going forward to meet him. “We are
very glad to see you. It is kind of you to come.”
“Well, well, boy, duty is duty all the world over. I would have come
a fortnight ago, but it was impossible. No disrespect meant to your
father, you understand. So you are poor Maud’s children, are you? We
always called her ‘poor Maud’ at home, though I scarcely know why. She
was happy enough, I know, but she seemed like one dead to us somehow.
You are a bit like what she was as a girl, I can see. Perhaps the
sister favours her more,” and he looked across at Sheila, who now came
forward with outstretched hand.
“How do you do, Uncle Tom? I hope you are not very cold. It has been
quite warm till yesterday, and then the cold came back. We are very
glad to see you,” and Sheila held up her face for the kiss of the
strange uncle.
“Thank you, my dear. I hope we shall be good friends. Oh, I am too
seasoned a traveller to mind cold or darkness or anything like that.
No, you are not so like your mother as the boy. I am sorry for that.
John and I rather set our hearts on having another little Maud back
again. Are you called after your mother, my dear?”
“No, my name is Sheila. I was called after my grandmother,” answered
the girl, and her uncle dropped her hand, saying—
“Ah, I am sorry for that! Somehow we had got into the way of calling
you little Maud. I suppose we knew the right name; but none of us
remembered it.”
Sheila felt a little damped; she hardly knew why. Oscar took the guest
to his room, and he shortly returned without having made any attempt
to dress himself for dinner, and his apology for the omission was of
the briefest, as though he considered the matter quite immaterial. He
was not at all a bad-looking man, though there was something in his
appearance different from what the girl had been used to in the life
of her secluded home. In his travelling clothes he certainly looked a
good deal rougher than those friends of her father who sometimes used
to drop in for lunch or dinner; and his voice was louder than theirs;
and there was a little indescribable accent about his speech, which
suggested a lack of polish if not of education. But there was no fault
to be found with his deportment, and he was rather interesting in
his talk at dinner. He described to Oscar some of the new processes
in the works, and in particular how they were utilising electricity
for lighting their buildings and driving some of the engines. And
Oscar’s rather keen and intelligent interest in this made a visible and
favourable impression upon their new relation.
Sheila did not sufficiently understand the matter to be much
interested; but she studied her uncle’s face, and decided that she
should like him, although she thought she might stand a little in awe
of him too. She fancied he could be pretty stern if he were angry, and
that though a just man, he would be a rather exacting one, and would
allow no loitering or shirking in any place where he was master.
She was left rather long alone in the drawing-room after she had left
her brother and uncle together; but when they came to her, she thought
that Oscar looked pleased and animated, whilst her uncle’s face wore a
quietly satisfied expression.
He came and sat down beside her and looked her all over with an air of
taking her measure, which half amused and half vexed her.
“Yes, you will do very well up at the big house. It will suit you, and
you will suit it. We are not fine enough for you in River Street; but
you will find a good setting in Cossart Place.”
“But I would rather go with Oscar, Uncle Tom, if I might,” said Sheila,
with a coaxing note in her voice.
“Ah, so you think now; but you might change your mind if you were to
see the two houses. You’ve not been used to live in a street; and
besides we haven’t too much room to spare. But they will make you quite
comfortable at Cossart Place; and besides you are specially wanted up
there to be a companion for poor Effie.”
“Who is Effie?” asked Sheila, half ashamed that she did not even know
the names of her cousins. Her mother had now and then spoken vaguely of
these relatives; but Sheila had not felt any keen interest, and if ever
she had heard of them individually, it was all forgotten long ago; and
for the last five years she had almost ceased to remember the existence
of her mother’s kindred.
“She is the only child my poor brother has reared out of a fine young
family of six,” answered the uncle gravely. “I can’t think what came
to all the young ones. Whilst mine grew and throve, his would begin
to pine away and dwindle when they got to be about twelve years
old—sometimes before. Their mother has always been rather a delicate
woman to be sure; but there doesn’t seem enough in that to account for
it. Anyway that’s how they all went, and they buried them one after the
other. All but Effie, the youngest, and she’s grown up a fairly healthy
girl till the last year or two; and now she seems delicate, and you can
guess how they feel about her.”
Sheila was interested at once in the story of these little dead
children, and of the cousin who had lived to grow up.
“How old is Effie now?”
“Twenty-two, but you wouldn’t think it. She seems a good bit younger;
she’s been made a baby of, you see. They are anxious to have a
companion for her to keep her amused, and take care of her in her walks
and drives and all that kind of thing. My girls go up as often as
they can; but that isn’t the same thing as being always in the house.
Directly we heard about your loss, and that you would have to leave
your present home, we all said that it would be a fine thing for Effie
to have a cousin to be a sister and playfellow.”
“Perhaps she won’t like it so much herself,” said Sheila, with a little
upward glance through her long eye-lashes. “People don’t always like a
new sister thrust down their throats. I’m not sure that I should have
liked it myself; though papa used sometimes to say that he wished I had
one.”
“Effie is a bit spoiled, I won’t deny that,” answered Uncle Tom in his
straightforward fashion. “What could you expect after such a family
history? She is not always the easiest person to please or amuse; but
you will be patient with her, I daresay, my dear, and try to do her
good.”
Sheila was just a little taken aback. She had always been the petted
darling at home. It seemed rather a turning of the tables to expect her
to study the caprices and whims of another spoilt child. Sheila knew
that people called her that sometimes. There had been moments in her
life when it had come over her with a certain sense of uneasiness that
it might be true. But it was very pleasant, and she had a sunny, happy
temperament. She was seldom vexed or angry even if things did not go
quite right, and she had heard people say of her that she was “unspoilt
in spite of spoiling,” so she had got into the way of thinking that it
had not hurt her to be an only daughter, ruling the house beneath the
mild sway of an indulgent father.
But that was a very different thing from being expected to play the
part of companion and sister to a cousin in uncertain health, who
appeared to have had everything her own way all her life.
“What is the matter with Effie, Uncle Tom?”
“Well, my dear, I am not quite sure what it is. Sometimes I think she
might be less ailing if there were less fuss about her symptoms. She
was a lively little puss enough till about two years ago, and then she
began with asthma, and got thin, and had a cough, and ever since then
there has been a regular panic about her—doctors by the dozen, and new
prescriptions every month. It’s enough to make any girl fanciful; but
the poor child does have bad bouts sometimes—there’s no mistaking that.
We strong folks must not be too hard on the ailing ones. Perhaps we
should have our fads and fancies too if we were in their shoes. When I
heard about what would have to happen here, I said to my brother, ‘The
best thing in the world for Effie will be to have her cousin to be a
sister and companion for her.’”
“And what did Effie say to it?” asked Sheila.
“Well, I never asked. Effie is a bit what nurses call contrary. She
doesn’t always take kindly to what is settled for her; but she has a
good heart at bottom. You will get on with her all right enough. Raby
and Ray always say that her bark is worse than her bite.”
“Who are Raby and Ray?” asked Sheila, who felt the subject of Effie to
be a little discouraging.
“Why, my two girls, to be sure. Rebecca and Rachel are their right
names; but that’s what they get called at home. Lydia is married, and
so is my eldest boy, Tom. He went off to Australia, and is doing well.
But we have four at home still—the two girls and two boys, North and
Cyril. North (he was called after his mother’s family name) is my right
hand at the works. He’s a good steady fellow is North, and works hard.
Cyril is the fine gentleman of the family. Nothing would serve him but
a university education. He has been at Cambridge, and took his degree
at Christmas. He can’t quite make up his mind now between the Church
and the Bar. He’s having a spell at home to think about it. You’ll get
on with Cyril, you two; he’s quite your style, you’ll see.”
Mr. Tom Cossart spoke with evident pride of this son. Oscar and Sheila
were both interested in hearing of their cousins and the home that
awaited them in Isingford. Sheila saw that there was no chance of
getting taken in at Uncle Tom’s with Oscar. Everything had plainly been
settled with a view to her being companion and sister to Effie. She
tried to think it would be pleasant to have a sister, and consoled
herself with the promise that Oscar should come and see her regularly
on Saturdays, and perhaps stay for the Sunday too. It was plain that
the Cossarts meant to be kind to them, although they intended to
arrange their lives for them in their own fashion.
The days which followed were very busy and rather sorrowful. It was one
long good-bye to familiar persons and possessions.
The more closely Mr. Cholmondeley’s affairs were looked into, the less
satisfactory they proved to be; and it was soon evident that almost
everything would have to be sold before all the claims upon the estate
could be cleared off.
Mr. Tom Cossart strove to avoid making severe remarks upon the
shiftless methods of the dead man; but Oscar felt his disapproval, and
could not be blind himself to the selfishness of the long course of
indolent procrastination which had marked his father’s rule. The son
and daughter would have been left almost penniless had it not been for
the small fortune of their mother; and that was a mere pittance to the
son and daughter reared in every luxury. The girl and boy were allowed
to select such things as they specially treasured from the plenishings
of the house; but the bulk must go to the hammer.
Everything was being wound up as quickly as possible; and Sheila soon
began to wish it were all over. It was so trying and sorrowful; and
she could not bear to see her uncle’s grim face as he looked about him
and made arrangements. She knew he was feeling how hard it was that a
fine property had been allowed to go to rack and ruin for want of a
strong hand on the reins, and a managing and unselfish heart to dictate
reforms and retrenchment in times of depression.
Sheila was not one who attached herself very greatly to inanimate
objects; but she was devoted to her live pets. And her uncle found her
in tears in the stable once, with her arms about the neck of her little
mare Shamrock, who had been broken on the place, and had carried her
young mistress ever since she had been a colt. She was quite young
still, and a very pretty creature. The thought of parting from her was
heartbreaking to Sheila.
“I would almost rather she was shot, Uncle Tom,” she said, with a
little sob in her voice. “I can’t bear to think what may become of her.
She will have a good home, I daresay, whilst she is young and handsome;
but when she grows old she may be so badly treated. I can’t bear to
think of it!”
“Tut, tut, my dear, don’t cry! Why, I don’t see why you and your horse
shouldn’t go together. There is plenty of room at Cossart Place; and it
would do Effie a world of good to put her on horseback. We’re not much
of riders ourselves, we Cossarts; but Effie did have a pony once. She
would take to it again. There, there, my dear, don’t smother me. You
shall have your horse right enough. I’ll make that all square here,
and with your uncle and aunt yonder.”
“Oh, Uncle Tom, you’re a darling!” cried Sheila in her impulsive way
with her arms about his neck; and though Mr. Tom Cossart had probably
never been called a darling since his babyhood, and was not at all used
to being hugged, he found it amazingly pleasant to be so treated by his
pretty little niece. Not that Sheila was really little; but she seemed
so from her childlike appealing ways; and her uncle had slipped into
the way of calling her “Baby,” which from him she did not mind a bit.
It was almost a relief at last both to Oscar and Sheila to say their
final farewells, and feel they had left the old life behind them. As
the train bore them away from the familiar country in which they had
been born and brought up, Sheila was able to dry her wet eyes and look
at her uncle with a brave little smile.
“I’m not going to cry any more, Uncle Tom,” she said; “I’m going to
try and be happy and useful and good. I’ve made lots and lots of good
resolutions. Don’t you think it’s a good plan when one is beginning a
different sort of life? And it’s so nice of you to take me in at your
house for a few days—just till I get used to being away! It won’t seem
quite so strange if I am with you and Oscar for a little while.”
“Yes, yes, my dear; you shall stay with us the first night or two; and
we shall always be pleased to see you down in River Street whenever you
have a mind to come. But you’ll like Cossart Place when you get there.
It’s a fine house, and has been made a good deal finer by my brother.
It used to be called The Grange, and a lot of it is quite old and
rambling and queer; but the new wing has made a different place of it,
and it’s got a new name too. Very few people call it The Grange now.”
“I think the old name is nicer than the new,” said Sheila boldly, “and
I like old houses better than new ones. I hope they will give me a room
in the old part. I shall ask Aunt Cossart for one. And I shall call the
house The Grange.”
Uncle Tom laughed and muttered something about “a wilful young puss,”
but Sheila laughed and shook her head at him. She was not a bit afraid
of her uncle now, though she still felt that she would not like to
arouse his displeasure.
He presently folded up his paper and put his head out of the window.
“We are getting very near now. That is the river which runs through the
works a little farther on. You will see the chimneys of the town very
soon. It looks a dirty sort of place as we come in by rail; but you’ll
not find it such a bad one to live in.”
Sheila’s heart beat rather fast as she looked out over the level flats
dotted with houses. It was not pretty; but it was the new home, and on
that account it was interesting—even exciting.
“I mean to like everything!” she said to herself bravely.
(_To be continued._)
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
MEDICAL.
A. J. PATTISON.—There is no drug known which will reduce corpulency
without harm. Very few drugs indeed influence obesity at all, and the
few drugs which do have an influence cannot be taken with safety.
Look at the drug you suggest, for instance; bromide of ammonium is
an exceedingly powerful drug. It has no influence whatever upon
the absorption of fat, save that which results from its depressing
effects upon the organism. Even if it did cure corpulency, it would be
inadvisable to take it, for, however annoying obesity may be, it is
nothing compared with the condition which arises from taking bromide
habitually. Have nothing whatever to do with drugs, they will only do
you harm. It is by dieting and exercise that obesity must be kept in
check.
A WINTER SUFFERER.—A few weeks ago we gave a long answer about
chilblains. The remedy you suggest, hazeline, is an exceedingly useful
application to unbroken chilblains, especially in those cases where
chilblains develop in persons in whom the circulation is perfect. It is
less useful for chilblains connected with anæmia or feeble circulation.
It should not be used as a dressing for broken chilblains.
CLAIRETTE.—We will give the treatment of “relaxed throats” in full as
we have not given advice on this subject lately. Avoid talking too
much. Avoid highly-spiced food, cayenne pepper, sauces, pickles, etc.
Do not take very hot or very cold food, nor boiling soups, nor tea, nor
ices, nor iced drinks. Avoid draughts as far as you can. Never sleep
with your mouth open. Do you breathe through your nose? If you do not,
you must have your nose seen to. Mouth breathing is the commonest cause
of catarrh, and relaxed throat is only a mild form of chronic catarrh.
The best applications for the throat are a two per cent. solution of
alum in glycerine and water, and a one-in-eight solution of menthol
in paraleine. These may be used either as paints applied with a brush
to the throat, or as a spray with an atomiser. Gargling is no good
whatever, for in this process none of the solution can get further
back than the tonsils. An astringent lozenge, such as the rhatany and
black currant, or the compound liquorice lozenge, is very useful,
and will relieve the cough and soreness, and diminish and relax the
expectoration.
A MARTYR TO DYSPEPSIA.—Fruits vary very greatly in the ease with which
they are digested. Taken as a whole, uncooked fruits are difficult to
digest, and should only be taken by dyspeptics in moderation. The most
digestible of fruits are grapes, especially the yellowish-green ones.
It is hardly necessary to tell you that you must be careful not to
swallow either the seeds or the skins. Apples and pears are fairly easy
to digest, but of course they must be peeled and cored. Raspberries,
mulberries, blackberries, currants, and gooseberries are also fairly
digestible if they are fresh. Perhaps if these fruits did not contain
seeds they would be very digestible. Stone fruit is difficult to
digest. Melons, pineapples, meddlers and wall-fruit rarely agree with
dyspeptics. Strawberries agree well with some persons; in others the
first dose of strawberries in the year is followed either by symptoms
resembling mild typhoid, or else by a peculiar nettle-rash. Every
summer we have quite an epidemic of nettle-rash due to strawberries.
Nuts should never be taken by dyspeptics. Oranges and lemons are
digested easily by most persons. Fruit is undoubtedly more wholesome
and less liable to disagree if it is cooked: but some persons cannot
bear the flavour of cooked fruit. Dried fruits are very indigestible,
for they are dry and hard and impregnated with sugar. Jams and
marmalade are very good, and may be partaken of by most dyspeptics.
LYDIA.—The chief sulphur waters are those of Harrowgate and
Strathpeffer in this country, and Aix-la-Chapelle, Kissingen, Enghien,
Bonnes Barèges, Cauterets, and Challes abroad. Of these Harrowgate
and Aix-la-Chapelle are the most popular and the most generally
recommended. There are “baleanologists” who think that each and every
mineral spring has special virtue of its own; but to the ordinary
physician the natural waters are arranged in groups, of which the
various constituents are much alike. For most things one sulphur-water
is as good as another, but do not expect any of them to do what it is
advertised to do.
EMILY CAVE.—Certainly, if you are healthy and like gymnastics, by all
means join a gymnasium. But don’t overdo it and tire yourself out.
Remember that at your age you must start very gradually, and beware of
overstraining yourself.
AN ITALIAN GIRL.—Obviously it is to your parents that you should go for
advice. If you lay your troubles before them, they will counsel you. It
is impossible for us to help you in the matter. We advise you to read
the article on “Blushing and Nervousness,” which we published a short
time back.
STUDY AND STUDIO.
E. V. O.—1. You must not be disappointed when we tell you that it is a
very usual thing for friends and relations to be favourably impressed
by the poetry composed by younger members of the family, and to hope
for their future literary success; but the power of stringing rhymes
together is also very usual, and we cannot encourage you by any glowing
prophecy. Do not however suppose that we dissuade you from writing
in leisure moments for your own pleasure. “Home” and “alone” do not
rhyme.—2. Would you like to take up the study of some language, _e.g._,
Italian and its literature? or Greek? We suggest a language as you
say you do not care for music, drawing, or painting. You might take
lessons in wood-carving; or learn cookery as a fine art. There is
always abundant opportunity for those who are willing to work among the
poor. To be eighteen, and have all your time on your hands, is a great
responsibility! For opportunities of technical education, write to the
secretary, Technical Education Board, St. Martin’s Lane, W.C. If we
knew your character and capacity, we could of course advise you more
definitely.
JULIET and E. M. P.—“The Bishop and the Caterpillar” first appeared in
a number of the “_Boy’s Own Paper_.” If you write to the _Boy’s Own
Paper_ Office, 56, Paternoster Row, enclosing 6d., and 2d. postage, you
will doubtless be able to obtain it. It is also to be found in Alfred
Miles’ _Platform Reciter_, part 1. E. M. P.’s handwriting would be
improved by more care and regularity.
S. B.—Many thanks for your amusing _jeu d’esprit_ on the varying styles
of punctuation.
E. W. H.—Browning and Tennyson are most emphatically not “minor poets.”
Some consider Wordsworth as greater than either. Scott, as a poet,
would rank below these three. It is a difficult matter to appraise
poets exactly, as you suggest, but the work of Wordsworth, Browning,
and Tennyson stands in the foremost rank of English literature.
E. M. M.—1. You cannot certainly “take lessons from the Royal Academy
or College without entering.” To take lessons is to “enter.” But you
can be examined at a local centre by the Associated Board of both
institutions. The cost of training at the Royal Academy of Music is
£11 11s. per term, with an entrance fee of £5 5s. The fee at the Royal
College is £40 a year.—2. Only two questions, please. Your age would
be all right. Apply to the Secretary of either institution for fuller
details.
BLUEBIRD.—There are numerous collections of temperance recitations.
“The Geese” is a favourite recitation, but requires two characters. A
“Reciter” of Alfred H. Miles’ series (6d. each) would probably suit
you. Inquire at any bookseller’s.
ALOFA.—1. Your verses are perhaps a little above the average of those
sent to us for criticism. It is pleasant to see the beauties—too seldom
appreciated—of our suburban common-land made the subject of a poem. One
line is faulty—
“Shall fill all the future with undying perfume.”
where, as you will observe, a forced emphasis on “un” must be used to
make the line scan. But for this error, we should say that verse—the
second—was the best. Perhaps the first now deserves most praise.—2. We
can hardly encourage you to persevere in writing “realistic fiction”
without seeing a specimen of your work, but from your poem, and your
pleasant letter, we should judge you had some talent.
GEORGINA.—We presume that yours are the poems signed “M. D. A.” In
the great accumulation of MSS., it is a help to us if the same name
or pseudonym marks both letter and manuscript. There is much that is
defective in the form of these two poems; but the idea embodied in both
is striking. We should advise you to study the laws of poetic form, and
then perhaps try to express these ideas in a more finished way.
FIDELIA.—We are much interested by your letter, and applaud your
desire for self-improvement. We think the series of articles now
appearing in the GIRL’S OWN PAPER by Mrs. Watson on “Self-Culture for
Girls” may help you. You are wise in supposing that if you indulge in
desultory reading alone, it will spoil your taste for solid reading,
and interfere with your power of concentration. At the same time you
must remember the old proverb about “all work and no play.” We should
recommend you to begin by reading one of Scott’s historical novels,
_e.g._, _Ivanhoe_; or _The Cloister and the Hearth_, by Charles Reade;
or, better still, Kingsley’s _Heroes_, and then follow on the line of
study suggested if it appeals to your taste. But we think you are under
a misapprehension as to the expense involved in joining the National
Home Reading Union. Apply, at any rate, for full particulars to the
Secretary, Miss Mondy, Surrey House, Victoria Embankment, London.—2.
Your letter is well composed, and your writing is decidedly good.
GIRLS’ EMPLOYMENTS.
SAMARITAN (_Art and Designing_).—To pursue any branch of artistic
design successfully, you would need to give all your time to it.
And we are obliged to admit that, outside the chief centres of
artistic production, it is not easy for a draughtsman or woman to
find employment. Perhaps in your own town there may be some firm of
lithographic printers. In that case, it would be well to inquire
what kind of work the firm could use, and then try to supply the
class of design needed. Some artists in London (including one or two
ladies of talent) combine such work as the designing of book-covers,
illustrations, head and tailpieces, initial letters, etc., with
the drawing of picture-posters. Nor is this work confined to the
Metropolis. A gifted artist in Liverpool has designed beautiful
wall-posters for the announcement of picture exhibitions, and he has
not even scorned other kinds of decorative advertising. Does not this
give you an idea? Might not you at least endeavour to do something of
this sort in your own part of England? Find out who are the colour
printers who produce the large fashion-plate figures which probably
cover the hoardings in your own locality in order to announce the
attractions of the leading draper. See whether you cannot do something
that is prettier and equally effective, and then submit your specimen
to these printers. But do not forget that you must draw and paint in a
very broad style, and use the fewest possible colours. Content yourself
with red, black, and a neutral or flesh tint, or some such combination.
If you prefer to attempt drawings on a smaller scale, you could design
Christmas cards, menus, almanacks, and the like. Messrs. Raphael Tuck
and Sons, 72, Coleman Street, London, E.C., are among the largest
manufacturers of things of this kind. Ideas, however, rather than
coloured pictures are what they require.
WOULD-BE TRAVELLER (_Nursing in India or Egypt_).—There is no “hospital
in London or Dublin where probationers are trained for nursing in Egypt
or India.” The best course for a nurse to pursue who wishes eventually
to obtain an engagement for foreign service is to enter one of the
large London hospitals as a probationer, and afterwards apply to enter
the Army Nursing Service, and spend a year or two at Netley. The rules
of the India Office, however, only stipulate that a nurse must have
had at least three years’ preliminary training and service combined in
a hospital in which adult male patients receive medical and surgical
treatment, and in which a staff of nursing sisters is maintained.
Your best plan at the present time would be to seek admission as a
probationer to the London Hospital, St. Thomas’s, or St. Bartholomew’s.
LOUISE (_General Hospital for Training_).—The London, St. Thomas’s,
Guy’s, St. Bartholomew’s, and King’s College Hospitals are among the
best hospitals in the Metropolis for a nurse to enter who desires
general training. Regular probationers (that is to say, those who do
not pay for training) must be between 25 and 35 years of age, and are
trained for two years on the agreement that they remain in the service
of the hospital for a third year. They receive a salary of £12 for the
first year, and £20 for the second. Paying probationers pay a guinea a
week for training, and should be between 22 and 40 years of age. The
rules in the other hospitals mentioned differ in detail, but resemble
these in general principle. Most of the good London hospitals, however,
are so besieged with would-be probationers that we often think a girl
is wise who enters a first-rate infirmary by preference. The Birmingham
Infirmary and the Brownlow Hill Infirmary, Liverpool, are both most
excellent, and several London Infirmaries, notably those in Chelsea and
St. Marylebone, are much to be recommended.
A CONSTANT READER (_Domestic Help_).—This is a matter concerning which
you would need the assistance of some good registry office. It is
outside the scope of our correspondence columns.
STENOGRAPHER.—We fear you may have a struggle to support your husband
and son in this country by your own unaided exertions as shorthand
writer and typist. Still, we believe it might be done if you are very
efficient and ready to undertake work at all times and seasons, and to
do it often under conditions of great pressure. If at first you could
manage to join a lady who already has an office, and act as her chief
assistant, we think that might be wisest, as we assume that you have
no means of setting up an office of your own. You ought to stipulate
for a fixed salary and a certain percentage on the business done by
the office. If you simply went out to work on your own account, you
might look to receive a guinea a day for first-rate verbatim reporting
of meetings, etc.—but orders of this kind are only occasional—or
from £1 10s. to £2 a week if you were competent to take an important
secretarial post to a society. Merely as a stenographer and typist you
would probably not receive so much. Altogether we fear you will have a
hard struggle to make a living for three persons.
MISCELLANEOUS.
E. M. B.—What you really mean are “cheese straws,” and if you had
looked for them by that name, you would have found them, we are sure.
They are made as follows:—2 oz. of butter, 2 oz. of flour, 2 oz. of
parmesan cheese, 1 oz. of cheddar cheese, 1 egg, salt, red pepper. Put
the flour into a bowl, and mix with it the salt and pepper, the grated
cheese, and the butter, and, with the yolk of the egg, make into a
smooth paste, rather stiff. Then roll it out into a strip of about five
inches long, and about an eighth of an inch thick. Cut into strips of
equal sizes, and also some rounds for rings. Grease a tin and put them
on it, and bake in a hot oven for ten minutes till of a pale brown.
To send to table, put the straws through the rings like a bundle of
sticks, and hand round in a silver dish.
FLORA.—As we are quite old-fashioned people, we should say, “Never
marry without your mother’s consent,” and certainly do not worry
yourself about matrimony as long as you write so dreadful a hand and
distribute your capital letters so recklessly. Of course, marriage is
an important subject, but we can dispense with capital letters when we
inquire At What Age We May Marry Without our Mother’s Consent. In point
of fact, dear foolish Flora, you are of age at twenty-one, and, in a
restricted sense, are at liberty to do all sorts of silly things, which
we hope you will avoid doing. As a Christian, you are only free in so
far as you honour your parents.
SUSAN.—There is a demand for capable women at Vancouver (Canada) at
good wages, and laundresses are specially wanted. “Intermediate class”
fare to Halifax amounts to £7, and other emigrants to £5 only. There
are lodging-homes at Montreal, Winnipeg, and Vancouver. Mothers’ helps
find situations in the North-West. Women starting from London assemble
at 53, Horseferry Road, Westminster, the night before embarkation. If
starting from Liverpool, they must sleep at Bromborough House, 10,
Great George Square, where they will be met and conducted on board
ship. Women desiring to emigrate should make application to Miss
Bromfield, Friary Cottage, Winchester, or to Miss Lefroy, Imperial
Institute, London, S.W., so as to obtain “protected emigration.” The
fares for South Africa, Rhodesia, and New Zealand, are more expensive.
Lady nurses, members of the Church of England, having had three years’
training, would find engagements at the Kimberley Nurses’ Home, at a
salary of £60 per annum, and all found. Those holding “L. O. S.” are
preferred.
ROSE.—1. You should read our present series of articles on “Etiquette,”
by Lady William Lennox.—2. We fear that the present is by no means
a good time for selling pictures of any kind. All artists seem to
complain of difficulties in that way.
LEARNER.—“Buddhism” can scarcely be called a “religion,” since it
does not acknowledge a Deity, although paying divine honours to their
supreme teacher and his effigies. The system was founded about 2,500
years ago by Guatama Buddha, reputed by his followers to have been
the son of Sudhodana, King of Kapilawastu, a region at the foot of
the mountains of Nepal, Central India. The name Guatama was given to
distinguish the great teacher, as his family belonged to the chain of
the Guatamas. Sidhartha was his real name, and “the Buddha,” or “the
Enlightened,” his self-assumed title. He set out on a proselytising
mission to Benares, the sacred city of the Brahmins, and so successful
was he, that by the third century B.C. his tenets became the so-called
religion of India. Ceylon was the first new country that accepted his
teaching, and then followed Siam, Burmah, and China, the latter mission
dating about 100 years B.C. Buddhists have a sacred book called the
_Tripitika_ (or three baskets), the first, or _Sutras_, containing the
discourses of Buddha, recorded from memory after his death; the second,
or _Vinaya_, having reference to discipline and morality; the third,
the _Abhidarma_, or metaphysics. Their moral code is very pure, but
always remember they deny the existence of a God.
QUEENIE DESMOND.—The word mandoline is thought to be derived from the
Latin _pandora_, or the Greek _pandoura_, from Pan. But we must go
further back for the origin of all instruments of the guitar class,
which are said to owe their beginnings to the ancient viol, which was a
six-stringed guitar. This instrument is called a psaltery in the Bible;
and you will find in Smith’s _Bible Dictionary_ an account of them.
The words psaltery, or sautry, lute and viol, are all often found in
the old English poets, and were all different, though alike. The first
originals of the mandoline lie, probably, in the psaltery.
BAZAAR (1) would find the quotations she needs for her book in any
dictionary of quotations. We could not undertake so long a search.—2.
For painting in oils on satin there needs no preparation, but in both
cases, for either oils or water colours, the satin must be _very
tightly and evenly stretched_ on a drawing-board, or frame for water
colours. Take one ounce of Nelson’s gelatine, and cover with cold water
for an hour; pour off the cold water, and put a pint of boiling water
to the gelatine, stir and dissolve quickly; then strain through muslin,
and while still hot apply to the satin with a clean sponge. Go over the
_whole surface_, making it not too wet, but rubbing it in. Rub with a
piece of clean silk, and dry, stretched as you have placed it.
ESSEX and LOVER OF “G. O. P.”—We can obtain cross-stitch patterns for
working in Weldon’s _Work Series_, an excellent paper of the kind,
issued monthly, price twopence, at any newsvendor’s.
A WELSH GIRL.—We should advise you to put glass over the panels. That
would look the best, and be the most reliable preserver in such a
position.
LADY BETTY.—We do not know of anything better, nor more easy to obtain,
than Weldon’s _Practical Work Series_, price twopence a number, at any
stationer’s.
FOREIGN AWARDS.
AN IDEAL GARDEN.
_Prize Winners (Half-a-Guinea Each)._
Cecilia Nicolay, c/o Messrs. John and Cleary, High Street,
Freemantle, W. Australia.
Elsie M. Wylie, The Manse, Mintaro, S. Australia.
_Very Highly Commended._
Mrs. H. Andrew (Canada), M. D. Browne (India), Nellie M. Daft
(Portugal), Ethel M. Danford (Canada), Elsie V. Davies, Lillian Dobson,
John A. Fitzmaurice (Australia), L. Hill (Argentine), Anna J. Hood
(France), Gertrude Hunt (New Zealand), Harry John (India), Elizabeth
Lang (France), Margherita P. Martinetti (Italy), Mrs. G. Marrett
(India), Gertrude E. Moore (New Zealand), Beatrice and Hilda D’Rozario
(India), Edith Wassell, Geo. Waterstrom (Australia).
* * * * *
No solution has been mentioned which was not verbally perfect. The
prize solutions were only discovered to be better than many others
after the most minute examination.
The defects which marked the difference between the two groups were, a
failure to divide the lines into verses, as shown in the puzzle, the
introduction of a hyphen into noonday, the writing of O! for Oh! in the
last verse, the omission of the note of exclamation, and, in one case
only, the indentation of line 9.
The two competitors who failed in none of these points reap the reward
of their carefulness. Half-a-guinea does not go far in Australia,
as we know by experience, otherwise we would advise them not to be
extravagant with their newly-gotten wealth.
GENTLEMAN’S DRESS SHIRT PROTECTOR.
How often we are asked, “Do tell me of something I can make for a man?”
Well, here is a delightful pattern which comes to us from Sunderland.
Its severe simplicity is in accordance with nineteenth century evening
dress, and there is nothing about it that the most fastidious man could
object to. Fig. 1 gives the shape and measurements, and shows the white
quilted satin lining. It is best to buy the ready quilted material. The
right side is made of thick corded black silk, the edges are neatly
turned in and oversewn or slip-stitched, a button and loop is added,
and Fig. 2 shows the mode of wearing. We think these ought to sell
well at bazaars. A yard and an eighth each of lining and silk would
make six, and cost about five shillings. They certainly ought to sell
at half-a-crown each, which, considering the small amount of labour
involved, would give a big profit.
“COUSIN LIL.”
[Illustration: _FIG 1_]
[Illustration: _FIG 2_]
* * * * *
[Transcriber’s note: the following changes have been made to this text.
Page 455: resourses to resources—“resources of nature”.
Page 458: Boths to Both—“Both hearts”.
Page 463: breath to breathe—“Do you breathe”.
Page 463: recieve to receive—“They receive a”.
Page 463: current to currant—“black currant”.]