AT COSSART PLACE.
“Effie, how well you look! You are quite brown. How glad I am to see
you again!”
“I think you have got thinner, but you look well, Sheila. Oh, yes, I’m
ever so much better! I’ve said good-bye to doctors. I mean to go my own
way now and not take care anymore. I don’t believe in coddling. I’m
going to be my own doctor in the future. I’m not sure that any of them
really understood me. Anyhow, I’ve had enough of them, and now I shall
go my own way. Mamma can have Oscar to coddle. I’m sure he looks as
though he wanted it.”
“He’s getting into the rebellious stage now,” answered Sheila. “I shall
be glad of your assistance in keeping him in order. Isn’t everything
looking lovely, Effie? Are you glad to be home again? And how is dear
Madeira and all the people there? Did you leave any there whom I knew?”
“Not many. Mrs. Reid sent you a lot of messages, and I’ve got a
pen-tray for you from her too. We came back in the same boat as Ella
and Grace Murchison; but you never knew them well, did you? All the
Dumaresq party had been gone some time. I suppose you heard that from
May Lawrence.”
“She told me they had gone on to Oratava when Sir Guy was so much
better, but Miss Adene did not write very often.”
Effie had got her arm linked into Sheila’s by this time, and had walked
her out upon the terrace, leaving Mrs. Cossart with Oscar in the
drawing-room. She was all eagerness to learn the home news from him,
but Effie wanted Sheila’s attention for herself.
“You know it was all a great mistake of mother’s packing you off home
in one of her tantrums. I told her so at the time. I know things were a
little uncomfortable, but I was against it. I can generally get my way
with mother, but I couldn’t that time. But you hadn’t been gone three
days before she found out what a mistake it was.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sheila with a subdued eagerness in her voice.
“Why, you know,” answered Effie, with her curious mixture of frankness
and self-consciousness, “it didn’t seem to answer a bit. Mother thought
Mr. Dumaresq was going to make love to me or something—as though I
wanted him! I liked him all right, but I was never particularly taken
by him. He has not brains enough for me, and he never understood me. I
always felt that when we were talking together. I was always above his
head somehow. Besides, she might have seen that the Dumaresqs had taken
a fancy to you, and that packing you off would vex them. They never
were a bit the same afterwards. They sat at a different table, and
we hardly saw them. And people talked so. I got it out of Mrs. Reid.
They all said you had been sent away because I was jealous—or mother.
I don’t care what people think. It makes no difference to me. I never
care a bit about gossip. But mother was terribly put about, and papa
was very vexed too. It seemed to spoil things very much. I do believe,
if it hadn’t been for Oscar’s illness, they would have had you back!”
Sheila made no immediate reply; she was thinking how, but for Oscar’s
illness, many things might have been vastly different, and with what
sort of feelings she would have regarded a summons back to Madeira.
“As for the Dumaresqs,” pursued Effie, “I never made any attempts to
make up to them. That isn’t my way. I can have plenty of friends of
my own sort; and some really very interesting people came who had
travelled a lot, and were not just society people like the Dumaresqs.
We thought them a little rough at first, but we got to like them very
much. One of them admired me very much. I think he rather hoped—but
I’m not that sort of girl, and he was going back to the Cape, so it
was quite out of the question. I never was one for having a man always
dangling after me. It bores me to death! But they talked so much of
things they’d done and places they had seen or were going to see that
papa got quite a travelling mania on, and so he sent for Cyril.”
“And they have gone off together?”
“Yes. It was very nice having Cyril, and we stayed a fortnight longer
than we had meant, and took some excursions. After all, when I got
Cyril again, I found I liked him a great deal better than all the rest
of them put together. Don’t you think he has a very distinguished air?”
Sheila’s admiration for Cyril was a thing quite of the past; she had
regarded him of late with aversion and contempt. But she was learning
to curb her tongue, and to try and rule her thoughts also, so after a
little pause she said—
“I think university men always have an air about them; but, of course,
you know—about Cyril—and that it is not quite easy for me to admire him
very much just now.”
Effie flushed up a little.
“Yes, of course, I know,” she answered. “Cyril told me himself. If
he hadn’t, I don’t think I should have heard. Papa knows, but he has
not told even mother. He thought it would be better put aside and
forgotten.”
“And Cyril told you himself?”
“Yes. I think Cyril found it a great comfort to find somebody
sympathetic and understanding. I’ve never set up for being a saint, and
I have plenty of sympathy for sinners. I’ve always got on with Cyril.
He knows more about me, I think, than anybody else. I don’t think him
perfect—I’m not so silly. I’ve too much insight into character to make
mistakes like that. But I can sympathise with him, and understand how
he feels when other people don’t seem able to see anything but the
other side of the question. I think healthy, robust people are often
rather dull and dense. I’ve had lots of time to think. Cyril said I
was so different from the rest of the world. I believe I was a great
comfort to him.”
“Well, Aunt Tom will be very glad of that, for she was very miserable,
and was afraid he would go on being miserable too. He went away feeling
pretty bad, I think, though I did not see him. I was at Monckton Manor
with Oscar. I was surprised he didn’t come over to say good-bye to us.
Once I rather thought that he was falling in love with May.”
“Oh, dear, no!” answered Effie quickly. “That I am sure he was not!”
She spoke almost irritably, and Sheila answered at once—
“Perhaps not, but he used to go there very often. May never liked him,
so perhaps she got bored and gave him a hint. Anyway, he stopped going
rather suddenly, and did not even say good-bye.”
“I suspect he found May a very empty-headed girl. I daresay he was
thinking of her when he told me how difficult it had been, when I was
away, to find anyone with whom he could exchange ideas with any sense
of satisfaction. Girls were all so selfish and empty-headed, he said.
I thought he was rather severe, but that was his idea. I told him that
he mustn’t be hard on them, for perhaps they had never had the time to
read and think as I have.”
“Well, May is not empty-headed!” answered Sheila warmly; “but Oscar
may have been mistaken in thinking Cyril admired her and went often.
Perhaps it was only for the boys he went. I know May has never cared
for him.”
“No, I don’t think she would have the mind to appreciate him. Cyril
does not wear his heart upon his sleeve.”
“May is engaged to North,” said Sheila, with a little smile dimpling
the corners of her lips.
Effie gave a slight toss of her head and laughed.
“A very suitable match! I should think they would just suit one
another!”
“I think they do,” answered Sheila, laughing. “I have never seen two
people more thoroughly happy together.”
“I almost wonder Mr. Lawrence approved, though,” added Effie. “North is
so thoroughly commercial in all his views.”
“His views seem to suit May, at any rate, and he can give her a
comfortable home away from the town. But she is too much interested
in the works to care about being far away. She wants to understand
everything and help in everything. I think she will be splendid when
she gets her chance.”
Effie listened with some wonder to the sort of thing which commanded
May’s enthusiasm, and then said with a little shrug—
“Well, I hope they will be very happy. All that sort of thing is very
estimable, and people without nerves and keen senses may be able to do
it, but I don’t think I could.”
“Nobody would expect it of you, Effie,” answered Sheila, with a sarcasm
of which neither was conscious.
Cossart Place was a more comfortable home for Sheila just now than it
had ever been before. Her aunt met her like one who wished to efface an
unpleasing impression, and never was there any slightest allusion to
the stormy scene at Madeira. Poor Mrs. Cossart had learned a lesson,
and was really humiliated by the failure she had made. Sheila was
gentler, more considerate, more tractable than ever before, and Oscar’s
presence was a certain element of tranquillity and accord.
Effie was so much stronger, and was so resolved to manage her case in
her own way, that Mrs. Cossart felt rather like a hen taken from her
chicks, and was delighted to have Oscar to coddle. And Oscar needed
care for a long while. He had thoroughly run down in health since his
father’s death, and this wasting fever had left him very delicate
and frail. There was no reason to think that he would not in time be
as strong as ever, but it would be a long business, and during this
period it was Mrs. Cossart’s great pleasure to nurse him up, cosset him
and care for him, much as she had cosseted and cared for Effie whilst
the girl had been so much out of health.
Sheila could not but love her aunt for all her goodness to Oscar, and
he began to take almost a son’s place in that house, advising her, in
the absence of the master, on all points connected with the property,
and showing so much knowledge and insight that Mrs. Cossart would often
exclaim—
“I can’t think how you come to know all these things!”
“I was brought up to them, you see,” Oscar would answer with a smile
and a sigh. “I used to help my father, and I have been used to land
from babyhood. I am much more at home still with a steward’s books than
with the office accounts!”
“Well, I wish your uncle would make you his man of business when he
comes back,” said Mrs. Cossart one day, after Oscar had helped her
through some accounts which had often been a source of bewilderment
to herself and her husband. “I believe we get imposed upon right and
left through ignorance. And I don’t like the thought of your going back
to that nasty stuffy office. You would be much better for an open-air
life, and I always do say that John is getting too old to look after
all the land he buys, and that he ought to have a regular agent.”
Oscar laughed and stroked his aunt’s hand caressingly.
“Quite too halcyon an idea to work,” he said, “but I like to think that
I am helping you in his absence.”
“You are more than helping—you are doing everything, and I’m sure I’m
thankful for it, for I never could understand the rights of things
between landlord and tenant, and we want to do what is right and just
without being imposed upon. Well, you will stay on, at any rate, till
your uncle comes back, and he seems in no hurry to do so. I wonder he
wasn’t as glad to come home as I was; but perhaps he knew there’d be a
lot of worries waiting for him. He will be very glad to find them all
straightened out like this.”
It seemed as though some idea was fermenting in Mrs. Cossart’s brain,
for once when she was sitting alone with Sheila in the drawing-room she
said suddenly—
“Do you ever hear from the Dumaresqs now?”
“Lady Dumaresq wrote once, and Miss Adene once. They are soon coming
back to England.”
“Do you think you will see any more of them when they do?”
“I don’t know,” answered Sheila in a low voice, with crimsoning cheeks.
“Well, I was going to say I hope you won’t,” said her aunt, “for I
don’t know what I should do if I were to lose you both.”
“I don’t understand,” said Sheila, bewildered.
“Well, I was only thinking that Mr. Dumaresq seemed very much attracted
by you once. It may be only a passing fancy, but if it came to anything
and I lost you, and Effie were to go too, why, where should I be?”
Sheila looked up suddenly; a number of hints that Effie had let drop
flashed back into her mind.
“But do you mean that Effie—that Effie—is going——”
“Well, my dear, we don’t talk of it yet, and being cousins, of course,
it is not exactly what we should have chosen, and we want to make sure
that her health is really restored. But you know she and Cyril have
never really cared for any but each other all their lives, and in
Madeira it seemed to come to a crisis with them. Nothing is actually
settled. Her father would not have an engagement, but I believe it will
come to that sooner or later, and then they will certainly live in
London, though they will always have a second home here. But they are
both so intellectual—however, we need not talk of that yet. Only if I
lose Effie, I do not want to lose you too.”
Sheila laughed and blushed a little.
“You are very kind to want me, for I have not always behaved well; but
I do not think you will get rid of me if you want to keep me.”
“Well, I do. I am used to young people about, and the house would not
be itself without them. Still, of course, I shouldn’t wish to stand in
the way of anybody’s happiness. If I do have to lose you girls, I shall
adopt Oscar. He, at any rate, will not want to marry yet awhile, and he
is a very dear boy. I should like to keep him altogether, and not let
him go back to River Street at all. I don’t care how they have improved
the town, I always do say the country is healthier.”
“I am sure of it!” cried Sheila eagerly. “Oh, how delightful it would
be if Oscar could always live here!”
Mrs. Cossart nodded her head with some emphasis.
“We must wait till your uncle comes back to settle things, but stranger
things than that have happened before now.”
(_To be continued._)
[Illustration]
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
MEDICAL.
NAIAD.—Sea-sickness cannot be considered as a disease of the stomach.
It is caused by the motion acting in some way upon the brain. How
it acts is not quite certain; possibly it is by interfering with
the blood supply of the brain, or it might be due to a succession
of slight “concussions.” An exactly similar form of sickness occurs
in some persons from swinging, or who have been patronising the
“giddy-go-round.” Also any injury to the head may be followed
by sickness. How to prevent sea-sickness is a question which is
confessedly a puzzle to all. The peculiarity of this form of vomiting
is that it bears no relation to food. It is no more common after than
before meals, and the vomiting produces little or no relief. We think
everybody has her own little specific for sea-sickness, and it is as
useless as her neighbour’s. Obviously, from what has been said above,
no remedy which acts upon the stomach can prevent sickness, because it
is a nervous and not a gastric symptom. We may hope one day to discover
how to prevent sea-sickness; at present we cannot do so by any means.
AN ANXIOUS GIRL.—Read our answer to “A Gaiety Girl.” The question
of infection and epidemics is a most puzzling one for the public to
understand. And yet it is of vast importance that it should understand
it, for with the public, and not with the medical profession, lies
the power of stamping out infectious diseases. As you only desire
information about influenza, we will leave all other fevers out of
court and confine our remarks to influenza alone. Influenza is an
epidemic, possibly infectious, disease, chiefly characterised by
inflammation of the mucous membranes, and by the exceedingly formidable
list of its sequelæ and complications. It is due to the multiplication
within the body of a definite germ. The disease never occurs without
this germ, nor is the germ ever found in the human body except in
those who are suffering from, or who have lately recovered from,
influenza. The great question of its causation is, “How does the germ
gain entrance into the body?” And this unfortunately we cannot answer.
It is not commonly an infectious disease in the usual meaning of the
term—that is, it is not commonly caught directly from person to person;
but we feel certain that one person can inoculate her fellow. The
disease is epidemic, and spreads in waves which have usually swept
from the east westwards. For this reason it has been suggested that
the germs are conveyed from place to place by the east wind—an utterly
untenable theory. Most probably the disease is spread by water, or by
dust infected with the dried spittle of persons suffering from the
disease. It is by no means a modern disease. There were epidemics of it
in 1833, 1847, 1848, and 1888. Nearly all the epidemics have started
in Russia, and hence the disease has been called Russian fever. When a
person has had pneumonia following influenza, it imports that she has
had a large dose, and probably a very virulent dose of the poison. Such
a person would be more likely to directly inoculate another. Up to the
present it has not been customary to isolate influenza patients, but
we think that isolation is unquestionably advisable wherever this is
possible. To disinfect the room afterwards there are no measures to be
compared with fresh air, and a pail of water, and a scrubbing brush.
Thoroughly clean out the room in which an infectious case has been
“warded”—use plenty of water, plenty of soap, and plenty of time. You
may use chloride of lime or carbolic acid if you like. Afterwards, let
the room get as much air and sunshine as possible, for both fresh air
and sunshine are fatal to injurious germs. We do not know what is the
incubation period of the disease, nor can we say for how long after
recovery the patient remains capable of conveying infection.
LILY.—When you have removed the redness—which is inflammation—of the
eyebrows, the hairs will grow dark again. Apply a little zinc ointment
to the place every morning and evening.
STUDY AND STUDIO.
PEGGY.—We think you would find the comic song you mention by going to
any good music-seller’s and giving the extract. Unless we are mistaken,
it has been sung by some popular entertainer, and is well known.
WINTON.—1. We have already recommended the “York Road Sketching Club,”
and “Copying Club;” address, Miss H. E. Grace, 54, York Road, Brighton,
W.—2. The three staves in Grieg’s music are used simply because there
is not space in one set of five lines to clearly show the complicated
air and accompaniment which fall to the lot of the treble.
MISS MUNN, Sandhurst, Hawkhurst, wishes to announce that a new year of
her Sketching Club began in June, but members may join at any time. The
subscription is 2s. 6d. the year.
BRENDA.—There are plenty of such scholarships as you describe. You had
better write to The Secretary, Technical Education Board, St. Martin’s
Lane, W.C., or consult Mrs. Watson’s article on “What is the London
County Council doing for Girls?” (THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER, March, 1897).
RITA (New Zealand).—1. Your question from _In Memoriam_ is a very
thoughtful one. The poet is describing a man who, being troubled by
religious doubts, does not try to stifle them by simply resting on
the authority of a Church and telling himself, “I must not doubt, for
it is wicked.” He looks these doubts—“the spectres of the mind”—fully
in the face, searches for the answer, and, as Truth does not fear
investigation, he succeeds in dispersing them; even as a fabled ghost
can usually be disproved by someone who will bravely face the supposed
apparition and find out what it really amounts to. The man who fights
this battle honestly, and conquers, wins in the end a stronger faith
than the man who merely asserts, without thought; and in the temporary
darkness of his perplexity God is with him still—for God is the God
both of the light and of the darkness. This magnificent passage you
must understand as applying only to those who really seek in an earnest
and reverent spirit after Truth, not to the flippant scoffer.—2. We
answered this question in July, 1897, and must refer you to the volume
_Twilight Hours_ (Messrs. Isbister & Co.) containing the poems of Sarah
Williams (Sadie).
A MERRY SUNBEAM (Belgium).—1. Certainly a young girl of 15½ may wear
long skirts and put up her hair if she is unusually tall “without
looking ridiculous.” She will be taken to be older than she really is,
which may be a disadvantage to her.—2. The expression “teens” is taken
from the termination of the numbers thirteen to nineteen inclusive, and
“hazel” is brown, like the brown of the hazel nut. We go to press long
before you receive your magazine, and we are sorry you have to wait
so long for replies. You write English very well, considering it is
not your native language, but we have no objection at all to receiving
letters in French from any of our subscribers.
BEATRICE CENCI.—The heroine whose name you adopt lived in Rome during
the sixteenth century, and a very touching and beautiful portrait of
her by Guido exists in the Barberini Palace there. Her father was
a monster of cruelty and wickedness, and she was driven at length
to plot with her step-mother and brother to murder him, in order to
escape from his tyranny. The deed was discovered, and Beatrice with
the other criminals was put to death by order of the Pope. Her father
had constantly bought his pardon from the Pope for the murders _he_
had committed on his own account, and the infamy of his life, combined
with the natural gentleness of Beatrice, awoke a widespread feeling of
compassion for her doom, in spite of the nature of her act.
ERICA.—Your quotation is from the first verse of a song by Thomas
Linley (1798-1865), written and composed by him for Mr. Augustus
Braham. The whole verse runs as follows:—
“Tho’ lost to sight, to memory dear
Thou ever wilt remain;
One only hope my heart can cheer—
The hope to meet again.”
We go to press long before you receive your magazine, so it would be
quite impossible for you ever to see an answer in “next week.”
PILGRIM.—1. We should think a good history for your purpose would be
an illustrated abridgment by G. Masson of F. P. G. Guizot’s _History
of France from its Earliest Times_ (Low), published price 5s.; or W.
H. Jervis’s _Student’s History of France_, with maps and illustrations
(Murray), published price 7s. 6d.—2. The only satisfactory general
history of Russia is said to be Alfred Rambaud’s, illustrated and
well translated (Low), but it is expensive—21s. There is a popular
History of Russia in the “Story of the Nations Series” (Unwin) by
W. R. Morfill, published at 5s. We hope these are neither “dry” nor
“childish.”
FLORENTIA.—We have searched through Charles Kingsley’s poems in vain
for the lines beginning—
“In music there is no self-will.”
Are you sure he is the author? Perhaps some reader may observe this
reply and come to your help.
SNOWDROP.—We think your best way is to write to Messrs. Hachette & Co.,
18, King William Street, Charing Cross, London, W.C., for a list of
French magazines, and choose one that seems suitable. We do not know of
one exactly answering to THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER.
OUR OPEN LETTER BOX.
“WINTON” again has answers, from “AN OLD SUBSCRIBER” and an anonymous
writer, referring the hymn, “Come ye yourselves apart and rest awhile,”
to the _Hymnal Companion_ and _Sacred Songs and Solos_.
MISCELLANEOUS.
CLEOPATRA II.—The term or nickname of a British soldier, i.e., “Tommy
Atkins,” had its origin in the little pocket-ledgers, at one time
supplied to them, in which all the necessary memoranda connected with
them—their name, age, date of enlistment, length of service, wounds,
or medals, received, etc., were entered. With this the War Office gave
a form to be filled in; the hypothetical name of “Thomas Atkins” was
entered, just as “John Doe and Richard Roe” are employed by lawyers;
“M. or N.” by the Church, and “Jack Tar” to designate a sailor. The
books at once were called by the name, which was afterwards applied as
a comprehensive name for the men themselves. We thank you for your good
wishes for the continued success of our magazine.
S. A.—There are five Homes for Aged Poor People in the suburbs of town,
respecting which you must write to the Misses Harrison, 5, Grandacre
Terrace, Anerley, S.E. There is also the “Aged Pilgrims’ Friend
Society,” which grants annual pensions to aged Christians of both
sexes, and of all Protestant denominations. This institution has homes
at Camberwell, Hornsey Rise, Stamford Hill, and Brighton. Pensions are
granted to some not received into the homes. The Secretary is Mr. J. E.
Hazelton, office, 82, Finsbury Pavement, E.C.
F. W.—We do not undertake to return answers in the next magazine after
hearing from correspondents. Boil sufficient milk for the amount of
wholemeal you wish to knead, adding a piece of butter of the size of an
egg (for a small cake), and melt it in the milk. Mix some bread-soda
with the meal; and then knead the milk with the latter, and roll out
on a paste-board. Make a round flat cake, and cut across, to make four
divisions, and bake on a girdle, putting dry flour on the girdle, or
a sufficient space on a hot oven. Butter-milk is much used for the
purpose in Ireland. Of course yeast may be had, instead of the soda,
from any baker.
O’HARA.—The Celts were the first Aryan settlers in Europe. This
fact is placed beyond all doubt by their language, which bears a
close resemblance to Sanscrit, alike in grammatical structure and
vocables. Herodotus speaks of them (B.C. 450) under the name _Keltai_,
as mingling with the Iberians, who dwelt round the river Ebro. The
Romans called them _Galli_. It is maintained by many that these
Aryans in Spain, the French Pyrenees, and in Britain, found before
them a Turanian people, the descendants of whom are to be seen in the
Lapps and Finns, and the Basques of Spain and Portugal. The Aryans’
original home was the plateau of Central Asia, from whence they spread
south-westward; and the Eastern tribes took possession of India and
Persia.
PUZZLED ONE.—Adults do not need sponsors at their baptism, as in the
case of infants; but witnesses are essential; because the persons
baptised make thereby a public profession of their faith. Special
“witnesses” usually accompany adults; but you will observe (in the
last Rubric), that the baptised “answer for themselves,” and only the
godly counsel of “their chosen witnesses” is required, whose duty it is
to “put them in mind” of the “vow, promise, and profession they have
made.” Should there be no desirably religious and God-fearing friends
to present the adult, she should communicate this difficulty to the
rector or vicar of her parish, and he will, doubtless, provide for this
lack, as well as see to her preparation for the rite himself.
MARCIA.—We are certainly of opinion that in earlier times the term
“Merry (or Merrie) England” was justly so applied, as distinguished
from its general condition in these days of strikes. It was enough
for the little educated to have their Maypole festivities, their
Christmas and Easter entertainments; and so they enjoyed a greater
light-heartedness, simpler recreations and brighter views of life; and
the people were united more closely together in a boyish _camaraderie_.
But, as the Anglo-Saxon word _mæra_ signifies “famous, great and
mighty,” and _mer_ in the old Teutonic means “illustrious,” the
original signification is probably not “mirthful.”
DOT.—A nice little cake for home use is made with 1 pint of wholemeal,
1 teacupful of milk, a piece of butter of about the size of a walnut,
and a teaspoonful of baking powder. Mix well and bake for about half an
hour.
HOPE.—The correct pronunciation of the Italian phrase, _Dolce far
niente_ (Sweet do nothing) is, “Dole-che far ne-ente.” We are glad that
our magazine gives you so much satisfaction.
DIX-HUIT.—There is no way of improving your hand but the daily
copying of the copper-plate examples, or of some hand you admire. The
pronunciation of surnames is often very arbitrary. The name “Besant”
ought to be pronounced as having a double “s,” and the accent laid
on the first syllable, “Bes.” But its present owner, Sir Walter,
pronounces it “Be_sant_,” and of course he has the right to do so.
CARNATION.—If you are a daughter of a younger brother, no matter
how old you may be, the eldest daughter of the eldest brother has
precedence of you. Should your father and uncle have a sister living,
neither of you could claim precedence of her. She is Miss —— so long
as she remains single; and she takes precedence, moreover, of all her
younger brothers and their wives.
MISS H. MASON’S “Holiday Home, and Home of Rest” we always have
pleasure in naming for the benefit of our readers, who are engaged
in either teaching or business, or are clerks. Charge for board and
lodging 15s. a week; for a short visit, from Saturday afternoon till
Monday morning, 5s.; and till Tuesday, 7s. 6d. Oakwood Lodge, Ide Hill,
Sevenoaks.
MARGUERITE.—There is a society for milliners and dressmakers, the
“Provident and Benevolent Institution,” 32, Sackville Street, for
members within twelve miles of the General Post Office, and which gives
grants in illness, and pensions from £25 to £35. You do not give an
address, therefore we are unable to tell you whether you be eligible.
DIAPER DESIGNS FOR EMBROIDERY.
[Illustration: A.—_Sixteenth century sprig._]
Most of the patterns here given were suggested by sketches from the
celebrated 15th century painted screen in Ranworth Church, Norfolk,
which I made on the occasion of a visit there some time ago, and are
excellent specimens of diapers suitable for embroidery. It is a class
of design almost peculiar to the period and may be termed “conceits,”
for although nature is suggested in these diapers, the arrangement is
purely arbitrary, and the ornament is not necessarily developed out
of a particular plant, but is imported into it, wilfully. Thus you
get in A a sort of conventionalised leafage with flowers and berries,
and in B an ornamentalised fruit with flowers. This latter pattern I
have developed in C, the growth of the pine-apple having suggested
the design. The thistle, globe artichoke and many other plants could
be treated in this way. Always go to nature for your _motifs_, but
remember that you only take suggestions from nature, as design is not
transcribing nature, but the result of imagination, stimulated by
reference to nature, playing around the subject. Ingenuity is called
into play, and a good design may be likened to an interweaving of
pleasantly contrasted lines nicely balanced.
[Illustration: B.—_Sixteenth century sprig, suggestive of a fruit._]
So many amateurs think that a representation of a particular plant or
animal arranged symmetrically is designing, whereas designing is as
much an effort of the imagination as poetry or music. It is a good
exercise to start with some design as I did in B and do something
original on the same lines. Even if you are not very original in your
efforts, it is a good exercise of your skill. If you are content to
merely reproduce what others have originated, your mental faculties
are not brought into play at all, and you can never hope to make any
advance in original work. The growth of stem in C, going as it does
over and under the main stem, was suggested by the growth of the sprig
in D, which is a characteristic example of a “conceit.”
[Illustration: C.—_Sprig founded upon the pine-apple, in the style of
sixteenth century German work shown in_ B.]
Such diapers as A, B and C can be used to “powder” over a curtain.
Portions of them might be _appliquéd_, the “fruit” in C for instance,
while the leaves could be in outline. The diapers can be disposed
over the curtain in some sort of order, and you might work diagonal
lines, and put a sprig in each lozenge formed by the diagonal lines
crossing each other at right angles, as in Fig. 1 in a former article
on “Curtain Embroidery,” to which I must refer the reader. The running
border E would be effective worked in two colours, a light and a dark,
and could be used to border a curtain in which the other diapers are
used.
[Illustration: D.—_Sprig suggested by sixteenth century German work._]
The patterns on the screen in Ranworth Church were stencilled, and
these given in this article could be cut as stencils. It would be a
good way of transferring the designs to the material to lightly stencil
them on and then work over the impressions.
FRED MILLER.
[Illustration: E.—_Continuous border design for two colours._]
* * * * *
[Transcriber’s Note—the following changes have been made to this text.
Page 803: comtemplate to contemplate—“contemplate the surrender”.
Page 812: Repeated word “the” removed—“_The Shadow of the Sword_”.]