MATERNAL DISPLEASURE.
“Where is Sheila, Effie?”
“Gone for a ride along the New Road with Lady Dumaresq and her
brother,” answered Effie with a slight toss of the head.
Mrs. Cossart looked annoyed.
“She had no business to go without my permission.”
“Much Sheila cares for that!” snorted Effie; but then with perhaps
a better impulse she added, “Well, you were out, you know. And Lady
Dumaresq sent up to ask her, and they had ordered a horse for her. I
suppose she couldn’t very well have refused. She seems to belong more
to them than to us.”
Mrs. Cossart’s ordinarily placid face darkened; that was exactly her
own feeling, and she did not like it. The Dumaresqs were undeniably
the “best” people at the hotel. The mother had arranged to spend this
winter in Madeira partly that Effie might have the opportunity of
making friends on equal terms with persons of a higher social standing
than were attainable at home. It had even passed through her mind that
Ronald Dumaresq would be a good match for her daughter. Hitherto she
had never thought of Effie’s leaving her, but something the last doctor
had said had put the notion into her head.
“Take her away and throw her with a lot of strangers. Let her mix with
other people and get fresh interests. She has been too much shut up and
thrown upon herself. Her nerves want bracing, and there is nothing like
change of scene and companionship for that. You say she has never had a
‘disappointment,’ so much the better. She may find the right man for a
husband one of these days, and in some respects that would be the best
thing possible.”
So Mrs. Cossart, for the first time in her life, was rather disposed to
make schemes for her daughter’s matrimonial settlement.
“Didn’t they ask you too?” she asked. “It would only have been polite.”
Effie made her little defiant gesture with head and shoulders.
“I don’t think grand people who are thought so much of are very polite.
I suppose they think themselves too grand. Besides, they know I don’t
like the horses here. But don’t you trouble about me, mother. I am
all right. I don’t want a lot of strangers to run after. I don’t care
to make myself cheap, like Sheila. I am quite happy with my books and
work up here, and the garden to walk in. I never was one for always
gadding. I think it’s charming to sit here in the sunshine and watch
the sea. I get tired of all the silly babble that amuses Sheila. It’s
more interesting to think one’s own thoughts. I have lots of thoughts.
Perhaps I shall write them down some day when I’m stronger. I shouldn’t
like to be always hanging on to other people. I’m not made like that.”
“Yes, I am afraid Sheila is very forward; I shall have to put a stop
to her goings on, I think. People are beginning to talk about her. She
was brought to be a companion for you, and she is always off with other
people.”
“Oh, don’t think I want her,” cried Effie, laughing. “I get quite
enough of her as it is, I assure you! We are good enough friends, but
Sheila has such a shallow mind. I get tired of her. I like to go deeper
into things; but when I talk she always either laughs or goes rattling
off about some tennis match or cricket, or picnic. I can’t make things
like that the aim and object of my existence.”
“But we want you to get out and see people, dear.”
“Oh, yes, and so I do; and perhaps there will be some more people
by-and-by whom I shall like better. But I was rather glad to be rid of
Sheila this afternoon, as it happens; for the two Miss Murchisons are
coming to tea. I always enjoy them most alone. We like the same things,
and Sheila doesn’t. She spoils it by making nonsense of everything.”
Mrs. Cossart did not reply; she had never opposed her daughter in any
of her plans, and did not like to begin now; but as a matter of fact
the two Miss Murchisons were by no means the companions she would have
selected for her. They were pleasant girls enough, but their father was
a tradesman in Leeds in a good way of business; and though everybody
in the hotel was kind and civil to them, they were not in the swim in
any sense of the word. One of the pair was delicate, and perhaps that
had formed a bond. She could not play tennis, or go down in the evening
to play in the billiard-room, or scramble up the steep roads either on
foot or on horseback. Anyhow, Effie had taken a fancy to these girls,
and would have them to her rooms, or go to theirs and spend hours in
talking. Mrs. Cossart got an impression that they mutually told each
other every detail of their respective illnesses, and all they had gone
through; and she was beginning to understand that that sort of talk
was bad for Effie; yet having herself encouraged it for so many years,
she found it very difficult either to break herself of the habit or to
break it in Effie.
The guests, in fact, appeared almost before there was time for more
words, and Effie visibly brightened. Mrs. Cossart lingered awhile
listening to the talk; but presently she betook herself to the garden
to find her husband, who was greatly enjoying the easy life in the
exquisite climate, where it was never cold and seldom too hot, and
where he could sit out in sunshine or shade with his paper and pipe
from morning to night, enjoying interludes of talk and friendly gossip
with other elderly gentlemen of like tastes and habits.
They wandered about a little and finally betook themselves to the level
garden outside the front door, and before long there was a clatter
of horse-hoofs, and the riding party returned. Sheila, as usual, was
bubbling over with fun, and her gay laugh rang out again and again as
she dismounted and came along with Ronald in attendance.
“Thank you so much, Lady Dumaresq, it has been a delightful ride!” she
cried, turning back towards their companion who was bringing up the
rear more slowly. “What dear, little, plucky horses they are, though
they do pull! They do like to get off the cobbles on to a proper road.
And what a funny little village that is at the end of the road! Didn’t
the people look wild and queer?”
“I believe they are rather a wild lot,” answered Lady Dumaresq,
smiling; “but you must be thirsty, little girl. Come with us and have
some tea. Guy and Aunt Mary are sure to have it all ready for us.” Then
seeing Mrs. Cossart she added, with one of her gracious smiles, “You
will let us give the baby her tea, will you not, since we have ridden
her so hard?”
“Thank you, you are very kind,” answered Mrs. Cossart, rather stiffly,
for she never could get used to what she called “grand people,” though
she longed to be friendly with them, and was secretly pleased when
Lady Dumaresq spoke to her in presence of other guests. But why was it
Sheila whom these people had taken up, making a pet and baby of her,
and encouraging her in all her little spoilt-child ways? If it had only
been Effie now, the mother would have been brimming over with delight;
but Sheila was quite spoiled enough as it was; it was a thousand pities
she should be made so much of here.
Effie was able now to appear at luncheon and dinner, and her mother
took care that she was always well dressed and looked her best. Sir Guy
Dumaresq had the seat at the end of the table farthest from the door;
his own party sat at his right hand, and the Cossarts opposite at his
left. Thus they seemed in a fashion to make one party, and conversation
was usually more or less general.
“Now, Miss Cossart,” said Ronald to Effie that day, “you’ve not done a
single thing since you came. We must really rout you up. Let’s make up
a party and take the funicular railway to the Mount Church to-morrow,
and come down in running carros. It’s the most screaming fun, and
perfectly safe. I know Miss Sheila is just aching to go in one; and you
must come too!”
“There, Effie,” cried Mrs. Cossart, beaming, “isn’t that a charming
plan?”
Effie pursed up her lips and gave her head a little toss.
“I don’t know till I’ve tried. I thought it always rained up at the
Mount. I see the clouds come down every day about noon. But I’ll come
if you want me; if I do get wet, I do. I don’t care so very much. If I
do get a bad night afterwards it won’t kill me, I daresay!”
“Oh, we’ll take care of you!” cried Ronald, laughing. “Guy is going;
and he isn’t to get wet either; so we’ll make love to the clerk of the
weather. But the mornings are almost always fine even up there. It’s in
the afternoon the clouds come down.”
Sheila was delighted to think of going on this excursion. So far,
although they had now been several weeks in the island, she had seen
very little. The Cossarts liked to take things quietly, and there was
plenty of time, they kept saying, to see everything.
The few rides with Effie had not been particularly exhilarating, as
she had been nervous and dissatisfied with the horses, and though
Ronald had gone prospecting about, the Dumaresqs and Miss Adene had
been content for the most part with the pleasures of the garden; and so
Sheila’s opportunities for sight-seeing had been but few.
However, nothing could have been more favourable than the weather the
next day. Fine as it almost always was down in Funchal, there were days
when the hills and mountain peaks were wrapped in cloud, and those who
ventured up their sides were speedily wet through. But to-day all was
clear and bright and sunny; and as the little railway train climbed
puffing up the steep track, the air seemed to grow more and more clear
and buoyant, and Sheila laughed aloud from pure gladness of heart.
All the Dumaresqs were of the party, including little Guy, who clung
close to Sheila, and who was her especial care. Miss Adene went with
them, “to keep them in bounds,” as she said, and Ronald and Effie
completed the party. Perhaps Ronald felt he had rather neglected the
delicate girl, whose pleasures seemed few and far between; for he
constituted himself her cavalier that day; gave her his hand over
any rough ground; pointed out the various objects of interests, and
promised to be her companion in the running carro for the descent.
The air felt fresh and almost cold when they left the train. Sheila
drank in long breaths with keen delight.
“It is almost like being in England again! I do love the lazy heat down
below; but it is delightful to get up here where one feels like running
and jumping!” and forthwith she and little Guy began chasing each other
in and out amongst the trees and zigzag paths, till Miss Adene called
to them that they were going up to the church, and told them to follow.
After they had seen the big bare church with its curious images, they
got some very curious thick strong coffee at the little hotel, and then
Ronald went in search of carros sufficient for all the party.
“Miss Adene, you’ll go with me and little Guy, won’t you?” said Sheila.
“I’ll hold him on my knee and take care of him. You’ll trust him to me,
won’t you, Lady Dumaresq, and you can take care of Sir Guy!”
“Mayn’t I be allowed to take care of my own wife?” asked Sir Guy,
laughing; and Sheila laughed and blushed and answered quaintly—
“I think you always do take care of one another, Sir Guy.”
From the Mount Church a cobble-paved road ran sheer down the steep
hillside into the town lying beneath. The running carros were baskets
on runners, holding two persons, and managed by two men, who held
them back and steered them by ropes, running alongside or behind, and
calling out to all other passengers to get out of the way. For the
road was a public highway, and bullocks dragging up loads on sledges,
or men, women, and children with their market produce or purchases on
their heads, would be constantly met or passed coming up or going down.
The sensation of the running carro is very strange at first. It glides
off with a gentle motion, gathering velocity as it gets its momentum,
till at last it seems flying downwards in a perfectly irresponsible
way; and only the clever steering and checking of the runners saves
the traveller from the feeling that he must of necessity be flying to
inevitable destruction.
Sheila’s nerves were strong, and she and little Guy laughed aloud as
they flew downwards; whilst Miss Adene had had experience of these
methods, and took the descent quite calmly.
“I wonder how Effie likes it!” cried Sheila in one of the pauses, where
the runners have to be greased, or the basket-work might be in danger
of charring, so tremendous is the heat generated by the friction.
Effie, however, seemed to have got on well as they joined company at
the bottom of the slide, and found bullock carros waiting to take them
home. She was more animated than usual, and declared that she had not
been frightened at all after just the first; and Ronald said she had
stood it like a brick.
When they got home Mrs. Cossart was eager to hear Effie’s story, and
very pleased at her pleasure in the day’s outing.
“It is quite right and proper that you should go with Sheila when they
ask her. You got on very well with them, did you not?”
“Oh, yes, very well indeed. Mr. Dumaresq never noticed Sheila at all
when I was there. He is really very intelligent. I enjoyed talking to
him. He has plenty of sense, though he has such good spirits. I like
him very much.”
Mrs. Cossart was well pleased. The thought which had lately come into
her head seemed now to take firmer root. Certainly a marriage into
some really good family would be an excellent thing for Effie; and
her handsome dowry ought to be an inducement which no young man would
altogether overlook.
So the mother’s eyes were very jealously on the watch the next days and
weeks; and often her heart swelled within her with anger and jealous
displeasure. For it was impossible to ignore the fact that Sheila was
the favourite. However well Effie was dressed, however she was put
forward and “trotted out” by her mother, it was Sheila’s merry laugh,
Sheila’s saucy or appealing speeches, Sheila’s big soft eyes that
seemed to win her way everywhere.
“I wish I had never brought that girl!” cried Mrs. Cossart one evening
in exasperation to her husband.
“What girl, my dear?” asked Mr. Cossart mildly. “I thought it was doing
Effie so much good. She is another creature.”
“Yes, Effie, if it were only her; but there is Sheila! I am out of all
patience with her! I declare if there is a good opportunity I will ship
her back to England. It is too bad the way she is going on!”
(_To be continued._)
[Illustration]
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
MEDICAL.
FLORENCE.—The glands under your arm have inflamed and broken down,
and you ask us to tell you what has caused this. There are many
possible causes, but we will confine our remarks to the commonest, and
therefore most likely causes. The use of these glands is to filter off
from the lymph any impurities it may contain. Let us briefly glance
at physiological considerations to enable us to understand why these
glands are so extremely commonly inflamed. Your right arm is affected.
Very well. The blood reaches your right arm and hand by the arteries.
Part of the blood returns to the heart by the veins, part of it exudes
through the walls of the smallest arteries. This part is not red but
colourless, and is called lymph. This lymph bathes and nourishes the
tissues, giving them food, and taking away with it their impurities.
This lymph flows back through colourless vessels called lymph-channels,
which end in the veins of the neck; but we said that the lymph takes up
impurities in its passage. These impurities are partly physiological
and partly unhealthy; the latter consist of germs. If these germs were
sent into the blood-stream there would be disastrous consequences,
and to prevent this the lymph-glands are placed in the course of the
lymph-channels just before these enter the blood-stream. All the lymph
is forced through these glands as through a filter, and any germs it
may contain remain in the glands, and are quickly destroyed by the
elements of the glands, which are there for this purpose. But suppose
you have an abscess on your hand; that abscess is swarming with germs,
and the lymph in its passage will carry away a vast number of these
injurious microbes, and will take them to the glands of the armpit.
The germs remain in the glands and give the glands extra work to do.
The glands will enlarge and become inflamed. If the infection of the
glands is very virulent, the glands may, as it were, die at their
post and become abscesses. Now we can proceed. The commonest cause of
inflamed glands in the axilla is inflammation and suppuration about the
hand or arm. An abscess, a small dirty wound, or anything of a septic
character on the arm or hand will produce inflammation of the glands
under the arm. In these cases, as soon as the primary condition is
remedied the glands regain their normal condition. But suppose that the
primary wound was a stab in the hand from a hat-pin, which in some way
had become infected with the germs of tubercle; then the glands will
also become infected with tubercle, and this brings us to the second
commonest form of inflammation of lymphatic glands, the so-called
strumous or scrofulous glands. This is an exceedingly common affection,
especially in children. Good diet and cod-liver oil will help to enable
the body to withstand this disease. Sea air, and especially the air of
Margate, Folkestone, or Cromer will do more than anything else to cure
this affection in its early stages. Sometimes, in the later stages, or
in cases where the malady has been neglected, operation is necessary to
prevent excessive scarring or exhaustion from continued discharge. It
is imperative when glands have broken down, and are discharging, that
they should be kept extremely clean and free from external infections
by the use of local antiseptic washes and applications. The arm must
also be kept at rest.
A GIRTON GIRL.—Should persons with organic disease of the heart marry?
is a question which is very much easier to ask than it is to answer. In
this case we have not to consider the dangers of heredity, for though
heart-disease, and still more so, the commonest cause of heart-disease,
rheumatism, is undoubtedly sometimes hereditary, it is not sufficiently
so to forbid marriage on this score. Our personal experience is that
heart-disease is not hereditary. Nor is heart-disease an infectious
disease like consumption, which you could communicate to your children
or husband. Valvular disease is so varied in its nature and degree that
it is impossible to lay down laws which are applicable to every case.
GLASBURY.—Influenza is a terrible disease, and it often leaves much
suffering in its train. Indeed, we know of no disease which leaves so
much ill-health behind it. You, it has left with dyspepsia and nervous
weakness—perhaps its commonest legacy. You must be exceedingly careful
of your diet. The wind in your stomach you can relieve by bicarbonate
of soda or by two or three drops of essence of ginger in a wineglassful
of water. At the present time you should feed as well as your dyspepsia
will admit; and, really, to treat indigestion properly does not entail
many privations. Meat and malt wine, or cod-liver oil and maltine would
do you good if you can digest it; or you might derive great benefit
from a course of iron with quinine or other bitter tonic. But you
cannot take the last until your indigestion is relieved.
EVELYN.—If you go to a dental hospital, they will tell you where you
can get artificial teeth cheaply. It is against our rules to give the
name or address of any person.
MOLLY.—Before attempting to cure any ailment, it is necessary to
discuss two questions. The first is—What is the nature of the trouble?
The second is—What has caused it? It is only in certain cases that one
can answer both these questions definitely; but the more clearly he
answers these, the more rational and efficacious will be the treatment
of the malady. And in the treatment itself, the first thing to do is to
remove the cause, if possible. Now what causes your hands to get “hot
and clammy?” There is a possibility that it may be a purely natural
condition, for the palms of the hands perspire more freely than any
other part of the body, and persons vary extremely in the quantity of
fluid which exudes through their skin. Or your trouble may be due to
some unhealthy cause. Persons who are suffering from many forms of
illness perspire profusely. One of the commonest causes is indigestion,
which acts in this way. The stomach lies just below the heart, and
when the stomach is in difficulty it worries the heart, and so
interferes with the circulation. This is the cause of the flutterings,
palpitations, flushes and excessive perspirations, so common in
indigestion. You must therefore see to your digestion; also wash your
hands frequently in warm water with a good soap, and occasionally rinse
your hands in diluted toilet vinegar. Do not wear kid gloves, but if
you require any gloves at all wear thin silk ones. Healthy exercise is
necessary in this as in every other condition.
ELSA.—This correspondent asks us the following question. “My father and
mother died of consumption, and one of my sisters is in the last stages
of the same disease; am I going to get consumption?” We are going to
answer this question at length because it gives us an opportunity for
demonstrating what is meant by hereditary influence in disease; and
also because here is a poor girl worrying herself over a calamity which
may never occur. We say that consumption is an hereditary disease, but
this is not accurate. The disease is not hereditary, but the tendency
to it is. Consumption is a chronic infectious disease caused by the
presence of the tubercle organism in the body. It may and does strike
down anybody; but those who are sprung from a family with a tubercular
history are more liable to be attacked than others. We have a great
deal of evidence to show that nearly one-tenth of the human race
becomes infected with tuberculosis, but only a very small proportion of
those infected succumb, or indeed ever show symptoms of the disease.
Now it is presumable that those who do show symptoms have some extra
factor which prevents their throwing off the disease. For instance,
persons who suffer from chronic bronchitis, or who are barrel-chested,
or who are run down in health, etc., are less likely to successfully
combat the disease than are others. It is therefore one of these extra
factors which is hereditary; it may be a peculiarly-shaped chest, for
instance. Nobody is born with the tubercle germ inside her. So if every
relative of yours died of consumption, you can prevent yourself from
contracting the disease by running away from the tubercle germ and
living in a spot where this worst of all human pests does not exist.
Unfortunately this germ is almost ubiquitous. It swarms in every city
and town, and lurks by rivers and in sandy wastes. It does not inhabit
the ocean or the high latitudes or the tops of mountains. The sea-coast
is much less impregnated with this germ than are the inland parts. The
germ apparently dislikes the north wind, and is therefore comparatively
uncommon on our East coasts. Therefore, if you have a special dread of
consumption, live in a land where the tubercle bacillus does not thrive.
ATHENA.—Occasionally it is possible to restore the original form to a
nose which has been broken. Where there is great lateral deformity, the
question of correcting the displacement is well worth considering. In
the minor grades of distortion of the nose, due to old injuries, it is
scarcely worth while to have an operation done. In recent injury the
nose should always be “set” at once, for in this case deformity can be
almost always prevented. But remember that, if you have had your nose
“set” after a recent injury, and still deformity does occur, you must
not lay the blame on the surgeon. All operations on the nose or any
other part of the face should be done by a specialist, if possible.
OLGA BERTHA.—The probable cause of your trouble is anæmia and nervous
exhaustion. We cannot enter at length into the treatment of this
condition as we have done so many times already. You had better give
up bicycling for a time till you feel stronger again. Drinking large
quantities of water does dilute the blood, but only for a second
or two, for if more water than is necessary is drunk, though it is
absorbed into the blood it is thrown out again immediately by the skin,
the kidneys and the lungs. Drinking large quantities of fluid with
meals is a potent cause of dyspepsia, for the gastric juice cannot
digest anything when it is too much diluted. Perhaps you would derive
benefit from meat and malt wine, or maltine.
NATATOR.—There have been many explanations of the cause of cramp
while bathing, and it is not yet definitely settled which, if any,
of these is correct. The most probable theory is that cramp is due
to over-distention and paralysis of the heart. According to this
hypothesis, the contact of the skin with the cold water causes all the
blood-vessels of the skin to contract and so force the blood which was
contained in them into the internal vessels. As more blood than usual
will be thus thrown into those vessels which are deeply situated,
the blood pressure will rise greatly. The heart has to overcome this
pressure before it can drive the blood through the body. But if the
pressure is exceedingly high, the heart may be unable to overcome it—a
condition which means instantaneous death. But there are two conditions
in which cramp occurs whilst bathing. In the first way, the instant
the bather enters the water she is struck down by cramp, and if help
is not instantly forthcoming she dies in a few seconds. In the second
case, the bather is all right till she has been in the water perhaps
half an hour; she is then gradually seized with cramp. Let us see if
we can reconcile both these conditions to our heart theory? The first
is obvious from the above. In the second case we must presume that
although the blood pressure is raised, still the heart, being healthy
and strong, can overcome it. But after half an hour’s violent exercise
the heart begins to tire, and is now no longer capable of working
against the great resistance. This form of cramp is therefore more
gradual than the first; but both forms are necessarily fatal unless
timely help is at hand. Most of the other theories of cramp refer
the condition to temporary derangements of the nervous system, but
Broadbent, the greatest authority on the heart, is much in favour of
the theory we have just enunciated.
TERROR.—A bunion is an inflammation of the joint of the great toe.
It is almost always due to the pressure of an ill-fitting boot. In
the normal foot the great toe stands away from the other toes, and
so, if boots were made to resemble the foot, the inner border would
be either perfectly straight or slightly curved towards the middle
line of the body. But cobblers have improved on Nature, and they make
boots in which the inner border meets the outer border in a point.
In consequence of this absurdity, the great toe is forced towards
the other toes; its chief joint is partially dislocated and the ball
of the toe forms a projection on the inner side. This ball is part
of the joint, and so the side of the boot actually presses upon the
joint itself. This the joint is unable to stand. A “bursa”—that is,
a sort of water-cushion—is developed above the ball of the toe, and
so protects the joint from pressure. This is Nature’s method of
preserving the human foot from the ignorance and stupidity of its
owner. But although Nature is very cute in her way, she is unable to
cope with the owner of the foot, whose stupidity gets the better of
the struggle, though her foot comes off very badly indeed. Nature has
provided the above-mentioned water-cushion, but the boots are still
tight and misshapen. The “water-cushion” now becomes inflamed, its
edges get thickened, the joint underneath the water-cushion shares in
the inflammation and becomes destroyed. This is a bunion. So, after
all, Nature does get the better of it. She says she will not have
joints distorted and pressed upon, and she has got her way, only she
has had to destroy the joint altogether. The treatment of a bunion
depends upon the stage of the disease. In the early stages merely
wearing properly-shaped boots will undo the mischief. At a later date,
a special boot with a special compartment for the great toe must be
worn. In the last stages, nothing but a surgical operation—no less than
cutting away the joint—will give relief. We cannot too strongly impress
upon you the necessity of wearing rightly-shaped boots which do not
distort the great toe. For a bunion is really a serious disease, and,
moreover, if its cause is not removed, it is a progressive disease,
and will leave you in the end either a cripple for life or with the
necessity of having to submit to a surgical operation of moderate
severity.
CURIOUS.—Pepsin is obtained by scraping the stomach of a pig or calf.
It is the chief digestive agent secreted by the gastric juice. Papain
is a vegetable production, having much the same action as pepsin, but
is not so likely to do harm when taken for indigestion. Peptone is
the name given to the product of albumin (proteid) when completely
digested. You will find an account of the digestion in any book on
physiology.
“ONE OF THE OLD GIRLS.”—We fear that we cannot answer your questions,
for we never have given and never will give the address of any
chemist, physician or herbalist, or of any professional or tradesmen
whatsoever, in this column. As we know of no depilatory which is useful
without being injurious, we could not answer your question under any
circumstances. As a well-known physician once tersely put it, “There is
no depilator which is not a delapidator.”
STUDY AND STUDIO.
GRACE DARLING.—1. If the friend whose verses you enclose is “only
sixteen and has had a poor education,” her attempt does her credit.
There are many defects in composition; for instance, in verse 5 the
second person singular (thy) is interchanged with the plural (you).
The emphasis on the second syllable of “cannot” (verse 1, line 2), is
quite inadmissible, and we think a word must be omitted after “usual,”
as that is not a substantive.—2. Your writing strikes us as very good;
clear and legible, and likely, as you are only fifteen, to become more
“formed” with practice.
GREEN-BELLE.—We cannot say that you should encourage your “little
friend.” The verses you enclose are sentimental, and do not show poetic
ability in any way. If she is, as your letter suggests, quite young,
she should choose a different sort of theme when she wishes to attempt
metrical composition.
S. M.—Life is long, and we cannot decree that you would never write
well enough for publication; yet it would be unkind on our part to
encourage you in any hope that we should be likely to publish your
efforts. The little story in rhyme you enclose is pathetic, but many
of the lines are halting. “And who” (line 23) is an ungrammatical
expression where it stands. The composition of poetry that will find
acceptance is no easy task, so you must not feel hurt by our criticism.
FAITH (Western Australia).—1. Dr. Brewer informs us that the “Siamese
Twins” were two youths, Eng and Chang, born of Chinese parents at Bang
Mecklong. Their bodies were united by a band of flesh stretching from
breast-bone to breast-bone.—2. Your quotation—
“The undiscovered country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns.”
is from Shakespeare’s _Hamlet_, act i., scene 3. We appreciate your
letter and request.
PHYLLIS.—1. An easy Latin grammar for beginners is Arnold’s _Henry’s
First Latin Book_, price 2s. 3d. net. Smith’s _Principïa Latina_, part
i., is a little more difficult, but excellent. We do not see why, if
you are of a persevering turn, you should not teach yourself Latin,
and it is an undoubted help towards acquiring any other language.—2.
On the other hand we fear you cannot hope to learn the violin entirely
unaided. You would certainly contract some bad habit, even if you could
contrive to produce the notes.
MARGUERITE.—We believe that New Zealand would be a good place for a
working-class family or a young man or woman to emigrate to, provided
they were capable and thrifty. There are a great many emigration
societies from which you can obtain information. Apply to the Self-Help
Emigration Society, address Secretary, Memorial Hall Buildings,
Farringdon Street, E.C.; and to the Agent-General for New Zealand, 13,
Victoria Street, London, S.W. Thanks for your information.
DAINTY SCENT SACHET IN SATIN.
[Illustration]
The pretty article here illustrated is no sooner seen than coveted by
most of the fair sex, either for their own use or as a tiny present for
a friend. White satin of good quality is used for the front of the bag,
which is further adorned with a delicate spray of ribbon embroidery
arranged in the form of a slightly oblong wreath lightly outlined,
around which diminutive flowers and leaves are placed. Pale blue,
yellow, or green pongee silk is suitable for the back of bag, which is
added when the embroidery has been completed, previous to being filled
with wadding containing scent powder, and being closed with strings of
the delicate ribbon used for the embroidery.
_Materials required._—White satin, pongee silk, each four inches wide
and six inches long, three layers of wadding same size, pot pourri or
other scent powder, half a yard each of cornflour blue, yellow and
leaf-green ribbon, such as is used for ribbon embroidery. A thread of
green filoselle is used for the tiny stems and to outline the wreath,
which should be worked first.
The design consists of this wreath and two groups of flowers
interspersed with green leaves and coloured buds. A pleasing variety
may be produced by using green chenille instead of ribbon for some
of the leaves. If any reader should find difficulty in copying this
particular design, she may substitute any small spray and work it in
any kind of embroidery which she finds easier and thinks suitable. The
effect of the whole chiefly depends upon delicacy of colour, design and
workmanship of whatever kind introduced, and the idea affords scope for
endless individual taste and variety.
The ornamentation should not extend more than two inches from the
lower edge of the satin, so as to escape the gatherings by which the
bag is closed at the top. The simplest way to carry out our design is
to copy the wreath’s outline upon the satin with a lead pencil and to
work in the flowers and leaves afterwards from the illustration. It
is really quite easy to do so in the case of such a tiny spray, and
first attempts may be made by drawing it on paper until satisfied that
the arrangement has been satisfactorily copied. After that the attempt
should be made upon the satin with or without pencil tracing, according
the worker’s ability.
_To work rosette flower._—Take four inches of yellow ribbon, a single
thread of fine sewing silk or cotton, a common fine sewing needle, and
a large-eyed ribbon or crewel needle. Draw or imagine a circle the
size of a small glove button. With the large-eyed needle draw one end
of ribbon through the edge of circle. Take second needle and thread,
sew the end in place with one tiny stitch and gather along one edge of
ribbon, which should be on right side of satin. Then draw second end
of ribbon through to wrong side and draw in the gathering thread very
tightly to form a rosette as small as possible. Stitch the centre in
place, taking the stitches through the extreme edge of gathers only.
Fasten off on wrong side.
To work star, flowers and leaves but few directions are required.
Work with large-eyed needle and a short length of ribbon. Draw ribbon
through to right side of satin, leaving a short end at wrong side. Lay
a bodkin or other flat instrument in front of ribbon; work one stitch
over the bodkin and draw it away. Work three more stitches in the same
way and finish centre with a large French knot worked with silk or
filoselle. The foliage leaves are formed like the star flower petals.
The bodkin is used to keep the ribbon flat and untwisted and from being
drawn too tightly. It is advisable to fasten off the ends of ribbon on
wrong side with needle and thread after each length of ribbon is worked
up.
The reeds, which are most effective, consist of a nicely-worked French
knot, made of coloured ribbon, on the top of a tiny green stem. These
knots may be worked in the usual way, but some workers prefer to make a
tied single knot with an inch of ribbon by hand, and then to draw each
end through the work with the large-eyed needle.
When the embroidery is completed, lay the satin and silk together to
make up the bag, having right side of embroidery inside. Turn down two
inches of silk and satin together at the top of bag. Keeping them in
this position, run the edges together along sides and bottom. Raise
the upper layer of turned-down top and turn it over on opposite side,
and you will be pleased to find a neatly-finished hem ready made, as
it were, without any further trouble. Next turn the work right side
out, lay some scent powder between the layers of wadding, fold them in
half crosswise and slip all together into the bag. Next take twelve
inches of green, blue, and yellow ribbon, and tie them round the bag
about one inch from the top, having first arranged the back and front
into artistic folds, if possible, without the assistance of gathering
threads, which somewhat detract from the desired effect of immaculate
freshness indispensable to work of the highest order.
Last of all, in the centre of embroidered front form a smart,
crisply-made bow, using the three ribbons together so as to produce a
soft bunch of loops and ends bristling out at each side.
Nothing then remains to be done save to admire the pleasing result of
your labour, which, unless I am much mistaken, will greatly exceed your
expectations.
There is one more hint I cannot resist giving you. It is this,
three-sixteenths of a yard of satin is a small amount and only costs
a little money, but it will make ten such scent-bags. What a happy
idea for those of you who work for charity, and make their own little
birthday gifts! Won’t you try it?
L. E. C. L.
* * * * *
[Transcriber’s Note: the following changes have been made to this text.
Page 626: Challonet to Challoner—“Lucy Challoner”.
Page 627: lettter to letter—“over that letter”.
Page 637: Muchisons to Murchisons—“two Miss Murchisons”.
Page 638: Crossart to Cossart—“Mrs. Cossart beaming”.
Missing word “on” inserted—“going on this”.]