The Aberystwith Observer

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] LADY EASTON'S I SECRET OR THE WHEEL OF CIRCUMSTANCE. BY LILIAN QUILLER=COUCH. (Author of Man," A Spanish Maid," "The Romance of Every Day," etc.) CHAPTER XV.—MONICA'S STORY. "Good heavens exclaimed Cassius, spring- 111 g forward to her aid, and lifting, very gently, the fragile, pat-lietically light body from the floor to the sofa. My blundering must have I "lightened her, poor lady. Fool that I was not to think of it; she probably mistook me for the brute who frightened her on the terrace walk." Actual unconsciousness did not last many foments tand when Cassias moved towards the bell and staid', I will ring for the maid," the lady raised her hand to tstop him, and murmur- ed. No, please, no." 1 Anxious to help her and to undo the mischief ju:' had done; fascinated by her uncommon w'aut.y, her helplessness, and her wonderful likeness to his cousin's wife, Cassius stood be- si.de her, his honest, chivalrous heart going out to her, hie eyes eager to see the colour return- ing to her cheeks. As soon as she could speak she raised her -ilea(i and looking him bravely in the face, she asked, "Who are you?" I Ull Cassius Cheriton," lie replied dimply, snd I mistook you for my cousin's wife, Lady Easton. I sincerely apologise for having fright- ened you. Please forgive my error, and let me help you." Help me:" she repeated bitterly, hopelessly I' wild --lie turned away her head. In unconventional moments Caseins Cheriton was never checked by over-conventional scru- ples, that was not his way. And now, in one minute, he passed over, and cleared score of interrupting, unnecessary barriers. "lam a stranger to you," he said, "but if I can help you I hope you will allow me to. 'It ^enis to me that with such a strong likeness to Lady E as to i), you must be some relative of hers. have a very real and affectionate regard for L«dy Easton, end should be proud to serve her "'iends. If vou know nothing of her, I should still wish to"win vou-r forgiveness for my blun- dering." "There is nothing to forgive," she replied sadly. <• But—Lady Easton—tell me, is she quite liappy? I do know of her, I confess." "I think'she is happy, certainly," he began, fche has a lovely home, a good husband, and r~7—" But even as lie spoke there came into his mind his doubts of the past weeks and the ,eeiio of Cecily Poldare's words, Lady Easton ■;s a woman with a secret," came to his ears. and his words became hesitating. 'n "A,i1, there is something not quite right with hflr1" she asked with sad eagerness. u Vou have noticed that she is not quite happy?" Do you know why?" he asked, as boldly sis If he had known her for years.' Without resentment, she answered slowlv, "'Yes, I'm afraid I do." "Afraid!" he exclaimed. "Why say afro id 1'0 know the reason is to be able to set it r This reason, she said with despair in her Words, "can never be set right." There was something in the situation now wlueh urged Cassius to -risk much. By .a .series °f_eh«noes he had been led into the -presence of this woman, and a conviction seized upon him that here in this strange little room lay the ker- 1]el of much that he wished to know. Both hi* heart and his detective instinct were 'ap- pealed to by the circumstances, and he felt that e t. would be not only impossible but wrong for to turn on his heel now, .and leave thing.s as they were. Tell me," he said geaitly, are you related 10 Lady Easton?" or several moments she did not speak. Her eye* dilated, then seemed to shrink behind their lids; her cheeks flushed, then paled Then, sinking back on the cushion-, and closing her eyes, she said with tremulous distinctness, Yes." "You care for her?" Yes-clearlv." "1 care for her, too," he said heartily. "And all who care for her wish to see her happy. Purely, if we oil put our heads together we can set the trouble right, "-a t occurred to iiiin -v n le s s she finds she cares for another man, or anything of that sort." OJ] it is nothing of that sort," she <v»suml him quickly, "-but Won't you tell lilt, It had bEtter be kept—kept secret still." Slil" declared, believem-e. you would not thank me j0r telling you. Evelyn should be spared the humiliation—and I—I—" 'her voice rose into 11. SOb," am I nothing? do I count for nothing? HlllS t, I be tortured .all over again— ?" "ForRive me," he cried, going impulsively to "er. The sight of her pain troubled him more than he could explain, more than, indeed, lie ^ali^d. "I did not know. Remember, T am <i!ite in ignorance. I will say no more. The last thing in the world T wish to do is to 'hurt "ei;—or you." t Oh," she broke* out irnr-ii'sively, how much need a friend, for advice, for unbiassed cotm- ,iri-cl turning her face to the cushions, she broke down end wept bitterly. This was altogether too much for Cassius. e felt a hunt) rise in his own threat .at the "'giit- of her grief, and going close to her he pleaded quickly, earnestly. Please—I beg of you to trust me. Let me 1 e 1P you. I have no whit the trouble is, lut I can assure you of two tliiii.s--tliat I have lS01n€ idea, that Lady Easton is not quite happy vve» as things- arc now and that no word of wl'at, yotu choose to tell me shall ever be <li- -y, g-d to anyone unlesj vou give me leave. v n>»e. Let me be the friend you wish for, in *ptte of my being a stranger. Perhaps 1 can -•ring o, clearer mind to it. as i shall come to it freshly." .It would be simple madness," ghe cried, lacing him again, "to tell to an absolute granger who walks into the -house by mistake, j, 0 story which has been locked within my lij[-^ or 'Uearly two years." 1 "I know it may seem so, but it. is not .so. I aft) Lady E as ton's cousin by marriage, and you are her relative, too. I was educated for the Bar, so I am a barrister, as well as a stranger, and barristers hear of many sad stories without any previous knowledge of the narrator. You can verify my statements afterwards if you care to, but now, at this minute, I beg you to look upon me either as a relative or as a st range barrister, which ever you like; only pray let me help you." Let. me think," she said, rising from the couch, and walking to the window. Oh, how can I know what is right and for the best The pause which followed seemed to Cas- sius to 100 interminable. To the woman by the window it was merely a, spell of chaotic though t and wild indecision. Oh," she exclaimed, turning towards him suddenly, I could have kept my miserable, common little secret, I could have gone on just bearing my own pain. But something has hap- pened, happened to-day, and I am frightened, I am desperate, I don't know how to act." she paused. "Do you really know Lady Easton?" she demanded. "I have known, her well since her marriage. Trust, me; I speak the truth; she is my cousin Arthur's wife." "ShB is my sister!" she declared, standing straight before him, her arms hanging' by her sides, her hande clenched. And you are—? he faltered. I am Monica-Atwr;od." She has not spoken of you to me." No, I implored her not to speak of my ex- istence to anyone. When she married Mr Clieselby it did not seem to matter much that I was alive and needing her care. But. now that Mr Cheselby is Lord Easton, and Evelyn has gone to live with him, the whole thing is changed, and week by week the net seems to be closing about me." I am sure I can help you if you let me try." "My story is such a common, silly one; so hackneyed in novels, so hackneyed in real life; so bitter for the woman who has to live through •it. But I will tell it. You say you will help me. If you can you will perform a miracle. But if you cannot perhaps you can tell me what to do with myself, and then forget me. Don't b1 a me me afterwards, though, for telling you of disgrace; you have asked for it." I don't think that any real disgrace is con- nected with you," he said quietly. "Yù" if. is," she said in a clear, unemo- 1 tional voice, and then in the same tense voice she told her tale. I will not (be long over my story," she said. "Evelyn and I were left alone in the world when our father died, with no money, and no near relatives. We were proud as -well al" poor, and, with girlish folly perhaps, but with the best intentions, we decided that we would not 1 enrbara-ss any of our friends by staying on near 1 them .and looking helpless. So we set, to work, and before long I was a nursery governess in a. rich man's home, and Evelyn was an embroider- 1 ess for (i- big art shop in London. Then—" f she stopped, and the colourroseh ighin her cheeks, and she stumbled for words. Cassius did not hurry her. "Then," sue continued, after this had gone 011 for about two years— < T will give you the bare facts—a man came to 5 stay at, the house of my employer, he was an 1 officer in the army, a man of the world, I sup- I pcf-te; And he caught eight of me when I was in < the gardens with 'the children. I need not I tell you how he followed me and flattered me 1 and 6tormed-I can use no other word—my af- fections. His passionate vows seemed to carry ] me off my feet, and my head was turned by his i protestations. All this was done in secrecy, I I need hardly say. I w«8 the nursery governess, i he was a guest in the house—one of many. At > length, one day, when there had been a large I pic-nie, we were left (behind, he and 1, in a i storm of rain, and we made our way for miles, c and as night was closing in we reached the shel- 1 ter of a- cottage. It was then that he must, have I made up his story by which to frighten me, the -story that I was compromised by being lost in his company, that* the cottagers thought we j were- husband and wife, that. they would either t set tales afloat, or would blackmail us, and that < if I would go on to London, he would follow me, and we would be married. Later on I found t many, many flaws in the story which paralysed ] me then, and left me panic-stricken with fear for my good name." ] 'Cassius' teeth were set very hard when she 1 came to this part of her tale; Common enough < it might, he, as she had said; but barrister though he was, he was strangely affected by it. Go on," he said, in a low, strained voice. I," she siaid, forcing her -own voice to b ] steady, while her blue eyes darkened with pain, < I believed him. I—went to London. And t he "He did not. follow?" i I-Ie did follow. And we were married quickly in an office "Wellf" Yeql, well Ü. was for several weeks. I lived ■on. and for, his love. I did not tell my sister, I did not even tell him I had a sister. He was •insistent that the marriage must be kept secret. for •a while, .and I determined that I would say nothing of my family or my friends until my story might be made clear to everyone. lie told me nothing of his people, and I kept, si-lenco about mine. No one knew where I was. No one tried to trace me. Evelyn thought that, I was on a. holiday with the children, and she wrote, but could no.t come near me. Her working hours were long, and I made excuses when she wae free, and so .avoided her. At last. she paused. "Did he desert vou?" demanded Cassius. "1 have no right to call it that," she said with a quietness which was more heart-rending torniq of sobs eculd have been. "He cDme to me one day, nervously -and excitedly; something seemed to hove happened to him, and— he told iiie-ti at, we had. not been mar- ried at -all." The words dropped from her liko leaden- pain. And that he could not marry me—it was impossible-. He was a villain, ho called himself—he -,Ttf; a-sliamed-))ttt he had deceived me, and—-that was all." Cassius turned from-her, -and paced the in ,a passion of concealed fury. Monica sank upon the sofa again, -and leaning her head upon her hand, stared with wide, hopeless eye;- at hi, stern face. "You will regret tliat you know the secret of Lady Easton's .secret." she said bitterly. "Don't," he commanded. D on' t talk of mv regrets. Tell me, what, did vou do next ?" When he had gone out," cite said, I left tha %ncl went to my sister and I never look- ed upon him or spoke to him a«a:n. \llltil. U lit il ?" Until last June. Evelyn had never seen him. I had icld her my story bui: kepi: the man's name a. secret. He must have caught sight- of her returning from her work, and mis- taking her for illche followed her. It was late then, but the next afternoon he called. I hod been desperately ill for nwnths., I had nearly died, and Evelyn had been working hard, with scarcely time for sleep, to keep us both. Eve- lyn was not at home when lie was shown into the room, but I knew ot, once that he had come to try and (buy my silence. He had. He offer- Icel me money; and I ordered him from the •hou-e, and forbade the lady ever to admit him I again. These were terrible days; we were in dire poverty, I know, though Evelyn would (d. ways tell me that all was going well." Poor girls!" exclaimed Cassius invoiuntari- I Ii-. 'I It was then," sTno continued; "then, when I was broken and bruieed .and sick at heart, too I weak 'to move a hand to help our fortunes, and Evelyn was white-faced, and desperate with the struggle to live, Evelyn came to meanll told me ■that she w,as going to be married to a man who would allow her money enough to keep us both in comfort, and that, we need never be parted •again. -She told- me to ask her no questions, I but that 4*51 was well. The day after her mar- riage she brought me here." And have you been happier?'' "How could we be happy with that dark I cloud of disgrace 'hanging -always over us? We were nAit happy, but we had peace." j And then my unc'e died, and Arthur Chosel- by became Lord Easton." Monica, bowed her head. Lord Easton came for Evelyn, and she went with him. She was pained at leaving me, but. I thought she Wfie quite bright and brave at first." Do you think she has changed, then?" Yes, when I have seen her lately she has seemed frightened .and troubled; and I!—I fear I know too well why she is not happy. I am here. I am the shadow on her life. I am near, too near; and much as she loves me, she is ter- ;rif?3d lest, iher secret—my siecret—shall be known. It will bring disgrace and scorn upon herself, and upon her husband." Don't," he ,cried. I can't bear to hear you speak of disgrace in connection with yourself." She looked at him gratefully. Ah," she said sadly, but it is true. For weeks I have been trying to make my poor head plan some way by which I can efface myself, trying to think where I can go, what I can do. I have been in tor- ment. And then—this afternoon, on the ter- race walk, the last, blow fell—I thought I should have died under the shock of his eyes." You met—liim ?" He came upon me there. He spoke, and I —I fled. It was that, not your mistake, which made me lose my senses for u moment." "Miss At wood," said Cassius, slowly and ear- nestly, coming close to her, and taking her hand in his. Don't, be frightened any more. I know something about these matters in the profession for which I was educated, and I aek you to trust me when I tell you to do your best to banish your fear and sorrow from your heart. Here and now, I offer and promise to do my ut- most to set things right for you. I do not know how much or how little that may be, but I shall search, and follow, and enquire, until I have quite satisfied myself that I have done all that is possible. And I tell you to hope, not to fear, for it is a very hard matter nowadays for a man to go through a mock marriage. The man who would do such a dastardly thing as that deserves no mercy, and the law does, not give him any. Will you tell me one thing more? Will you tell me his name?" That I have never even told my sister," she said, with a burning flush of shame. But-it is Captain Strangley." Captain Strangley," he repeated. Thank you. Now I will leave you to rest. Good-bye, and while you are waiting here, trying your best to get well and strong, please remember that there is someone, someone already well and strong, who is taking care of your rights and you need have no single thought of 'anxiety or fear." In another moment he had gone, leaving her half dazed with the tumult of her thoughts, hut with the first small gleam of hope in her heart t that had not been there for many a day. As for !Cassius, he strode back to his rooms with a tumult in his own heart also. She does not know, he thought excitedly, that her ras- cally Captain Strangley is the present Lord Poldare—and that he has already made another marriage, and is living within a few miles of her sister (Evelyn." I CHAPTER XVI.—THE HAIND OF FATE. In all the grown-up years of Casgivp, Cheri- .on's life ibis work as a journalist had lain near- est to his heart. For journalism he had for- saken the Bar; for journalism he had denied limself many a pleasure; and by journalism he iad worked land planned, diplomatically and secretly, or openly and noticeably, and always lonestiy, courageously and perseveringly, for Lhe -good and safety of his country. Cassius was a good patriot, but for the first time in his ife, as 'lie walked back to his rooms in Seag- iess-, he wished that his work was less exacting; le longed to be free from it.. All suddenly he "eit that the one thing above all others that- lie .vished to do was to start off at once, without oss of a moment, in the service of that poor njurc-d girl, whom he had jus-t left with his heery words ringing in her ears-, in- whose heart le had just kindled a, tiny, flickering spark of lope. I will go down to the docks again," he .bought to himself. and have a final look round 'or the night, and then, instead of going over :o the Towers to-morrow, I will run up to Lon- Ion. I will sencla note to her in the morning isking for a few of the necessary details, and hen I'll begin in good earnest with every spare II untie I have." These were the thoughts which raced through lis brain, and this was the course he meant to ,-i k But fate willed otherwise for Cassius Sheriton. The darkness of a moonless January had fallen when Cassius set out to scan with his hawk-like eye the harbour which he wished to leave for a while on the morrow. In his dark scat and cap he walked slowly along in the shadow-line, -and his eyes scanned sea and land with the watchfulness of a lynx. He would not hurry on this night, full though his mind was of the story lie had heard that afternoon he would perform his work thorough- ly, and be back again on the -n%ext night,. t, So the hours passed, and all was quiet as far as eye could see. An? But what is that move- ment of darkness within darkness ?" Cassius asked himself at last, his keen eye caught by something, something that lie could feel rather, than see at the edge of the shadowy water. For some moments he stood, his eyes strainin.g to the spot which had just attracted his atten- tion. In the harbour all seemed peaceful and normal, the lights gleamed here and there from the ships at anchor, the refleefc'ons quivered in the ripple of the river. Then, slowly, slowly out from the darkness into the shadowed margin near the shore glided a boat. It .did not strike out into mid-water, it went forward slowly, noiselessly stopped, then went forward again. In another instant Cassius, humming a song nonchalantly, went down the steps of the quay on which he had been standing. With on every- day, careless air he loosened a (boat, and then, humming his song the while, he jumped in and took the oars. Before many moments had passed, Cassius with his swift strokes had pulled out, near but beyond the boat which his eyes had followed, that boat still hugging the shadow of the walls. With some clatter and clumsiness, and humming his song, he with on oar, dropped it, and muttered in mock wrath. His boat drifting back with the tide drew nearer to the other boat, and Cassius still fumbling with his cars, let it drift. Suddenly, with a covert, dexterous stroke of the one oar, and with an exclamation of aston- ishment, Cassius' bozit. crashed into that other boat lurking in the shadow. Then with an un- expected movement a match was struck, flared, went out, and with hasty words of apology on one side, and dead silence on the other, the boats were pushed apart again; and Cassius dropped the dead match, and groped for his oars. But that moment of light had been sufficient to ,reveal an amazing matter to the eyes of Cas- giL,,3 Cheriton. The angry face upon which the flame had shone was no strange face. To Cas- sius Cheriton .it recalled the face of the man Antoine Pezet, whose photograph lay in his own locked dispatch box. It also recalled the face of Madame Sud, the French woman. If Lady Poldare could have shared in that little adventure she would have recognised, too, the face of her colleague, Madame Men hep ia, the crystal gazer.

B liTHE WELSH CIIRE." B B Have You Cough I f or Cold ? I ijîl; 1 Will Cure You. B I INVALUABLE IN NURSERY. B m Cash Prices, 1/- or 2/6. 8 I ¡

FASHION AND THINGS FEMININE, BY MISS IDA MELLER. THE SPRING WARDROBE. The moment haa come when the new spring dress merits attention and the thoughts of women must needs be turned very seriously upon affairs of the wardrobe, for a change of season invariably means a thorough overhauling of frocks. Ind hats and 'the providing of new at- tire to suit the exigencies of fashon as well as period. There is little use nowadays in preserv- ing a dress for years, since fashion changes quickly, and it is of more concern to be dressed in simple stuffs representing the mode of to-day than to wear expensive materials that outlive the fashion in which they are made up. Women who have by them walking costumes made with the long straight coats beloved of fashion during the past year, should wear them hard while they are still modish, for a distinct change in the character of coats is threatened. Many women, of small means, recognise only two seasons of the year, so far as clothes are concerned—summer and winter-iand having al ways only a necessary supply of frocks, never a superfluity, are in no danger of keeping by them coats and skirts that are old fashioned while the material is still in an almost new condition. There is a certain advantage, therefore, in in- ability to overstock the wardrobe. Blue in its many pastel shades ia likely to be worn a. good deal during the coming season, for a look round at the new dress-materials and hats shows that fashion makers have made am- ple provision for an expected popularity of blue. A pretty house dress, designated the Mar- cia," and made of powder-'blue cashmere, is illustrated' herewith. The skirt is eased into the waist and the bodice, entirely drayed and caught with a knot of its own material at the bust, opens over a vest of guipure lace, which again forms the 'under-sleeves, bound, like the vest, with narrow black velvet. Tills simple dress might equally well be copied in voile, and is iaciharmilng style for the house. If preferred, the knot at the bust might be of glace silk, and the folded waistband of silk to match. The quantity of double-width cashmere required for the dre-s is 63 yards, and one yard of 15in. piece-lace for the best and sleeves. A NURSERY HINT. Children, when asleep, have a habit of throw- ing off the bed-clothes, and thus taking cold. To prevent the clothes from being thrown off it is a good plan to use a top sheet that is a great deal too large for the bed;this can be well tuck- ed into the mattress, and will in this way keep the 'blankets in position. If the child is very restless, a flannel ,sleeping suit should be worn. THE \NEW ONE-PIECE BLOUSE. The influence of the kimona is still felt among our dress-fashions, a feature of the new blouses and bodices being the seamless shoulder, sleeves and bodice being cut. all in one. It is quite a long time now since kimona. fashions set in, but so pretty and convenient have they proved them- selves that they are likely to hold their sweety over reigning fashions for a season or two to come. The one-piece -blozige sketched is, as its name .implies, cut all in one piece, having no seams other than these that run on the undcr- sleeve and underarm. The blouse, therefore, ils simplicity itself to make, and is quickly run up, the fastening being at the back and brought about Ibv hooks and eyelets, which arc concealed by a lap-over of the material. The original of the blouse sketched is made of ivory-coloured crepe, and for the sake of decoration a band of coarse lace insertion marks the front, from neck to waist. The material can be left beneath the lace, or cut away. At the throat, which is made collarless, is a frill of cam'brie edged with lace, and the long sleeves are finished with turned- up cuffs to match. The" one-piece" blouse works-cut very well, also, in fancy foulard, un- adorned by even a 'band of laee in front, 'but finished, as in the presenr case, with a frill at the threat and wrists. •With this simple mcdel the young dressmaker is spared the trouble of fitting the blouse on the shoulders -or making and fitting a collar-band. The quantity of 36in. foulard or other material needed for the blouse is three yards. TO OBTAIN PATTERNS. Patterns of all designs appearing in this echinm, week by week, can be obtained by send- ing postal order, value frkl., for each pattern required (coit, skirt, blouse, etc.), to Miss Ida Meller, c/o the Editor. The envelope should be marked Patterns." SPRING CLEANING. In addition to the regular daily dusting and weekly turn-out" of rooms, most homes are subjected about this season to an annual spring clean. It is the custom with certain housekeepers to wait until fires in the family living rooms are no longer required before beginning the spring clean also to cease allowing fires in the sitting rooms .after a certain date—usually the end of April—no matter how chilly the subsequent weeks may be. Others, more elastic in their methods, go through the spring clean in a less exacting manner, and bind themselves to no rule as to the precise date of beginning the clean and stopping fires. It is, of course, advantageous to wait until fires can be dispensed with before spring clean- ing, and especially before putting up fresh cur- tains and other draperies, as they soon get soil- ed when smoky fires are about. On the other hand, our treacherous climate L8 caused us before now to appreciate fires in May, while it is not always convenient to delay the spring clean until so laotea period of the year. C, In any case. however, whether or not the put- ting up of fresh lace curtains, etc., precedes the general spring clean, the house mistress should see to it that the chimney of any room where a fire is in daily use is thoroughly well swept be- fore the windows (ire re-dressed or new chinta covers put over chairs and sofas. In order to disturb the house as little as pos- sible during the annual turn-out, one room should, of course, be begun and finished before another is dealt with. CLEANING WALLS AND CEILINGS. Dough, of just.the right consistency—free from otickinecis and of the stiffness of putty-is an excellent medium for cleaning wall papers, either fancy or plain. It is risky to clean wall papers with damp cloths, but sometimes they may be successfully freshened by being gently rubbed over with a cheese-cloth wrung out of water. There is ap- parently no remedy for fiaded papers, and re- membering this it is wise to cover the walls of a sunny room with a paper whose colour does ,not easily fade. Ceilings that have become blackened by smoke are difficult to clean, and should be re-papered or whitewashed. A dusty and slightly soiled ceiling, however, may be freshened by being ■brushed over with a broom covered with cotton batting and {over this) a clean cloth. THE FLOORING. When Chinese matting, used for a floor cover- ing, has worn shabby in the centre, but yet re- mains sound at the 'border, it is a good plan to cover the worn part with a rug, leav n,, the sound matting as a surround. In this way, probatbly", small rug will suffice for the renova- tion. To keep stained boards brilliant, they should be robbed with prepared wax polish once or twice a week, and polish with a clean duster afterwards. To bring up the colours of a carpet, rub the latter with a cloth or flannel dipped in am- monia water, or in mild soap-suds, if the carpet is very dusty looking, afterwofirds rinsing wi,th the ammonia water and drying the carpet with a clean cloth rubbed briskly over the surface. SAGE TEA FOR THE HAIR. Sage tea. is useful in helping to preserve the colour of dark hair and make less apparent in- dications of early greyness. To prepare it, mix together two ounces of sage -tea and the same quantity of green tea, put them into three quarts of water and boil all in an iron saucepan. Let the mixture simmer until the water is reduced to two quarts, then let it stand for 24 hours without removing it from the saucepan. After- wards, strain off the liquor, and. when required, apply it evenly to the hair at night by means of a soft, small brush. The more (gentle) massage given to the scalp the better for the hair, whether strong or weak. Indeed, there is nothing better than friction, properly administered, for the health of the scalp. DRY-CLEANING LACE. Lace yokes and cuffs that are slightly soiled may be cleaned without water in the following way:—Place the lace on a flat surface and rub it gently but thoroughly with hot flour. Take some flour in the hand, and work it into the lilce gradually, using firm strokes, and when the lace appeal clean, shake out the flour. In this way yokes and cuffs may be cleaned with- out, removing them from t'he blou-e. FANCY BREAD. The following is a professional cook's recipe for fancy bread: -IngredIents: 1 quartern of flour, loz. of German yeast, 1 saltspoonful of salt, and enough warm milk to make the whole into a firm dough, adding to it a little butter, melted. Put. the flour into a. warm basin with the salt, and mix about three parts of a break- Tast cupful of warm water with the yeast, till it is dissolved. '.Mra]; a hole iu the centre of the flour, land pour in the yeast, through a fine sieve; then sprinkle over it a layer of the flour, and leave it in front of the fire for about a quar- ter of an hour till the yeast has risen over the lay- er of flour. Mix in the milk, tin all has become a smooth dough, .and place the latter in front of the fire again for about three-quarters of an hour. till it has risen well; then shape it and put ,it in the oven to bake. A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK. "Riches consist in wanting little, not havin* much." Thus said Madame de Maintenon.

North Wales Repository, Wrexham. On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, March 8th, 9tli and 10th, Messrs Frank Lloyd a,nd Sons conducted their quarterly sales of horses. The catalogues comprised about 800 horses of all classes, and they were as fine a. lot as one- could wish to see together. On Tues- day the harness horse day, a very great number of foreign gentlemen were present together with an officer of His Majesty's Government, and these gentlemen were keen on good animals. Consequently many of the best goers were shipped abroad, and many medium horses were enlisted in the Army. The prizes were carried off by Mr John Jones, Whitegate stud; The Hon Mrs Bathurst, Lydney Park; Mr J. C. Savage, West Moor; Mr E. Morris, Abergele; Messrs Brokerbank, Ifton Hall; Mr G. Led- son, Bromborough; Mr G. G. Funnercliffe, Platt House. The prices were far in .advance of late sales, and the clearance was a grand one. The horses made up to 120 guineas, pairs up to 180 guineas, cobs up to 96 guineas. ,and the Welsh Pony was in great demand up to 26 guineas each. On Wednesday the sales were for heavy town horses, and it must be said a finer lot of animals together it would be ha.rd to find. The London buyers were very keen on them, -and consequently the trade was very brisk, and a grand clearance effected. There were about 180 town horses catalogued, and out, of these only seven were unsold. In several cases lots were making very much more money than the vendors ever expected. It was acknowledged by old dealers and judges to be the finest trade ever seen in any repository in the country. On Thursday, vanners, stallions, shires, and young horses "were offered. The catalogue comprised about 300 of these, chiefly Welsh groom horses from the hills, very hard to beat. There was again a. record trade and clearance -although the stallions were a bit hard to part with. The young horses especially were in gerat demand, and a good sampl.e was shown, and tliey were full of promise. The prize-winners on Wednesday were Mr D. Jones. Trosywern; Mr H. Evans, Hal ton and Messrs Evans and Sons, Berse. On Thursday they were Mr Williams, Bodlwydd; Mr J. Morris, Garthygarn; Mr G. Ingram, Bryn Offa; Mr G. Brace, Hereford; Mr T. Cart-wright, West Fel- ton Mr T. Hurley, Mulsford; .1.r R. Hughes, Chirk. Cart horses for town work were making up to 85 guineas, vanners up to 56 guineas, young horses three years old. up to 55 guineas, two years old up to 45 guineas.

A Welsh Romance. A touching story is partly revealed by the publication of the will of Colonel David Rees Lewis, V.D., of Plas Penydarren, Merthy* Tydvil, Honorary Colonel of the 5th Battalion We-ISh Regiment. Registrar of the Merthyr County Court, and clerk to the Merthyr bor- ough magistrates, who died on the last day of last year at the age of 66 years. Colooel Ree0 Lewis left estate of the gross value of £ 11,258. Probate of his will, dated the first February, 1884, has been granted ito his sisters. The tes- tator left to Louisa Mary Thomas the despatch box and contents in his (bedroom, directing thtat she alone shall open it. The residue of his es- tate he left to his sisters. The Louisa MarT Thomas referred to was the daughter of tlio late Mr Samuel Thomas, colliery owner, ofi Yscuborwen, Aberdare, and sister of Mr D. A. Thomas, M.P. for Cardiff, and Mr J. H. Thomas, chairman of the Cambrian Collieries, Limited. Colonel Lewis and Miss Thomas ins their younger days became engaged to be mar- ried, but for reasons known only to the two families the engagement was broken off. Neither ever married. Miss Thomas died in 1904.

LLANIDLOES. LITERARY AND DEBATING SOCIETy.-Dr R. J. Jones presided over the weekly meeting on Thursday evening, when Mr F. Rogers read a paper on Cornwall, the land of the lost lan- guage." LIBERAL LADIES ENTERTAINED. On Thurs- day afternoon, at Humphreys' Hotel, the Holt Mrs J. D. Reee, wife of the Borough member, entertained the officials and committee of the Women's Liberal Council. In the evening & number of lady canva,er& were entertained by Mrs Rees. Mrs Francis Lewis sang. A vote of thanks was passed to Mrs Rees, who thanked those present for the work they had done for Liberalism in the Borough. SELF-DENIAL.—This last week has been the self-denial week of the Salvation Army, and special efforts were made to establish a record. On Saturday the Army was responsible for the P.S.E. in Bethel Hall, and the proceeds were given to the self-denial fund. On Wednesdav a. grand organ recital was given by Mr The a T-revor, of Madelev, Salop, in the Congrega- tional Chapel, and proved a successful one. The ex-Mayor (Mr E. R. Horsfall Turner) was chairman. DISTRICT -NURSINC.The annual meeting of the District Nursing Association was held in the Town Hall Restaurant on Wednesday, and wiaa presided over by Mr E. R. H. Turner. The treasurer (Mr G. Edmunds) presented his re- port which showed a balance in hand at the end of the year of £ 13 6s. The secretary (Mr3 Horsfall Turner), in her report of the work done during the past year, detailed the visits paid by the nurse and money received in fees, which were very satisJteetory.—1The usual votes of thanks were passed.

LLANDINAM. IMPRESSIVE CHURCH SERVICE.—An impressive service took place at the above Churoh on Sunday last, when the Lord Bishop of the Diocese baptised two children, and afterwards proceeded up to the chancel steps and confirmed a number of candi- dates, one being the mother of the newly baptised infant. The service was held at 3 p.m., and the following clergy were present: Rev E 0 Jones. Rural Dean, who read the special lesson, Rev J Rowlands, Trefeglwys, who read the first lesson, Rev Basil Jones, who intoned the service, and the Vicar. Candidates from Llanidloes, Trefeglwys, L!andinam, and Banhadlog, were present for Con- firmation, after which the Bishop preached an impressive sermon to a full and devout congrega- tion. The choir, which had been trained; in » masterly way by the organist, Mr Nugent Morgan,, Manafcn, chanted the special Psalm (cxliv) and !mug extremely well. The day proved exception- ally fine, and a large number of bicycles and traps were to be seen, having bronght people from the neighbouring parishes to witness this unique and impressive ceremony.

Towyn County School Governors. A meeting of the Towyn County School Man- f;sers was held yesterday afternoon, when Mr Meyrick Ruberts presidtd, and there were also present Mr W Jones Hughes (vice-chairman), Mrs Roberts, the Revs Humphrey Williams and R R. Williams, Messrs H Ibydr. Jones, MP, Ed Rowland, J Maet-hon James, Ellis El 1 is, and David Lloyd with Mr E J Evans (olerk) and Mr Thomas j^nes (headmaster). The Finance Committee recommended that the Headmaster be asked to pay £100 rent per annum for the School house, snch payment to be inclusive of rates and taxes, and that he be relieved from paying the salary of one of the assietant masters and that the Governors henceforth pay the salary. That a sum of zC20 per annum be paid to the Headmaster towards the board of the assistant master, and that the capitation fee which had been paid for on the minimum provided by the scheme be advanced to 25s. Thetio changes to take effect from April 1st. Mr H Haydn Jones explained that as the Governors had not been sufficiently flourishing to have the full number of teachers, Mr Jones had very kindly volunteered to pay for one. He had done go for years and now they were asking him to pay X100 rent aud relieve him of paying the teacher.—The report wns adopted. The report of the Repair and Improvement Committee recommended that the sohoeihouee be thoroughly repaired, painted, pap: red, etc., in accordance with the specifications submitted to the Committee, and that the es'.imate of Messrs Hughes and Edwards fori carrying out the work be accepted. The cost of the inside repairs neces- sary amounted to X96 and ofchnr repairs needed wond make a total cost of X135 8s.—Mr Jones Hughes, who presented the report, added that the house clearly required renovating. It was in a very dilapidated state and seemed as if it. bad not been painted since the Governors had occupied it. -The report, was adopted on the proposition of the Rev R R Williams, seconded by Mr J Maethlon James.

Fatal Accident at a Berriew Farm. A regretable accident occurred at Leggy, on Tuesday, when John Evans, of Manafon road, Berriew, lost his life. The deceased worked as cowman for Mr Job Watkin, and that morning was employ d from nine until the accident hap- pened, about eleven, in leading the team of three horses which was harrowing iu cbaige of William Job Watkin. One of the horses which wat3 a young one took fright and the team got out of hand and ran away. The deceased appears to have fallen,, and was seen by Watkin under the harrows,, which went over him. The horses were stopped near the hedge and Evan Morgan, who was working near, called Mr Watkin from an adj! ining field. Mr Watkin found deceased quite consci. ua, and on enquiring as to the natuie of his injuries, he said be thought. he had broken his arm. He -as put into a comfortable position and a flout was sent for and be was taken to Luggy. Mr Mari^toa. having heard of the accident went to render help, and found the unfortunate man in enoti a serious state that he advised a doctor being sent for im mediately which was done. The deceated later lost consciousness and died aboai two bour., after- ward Dr R D Thomas, district coroner, held at inquet I the earns evening, when evidence was given b. the widow, William Job William and Mr Watkin, aud a, verdict of "accidental death was returned.

Land of A 1rook frC, Li"erp{)ol. Gûlden o¡;;portnnitie8 for compotent wuo can QuicklY become Dairying, cattle raising, fruit growing, gardcning, unlimited (market. 100 million acres virgin wíl2/. per arre—easr terms. B Improved freeholdfarma can be bought for what British farmers I ray in rent. Grand climate. Thousands of acres in peaches. 9 Idea! educational social conditions. Bright prospect? for I female domestics. THE Government guarantee to place com- ■ potent men and women, Marvellous natural resonreps aWRiti1: inveetms. Writs wJt