The Merthyr Express

> ■»••• ■ ■ « I Ir Clean and 2ain ty I | ffome Jjakitjg. xvSr It is light work for '■*] jl dainty hands to mix i J^fCsjLJ PartotFloar1 to Parts °f ordinary Vu flour in a dry state. (I J This done no matter | \klJJuf what other ingredients are 1\ added after, you can leave "Paisley Flour" to do its work of raising thoroughly i \7l and be sure of light and \l i\v7 a we^ raised cakes. < |M "Paisley Flour" Hi 4uro miming mmxi ffl powder~ M\M\\PI V\ is sold in yd., 3Jid-. and id. packets everywhere. L

POET'S CORNER. BLUEBELLS Nodding in the sunlight, Dancing in the breeze, Murmuring sweetest musio 'Mid the forest trees Rivalling: skies of summer With thy colour rare, Shedeling fragrant odouia On the soft spring air. Hushing fears to wlenoa. Bidding doubt to flee: cooing us to worship God, who faahion-ed thek —Eileen Carfrae. TO BRIGHTER DAYS. 0 happy year, what wilt thou bring When winter dayr have ceased to be? tWiU flowers awaken with the spring. And will the birds sing o'er the lea ? !A snowy wreath, was on thy brow When thou didst usher in thy year; Cold was the icy breath, but now The anowdropli in the land appear. Soon wilt thou take us by the hand And lead us by a Bowery way; Soon wilt thou deck a smiling land With beauteous robes and sunny day. And in the hedgerows we will hear The nesting-birds sweet mueic make And once again on listening ear The song of summer shall awake. 0 happy year 0 cominjr morn! Haste ye, 0 haste thy laggard feet! And, till thy gladsome spring is born Fill thou our breasts with promise sweet. —Gilbert Rae (in "Chambers's Journal").

HER VENGEANCE BT B. R. PUNSHON. 'Author of "The Chcice," "The Spin of the Coin," etc., etc. CHAPTER XXVII.—CAPTURED. Hugh kne~ not in which direction to go, 1>ut ran by chance. Here in the bush there was welcome shelter from the sun, but Eira was heavy, and he himself much exhausted. He went on as long as he could till presently he stumbled and nearly fell, while a sudden darkness seemed to ewim before his eyes. He beat the weakness down, and conquered it but he could go no further, and sank beneath to tree, still supporting Eira. in his. arms. After a time she opened her eyes and looked round uncomprehendingly- "What has happened?" she asked, and then: T have had such dreanw." Hugh did not answer, for he knew those dreams of hers had been no dreams, but cruel teality. She sai up, with one hand held to her forehead- "Oh, I remember now, she said slowly; "are they following us still?" "I do not know." said Hugh; but this was not true, for he knew well, and was assured that the lynchers were hafd upon their track. "I remember," she said again, "that was Editor Keene we saw in the buggy. Where is Mr. Hethering-ton?" "I do not know, "Hugh answered. He has gone on. fr. 1 -1 toe „ ( "If 'he escaped, that uf '3ALSJ'" said EiM. "It is you who should have escaped, LVid Hugh slowly, "you who have risked so much for him." His eyes said more than his words; so mucn more, that a vivid colour spread over the pale- ness of her faco. But then she seemed to re- member. and she tried to move away from him. When he would not let her, she sa:d: "You are forgetting Miss Hetlierington. vNo," he said. "You are going to marry her," Eira. exciaim- ed quickly; "if you have forgotten that, I have ^"No," he said again. "Eira, listen. I got to Delia—I cannot explain, never loved her. It was all a mistake--& blun- ider I loved you from the first moment I saw you when you were pretending to be a flower girl. I did not understand then, but now I know I loved you." "You must not talk like that," she said '^tbere is Mio Hetherington, and beaiAes, this is not a time to talk of sueh things. We axe not safe yet. If they find us "That is why I must speak,* he said passion- ately, "because the time may be short for me —if they find us." "And tor me," sh eaidr "they will treat me the same as they will you." „ "That ifl my right to speak," he eried. that we share the same dangers. Listen. Eira, I love you. You have risked so much for us. •Tou gave me your hand to hold." • "I never did," she cried, for in fact LllM action of hers had beeft so instinctive that she bid remained half uncenscioth of it; "at leoit. I mean-well. it is nothing if I did. And you have given your word to Miss Hetherington, "If we evel get back into safety," he said, "'I will go to hr and tell her all the truth. I ehould have dope so before. I did not under- stand. It is only when the end seems near that one understands how little everything else matters beside the truth. Well, I shall tell her —if we go back "And if we do not—" Eira asked, still very *^Then I shall have done no treachery to her Iin, telling you I love you," be answered. "We have not planned or wished this, he said, with a. certain exultation in hie manner, "but it has come, and whatever comes now, you and I must share it together." She shook her ii«*d and moved a little away from lum. "•Ah1" he cried, stung by her action, 'you eave me my life, and you would deny me even "You are unjust," she said, averting her faoe. "This ia not a time to talk of such t things. They may be on us any minu "The more need to epeak while there » yet time," he cried vehemently- Eira, I love you, and I have always loved you, and you tnust love me, too." What she would have answered, one cannot Wejj tell, for at that moment they plainly heard 'someone shouting at only a. little distance be tween them. "Hark!" said Eira. "The lynchers!" "Then speak the truth now." said Hugh quickly; '•this is a good time for everything veept lies. I love you, Eira. Love me. too! She did not answer. She was listening in- ntry, but the next sound they heard was a voice calling them by name, and then Mr. Hetlierington appeared. "Be quick," he gasped out, for he, too, was touch exhausted "they are quite close." "Oh, I thought you had gone right 09, said Huerh, astonished to see him again. "And deserted you?" said his uncle. "I tried. t think, but I couldn't. Strange! If I had been a better man I might have done it. But t remembered all the mean and selfish things in my life, and J could not end it with one meaner and more selfish than any. So I came back. We will keep together. The railway^ is only ibout a mile away, if we can reach it." "There is r trair due about now," said FAr, 7,piish on and leave me. You can catch it, perhaps, and perhaps the men will not hurt ma—much." "I wish to heaven you had not come with ps but gone another way," said Hugh. "But it is too late now." He and his uncle took Eira between them and they hurried on. When they had gone •Jbout half a mile they heard the whistle of an engine, and saw above the trees a long trail of white smoke The train had passed. They had missed it, fend safety, by perhaps two minutes. Bjehind them men were shouting, and the .kound of the shouting seemed to be converging Ðn the path they followed. They came at last io the railroad, and by it they sank down ex- hausted, unable to proceed another step.. L "If that WM tha eastward train," Eira panted, "it passes the westward train near Athens, and 60 the westward train should pass her- soon. There is still a chance for uj," bu*; she did not speak with hope. 'I don't much care!" Mr. Hetherington gasped out. "I would rathei they found us than go another yard." Hugh and Eira sat in siience. Mi. Hether- ington lav at full length, breathing heavily. Behind them the sound of shouting rrrew ever more distinct, the mob of lynchers gre'v ever nearer. Hugh and Eira held other by the hand. Quite suddenly Mr K^i^nugton raised his head. His ear, close to the greund, had caught first of all the sound 01 an approach- 109 train. Hugh and Eira heard too. They looked at each other; they lived h gaintheir lips approached and they kissed. Mr. Hether- ington sat upright. "It's a train," he said. "This way, cross the railroad track, boys, and pnsb straight shouted a vo>oe apparently hundred yards north of where "Hey sat. "Y. wo are saved," whispered Hugh. Ho l-cofc Bira's hand, and said with paesion in his voice, "You are mine, for we have kissed." "That is nothing," she said, resisting him, "a.nd you are not mine but Delia Hethering- ton's." "By God!" cried Mr. Hetherington entranc- ed, "how bsautiful it is to hear a train com- ing." "Here they are!" screamed a loud voice just behind them; "here they are, boys, all three of them!" A rush of men appeared; as if by magrc every tree-trunk disclosed a man, every bush r spurted an enemy;, from all sides men came running, as if the old earth were sick and vomited men. "This is the end. and I can't pretend any more." said Eira. "I love you. Hugh. and you are mine, and nov Dla. Iielh^rinEton's." there!" Hugh should, and sprang forward to mee* the rush of their enemies. He felt in himself the swelling strength of heart and tongue to make alltheee men listen. know, understand :n9 felt he had but to speak to show himself their master. "You hear me!" he shouted. "I want to apeak for a moment." But it seemed they did not mean to give him even the moment he asked for; and so to gam that moment he jumped forward and knocked the first man head over heebs. It was the worst, most foolish tbinpr he could have done. Shouting with rage at this act of defiance so that Hugh's voiÚ lost in a tumult of cries, the other men bore down on him and overwhelmed him and flung him to the ground. As he lay one kicked him on the head so brutally that he lost consciousness, and the last thing he heard above the shouts of his triumphant enemies was the whistle of an ap- proaching locomotive and the roar of the pass- ing train. Once again they had safety by not much more than a couple of m'nutea. When he recovered his senses he was lying no longer among the trees, but out on the open prairie, though not much more than or three hundred yards from the edge or bush. The sun was now near to setting, a dying glory in the west. Close by him sat, Mr. Hethenngton, looking pale and rather dazed. Hi3 hands were bound behind him and hie mouth was bleeding, as if from a heavy blow. At a little distance stood Eira. Her clothing was torn and one cheek was bruised her hair was loose and hung down in a tangled mass of darkness that veiled her to below her waist. A cord had been tied around her neck, and the other end of this was held by one among a group of men close by. These men were talking among themselves and looked at her sideways, and, as it seemed, with a strange abhorrence. But she paid them np heed, and stood very still and silent. "Now, what's all this?" Hugh muttered to his uncle. "Theæ devils have got us," said Mr. Hether- ington, looking round at him and speaking with difficultly, so sore was his mouth. "They aco all mad, and they will not listen to a word. Do you know what thoy say they are going to do to us?" what?" eaid Hugh. His uncle did not answer, and looking further away, Hugh saw a number of men, apparently busy with three posts it seemed they had just been filing upright in the ground. Hugh won- dered vaguely what they were for, and he noticed that a wagon laden with wood had that moment emerged from the shelter of the hush. One of the men from the group near Eira separated from the others and came towards Hugh. Hugh waited, eager to speak to him, but when he was near he quite deliberately, and without saying a word, kicked Hunrh heavily in the ribe. At once Hugh put out his hand, and catching the fellow by the ankle threw him down. Some of the oth. men laughed, and the overthrown one got up and walked away. swearing and scowling at Hugh over his shoulder as he went. "Will you Irive me some water? I am thirsty," Mr. Hetherington asked. "You will want water for something ely- than drinking soon, you black villain," said one man, spitting as in sign of abhorrence. "Have you not told them who WI6&re?" Hugh asked hie uncle. will not listen," his uncle muttered; "they are all mad. They hit me on the mouth and eaid that was a game we had tried before; they said that was played out. Hugh, do you, know what they say they are going to do with us?" "No," answered Hugh. "What?" But Mr. Hetherington did not reply. He bowed his head as in despair, and seemed to sink into an apathy, overwhelmed by the strangely awful fate that threatened them. There came towards the three prisoners a tall, thin man with a. white face like that of a corpap and a màdman's burning eye. Hugh knew him at once for Editor Keene. "You, James Hetherington, nigger, he besran in a loud voice. That is my name," interposed Mr. Hether- ington rousing himself for a moment, "but I am not a nigger I am as white as you are.' "You don't look it," said one man standing near. "If he answers to his name we might have made a mistake in," said a third man, "he might as well admit his colour we can all see for ourselves." j. "And you other nigger," Keene continued to Hugh, "you have had a fair trial and been found guilty——" 4. "Why a trial! shouted Hugh in great ex- citement, petting to his feet, "thAt is all we want—a fair trial; let us be tried; hand us over to the polioe, and we can prove our story "Or else go on appealing and appealing from one court to another for the next few years, said Keene coldly, "and then get off at last on some smart dodge of your lawyer's. No, this is our own job, and we will run it our way we are not going to have lawyers playing with the honour and the lives of our women.' A low murmur of hate and rage echoed this declaration, and not a man there but looked at the two prisoners as though wishing to see them already suffering. Hugh held himself upright and cried loudly: "I tell you we are white men-I tell you we are Englishmen—we are as white as you, I 6aHe spoke with such a vehemence and strength of conviction that for a moment one or two seemed to doubt. Bu* Editor Keene said cold- iy; „ or black, what does it matter? You murderd Mrs. Bryan-that is the main ihuiflT; whether you are white or black does not matter -1.. "Always trust Editor Keene for talking horsa- senea," said admiringlv a little man with a narrow face and red hair. "But we are innocent!" ccied Hugh. HOb. you are all sorts of thines," retorted Keene. "If you are innocent, how is it your boots fit the tracks made at the Bryan farm? There are footmarks there, made by a man wearin. a boot with three largo naus showing on the left heel. Your left boot has three exactly similar nails showing on its heiel. xlow do you explain that? If you are innocent, why are there blood marks on your partner's trou- &ers"? Why does a picco of stuff we found caught on the wire fence at the farm just fit with a tear on his coat, eh?" ■ It flashed upon Hugh in an instant that this was all part of the snare in which they had be9n taken. No doubt the clothes Dodd had provided for them had been specially prepared to confirm the suspicions so carefully roused against them. "Well, let us be tried," he said despairingly. "If you will give us a fair trial we can explain everything." "You havfe been tried already, said Keene coldly. "If you were knocked silly and didn't know what war going on, you have only your- self to thank. You have been tried and found guilty by Judge Lynch, and we want no more of your -slack. Jabez Hunt, just go and stand bv the prisoner, and if he gives any more jaw, knock him over the head." The man addressed as Jabez, who was the same who had already kicked Hugh and been overturned for his pains, came forward grin- ning with a heavy stick in his hand. •"You also, Eira Siddle," Keene continued. "There is no need to try you at all, for we have all seen you doing what not a man of us would ever have believed the meanest white woman living, would ha.ve done. You ha.ve gone against your own race and your own sex, and you have been ready to help the murderers of another white woman to escape. Worse even than that, you actually tried to escape with them." Bia face and voice expressed a. genuine horror that was sUmpel also on the face of every listener. They a.!l thought Eira's action a crime beyond credence; not one of them. in fact, would have believed it possible had they not thought they had seen it themselves—it was to them the unpardonable sin. The loathing and abhorrence they felt towards the two men was intensified tenfold towards the woman who they thought had betrayed her woman-

DELICIOUS ^l|ST'i'r'iT*lh"M/T « fVll Vav.y iMiw ■ II n/ 0 C,

FUN AND FANCY. Beginning of a judge's career in Iowa; hGn- tlemen of the jury, you must now quit eating pea-nuts, and attend to the case. Pater: "Look here, Annie, that young man of yours should have proposed iong ago."—Annie: 'He did, father;, at least, he proposed that little Willie be absent the next time he called. They had had a few words over the quality of the dinner. "When you married me, shrill- ed the, woman, "you didn't marry a cook, re- member." "Well," said the man—and his tone was very bitter—"you needn't rub it in. His Mother: "What are you moping about the house for. Tommy? Why don't you go over and play with Charlie Pinafore?'—Tommy: 'Cause I played with Charley Pinafore yester- day, and I don't suppose he's well enough yet. She (sighing): "Oh, I met such a, lovoly, po- lite man to-day." He: "Where was that? She: "In the street. I must, have been carry- inc my umbrella carelessr* >cr he bumped his eve into it. I said, "Pardon me," and he said "Don't mention it; I have another eye left. Gardener: "Hogan's co; bruk into the I strawberry patch this inorpm, sorr, an its hivvy damages ye git from him. The Squire: It's no tlse, Patrick. He'll bo sure to •'wear it was somebody euc <s cow." Gardener: "The divil a bit 6orr he^can't. Oi shut the baste in them fur ividence." A friend who had been appointed to a judge- ship in one of the colonics was, long after- wards, describing to Sir G-eorgo Rose the pgonies he suffered on the voyage out from sea sickness. Sir George listened with much in- terest to the recital of his friend s sufferings, I and then said, in a tone of de-p commisera- tion, "It's a great, mercy you did not throw up I your appointment." A young man I>:nt on mischief recently at- tended an" anxious inquirers' meeting in Scot- land, and asked » clergyman whether he could i work a miracle. The minister, seeing; through I the le with which the question was put, i do-aed him firmly by the shoulders and threw him outside the ohurch door, saying We can- i not work niir?cl€s, hut wc cm cast out devils. "Oh, dear!" exclaijned the young lady who was being taken to a concert by a rather back- ward woeer; "I'm suro we shall miss the open- i ing number. We've waited a good many min- I utes for that mother of mine. —"Hours, 1 should say," growled the young man.Ou? Oh George! bow nice of you to say so at last., cried the sharp-witted girl, as she summoned up an approximate blush- "Ah," said a visitor, so you are back home from your fishing trip in the States. Well, what did you catch?" We <h.d pretty well, said the fond mother. Julia caught a ban- ker, Bertha caucrht a lawyer, Fannie landed one of the finest-looking Army officers you ever saw in your lite. Hattie was unfortunate. She a. young fellow with all kinds of money on tho hook, but just at the last moment he got away." A certain bishop staying »t a country house noticed that he was closely observed by his host's little daughter. At length she found an opportunity to question him. 'Are you really a bishop?" she asked. "Yes, of course, I am —really," answered the amused prelate. "Well. I don't believe it," responded the child, whose father was an ardent cheesplayer, rye watched you over since and your head isn't split down the ro.i.3dh tnd you don't walk comerways." It is safe to say that nobody but 5n Insuman cchild be the hero of the fGl!sitlt1: story. Mr. Murphy was inquiring of his friecd, Mr Doolan, how his wife WM feeling aftor the excitement of the recent wedding of their daughter. "She's well enough," replied the other, "excepting that she's grieving over a pair of illigant new kid gloves that got lost on her that evening. She's feeling bad about thim. but rye advertis- ed in the paper, and I'm thinking she'll get thim back again befoor long. They cost Mrs. Doolan foive shillings." Arent you afraid whoever got thim will be slow to answer tne advertisemint ?" inquired Mr. Murphy. "It's meself that knew how to fix that," returned Mr. Doolan. "I advertised thim illigant gloves was an owld cotton pair, burrsting away at the seams, and wurrth nobody's keeping." Hamish was a.thrifty Scot, and hke many of his race, an enthusiast over golf. But one day Hamish had such peculiar and unpleasant feel. ings thrt he reluctantly consulted a physician. overdtlM the matter of exercise, man," said the doctor, after Hamish had de. tailed hia symptoms. "You must give yourself a day's quiet now and then, and avoid ex. posure. How often do y°u. 1^ S°! ,• Every day but the Sawbatb,' «"d Hamish, rising.— "You must be more temperate at it," said the physician. "Twice a week in good weather is enough for you."—"Good day," said Hamish. moving towards the door. You ve not paid me for advice." said the doctor, who knew hia man.—"Nae, for I'm no takkin it, said Ham- ish, as he reached the door and made his escape. "Advice to Mothkhs-rc yon broken in your rest by a sick child suffering with the pain of cutting teeth Go at once to a chemist, and get a bottle of Mas. Winslow a Soothing SYRUP. It produces a natural, quiet steep by relieving the child from pain, and the little cherub awakes "as bright as a button." Contains no Poisonous Ingre- dient. Of all Chemists. Is- Hd. per bottle.

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS." THE SINGING THRUSH. There's a merry brown thrush sitting up in a He's singing to me! he's singing to me! And what does he say. little girl, little boy? "Oh, the world's running over with joy! Don't you hear? don't you see? Hush! look! in my tree! I'm as happy as happy can tV* And the brown thrush keeps singing "A UE 6t do you see, And five eggs hid by me in the juniper tree? Don't meddle! don't touch! little girl, Uttlo boy, Or the world will lose eome of its joy! Now I'm glad! now I'm free! And I always shall be If you never bring sorrow to pad." So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree To you and to me, to you and to me; And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy, "Oh, the world's running over with joy! # But long it won't be, Dent you know don't you see! Unless we are as good as can be." — LUCT L&bcom. GOD IS WITH ME. God is with me when I wake, Life more beautiful to make, He is with me all the day, And is smiling when I play. God is sorry when I cry, He it is my tears doth dry, All He sees; the work I do Thrills His heart with pleasure, too. God is happy when I sing Songs of every lovely thing; God is Love; the love I see In their eyes who care for ma. God is Love; the love I give All around me where I live, ^n God's breast I lay my head, -Pj6 4 tljP at fiiglit iu bed. I .Ÿ1U2I!, <

0. _=- FOR MATRON AND MAID. 1 NEATNESS IS BUSINESSLIKE. It is not vanity that leacts a woman to bother over clothcs. Tbiit they are a bother she does not deny; often she sighs that she was net born a savage or in the era of one best black silk for half a lifetime. The beauty cannot afford to be scornful of clothes and the ugly woman dare not afford it. A becoming dres*; or a fetching hat has sealed many a rift in the family circle that no amount of argument could banish. Whore is the business man who is not influ- enced insensibly by well-dressed employees? A dowdy, unkempt woman about a business of- fice or shop has become a rarity, not because woman lovos clothes, but because she knows they are a distinct ai6 £ t, and that no long- headed employer woulaletand for careless dressy ing. WRITE FEWER LETTERS. This is not generally considered a letter-writ- ing age. Tho telephone and telegraph have done away with volumes of correspondence; and the hurly-burly and rush of modern exis- tence with more. There are persons, however, who overdo in writing letters in ways that are injurious to their general health. One of the first commands to nervously ex- hausted patients when put into the hands of a specialist, is "Stop your letters for a time." Doctors declare this pursuit uses up a sur- prising amount of nervous energy that should be stored up for building up of tissues and nerves. This may seem ridiculous to the woman who writes easily. She feels-it is nothing at all, a mere matter of course to dash off half a dozen notes and one or two friendly letters at a sit- ting. Yet let her once give the subject considera- tion and she will acknowledge a feeling of las- situde and a certain sense of strain after get- ting up from her desk. THE SENSIBLE MOTHER. The mother who desires. comfort does not spend her time telling her children what not to do; she provides them with things they will want to do. She frowns on daintiea between meals except as a special treat. Indigestion means family ructions all round. She does not believe in fine feathers making fine birdlings. She knows that the dressed-up child is thoroughly uncomfortable, and soon has his mother in a like state. Nor does she think it conducive to her own child's comfort to keep it up to all hours. The early to bed rule is worked for the peace of the household. She is not inordinately' ambitious. Prodigies are flattering to maternal vanity, but the un- pushed boy or girl is more comfortable to live with. with. She does not think indulgence makes for content. The mother who is thoroughly uncom- fortable in her children is the one. who has ,never trained them to obey. OLD TEAR TRACKS. Some folks keep straying back mentally to the paths where their feet wandered in the gar- den of sorrow. They continue to dwell in the temples of lost joy, and live over again the moments of their keenest sufferings—sometimes even of their bitterest mistakes. These "tracks of old tears," as the poet has called them, allure so that the woman who forces herself apparently to forget things that are best forgotten is often spoken of as heart- less, flippant and superficial. A BEAUTIFUL SILENCE. Good listeners rarely have things to regret— and that is much in the favour of silence. Then, too, by listening attentively there will be gain- ed a certain knowledge and valuable informa- tion that may in time result in an easy, self- possessed ability to talk well. Indeed, it is often found that more good listeners are needed in the social world. This is a plea for the useful art of keeping the lips closed while others speak. For the silent ones there should never be despair. LEARNING EARLY. To learn to respect the perfection of things is of infinite value to a child. If it is a .flower, to shelter and try to keep it alive, never wan- tonly to pluck and fling away a blossom; if it is a book, not to deface or mar it; if it is a wall, not to mark or deface it; if it is a smooth rolled lawn, not to litter it with rubbish or j spoil it with wheel marks. To learn to wait ] patiently, all the lives long they will give i thanks for having been taught how to do this. How many a pleasant talk has been interrupt- | ed, how many an otherwise helpful visit has been lost by a teasing, pulling child, torment- ing its mother either to listen to its demands or to go out! The whole of its life lies in what the child learns of these things, and unless taught happiiy and early, it must either grow into eaJfhh manhood or womanhood, or have the evil beaten out by the bard and bitter teachings of the world. JOTTINGS. To conquer one great fault is something. It is well to repeat anything good of others. Avoid useless conversations which make you lose time and hinder real work. We always hear the sermon for the folks in the next pew. One sharp word is worse than all the faults you see in others. Politeness is an air cushion. There is not much in it, but it eases the joints wonder- fully. Wisdom consists in knowing when and how to speak, and when and where to be silent. PREPARE FOR EMERGENCIES. It, should be no hardship for any girl to take hold and learn the science of housekeeping, even if she may never be obliged to do a single one of things taught her. She should learn that there is an easy as well as a difficult way to prepare a meal, and that if she will but bring a small part of the intelligence she has shown in mastering rules of syntax and per- fecting herself in languages to the doing of these apparently homely but really vital neces- sities of daily existenoe, she can do them far better than if that intelligence had never been tested. Even if your daughter rejoices in the fact that she need never trouble about house duties her- self, forget not that life is full of woeful sur- prises in the way of changing fortunes, so pre- pare her for the emergency which may never come. HINTS FOR THE HOME. When Pouring Hot Fat into a basin add a tablespoonful of boiling water to it. This will cause all pieces of meat to sink to the bottom. When it is set dripping that is treated in this way will be found beautifully clear and white. Sulphur Ointment.—Take 1 lb. of pig's flare, cut up and render down. Strain off. Add 4 oz. flour of sulphur, and mix well together. When thoroughly mixed cool and pot in small jars. This is a simple recipe, and will be found very cooling for irritation, etc. This is also excel- lent. for limb3 with rheumatism which irritate. Strengthening Jelly.—Steep 2 ozs. of isin- glass and £ oz. of gum arabic in a pint of port wine all night. Then put it in aclean sauce- pan with 2 oz. of brown sugar candy and half a small nutmeg grated; simmer them to- gether until quite dissolved; strain through sieve or piece of muslin. When cold cut :n small pieces. Take one three or four times a day. This recipe is excellent. To Revive Dusty Black Straw Hats, put a kettle of water on a gas stove or over a good fire, and when it boils hold the hat in front of the spout, shake gently, and move the hat about so that all over the straw gets the steam. It removes all dust and makes the hat quite fresh. Artificial flowers can be freshened in tLc same way. The kettle of water must bo kept boiling fast during the proiess. Rhubarb and Orange Jam. Take equal quantities of rhubarb and, preserving sugar, and to every pound of fruit allow two sweet oranges. Cut rhubarb into inch lengths, grate the rind of the oranges very fine, being careful to re- move all white pith, cut fleshy part up thinly, as if for marmalade; put all in preserving pan, brinpr gently to the boil and then boil quickly for 40 minutes. Pour into pots, and tie down when cold. CAKES AND PUDDINGS —No. 20. A good substantial and perfectly harmless Cake is made from the fol lowing:- BUNLOAF. 1 packet of Cakeoma. 5 ozs. of Butter or Lard. 4 Eggs. 1 lb. Currants. 1 lb. Raisins. 4 ozs. Candied Peel. 3 or 4 tablespoonfuls of Milk. Method. Rub, the butter or lard into the Cakooma. until it is as fine as breadcrumbs. Beat the eggs, and with the milk add them to the prev- ious ingredients, and lightly mix; then add the fruits, etc, and again mix lightly but thorough- ly, and bake in a moderately warm oven. Plain Gingerbread recipe next week. Cakeoma is sold only in 3jd. packets by Grocers and Stores everywhere.

UNO'S COUGH CURE Ths purest and surest remedy obtainable for ACUTE COLDS INFLUENZA CHRONIC COUGHS WHOOPING COUGH BRONCHITIS NASAL CATARRH CHRONIC ASTHMA WEAK LUNGS BRONCHITIS NASAL CATARRH HRONIC ASTHMA WEAK LUNGS I Albckt Smith, Esq.. M.S.B.Sc., the celebrated I^r.don analyst, savs:—"VBNO'g I.igmv.-ino Cocou CVAT. la (Composed of ;ure iriijredini.t*, nr.;l is a most excellent 'remedy for bi-onclillfsi, a»tlima, and ail lung a flections." Prica Did., l/l i and 2/0, of all Cliemiata. J r f J F! 1 J- JSJ \ME have nothing to say regarding the sunlight and shadow of April's fickle month. All we wish to infer is that Sunlight Soap has dispelled the shadow that once over. hung the wash tub. No Rubbing | orJ Scrubbing nowadays but Sun; light always. Guarantee of Purity on every Bar. TI»:«aaiefLEVER oa Soapfr a | S 73 I -u_ i A Heart to Heart Talk Don't judge, sir, and don't condemn "Park Drives" at "Ten for Twopence" ,until you've tried them. Their flavour, their fragrance, their coolness is such that, not knowing, you'd never Park Dritle guess their price. There are thou- PQ"rc. sands smoking Park Drives to-day who but a few weeks ago would have scoffed at the idea of getting ten such splendid cigarettes for 2d. P RK DRIVE CIGARETTES It's only a matter of making up your mind to give these Park Drive Cigarettes a trial; aftet ■ that it's a matter of reckoning up how much Pert DrIves enjoyment you've been missing all along. Park Drivet told by all sold by at Tobacconist*. TEN FOR TWOPENCE. TobucconitU Made by GALLAItElt, Ltd., Belfast and London. '47;Æ}!:T>>{l"f!f i WHY should you exhaust your strength jfl unnecessarily in climbing hills I and cycling generally ? Why not I m fr' f r have your bicycle fitted with the ■ genuine and original W!FW STURMEY MK ARCHER 3-Speed Gear or "Tricoaster"? the gear that makes cycHng ^Cfr Icveh theghills' hilarating treat. Seai a p.c. for booklet to | STURMEY-ARCHER GEARS. LTD, I X NOTTINGHAM. £ M Makes cycling easy." j g I w tNL PJF^?CTCSV-\ THE WORLD'S BEST. J I The product of the oldest in years, but most modern in equipment, I— I factory in the world. Many models at prices and on terms to | suit aiL I Prices from £ 6-10-0 or on E.P. Terms from S I 10/- per month. I | Obtain list to-day either from the undermentioned or direct from 1 I THE SWIFT CYCLE CO., Ltd., COVENTRY. I 1 J. LEWIS, 354, High-street, Penydarren, 8 MERTHYR LoNDON: 15.16, Holborn Vi-duct.