strain it--we can use it again and again and again. In fact, it may be
used any number of times, and we keep adding fresh fat as we get it."

"But we could not fry pancakes in that way," said Margaret.

"No; I told you just now that pancakes and omelettes must be fried in a
little fat. This process is generally called by cooks _dry frying_.
When plenty of fat is used, and the food is boiled in the fat, the
process is called _wet frying_."

"And how are we to tell which way is suitable for what we have to cook?"
said Margaret.

"Ah, Margaret! you want to get on too quickly. To know which is the best
way of treating different kinds of food is a large subject, and can only
be learnt with time. I may tell you, however, that nearly all small
things which can be quickly cooked, and can be covered with fat, may be
wet fried. Things which need longer cooking, such as uncooked meat,
bacon, sausages, &c., should be dry fried. Chops and steaks, too, are
often dry fried, but they are best when broiled; and of broiling I must
speak to you another day."

"We shall easily remember that wet frying is using plenty of fat, and
dry frying is using very little fat," said Mary.

"Of course you will. And now for the kind of fat you are to use. There
are four kinds of fat used in frying--dripping, oil, butter, and lard.
Of these, dripping is the best and lard is the worst."

"But please, ma'am, lard is generally used, is it not?" said Mary,
looking astonished.

"Indeed it is," replied Mrs. Herbert, "and this is the mistake which is
made. Those who do not know have a great scorn for dripping. They sell
it for a small sum to get it out of the way, and when they have done so
they buy lard. Yet lard is more apt to make food taste greasy than any
fat which can be used."

"What is the dripping made from, then?" said Margaret.

"From little odds and ends of fat, either cooked or uncooked, left from
joints, and 'rendered,' that is, melted down; also from the fat which is
skimmed from the top of the water in which meat is boiled. I should like
you little folk to remember that one of the surest signs of cleverness
in cookery is that nothing is wasted, and one of the most certain ways
of preventing waste is to look after the fat. A good cook will not allow
as much as half an inch of fat to be wasted. She will collect the scraps
together and melt them down gently, and so she will never need to buy."

"Just as cook has put those pieces of fat together there, ready for us
to melt down?"

"Yes; and now we will go on to render them down, shall we? First we cut
them up in very small pieces. We then put them into an old, but
perfectly clean, saucepan, with a quarter of a pint of water to each
pound of fat. We then put the lid on the saucepan, and boil gently for
about an hour, or till the water has boiled away, when we take the lid
off, and stew the fat again until the pieces acquire a slight colour,
when the fat is ready to be strained through a jar. We must not forget
to stir the fat occasionally, to keep it from burning, and also to let
it cool slightly before straining, for fear of accident; for boiling fat
is very hot, more than twice as hot as boiling water."

"Supposing we have no pieces of fat, mother, what shall we do then?"

"We must buy some. Those who like beef fat will find ox flare excellent
for the purpose. The most experienced cooks, however, now prefer mutton
fat to any other, because it is so hard and dry. Fat which is bought
must be rendered down as scraps are rendered. I fancy, however, that
where meat is eaten every day it is seldom necessary to buy fat, if only
proper care is taken of the trimmings."

"If dripping may be used for frying, could we not take the dripping left
from joints, mother?" said Margaret.

"Certainly we could, dear. Only we must be careful to have it thoroughly
clean and dry, with no water or gravy in it. To make it thus we should
probably have to wash it in three or four times its quantity of boiling
water, then let it go cold and scrape away the impurities which would
have settled at the bottom. After which we should melt it gently down
again to get rid thoroughly of any moisture there might be in it."

"Wash dripping! I never heard of such a thing," said Margaret.

"It is a very necessary business at times, for all that. The most
certain way of taking care of anything we value is to keep it clean: and
certainly we value our kitchen fat. But then, as I told you, besides
keeping it clean we must keep it dry; and one reason why good cooks
prefer mutton fat to any other is that it can be more easily kept dry
than other fats. Fat should be thoroughly strained also each time it is
used, as well as after being rendered the first time, and this will help
to keep it pure."

"I think the water has all boiled away from our fat now, ma'am," said
Mary, who had been looking very earnestly into the pan, and stirring the
pieces very vigorously.

"Then," said Mrs. Herbert, "we will take the lid off the pan, and when
the pieces begin to colour we will let the fat cool and strain it away.
It will so be quite ready for our purpose, and at our next lesson I will
show you how to fry some apple fritters."

"I think we shall enjoy frying fritters as well as making pancakes,"
said the two children together.

_(To be continued.)_

THEIR ROAD TO FORTUNE.

THE STORY OF TWO BROTHERS.

_By the Author of "The Heir of Elmdale," &c. &c._

CHAPTER VII.--AN INVESTMENT.

The holidays were over at last; the ten days flew by only too quickly to
Bertie, for, compared with Gore House, Fitzroy Square seemed the most
delightful place in the world. He was not very artistic in his taste,
and thought but little of carving and gilding, soft carpets, and
luxurious chairs; therefore the shabby parlour with Aunt Amy seemed far
more beautiful than the very grandest apartment in Aunt Gregory's grand
house.

"If I could only stay here always, Aunt Amy, how happy I should be!" he
had said a dozen times during his stay; and each time, though her heart
echoed his wish, she cheered him with loving smiles, encouraged him with
hopeful words, begging of him to try and make the best of his Uncle
Gregory's home, and be as happy and contented as he could. Eddie often
wished that he had such a magnificent residence, for he made no secret
of his contempt for the shabby and somewhat dingy comfort of Uncle
Clair's house and its dreary surroundings. He thought artists should
have everything beautiful and graceful about them, and looked very much
astonished when his uncle said, in his sweet low voice, that beauty and
grace were certainly essential, but they should be in the artist
himself, and then he would see them reflected everywhere. Both Bertie
and Agnes endorsed that statement, for they loved the old house, and
were quite happy there. Eddie, still longing for something out of his
reach, instead of making the most of what was at his hand, grumbled and
shook his head; but Uncle Clair only smiled, and said, "You'll be wiser
when you are older, my boy. Knowledge comes with years."

Mrs. Gregory's presents caused Mrs. Clair to think that she was sorry
for her neglect of Bertie, and meant to be kinder to him in future;
besides, Uncle Gregory had said there might be other arrangements when
he returned, so that it was with a very hopeful heart that Bertie
entered the office punctually at nine o'clock on the 2nd of January, and
was taking his old corner to await the arrival of his uncle, when the
head clerk conducted him into the inner room, and pointed out a seat at
a desk near a window looking into a narrow court.

"Go through all those letters," the clerk said, pointing to a huge heap;
"select the circulars, open them, and place them on that stand; arrange
all the English and foreign letters on Mr. Gregory's table, and then
address those envelopes from that book on your desk."

"Yes, sir," Bertie replied cheerfully. It certainly was much pleasanter
in that warm room, with its clear blazing fire, soft carpet,
leather-covered chairs, and draughtless windows, than in the large, and
often chilly, outer office, but when Mr. Gregory entered with his
compressed lips and keen piercing glance all round, Bertie began to
think it would not be pleasant to have to sit always within the reach of
his critical eyes.

"Good morning. You have not forgotten, I see: that's well," Mr. Gregory
said, as he hung up his coat and pulled off his gloves. Then, with a
quick glance at his table, he added, "You may go on with your work."

Bertie copied industriously for an hour, never raising his head from his
desk; then his master's voice startled him. "Come here, Bertie. I want
some conversation with you. How old are you?"

"Nearly thirteen, sir."

"You look more. Do you like business?"

"I think I do, sir. I shall like it more when I understand it better."

"Quite so. Now, Bertie, because you are my nephew, and have been a good,
steady lad, I am going to place you in a position of great trust. You
are quick, and write a good hand, and I shall train you to be my private
secretary. You shall answer all my business letters, from my dictation.
Of course I don't mean all my letters," catching Bertie's nervous glance
at the table, "only those I have been in the habit of attending to
myself. It means several changes: one is, you need not get here till I
do in the morning; another is, that I shall require your services for an
hour or two every evening in the library at Gore House. You can leave
here at four instead of half-past five, and I wish you to take lessons
in French and German three times a week. I have engaged a master for
you, and you can leave here every other day at half-past three. I will
pay you twelve shillings a week, out of which you must pay for your
luncheon, and you will dine with us, except when there is a large
party. Now sit down, and write exactly as I tell you, and as quickly, as
neatly, and accurately as you can."

"Yes, uncle; thank you," Bertie replied, his heart throbbing violently.
That was indeed a change from the dull routine of the past five months:
he had won his uncle's confidence; he was to have no more solitary
evenings; and, best of all, he was to have a salary, and only luncheon
to buy out of it.

"Why, I shall only want a Bath bun and a glass of milk every day. I can
save nearly all," Bertie whispered to himself at luncheon-time. "Uncle
Gregory is good to me, and no mistake!"

Mr. Gregory was good to his nephew, but not before he had thoroughly
satisfied himself that the boy fully deserved his confidence, and, what
was more, would fully and amply repay it. That twelve shillings a week
was a master-stroke of policy, for it made Bertie eternally grateful;
and if the young gentleman fancied his Uncle Gregory did not know that
nine shillings of it went into the post-office savings' bank regularly
every week, he was greatly mistaken. The dining down-stairs was not
quite such a success; he was usually completely ignored, and always felt
glad when the formal prolonged meal was over, and he was at liberty to
follow Mr. Gregory to the library. There, indeed, Bertie had often two,
or even three, hours' trying work, copying out prospectuses and share
lists, reading aloud a strange jargon he did not half understand about
stocks, consols, and dividends, adding up prodigious sums of money,
subtracting other sums from them, and, when the result did not quite
satisfy Mr. Gregory, having to consign them all to the waste-paper
basket, and begin over again. Still, it was better than the long dreary
evenings in the deserted school-room, though so much confinement was
beginning to tell a little on Bertie's rosy cheeks and healthy young
frame. The atmosphere of the Underground Railway, too, was injuring
lungs that had never breathed anything but the purest country air, and
at last Mr. Gregory noticed his altered appearance, and invited him to
drive into the City in the dog-cart with himself every morning. That was
indeed a red-letter day,--almost as good as driving to Dr. Mayson's at
Riversdale: better, in fact, Bertie began to think later on, for the
bustle and confusion, the eager, hurrying, restless life of the City
began to have a strange charm for him, and that brisk drive to and from
Mincing Lane was a real pleasure. Then he was progressing famously with
his French and German. The old professor who gave him his lessons was a
sociable, voluble, eloquent gentleman, who waved his hands, rolled his
eyes, chattered nonsense that made Bertie laugh, but at the same time
interested him so much that he took great pains to listen and remember;
and having learned his grammar fairly well at school he was soon able to
make his way with tolerable ease through either a newspaper or letter.

But you must not suppose it was all sunshine and smooth sailing for
Bertie Rivers. He had a great many trials and troubles, and perhaps the
heaviest was his inability to go to Fitzroy Square, except on Sundays,
and not always then. Then he missed his runs in the Park and his walks
into the country in the early morning, his wood-carving and
cork-carving, and all the other amusements with which he was in the
habit of filling up his spare time. Then Uncle Gregory was becoming
daily more exacting and particular, and Bertie gathered from the letters
he wrote that some of the many speculations of the great City merchant
were not going on entirely to his satisfaction. Every evening he
remained later in the library, and Bertie had more letters to write and
circulars to address, and sometimes his head ached sadly, and his eyes
were dull and heavy in the morning. But there was one unfailing source
of satisfaction--his weekly visit to the post-office savings' bank.
Bertie would not have missed that for the world: nine shillings a week,
and sometimes even ten--for nothing could tempt him to spend a penny,
except on his luncheons and in writing to them at Fitzroy Square--soon
mounted up to five pounds, and then Mr. Gregory remarked one day that if
Bertie had saved any money he would invest it for him in a company that
would pay five times as much interest as the post-office. So the money
was handed over to Uncle Gregory, and Bertie received a very large and
formal paper, which he never read, but still was proud of, and in his
next visit handed it triumphantly to Mr. Clair. He read it carefully,
and then shook his head. "This company promises too much, Bertie," he
said; "better have left your money where it was."

"As if Uncle Gregory doesn't know best!" Bertie laughed. "Why, he has
hundreds of shares himself."

CHAPTER VIII.--AN UNEXPECTED PLEASURE.

"You may go and spend a few days with your brother," Mr. Gregory said to
Bertie one Saturday at the end of July. "I am going away for a week, and
so I can spare you; but mind you are back on the Monday after next, and
in good time."

"Yes, sir; thank you, uncle," Bertie replied, with a bright smile.

[Illustration: "HE SAW SOMETHING UNUSUAL WAS ABOUT TO TAKE PLACE."]

"You may go now, if you wish. I do not require anything further;" and
Bertie fairly ran out of the office, jumped into an omnibus, and hurried
straight to Fitzroy Square, instead of going home to Kensington. The
moment the hall door opened he saw something unusual was about to take
place: there were trunks and packages and muffle straps in the hall, and
there, amidst them, stood Uncle Clair, looking quite calm, while Aunt
Amy, Agnes, and Eddie flew hither and thither in every direction. There
was a four-wheeler at the door too, so that evidently the family were
going away. For a moment Bertie felt inclined to cry. What possible
pleasure could he have in a week's holiday without Eddie and Agnes to
share it? But the moment Aunt Amy caught sight of him, her bright face
and cordial welcome re-assured him.

"Dear Bertie, I am so glad. I was afraid your uncle could not spare you
to come with us. But where are your things?"

"I haven't brought any. I only just came from the City to tell you Uncle
Gregory gave me a week's holiday," Bertie replied, looking very much
perplexed. "I did not know you were all going away, auntie, or of course
I would not have come."

"Then you did not get the letter I sent you, dear?"

"No, aunt."

"Well, I wrote asking you to apply for permission to come with us to the
sea-side for a week. But I suppose the letter miscarried some way.
However 'All's well that ends well,' Bertie. You are just in time. Come
now, help to carry the parcels. I hope we have not forgotten anything."

"If we were going to stay a year in a desert island a thousand miles
from a shop, I should think we have enough luggage," Uncle Clair said,
glancing comically at the numerous packages and trunks; "instead of
which, we're only going to Brighton, and can get everything we want
there just as well as in London."

"But am I really to go to the sea-side with you, Uncle Harry?" Bertie
cried eagerly.

"Why, of course, child; you don't suppose we're going to leave you
behind."

"Oh, how good of you! how jolly! Hurrah!" and Bertie executed a sort of
war-dance, tossed his hat in the air, and kissed his aunt and Agnes a
dozen times at least before taking his seat in the cab. "You had better
go with your aunt in a hansom, Bertie," Uncle Clair said; "Eddie, Agnes,
and I will go with the luggage. If you get to the station first, wait
for us at the booking-office. Mind you don't get lost," he added, with a
smile, as they drove away.

"As if I could get lost in the City, Aunt Amy!" Bertie said proudly.
"Why, I know the place by heart now; and shan't I be glad to get away
from it for a whole week? Was it not kind of Uncle Gregory to give me a
holiday?"

"Very good, Bertie. You seem to get on capitally. Do you know, dear, I
am sorry we did not try to persuade Eddie to take his place in the
office too: I almost think he would have been happier, and have got on
better; he does not seem very contented with us, and, worst of all, he
does not make much progress in the profession he has chosen. Agnes is
far ahead of him."

"But Eddie is very clever, Aunt Amy: he can do anything if he likes,"
Bertie cried loyally. "And I do not think he would get on with Uncle
Gregory: he would never like the City; besides, Eddie never cared to be
told to do anything. Even poor papa used to say, 'Please, Eddie,' or
'Perhaps you will do so, Eddie.' Now, Uncle Gregory orders me to do
forty different things in different ways every day, and I don't mind a
bit; but Eddie would stand and look at him, and frown so, and just walk
away. My brother would never get on with Uncle Gregory, Aunt Amy,"
Bertie repeated gravely. "Eddie would never make a merchant."

"And your uncle Clair says he will never make an artist, unless he
changes greatly," said Aunt Amy, rather sadly. "Poor Eddie! I am really
very anxious about his future: he is so like his father: his ideas are
quite magnificent, but he has no energy."

"He's clever, though, auntie; papa often said Eddie was a genius,"
Bertie whispered, "and I can work enough for us both. When I am rich,
and can buy back Riversdale, Eddie will be quite happy. You don't know
how different he will be when he gets back to our beautiful home," and
Bertie's eyes sparkled, and his cheeks flushed at the thought, for the
dream of Bertie's life was to get back Riversdale. The anxieties of the
great establishment in Mincing Lane never touched him; he knew nothing
of risks, disappointments, or failures; in fact, Bertie never even
thought of such things, for he was but a child at heart, and had perfect
faith in his uncle's assurance that if he were only a good, obedient,
industrious boy he would be very rich some day, and get back his home.
But no thought of the busy City, the close, dusty office, or the hot
library at Kensington troubled him as he took his seat in the train, and
was whirled at the rate of fifty miles an hour southward. Eddie sat
silently looking out of the window, envying his brother's high spirits;
he could not think what made Bertie so happy when he felt discontented
and miserable, and thoroughly dissatisfied with everything in the world.
Agnes, too, seemed infected with some of Bertie's good humour; her eyes
sparkled, her cheeks flushed, and she laughed merrily at the utter
nonsense her cousin chattered incessantly, while poor Eddie hugged his
discontent, and made the most of his misery. And yet he had no real
cause to be unhappy: every one was kind, gentle, patient with him; he
had not a reasonable wish in the world ungratified; and yet he sat
silent, drumming with his fingers on the window of the carriage, while
the others chatted and laughed, and seemed as if they could not keep
still for very enjoyment.

"Oh, auntie, how lovely it is!" Agnes cried, "Look how the sun shines on
the trees, and the brook looks like summer lightning. It is good to get
away from London, and see the country once more; and such a sky, Bertie!
you don't have anything like that in Mincing Lane!"

"No; but though our skies may be somewhat inky, Miss Agnes, they have a
silver or a golden lining," Bertie replied, with the air of a judge. "We
don't want sunshine in the City, because we have no time to look at it;
and besides, we have plenty of gas and electric light."

Eddie frowned, and was going to say something about his brother's want
of artistic taste, when Uncle Clair interrupted him by a hearty laugh.

"Really, Master Bertie, you are becoming quite a philosopher as well as
a capitalist and man of business. Now then, youngsters, gather up your
parcels; we shall be in Brighton in about five minutes, and then for a
glimpse of the glorious sea."

"Why, Uncle Harry, I've never seen it!" Bertie exclaimed, as if he were
very much surprised at not having given the matter a thought before.
"All the way down I never seemed to think we were going to the sea-side:
I was so glad to get away from London. Will you let us have a boat,
Uncle Harry?"

"That depends, Bertie; if the weather keeps fine we may go for a sail
some day."

"Bertie fancies we could pull about in a little punt on the ocean as we
did on the river at home," Eddie said, rather scornfully. "He has no
idea what the sea is like."

"Well, well, he will know better presently, for here we are," Uncle
Harry said gently; and in a few minutes more they were all in a shabby,
shaky, but roomy old carriage, driving along the Parade.

"Oh!" Agnes whispered, catching Aunt Amy's hand. "Oh, how beautiful! I
feel as if I can't breathe, auntie."

"It is jolly!" Bertie cried, in his hearty, downright way. "What a place
for a swim, Eddie!"

"The idea of thinking the sea only a place for swimming!" Eddie replied
contemptuously. "I----"

"You can't swim a bit: that's the reason you don't care about it,"
Bertie cried merrily. "But Eddie can pull better than I can, Uncle
Harry, so you will hear him say presently, 'What a lovely place for a
row!' and I do believe it's not a bit rougher than our little river."

"It's very calm to-day, but sometimes it wears a very different aspect,
Bertie."

"I don't believe it ever could be really rough, just like Turner's
pictures," Eddie grumbled. "It's not a bit like what I thought it would
be."

"It's ten times prettier than anything I ever saw," Bertie cried
enthusiastically. "Just look at all the boats, and such pretty houses,
and the donkeys, Eddie. Oh, Uncle Harry! may we have a donkey-ride? and
such lots of boys!"

"What a pity poor Eddie did not leave his enemy at home, and he would be
as happy as Bertie," Mr. Clair said in a very low voice to Aunt Amy; and
she only shook her head and smiled sorrowfully; but the words, though
spoken in a very low tone, reached Bertie's quick young ears, and he
glanced at his brother in sore perplexity. But at that moment the
carriage stopped at the house where Mr. Clair had secured apartments,
and in the bustle of getting in the packets, exploring the rooms,
exclaiming at the beautiful view from the balcony, and Bertie's sudden
discovery that it was a glorious place to test the powers of a
pea-shooter or catapult, he forgot all about Uncle Clair's words and
Aunt Amy's sorrowful smile; and even Eddie thawed a little, and agreed
that a beautiful full-rigged ship, with the bright sun shining on her
snow-white sails, was a pretty-enough picture to please even an artist.

But that night, when Bertie laid his tired head on the pillow--he had
been running and dancing along the beach for hours--his last waking
thought was, "I must find out who's Eddie's enemy; and if he's not a lot
a bigger fellow than I am, I'll thrash him!"

CHAPTER IX.--A HAPPY ENCOUNTER.

Brighton in the first days of August is hot and dusty, noisy, and
crowded with people; excursionists pour in by thousands, German bands
and organs seem to spring up under one's feet at every step. The sun
blazes in the windows of the houses on the Marine Parade all day, and
the fine, dry, chalky dust from the Downs is apt to be irritating to
delicate throats; but for all that, Brighton in August is delightful, at
least to children. Then they may pass an almost amphibious existence
without danger of catching cold. Foremost in every mischief, bravest in
every danger, most fortunate in every escapade, was Bertie. No one could
look at his sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks, hear his merry laughter,
watch him skip, jump, and dance along the beach, without saying, "There,
at least, is one happy boy," and feeling glad that there was so much
capacity for pure enjoyment in the world. He dragged Eddie and Agnes
with him hither and thither, till by sheer force of energy and example
he forced them to share his happiness, and brought the roses to their
cheeks too; he would have dragged Aunt Amy and Uncle Clair about in the
same way, only they drew the line at taking off shoes and paddling in
the water, and begged to be allowed to sit still on the beach and watch
them. However, one day, very much to his astonishment, he met his Aunt
Gregory and his cousins walking on the Parade, and Bertie nothing
doubted but they would be glad to join his many expeditions in search of
fun; but the boys had many other acquaintances in Brighton, and felt
half ashamed to acknowledge a relative who was only a junior clerk, and
refused very distinctly to go down on the beach, and be friendly with
Eddie and Agnes. Indeed, as soon as Mrs. Gregory understood that Mr. and
Mrs. Clair were also by the sea-side, she became very chilling to
Bertie, and asked when he was going back to his office.

"Next Monday, aunt; but the others will stay for another fortnight,"
Bertie answered brightly, without the least shade of discontent on his
face.

"And why must you return before the others, my lad?" a gentleman said,
advancing a step, and looking at Bertie steadily. "If I don't mistake, I
have met you before somewhere. Where was it?"

[Illustration: "'I REMEMBER YOU QUITE WELL,' HE SAID."]

"You have seen him at our house, perhaps, Mr. Murray," Dick Gregory said
carelessly; he had been walking with the gentleman, and discussing a
trip in Mr. Murray's yacht, and did not want to be interrupted; indeed,
he was far from being pleased at meeting Bertie. "You know, he's in
papa's office in the City," he added, seeing the gentleman still looked
puzzled.

"No, cousin; I think Mr. Murray saw me at Riversdale," Bertie said, a
little shyly, for a pair of keen dark eyes were fixed on his face. "He
used to come and see papa often; but I think he would remember Eddie
better than me: he saw him oftener."

"Oh dear me! yes, of course; why, I remember you quite well," he said.
"You are Herbert, the dreadful little boy who snow-balled me one day,
and Eddie drew caricatures of me. Dear me! Mrs. Gregory, how strange
you never mentioned the Rivers' being here. This boy's father is one of
my oldest and dearest friends. I shall be delighted to meet him."

For a moment there was an awkward silence; Mrs. Gregory looked red and
confused, her two sons turned round and studied the sea, then Bertie
looked up suddenly. "Papa is not here, sir: he--he is dead," he said
steadily, but in an earnest voice. "I am in Uncle Gregory's office;
Eddie is learning to be an artist with Uncle Clair. Poor papa lost his
money, and we're going to try and get rich, to buy back Riversdale."

"Buy back Riversdale!" Mr. Murray cried. "You don't mean----" then
glancing at Mrs. Gregory's confused expression, and the sudden gravity
that had replaced the mirth in Bertie's eyes, he stopped, and puckered
up his forehead in the strangest way.

"Is this boy, Herbert Rivers, staying with you?" he asked presently,
turning to Mrs. Gregory.

"No, indeed; I did not even know he was here. I fancied he was at the
office, as usual."

"Oh! then how did you come to be here, child? Are you alone?" Mr. Murray
asked.

"I am with Uncle and Aunt Clair. Last Saturday Uncle Gregory said I
might have a week's holiday and spend it with my brother, so I just ran
straight off to Fitzroy Square, and found them all in the hall just
starting for Brighton. Oh, it has been so splendid!"

"So you must go back to town to your office next Monday?" the gentleman
said, after a moment's frowning. "Well, well, we shall see; this is
Thursday. Where does your Uncle Clair live?"

Bertie told him the address: it was within a stone's throw; and as Mr.
Murray noted down the number, and glanced at the house so as to remember
it, he saw that the balcony was strikingly decorated with some of the
children's trophies. Long trailing sprays of damp dark-brown seaweed
hung over the railings; there was quite a large heap of sea-stones, and
a few shells piled up in one corner. Bertie's schooner was firmly
anchored to a crimson bucket in another; there was a camp-stool before
an easel standing in the open window, and a low chair with cushions
outside. Altogether, the aspect of the rooms occupied by Uncle Clair
pleased Mr. Murray.

As they walked along the parade Mr. Murray was unusually silent; the
boys watched him, and saw by the expression of his face that he was
thinking deeply. But it was not till he met their father at the aquarium
that Mr. Murray said a single word about Bertie Rivers. Then both
gentlemen stood in a quiet corner, and talked so long and so earnestly
that both Mrs. Gregory and the boys became impatient, and not a little
curious. What could they possibly have to say about the little junior
clerk? and yet they were sure he was the subject of their conversation.

Mrs. Gregory looked more anxious than curious. Mr. Murray was a very old
friend of the Rivers' family, and though absence from England for
several years caused him to be quite ignorant of the calamities that had
overtaken the master of Riversdale, the death of his brother Frank, and
the loss of his fortune, he was still deeply interested in the family,
and heard with regret of the almost friendless condition of Mr. Rivers'
sons.

"I wish you had told me all this sooner," he said at length. "We might
have done something better for that fine lad."

"He will do very well," Mr. Gregory replied, a little coldly. "You
should be the last person in the world to object to business."

"I don't object, only the boy is too young--a mere child. Why did not
you send him to school with your boys, for a few years at least?"

"I do not think that would be any true kindness. It would only make him
dissatisfied with his future position, perhaps. Bertie is doing very
well."

Mr. Murray said no more, but all the remainder of the afternoon he
thought a great deal of his old friend Mr. Rivers and his boys, and the
more he reflected the less pleased he felt at Mr. Gregory's treatment of
Bertie, and the undisguised contempt Dick and Harry expressed for their
cousin. He resolved to call the very next morning on Mr. Clair, and have
a talk with him about the lads, for Mr. Murray had a very strong reason
for being interested in their future. It was he who had persuaded their
father to invest money in the speculation that ended so disastrously,
but he had no idea that Mr. Rivers became such an extensive shareholder;
he forgot that a simple country gentleman, without either knowledge or
experience, could not be as prudent and far-seeing as a man all his life
acquainted with business. Mr. Murray had been a loser in the mines
himself, but to a comparatively slight extent, and as he was an
exceedingly rich man, he only regarded the matter as one of the casual
losses incurred in business. But his old friend's losses troubled him
deeply, and he resolved to do everything in his power to repair the
effects of his well-meant, but unfortunate, advice.

Mr. Murray was an old bachelor, very rich, and some people said very
eccentric, though, in truth, his eccentricity was only indiscriminate
generosity. He was very fond of children, boys especially; he often
spoke of adopting some promising lad to inherit a portion of his great
fortune, and continue the grand old firm in the City that had flourished
for over a hundred years as Murray and Co. For many reasons Mr. Gregory
hoped that one of his boys would be chosen, and lately everything had
seemed like it; therefore, the sudden interest Mr. Murray seemed to take
in Bertie caused Mr. and Mrs. Gregory some uneasiness, especially as the
gentleman said at dinner that evening that the yachting excursion would
have to be put off for some days, as he wished to make the acquaintance
of his old friend's sons, and learn a little more of their history, and
meant to call at their address the next morning.

(_To be continued._)

AN APPLE SONG.

  The Autumn sunshine falls so warm,
    So warm in the orchard green,
  A golden tent is the apple-tree;
    And under the leafy screen
  Sits Rex, in the curve of a mossy bough,
    As high as he can go,
  Dropping the apples red and brown
    To his Cousin Prue below.

  Sweet Prue, knee-deep in the cool green grass,
    Spreads wide her pinafore,
  The ripe fruit falls in a golden rain,
    By two, by three, by four;
  With watchful eye and ready hand
    She lets no apple fall--
  As fast as Rex can throw them down
    She catches one and all.

  The blackbird on the topmost bough
    Is singing loud and clear,
  The children shouting at their task
    It does him good to hear.
  He watches them with his bead-black eyes,
    And blither still he sings;
  But clearer than dear blackbird's note
    The children's laughter rings.

MORNINGS AT THE ZOO.

VIII.--IN THE FISH-HOUSE.

Of the Fish-house at the London Zoological Gardens it must be said that
its contents are decidedly "mixed," for it is the home not only of a few
specimens of the finny tribe, but also of some wading and diving birds,
of a very curious amphibian, of a few shrimps, and of several of the
beautiful flower-like sea-anemones. The collection, however, loses
nothing in point of interest because of its varied character, and will
repay a good deal more study than it seems to receive from visitors.

[Illustration: SEA-ANEMONES.]

Some of the fishes are as common as the schoolboy's familiar friend, the
minnow. Others, like the cat-fish and sea-horse, are rare--in England,
at any rate. Then there are kinds known to every lover of angling, such
as the perch and pike. Seldom has a popular name been so aptly bestowed
as in the case of the pretty little sea-horses. In the upper half of
their wee bodies they have all the equine look and bearing, but in the
lower half there is a great falling-off in the likeness, excepting that
both animals have tails. But the tail of the sea-horse is a most useful
appendage. The tiny creature can twine it round marine weeds and
vegetables, and by this means drifts along with the current into far
distant seas and strange climes. To this cause the occasional discovery
of foreigners upon British coasts has been ascribed. With regard to the
name of the cat-fish, one must not be quite so particular. There is, on
a cursory glance, enough of the appearance of pussy about the head of
this curious animal to explain how the title came to be applied to it.
It strikes one as being rather a morose and surly creature, an
impression that is fully borne out when one learns that it will fight
desperately when captured.

Though the flounders can scarcely be considered as other than common
fishes, they always are worth watching. Tom Noddy was all head and no
body, but they may be regarded as being nearly all body with very little
head, and the two bright black eyes, which look as if they were "stuck
on," give them a rather comical aspect. You will find them inquisitive,
too. Put your finger in front of their tank, and they will all flock to
see what it is. On the contrary, other fishes, such as the pike and
carp, will remain stolid and indifferent to any movement you may make,
and some, like the timorous trout--for which Isaak Walton loved to angle
above any fish,--will be so dreadfully upset at the appearance of your
digit that they will dart off in every direction.

Little folk may be expected to feel special interest in the pikes, those
"fresh-water wolves" and "tyrants of the rivers," as they have been
styled in consequence of their ferocity. They thrive well despite their
savage gluttony, and attain to a green old age. One was captured in a
pond in Sweden, in 1449, with a ring round its neck, which bore an
inscription which showed that it had been placed in the pond more than
two hundred years before. However that may be, there is no doubt that
the pike is a long liver. It is so destructive, that it will clear a
pond of all the fishes, not hesitating to attack those even that are
nearly as big as itself. There is a case on record of a pike fastening
on the lips of a mule, which had been taken to drink in the pond. They
have been known to bite at swans and geese, and altogether Jack Pike is
a most voracious creature. It may be assumed also that it is unsociable,
for it generally swims about by itself, and not in shoals or in
companies like other fishes.

[Illustration: IN THE ORCHARD. "_AN APPLE SONG_" (_p. 170_).]

Among other inmates of this house which call for mention are carp,
gobies, dace, roach, bullhead, gurnard, mullet, basse, and conger-eels.
They lead a monotonous sort of life, swimming to and fro in their tanks,
in a wearisome way. But their graceful movements and curious colours are
worth notice. The conger-eels are comparatively small specimens. Those
in the deep sea sometimes attain a gigantic size. They are able to use
their tail as a hand, and have been known by means of it to seize the
gunwale of the boat in which they were imprisoned and jump into the sea.

[Illustration: THE MARINE BULLHEAD.]

One of the quaintest and most interesting inmates of the house, however,
is not a fish but an amphibian. There are two groups of amphibians, one
called _tailless_--to which frogs and toads belong--and the other
_tailed_, of which the newt and the axolotl are members. The Zoological
Society are fortunate enough to possess specimens of both the black and
white axolotl. This creature, which is a native of Mexico, has a strange
life-history not unlike that of the frog. It has a sort of tadpole stage
of existence, in which it is furnished with a collar of gills and lives
in the water. After a while it loses its gills, and its tail and legs
grow much less fish-like. There is a kind of lizard look about its
permanent form. In the first period of its history it is styled
_axolotl_; in the final period it becomes known as _amblystome_. They
say its flesh is esteemed a delicacy in Mexico.

Visitors seem to regard the anemones--the "most brilliant of living
flower gardens," as Charles Kingsley called them--as useful in the way
of ornament, and pass their tanks without paying further heed to them.
This is not the case with respect to the diving birds, which are beyond
all question the centre of attraction in the fish-house. The birds
comprise a darter, a cormorant, a guillemot, and a penguin. The
first-named is seldom seen in this country. It is a largish bird with
webbed feet, long thin neck, and spear-like bill. When swimming in the
water with its body entirely submerged, it looks not unlike a snake
forging along. Hence it is also known as the snake-neck. The cormorant
and darter, though here classed for convenience' sake among the divers,
really belong to the pelican family. The guillemot is a diving bird
found in the Northern seas, while the penguin may be looked upon as
representing the divers of the Southern Ocean. The penguin is a most
awkward bird ashore, but in its native element its movements are elegant
and rapid. When the keeper has placed some food in the water-tank, the
darter is fetched from its cage. The bird takes a swim round, then spots
its prey and goes for it with unerring aim. Rising to the surface it
throws the fish in the air, catches it in its beak, and bolts it with
business-like despatch. It then goes fishing again, and after its wants
have been supplied it returns to its house. The other three birds are
allowed to dine together. There is no squabbling amongst them. Enough
fishes are thrown in to keep them occupied for a few minutes. The speed
with which the guillemot cuts the water is truly amazing. Once more one
has an opportunity of noticing the clumsiness of the penguin when it
tries to leave the water. At either end of the tank a platform with
transverse bars is let down for the convenience of the birds, but the
silly penguin, instead of going to the end of the platform and gradually
working its way upward, sometimes endeavours to climb up the side, its
frantic struggles to do so being ludicrous. It does not appear to
possess sufficient sense to find its way out in the easiest manner, for
Mr Keeper has to assist it with a long iron pole with a hook at the end,
by means of which he pushes the bird along to the foot of the platform.
The feeding of the birds is a very instructive performance. Unless some
such occasion were afforded us of seeing these essentially aquatic birds
in the water, one could not have the slightest idea of the power and
grace of their movements.

And in leaving the fish-house let me say that this educational value, so
to speak, of the Zoological Gardens undoubtedly forms one of their
strongest claims upon public support.

JAMES A. MANSON.

WHAT CAME OF A FOXGLOVE.

A FAIRY STORY.

Behind, before, in the branches of the trees, amongst the blades of
grass, creeping under the mushrooms, swinging on the foxgloves, and
clinging to the ragged-robin, were the fairies.

Blanche and Belinda did not see them, because of the bright golden
sunshine, which hides the fairies from mortal sight; but the fairies saw
the two girls walking arm in arm through the wood.

Blanche stooped to gather a splendid crimson foxglove, which she shook
gently, saying,

  "The bells shall ring
  For the fairy king;
  Ding, dong, bell!
  Ding, dong, bell!"

But, alas! as she shook it, no fewer than seven little fairy pages fell
to the ground. They were not much hurt, but they were very indignant at
being knocked about in that manner; also the feathers in their caps were
much ruffled.

They sprang to their feet feeling very angry, especially as the other
fairies were laughing.

  "We are the Queen's pages,
  And very great our rage is!"

they shouted.

And then, as they looked more carefully at one another and saw how
tossed and tumbled were their pretty suits of embroidered white velvet,
they burst out crying, saying--

  "We are not fit to be seen
  By her Majesty the Queen;
  Our clothes are all blue and green,
  Who will wash and make them clean?"

"I will," said the Fairy Queen; "I saw it all, and I am very angry.

  My pages shall not be
  Treated so shamefully!"

And her face grew as red as a peony.

But Blanche and Belinda knew nothing of all this; they had not any idea
that the fairies were in the wood.

Blanche had just thrown down the foxglove, for suddenly there issued out
of every flower clusters of bees, that buzzed and hummed and made a
dense cloud around the two little sisters until they could not see one
another.

II.

And then--

Why, suddenly all the bees disappeared as quickly as they had come, and
all was sunshine and brightness again; and Belinda was not stung, though
she looked at her arms and hands, and felt her forehead and cheeks and
neck, expecting to be covered with great smarting lumps. Instead of
which, she had never been freer from pain; and the world around had
never looked so beautiful as it did to-day, with so many butterflies of
divers colours, and great green dragon-flies, that she wondered where
they all came from. The wood-path, too, grew more lovely, and patches of
blue sky appeared through the branches of the trees.

All at once she cried out--

"Blanche! Blanche!"

For Blanche was nowhere to be seen; and though she hunted in and out
among the trees and bushes, she could not find her. No one answered,
except the echoes repeating, "Blanche! Blanche! where are you?"

[Illustration: "WALKING ARM IN ARM."]

And then Belinda sat down, and she began to cry.

[Illustration: "HE ... STOOD WITH HIS HAT IN HIS HAND."]

III.

Belinda cried for half an hour without stopping, and her eyes were
swollen up, and her cheeks wet with tears. Some one was standing by her,
and a voice was saying--

  "Why are you crying, little girl, I pray,
  On such a pleasant sunny summer day?
  I'm a little packman, with my funny pack.
  Such a weight! oh, such a weight! to carry on my back.
  What will you buy, maiden? what will you buy?
  Half a dozen handkerchiefs, to wipe your cheeks quite dry?"

Belinda looked up, and in her surprise left off crying. Before her stood
a small boy with a bundle of wheat over his shoulder. He looked tired
and melancholy, and not by any means as jovial as might have been
expected from his words.

"Handkerchiefs!" said Belinda, disdainfully. "Why, you've nothing but a
wisp of straw over your shoulder, and it can't be any weight."

"Try it," said the boy, throwing it down upon the ground.

But Belinda took no notice of it.

"And you're not a packman, only a little boy," she said, angrily; "how
can you tell such stories?"

The melancholy-looking boy answered--

  "Perhaps I'm a king in disguise,
  Although of a very small size;
  If you were a little more wise,
  You might find in my pack a great prize.

However, I'll leave it for you, and the first young gentleman you meet
with will, perhaps, pick it up and carry it home for you; for you will
soon find you are not able to lift it yourself."

And so saying the boy turned away, and Belinda was again alone.

"Not lift a few ears of corn," she said, giving a slight kick to the
heap at her feet.

But as her foot touched it it was no longer a bundle of wheat, but a
sack tied close at the mouth, and it expanded until it was as large as
Belinda herself. Added to which there appeared to be something alive in
it, for it moved from side to side as though some creature were
struggling inside.

"Oh! perhaps it is Blanche!" exclaimed Belinda, "and the boy has brought
her back. He said 'a great prize,' and a king in disguise. He may have
been a fairy, who can tell?"

And she tried to open the sack, but to no purpose, for she only tore
her fingers and made them bleed, and the blood dropped down on her frock
and stained it, and she grew very hot.

There was a glassy pool close by, so she knelt down and bathed her hands
and face; and as she rose up she caught sight of herself in the pool,
and for a moment she scarcely knew herself, for she was dressed so
grandly. She had on a pink satin gown and a white satin apron with
cherry-coloured bows, and a gauze cap, and red shoes with gold buckles.

"I wonder wherever these clothes could come from?" she said aloud.

The sack gave a roll, and whatever might be within was evidently trying
to get out. And again she called out--

"Blanche! Blanche!"

She tried to lift up the sack, for she thought if she could drag it
along she might in time find some one who could open it.

But she found that the melancholy boy was right, she could not move it.

"And I am not likely to meet with any one in this part of the wood."

IV.

Some one was whistling in the distance.

Belinda listened.

Then she cried out, "Help! help!"

The footsteps came nearer, and a boy in a fine suit came along. As soon
as he saw Belinda he made a low bow, and stood with his hat in his hand.

"This must be a gentleman," thought Belinda, "or he would not be so
polite."

But she did not speak.

"Did you not cry out for help?" asked the youth.

"Yes," replied Belinda; "I have lost Blanche, and I want some one to
find her, and to help me to carry this bag; for I can't lift it, and I
believe there is a prize in it."

"Prize!" repeated the boy; "I should think there was! Why this bag is
full of wonderful magic toys, and if you let them out they will search
the world over until they find anything that you have lost. Where did
you get them from?"

"A boy with a bundle of corn brought the sack. At least it wasn't a
sack, but it turned into one--and----"

"It must have been Oberon himself, the King of the Fairies, you know,
who brought the sack to you."

[Illustration: "OUT RUSHED THE TOYS."]

"Ah!" returned Belinda, "he did say something about a king in disguise,
but I did not believe him."

"Perhaps if you had been more polite," answered the boy, "you would have
found Blanche back by this time, for he knows all about her. The Queen
has carried her away because she knocked her little pages about."

"Knocked her little pages about! you are as foolish as the other boy.
But if you know so much, pray where has the Queen hidden her?"

"How should I know?" replied the boy.

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Belinda, and she began to cry again.

"Do be wise," said the boy; "crying does no good."

"Wise, prize, size, disguise," murmured Belinda.

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing!" said Belinda.

"That is not true," he answered; "you said some words; say them again."

And as Belinda repeated the words the boy lifted up the sack quite
easily, and cut the string that fastened it, with his knife. And his
clothes changed even as Belinda's had done. He wore now a sort of helmet
with a plume of feathers in it, and a slashed dress; and he knelt down
and opened the mouth of the sack. Ah! was not Belinda astonished, for
out rushed the toys--such toys--all of them able to move about. One of
them, a man on horseback, galloped away over a bridge, in the distance;
another ran up the mountain with a donkey following after him. A woman
and a little child next rushed down into the valley, so did a boy with a
dog that did not look like a dog running behind him.

To all of these the youth said--

  "Now be kind,
  Find, find, find!"

Belinda gazed in astonishment, for never had she seen such toys before.

"Now," said the boy, as a white horse with a cart behind it emerged from
a heap of carriages and toy soldiers, "jump in, and you and I will drive
about the world till we find Blanche."

"But we can't possibly get in," returned Belinda; "it is too small for
one, certainly for two."

"Do not be stupid," said the boy; "almost all mischief comes from
stupidity; get in whilst I hold the horse."

How Belinda got into the little cart she did not know; but in it she was
with the boy beside her, and he was driving as fast as he could go. And
there was plenty of room for both.

The toy soldiers had mounted their horses and were riding behind them
and at the side of them, for the boy had said--

"Mount quickly, guards."

And as they went along, Belinda presently heard the man on horseback and
the woman and all the magic toys come clattering after them as hard as
they could come.

"Ah!" observed the boy; "we are on the right path; the King has sent
them after us."

"The King!"

"Yes; did you not see a toll-man on the bridge?"

"No," answered Belinda; but she whispered to herself, "a king in
disguise; wise, prize, size."

"You are getting more sensible," said the boy, as he drove faster and
faster till the white cart-horse seemed to turn into a race-horse, he
went so swiftly.

"There will be an accident," said Belinda.

And so there was, for the cart-wheel flew off, and down went the cart,
and Belinda and the boy were tumbled into a ditch, whence they
scrambled out and rolled down a grassy slope, on and on and on, such a
distance that Belinda felt quite giddy.

"This is the end of the drive," said the boy; "we need not trouble about
the horse and cart. Follow me."

And Belinda followed him.

He pushed aside the red chestnut flowers and the sycamore branches, and
as he did so all the birds seemed to wake up, and to sing a wonderfully
beautiful song. There were nightingales singing, though it was day, and
the larks were carolling as blithely as at early morn. As for the
thrushes, their voices were so clear that Belinda was sure she could
hear the words they were saying.

Of course it was poetry, only Belinda had never heard such beautiful
poetry before.

And the waterfall was singing, so was the brook, but they sang a
different song.

  "Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
  Slumbering let the maiden lie,
  Sweetest dreams shall float around her,
  Magic blossoms shall surround her.
  Fairy chains shall keep her still,
  Fairy wand ward off all ill,
  Gnat or fly shall not come nigh,
  Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
  Sleep, sweet maiden, fear no harm,
  Potent is the fairy charm."

"Oh, boy! are they talking about Blanche?"

"Hush!" said he; "come quietly."

Belinda came softly, and looked where he pointed, and would have cried
out--

"Blanche!"

But the boy put his hand over her mouth.

Nevertheless they had found Blanche.

Yes! there she was fast asleep on a crimson cushion with tall white
lilies and bright poppies and splendid foxgloves nodding all round her
and drowsily ringing their sweet bells; whilst a flood of fairy light
fell over her. She looked very happy, as though she were having pleasant
dreams.

"Kiss her," said the boy.

And Belinda stooped and kissed her.

And then Blanche opened wide her eyes, saying.

"Where have you been?" she asked; "I have had such a nice sleep. It all
came from the foxglove."

Belinda looked round to thank the boy, but he had vanished.

So had the cushion and the lilies, and the poppies.

"Why it's the old woodpath again," murmured Belinda. "I know the place
quite well. Size, wise, prize, disguise; disguise, prize, size, wise,"
she repeated; "yes, the young gentleman must have been a king in
disguise."

Blanche looked surprised.

"Yes, that is just what I was dreaming of. I thought I had really quite
lost you, and he brought you to me."

Perhaps the youth was Oberon; but if so, of course he never told them.

"But he must have been a great many Oberons," Belinda went on, musing;
"the melancholy packboy, the toll-man, the young gentleman! Ah! it is of
no use thinking about it, one only gets confused."

[Illustration: "SHE WAS FAST ASLEEP."]

But if she had had ears to listen to fairy music, she would have heard
this song:--

      "Each little page
      Hath lost his rage,
      The punishment is o'er;
      The sisters twain
      Have met again,
      To separate no more.
  So 'tis decreed by Queen and King,
  Who now the two together bring."

JULIA GODDARD.

DAISY AND DOLLY.

  Beneath the poplars' leafy screen
    The shade is cool and sweet,
  Where Daisy sits like any queen--
    The sunbeams kiss her feet,
  Steal round the border of her dress,
  And one white dimpled arm caress.

  She holds her dainty parasol
    Above her playmate's head,
  Lest the hot sun should touch her doll,
    And fade the lovely red
  In dolly's rosy cheek that lies,
  Or dim her beautiful blue eyes.

  She weaves a pretty dream, I know,
    All in the garden shady,
  How dolly was, long, long ago,
    A little fairy lady,
  And held her court on a green, green knoll,
  Ere she became a mortal doll.

  She thinks her blue-eyed pet knows all
    The solemn words she speaks,
  And feels the kisses soft that fall
    Upon her mouth and cheeks:
  And often when I see the two
  I wish I were the doll--don't you?  R.

STORIES TOLD IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

_By_ EDWIN HODDER ("OLD MERRY").

III.--ROYAL FUNERALS IN THE ABBEY.

On the occasion of our last visit to the Abbey, I told you a little
about the coronations that have taken place within its walls, and apart
from the venerable fane itself, the principal object connected with that
long chain of events was the antique royal chair, standing in the Chapel
of Edward the Confessor. Returning to the same spot, we will now look
around us, and we soon see that we are in the midst of a burying-place
of English kings. Sebert and his Queen Ethelgoda have their monument
beside the gate at the entrance to the chapels; but there is no
authentic account of a funeral here before that of Edward the Confessor,
whose ashes, after three removals, repose in the shrine close beside us.

It was on January 5th, 1066, just after the consecration of his
beautiful new Abbey, that the soul of St. Edward passed away. Englishmen
were filled with gloomy forebodings at the event. Crowds flocked to see
the body as it lay in the palace, with an unearthly smile on its rosy
cheeks, and with the long thin fingers interlaced across the bosom.

Then, attired in royal robes, and bedecked with crown, crucifix, and
golden chain, they laid the remains before the High Altar of the Abbey.
His wife Edith was afterwards laid beside him. After the Conquest, royal
personages for a time were buried in Normandy, till "the good Queen
Maud," the wife of Henry I. and niece of Edgar Atheling, was laid
beside the Confessor. In rebuilding the Abbey, Henry III. provided a new
shrine, to which the remains of the now canonised Edward were removed,
and in which (except for a short time) they have since remained.

Behind the shrine the king placed some holy relics, including a tooth of
St. Athanasius, and a stone said to show a footprint of our Lord. For
fifty years Henry watched his new Abbey growing to completion, and
determined it should be the burying-place of himself and the Plantagenet
line. He was laid temporarily in the place from which the Confessor's
bones had been taken. His son Edward I., returning from the Holy Land,
brought home porphyry, slates, and precious marbles to build the tomb to
which Henry's body was transferred about twenty years after his death.
The Abbess of Fontevrault was then in London, and the late king's heart
was delivered into her hands to be deposited in the foreign home of the
Plantagenets.

[Illustration: DAISY AND DOLLY. (_See p._ 176.)]

Henceforward many royal personages were brought to be buried near the
Confessor's shrine; but I shall only mention the more prominent. When
Queen Eleanor died in 1291, the course of the funeral _cortége_ from
Lincoln to London was marked by twelve memorial crosses, and the Abbots
of Westminster were bound to have a hundred wax lights burning round her
grave for ever on the anniversary of her death. In 1307, after having
placed in the Confessor's Chapel the golden crown of the last Welsh
Prince, Llewellyn, and the Stone of Fate from Scotland, Edward I. was
himself brought here to lie beneath the rough monument, from which it
was hoped that, in accordance with his dying wish, his bones might at
some time be taken and carried through Scotland at the head of a
conquering army.

In 1394, Richard II. buried here his beloved Queen Anne, the friend of
the followers of Wickliffe. The palace of Sheen in which she died was
destroyed by her sorrowing husband, and immense sums were spent on her
funeral. For asking to go away before the ceremony was completed, the
Earl of Arundel was struck on the head with a cane by the king, and
brought to the ground with his blood flowing on to the Abbey pavement.
The affair caused so much delay, that darkness came on before all was
over. The tomb that covers her remains was intended by her husband for
both, but whether Richard II. sleeps in the tomb that bears his name or
not must remain a matter of doubt. Henry IV. brought a corpse from
Pontefract to Langley, and Henry V. transferred it to this tomb; but few
believed it to be really the body of the murdered king.

England had never seen a grander royal funeral than that of Henry V. He
died at Vincennes, and with great pomp his body was brought by Paris to
London. At every stage between Dover and London, and again at St.
Paul's, and at the Abbey, funeral services were performed. The closing
scenes were very impressive, as the funeral car, amidst a blaze of
torches borne by hundreds of surpliced priests, and followed by his
three favourite chargers, came up the nave to the altar steps. Room for
the tomb was made by clearing away the holy relics behind the
Confessor's shrine. Here was placed the magnificent piece of
workmanship, which we now behold, a tomb below, and above a chantry, in
which for a year thirty poor persons were to read the Psalter of the
Virgin and special prayers for the repose of Henry's soul. At the back
of the chantry hung the king's indented helmet (in all probability the
one worn at Agincourt), his shield, and his saddle. In the arch beneath
lies the headless effigy of Henry, the silver head having been carried
off when Henry VIII. was robbing the churches.

Henry VI. was very fond of the Abbey. He chose a place for his tomb, and
even paid the first instalment for its erection, in readiness for his
own demise. But the civil wars hindered its completion; and I have
already told you how Henry VII. meant to raise a special chapel for him
and altered his mind.

We will pass on now into the Chapel of Henry VII., the grand mausoleum
of a race of kings, who looked back (as Stanley points out) not to
Saxon Edward, but to British Arthur, as their great ancestor. A gloomy
porch conducts us into a blaze of splendour. Walls, ceilings, and arches
are richly decorated; the "stone seems by the cunning labours of the
chisel (says Washington Irving) to have been robbed of its weight and
density, suspended aloft as if by magic." Nobody seems to be quite sure
who was the architect of this beautiful piece of workmanship. The king
lavished vast sums of money on the costly edifice, and left plenty with
the abbot for its completion after his death. And in the stalls monks
were to sing masses for the repose of his soul, "while the world lasts."

In April, 1509, Henry died, and was placed beside his Queen, Elizabeth
of York, in the great vault beneath the chapel floor. His mother,
Margaret, Countess of Richmond, was brought here three months
afterwards, of whom it was said, "Everyone that knew her loved her, and
everything that she said or did became her." She endowed charities,
founded colleges, ended the civil wars by marrying her son to Elizabeth
of York, and protected Caxton in his early labours.

At the Reformation there was a carrying off of relics, a rifling of
tombs, and a temporary disturbance of the Confessor's bones. But the
royal tombs saved the Abbey from destruction, although Protector
Somerset was on the point of pulling it down to build his new palace in
the Strand. Edward VI. was buried here, and Anne of Cleves, and then, in
1558, came Queen Mary, the last English monarch interred with Roman
Catholic solemnities. In the same tomb reposes her sister Elizabeth, at
whose funeral the national mourning was intense. An old chronicler tells
us that, as her coffin was borne through the streets crowded with
spectators, "there was such a general sighing, groaning, and weeping, as
the like hath not been seen or known in the memory of man; neither doth
any history mention any people, time, or state, to make like lamentation
for the death of their sovereign." The tomb was raised above the two
sisters by James I. He also raised the monument to his mother, Mary
Queen of Scots, in the south aisle, and had her body removed to it from
Peterborough. Devout Scots visited this tomb, as the shrine of a saint,
and many miracles were said to have taken place here.

In the north aisle of this chapel, beside two infant children of James
I., are the remains of the murdered princes brought from the Tower. In
the south aisle lies Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales, of whom such high
hopes were entertained. Two thousand mourners swelled his funeral
procession, but no monument marks his resting-place. Three years later
the corpse of Arabella Stuart, the king's cousin, whom some would have
put in his place, was brought up the Thames from the Tower at midnight,
and placed without ceremony in the tomb of Mary, Queen of Scots. James
I. came here in 1625 and was laid in the tomb of Henry VII.

Under the Commonwealth the royal monuments suffered no harm; their
dilapidations date (as we have said) from Henry VIII's time. The mother,
sister, and favourite daughter of Cromwell were buried here; the great
Protector himself was interred in the august Chapel of Henry VII.
amongst the royal dead. For two months the body lay in state at Somerset
House in a room hung with black, and lit with innumerable black candles.
Then there was a grand procession, a magnificent hearse, and the usual
ceremonies of a royal funeral. On the 30th of January, 1661, Cromwell,
Ireton, and Bradshaw were dragged from their tombs to Tyburn, and there
hanged and beheaded. Their bodies were buried beneath the gallows, and
their heads set up over Westminster Hall.

Charles I. was to have been brought from Windsor to a grand tomb in the
Abbey, but Charles II. applied the £70,000 voted for this purpose to
other uses, and the matter dropped. This king's funeral was a hurried
affair--it took place at night without pomp of any kind. To the same
narrow vault was brought William III. Mary, after her death on December
28th, 1694, had been interred here--"one of the saddest days," says
Macaulay, "that Westminster had ever seen." She was the first English
sovereign who was followed to her grave by both Houses of Parliament, as
in other cases Parliament had expired with the sovereign.

Eleven children of James II. and eighteen children of Queen Anne lie
around the tomb of Mary, Queen of Scots. Queen Anne herself was brought
in a coffin more enormous than that which inclosed the gigantic frame of
her husband, Prince George, to the vault of her sister Mary. George II.
and Queen Caroline repose in a black marble sarcophagus in the centre of
the Chapel of Henry VII. And now Westminster Abbey ceased to be a
burial-place of English kings and queens. George III. constructed a
vault at Windsor for himself and his numerous family, and there his
descendants have been interred.

THE CHILDREN'S OWN GARDEN IN SEPTEMBER.

The month of September is one of even more fickle and changeable a
nature than most others; it is, however, one of very great importance to
those who are desirous of securing plenty of geranium and other
cuttings, for the next summer's work; because, should the month by
chance happen to be a dry one, it will be almost impossible to obtain
very many in consequence of so little growth being made. If, on the
other hand, plenty of rain fall during the latter part of August and
throughout September growth will be made both rapidly and vigorously,
whereby cuttings can be taken almost _ad infinitum_. When the weather is
of a congenial nature, perhaps few months in the year are more enjoyable
in one's garden than that of September.

The present month is the best one in which to consider the various
effects--good or bad--which have been secured by growing certain plants
in juxta-position with others. All incongruities or extremes arising
from misplaced judgment or uncertain taste should be at once noted in a
pocket-book reserved exclusively for gardening notes, comments, &c. It
is ever so much easier to determine the proper positions of various
colours, and situations of certain plants, when they are at the
perfection of their beauty, than it is to allot them to certain
imaginary quarters on plans, however skilfully drawn up, in winter.
Indeed, it may be stated without reservation, that the only satisfactory
means of insuring an harmonious blending and contrast of colours is by
comparing the relative position which one plant of a certain colour and
habit should occupy to another and different plant, when growth is
perfected.

Most bedding plants can be induced to continue flowering for a
considerable period longer, if deprived of their seed-vessels so soon as
these are formed, than they would otherwise do; geraniums, more
especially. Not only does it hasten their decay to allow seeds to ripen,
but materially enfeebles the entire plant. It is wise to secure as much
beauty as is possible just now from your gardens, as a single and
unexpected frosty night will destroy almost everything; nothing is more
ephemeral than floral beauty.

As last month, the chief attractions in the garden will be dahlias and
hollyhocks; fine displays of roses often delight us throughout the
autumnal months, and the last rose of summer charms us quite as much as
the first one of spring. Rose-cuttings may still be taken, and those
inserted last month should by this time be well-rooted plants, if
properly treated, and must at once undergo a process of being gradually
hardened off to the open air. Growing rose-shoots, having plenty of
buds, must be carefully tied in. As regards very strong-growing plants
which will need keeping within bounds, the operation of cutting them
back requires the very greatest care, and our readers should get a
practical gardener, if possible, to point out those which need trimming,
and those to be left alone. Most young people possessing a knife
generally commence sundry manoeuvres on the first plant or tree within
reach, and generally with very disastrous results. Trimming and pruning
of all sorts should, therefore, be only done by practical hands, and
then the life of the plant will be in pretty safe keeping.

Dahlias will require plenty of attention until frost commences its
havocs; shoots will need thinning, and the branches must be secured to
stout stakes firmly placed in the earth; autumnal winds wreak great
destruction among such branches as are insecurely made fast, and a
number of handsome blooms are thus destroyed without coming to
perfection. Insects are very fond of infesting dahlias, and their
depredations must be guarded against. Hollyhocks, if entirely free from
disease, will still be handsome objects, but their beauty will be
somewhat on the wane; seeds may be saved from the best flowers, and
should be sown at once in a pan of light sandy soil, and placed in a
cold frame. Rooted layers of carnations of all sorts and of every
section should now be planted out into a rich light soil, or, what is
more preferable, two can be placed in a 5-inch or 6-inch pot, and
wintered thus under glass. Asters of various kinds, such as Chinese and
German, will now be in full beauty, and where large single flower-heads
are a desideratum, only two or three must be allowed beyond the bud
stage. Asters are among the prettiest of autumn flowers, and for
children's gardens we would recommend what are known as "Dwarf Bouquet."

The present month is the one during which all tender or half-hardy
plants used in summer gardening are "housed," or removed to their winter
quarters under glass. It is courting failure to allow such plants as
chrysanthemums, auriculas, geraniums, and many others, to be exposed to
the influence of cold, frosty nights, as when the "fell destroyer"
commences to exert its power all plants touched by it rapidly decay.
Gladioli will now be clothed in the full glory of their gaudy, but
handsome dress; they are comparatively easy to manage in well-drained
spots, and being such continuous bloomers, at least three or four or
even half a dozen should be in every small garden. In winter they must
be covered by about six inches of litter; but in cold and ill-drained
soils it will be safer to take the roots up during October, keeping
these in a dry situation until the following spring.

LEGENDS OF THE FLOWERS.

THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL.

  When skies are bright and winter's o'er,
  And leaves and flowers return once more,
  A little blossom 'mongst the grass
  Peeps at wayfarers as they pass.

  'Mongst gayer buds of larger size
  It modest opes its purple eyes;
  And those who love the flowers know well
  The little Scarlet Pimpernel.

  It hath a story of its own,
  That unto country-folk is known;
  For Nature's hand hath given it strange
  Perception of the weather's change.

  If clear will be the day, and fair,
  It opens wide its petals rare;
  But if the clouds should threaten rain,
  It shuts them up quite close again.

  The shepherds love the little flower
  That tells them of the changeful hour,
  And many a one asks, "Tell me, pray,
  What weather there will be to-day."

  And so in time another name,
  In honour of its rare gift, came;
  And the wee blossom 'mongst the grass
  Was called the "Shepherd's Weather-glass."

Our Music Page.

"Let's away to the Woods."

_In moderate time._

_Words and Music by_ CHARLES BASSETT.

VOICE.

1. The tints of the trees are mellowing down From their summer green to
a russet brown, And many a harvest is over and past, For Autumn has
chas'd away Summer at last.

2. The summer's warm glow has not died from the land, But is seen and
felt upon ev'ry hand; From the orchard where apples hang ripe on the
trees, To the thicket where nuts nod and dance in the breeze.

3. The birds sweetly sing as they soar in the sky, And the squirrels
frisk in the branches high; And it makes me as happy and merry as they
To roam in the woods on a bright autumn day.

Then away, let's away to the woods, Where the nuts and
blackberries grow, Where the flow'rs at our feet send forth fragrance
sweet--To the woods, to the woods let us go!... To the woods let us
go!....

[Illustration: THE EDITOR'S POCKET-BOOK.

JOTTINGS AND PENCILLINGS, HERE, THERE AND EVERYWHERE]

Who were the Janizaries?

About 1330 the Sultan Orkhan formed a military force out of Christian
prisoners who had been compelled to become Mohammedans, and to these was
given the name of Janizaries, from two Turkish words meaning new troops.
A few years later they were more regularly organised, and granted
special privileges, their number being increased to 10,000. Though for a
time their ranks continued to be recruited from Christian prisoners, the
service began, at length, to attract young Turks. Their chief officer,
called the _aga_, wielded almost unlimited power. They fought on foot
and were noted for the impetuosity of their charge. In course of time
they manifested a rebellious spirit, often being the cause of
conspiracies, riots, atrocities, and assassinations of rulers,
statesmen, and high officials, and ultimately they grew to be more
formidable to the Sultan than even foreign foes. Attempts to disband
them were unsuccessful till Sultan Mahmoud II. finding himself opposed
by them in 1826, managed to excite against them the fanatical zeal of
other portions of his troops. Deserted by their _aga_ and other
officers, they were utterly crushed, their barracks were burned, and
their force was declared, on June 17, 1826, to be for ever dissolved. It
is estimated that 15,000 of them were executed and more than 20,000
banished. In this way this once famous body of men was extinguished.

A Canine Guide.

A Lincolnshire farmer has a dog that for practical wisdom will compare
favourably with most men. Should its master leave anything--such as a
stick or gloves--on the farm, he has but to make known by a sign the
fact of his loss when off the dog will trudge, and not come home till it
has found the missing article. It will permit a well-dressed man to
enter the farm-yard by day, but should a beggar put in an appearance
this respecter of persons will gently seize him by his clothes and see
him safely off the premises. By night, however, all strangers approach
at their peril. The farmer's sister lives on the adjoining farm,
communication between the two farms being obtained by means of a single
plank across the deep ditch that separates them. Sometimes the farmer's
children want to visit their aunt, and they are always entrusted to the
care of the dog. It marshals them in a small troop, conducts them to the
bridge, where a halt is called. The bairns are then taken over one by
one, doggie seizing hold from behind of the child's dress. It then waits
for the return journey and escorts them home in the same way.

The Taming of Bucephalus.

Bucephalus, the famous steed of Alexander the Great, is said to have
been broken in in the following manner. The horse was so fierce and
unmanageable that no one would ride it. It had broken one man's neck,
another man's leg, and seriously injured several others. An animal with
such a reputation no doubt excited a good deal of attention, and
Alexander was one day watching it in the Hippodrome or Circus, when it
struck him that the horse was rendered ungovernable by fear of its own
shadow. Accordingly he mounted it, and running it against the sun--so
that its shadow fell behind--in due time succeeded in thoroughly
subduing it. Tradition stated that through being the first to break in
Bucephalus--which became his favourite charger--Alexander had fulfilled
the condition which had been declared by an oracle to be necessary to
his gaining the crown of Macedon.

The Price of a Picture by Landseer.

Sir Edwin Landseer's magnificent stag-picture called, "The Monarch of
the Glen," and well known all over the world from engravings, was
recently exposed to auction, when it fetched the enormous price of
£6,510. It is said that the painter sold it off his easel for 800
guineas. The bidding at the sale began at £2,000, and by bids of one
hundred guineas reached £4,000, at which price it was hoped that it
might have been secured for the National Gallery. The competition,
however, continued beyond that sum, until the picture was sold for 6,200
guineas. Only one other picture by Landseer has brought a higher
price--namely, the famous Polar Bear subject, "Man proposes, but God
disposes," which realised £6,615.

"Ignoramus."

As commonly used nowadays this term is equivalent to "dunce," but it was
originally employed as a law term. It is a Latin word, and literally
translated means, "we do not know." In former days when a grand jury
considered that a bill or indictment was not supported by sufficient
evidence to prove the need for a trial, they wrote the word "ignoramus"
on the back of it, signifying that they rejected it. The words used in
present practice are simply "not a true bill," or "not found." But in
course of time the old Latin term was made serviceable, as we have seen,
in a new way.

Saved by South Sea Islanders.

Considering the reputation that most of the South Sea Islands used to
enjoy for cannibalistic practices, it is pleasing to read that the
natives of one of the isles in the Marshall group in the South Pacific
Ocean rescued the crew of a vessel wrecked near Ujaal Island. A number
of natives went in their boats to the wreck and took off the crew and a
lady passenger, conveying them to an island some fifteen miles from the
spot where the ship was lost, and treating them with great kindness.
Tents were erected out of the sails of the wrecked vessel, which were
removed for the purpose.

A Strange Vow.

Not long since there died in a workhouse in Southwark a pedlar who used
to sell odds-and-ends on a tray on London Bridge, and who pretended to
be deaf and dumb. It is said that, though clothed in rags, he was a
Swiss gentleman of means who, stung by remorse, had vowed not to open
his lips for ten years, to go bareheaded and barefooted, and to abandon
for twenty years all the advantages of his fortune. His vow was rigidly
kept, and at the period of his death he was in the fourteenth year of
his singular penance.

Honour among Cats.

Seeing that pussy is by no means friendly to birds, it is rather
gratifying to hear of a cat that was entrusted with the care of a
shopful of birds and was true to her trust. She was shut in the shop for
the purpose of doing battle with such rats and mice as might put in an
appearance; and discharged this duty with signal success. Yet though it
may have been--at first at any rate--a sore trial to her to keep her
paws off the birds, she was able to resist every temptation to gratify
her natural tastes, and might even have been seen quietly snoozing on
the top of one of the cages.

Memory in Parrots.

These birds have retentive memories. A parrot that belonged to a lady
recognised a black servant after three years' absence. Another bird was
so fierce that no one in the house liked to touch it, but it would allow
a lady visitor to handle it with impunity. It was at last given away, as
its ill temper seemed incurable. About three years later this lady
called upon a friend, when a parrot in the corner of the room became
greatly excited. As it was generally very quiet in its demeanour, its
mistress remarked the unusual behaviour, but her visitor on going up to
the cage recognised her old friend of the savage disposition, which had
not forgotten her. When she spoke to it the bird was much pleased, and
came on to her hand and fondled her.

The Clock-tower in Darmstadt Palace.

The residential palace in Darmstadt, where Queen Victoria made a brief
stay in the spring of this year, has a clock-tower the chimes in which
discourse sweet music four times every hour. At the first quarter they
strike up a verse of the stirring "Watch on the Rhine;" at the half-hour
the familiar notes of "God save the Queen" fall upon the listener's ear;
at the third quarter an air from the well-known opera of the "Marriage
of Figaro," enlivens the palace; while the hour is hailed with the
bridal chorus from Wagner's "Lohengrin."

Oiling the Waves.

During the last two or three years a good deal has been heard of
experiments for calming an angry sea by pouring oil upon the troubled
waters. This has been proved to have a marked effect, but it is
interesting to note that the idea is by no means new. In 1844
experiments were made in the North Sea, with a view to test this special
property, and though several gallons were used on the occasion, no
diminution of their rage was noticed in the waves. Captain Wilkes,
however, the commander of the United States Exploring Expedition in
the Antarctic Ocean, 1838-42, observed that the oil leaking from a
whaler had a stilling influence upon the sea. And this quite agrees with
the result of nearly, if not all, recent trials.

[Illustration: ACTIVE VOLCANO IN RÉUNION.]

Spider Knicknacks.

A large trade is done at Santa Barbara, in South California, in the
preparation of stuffed specimens of a big, ugly, vicious, poisonous
spider. Cards decorated with these insect monsters are readily bought by
tourists, by museums, and by science schools. This spider excites great
curiosity on account of the nest with trap-door which it constructs with
much skill, but though its native valleys abound with countless numbers
of the homes and tunnels, yet hardly a living spider can be seen. It is
for this reason, doubtless, that the demand for stuffed specimens is so
considerable as to engage wholesale merchants as well as retail
shopkeepers in meeting its supply.

An Affectionate Dog.

Early this year, a lady died in New York. She had had a Skye terrier as
a pet for twelve years, and during the two months of her illness it
remained by her bed. After the funeral it took up its old position by
the bed, refusing to eat. A few days afterwards it found a pair of its
mistress's shoes which had been thrown out of doors. The faithful animal
brought them in its mouth to the bedroom, placed them on the floor, laid
its fore paws and head across them, and continued in this position for
several hours. Early one morning its mournful cries aroused the
household, and exactly a week, to the very hour, after its mistress's
death, the poor terrier expired beside the bed, its head and paws still
resting on the cast-off shoes. This story shows how keenly some animals
feel the loss of those who have treated them kindly.

A Sagacious Cavalry Horse.

Some weeks since a gentleman was knocked down by a cab in a busy street
in London, and owed his escape from what might have proved a fatal
accident to the sagacity of the horse by which the cab was driven. The
hansom cab was going along at an ordinary pace, and the gentleman (who
carried a bundle of papers) tried to pass it. In doing so he was knocked
down, his papers were scattered, and he was himself in imminent danger
of being run over, as the driver did not notice the accident in time to
pull up. The horse, however, happened to be an old cavalry horse, and it
neatly stepped over the prostrate body of the gentleman and stopped just
as the wheels of the vehicle had reached his body. The gentleman was
then dragged from his perilous position, much shaken and frightened, but
in other respects uninjured.

What is a Nabob?

You have now and again met with the phrase, "rich as a nabob," and have
perhaps wondered what a nabob had to do with riches. I will tell you.
Under the Mogul Empire the provinces of India were administered by
deputies called _nawâb_, who commonly amassed great wealth and lived in
much splendour. The title was used under British rule, but became
gradually corrupted into _nabob_. In course of time it was applied
generally to all natives who had grown rich, and latterly it was
bestowed--more often in a derisive sense--upon Europeans who, having
made large fortunes in India, returned to their native land and spent
their money in a luxurious and ostentatious way.

A Curious Volcano.

Most active volcanoes have nothing very remarkable about them so far as
the discharge of lava is concerned. In the Isle of Bourbon or Réunion,
which lies in the Indian Ocean, there is, however, a volcano which is in
a state of eruption twice every year. It occupies about one-sixth of the
whole island, it often changes its crater, and the streams of lava
sometimes reach to the sea. The surrounding district is called the
Burned Land, from the desert aspect which it always wears. From the
accompanying picture it will be seen that this volcano occasionally has
several sources of lava.

The "Little Folks" Humane Society.

_THIRTY-FIRST LIST OF OFFICERS AND MEMBERS._

_Officers' Names are printed in Small Capital Letters, and the Names of
their Members are printed beneath. Where a short line, thus "----," is
printed, the end of an Officer's List is indicated._

                             AGE
    44278 A. M. M. Weeks                   13
    44279 Frank George                     11
    44280 E. M. Hilling                    11
    44281 Annie Ball                       14
    44282 Herbert Kitchener, Islington, L  15
    44283 James Baker                      10
    44284 Fredk. Morley                    11
    44285 Charles Russell                  12
    44286 George Freeman                   13
    44287 Ernest West                       9
    44288 Edward Frayer                    13
    44289 Albert Logsdon                   11
    44290 William West                     10
    44291 W. J. Thomas                     11
    44292 Joseph Thomas                    10
    44293 W. Nicholls                      15
    44294 Walter F. Turner                 10
    44295 Stanley Kingston                 11
    44296 John Mitchell                    10
    44297 Alfred Wright                    12
    44298 S. Kitchener                     18
    44299 Joseph Taylor                    12
    44300 Alfred Alley                     11
    44301 Mark Rapson                      11
    44302 William Fansett                  14
    44303 R. Archer                        12
    44304 Edwin Pearce                     11
    44305 J. Cooper                        11
    44306 Harry Snow                       12
    44307 Harry Dawkins                    11
    44308 George Wheeler                   11
    44309 James Green                      14
    44310 Robt. Couchman                   10
    44311 W. Cowling                        9
    44312 C. Hardingham                    11
    44313 James Cons                       14
    44314 George Beaven                    11
    44315 R. Kingston                      10
    44316 Fred Marle                       12
    44317 Alfred Archer                    10
    44318 George Moss                      12
    44319 Fredk. Follett                   10
    44320 Fredk. Baker                     11
    44321 Charles Barnicott                11
    44322 H. Matthews                      11
    44323 William Ellis                    11
    44324 Herbert Tubbs                    10
    44325 John Keuleman                    13
    44326 William Croxford                 10
    44327 Thos. Kingston                   11
    44328 James Sturman                    11
    44329 Henry Nicholls                    9
    44330 H. Tissington                     9
    44331 Charles Taylor                   12
    44332 GEO. E. OGLE, Brighton           14
    44333 Nellie Child                     14
    44334 Florence A. Moss                 15
    44335 K. Padwick                       10
    44336 Adelaide M. Ogle                 20
    44337 Mary C. Clark                    11
    44338 Walter Payne                      8
    44339 W. Padwick                       13
    44340 Hy. Clark                        12
    44341 N. E. Newman                     11
    44342 George R. Mills                   7
    44343 Emily Mills                       9
    44344 Amy Mills                        10
    44345 Kate M. Ogle                     18
    44346 Emily Cousins                    13
    44347 Grace Pyne                       11
    44348 A. Hollingdale                   10
    44349 George Pollard                   13
    44350 Laura B. Godfree                 11
    44351 Ellen Ogle                       10
    44352 Ada Pyne                         13
    44353 William A. Ogle                  13
    44354 Annie Webber                      9
    44355 Helen Perrin                     16
    44356 Harry Perrin                     10
    44357 Alice Webber                     10
    44358 Albert L. Carter                 16
    44359 Fredk. W. Mills                  12
    44360 Alfred Pelling                   10
    44361 G. Hollingdale                   13
    44362 Elizabeth Scott                  11
    44363 Alma Collis                      13
    44364 Emma Heryet                      15
    44365 Emma Tull                        12
    44366 Agnes Scott                      13
    44367 Albert Gearing                   10
    44368 Arthur F. Parker                 11
    44369 James Simmons                     8
    44370 Violet M. Moss                   16
    44371 George Webber                     8
    44372 Geo. P. Newman                   15
    44373 G. T. Swaffield                  14
    44374 James French                     11
    44375 Agnes Prudden                    12
    44376 E. Mattheson                     11
    44377 Charles Sier                      7
    44378 Augusta Prudden                  19
    44379 V. Cummings                      16
    44380 CHARLOTTE A. CROSSMAN, Limehouse 12
    44381 Fanny E. Jones                   14
    44382 Alice Fetter                     14
    44383 Edna G. Pattison                 14
    44384 E. E. Fullick                    13
    44385 Margaret Clark                   13
    44386 Florence E. Davis                12
    44387 Julia Page                       12
    44388 Laura A. Young                   15
    44389 Sarah Crawley                    14
    44390 L. M. Crossman                   10
    44391 Margt. Scruton                   10
    44392 Jane Crossman                     7
    44393 Florence Peck                    13
    44394 F. A. Bowers                     10
    44395 Ada E. Craddock                  13
    44396 Elizab. A. Gibbs                 15
    44397 E. M. Buckman                    10
    44398 Ada Smith                        12
    44399 Phoebe Povey                     11
    44400 Maud Curno                       14
    44401 Ethel Pattison                   10
    44402 Ann A. Halcrow                   14
    44403 Rose A. Jordan                   14
    44404 Charlotte Smith                  11
    44405 H. J. D. Webb                    16
    44406 E. J. Harper                     13
    44407 E. M. Perkins                    13
    44408 Alice Hubbard                    11
    44409 Alice Webb                       15
    44410 William Jordan                    9
    44411 E. Hutchison                     12
    44412 Emma Speaight                    13
    44413 Kate Moate                       13
    44414 A. E. Drayson                    13
    44415 Rosa G. Webb                     13
    44416 A. F. Bennett                     7
    44417 Blanche Childs                   11
    44418 C. C. Pettersson                 12
    44419 Amy L. Hicks                     10
    44420 Emily Cameron                    10
    44421 Sarah P. Findley                 16
    44422 Marion Cameron                   13
    44423 Nellie Wardle                    13
    44424 Alice Bowller                    13
    44425 Emily Bennett                    13
    44426 A. Whittenbury                   11
    44427 E. Whittenbury                   14
    44428 Annie Pitter                     13
    44429 A. C. Ohlsen                     19
    44430 Florence Crispe                  12
    44431 Edith Larter                     10
    44432 AMY WELLER, Poplar               14
    44433 Florence Bull                    10
    44434 M. C. Stupple                    12
    44435 Sophia Osborn                    20
    44436 M. M. Mackrow                    14
    44437 H. A. Christmas                  15
    44438 Rachel Bull                       8
    44439 Ann Priest                       16
    44440 Elizabth. Holmes                 14
    44441 Eliza E. West                    15
    44442 H. Wiseman                       13
    44443 Annie Sherlock                   14
    44444 Florence Barrett                 12
    44445 Louisa Price                     11
    44446 Wm. Southgate                    14
    44447 Thomas Osborn                     9
    44448 Sarah Seward                     19
    44449 Alice M. Devine                  16
    44450 Louisa Huggins                   12
    44451 F. H. Terrey                     15
    44452 Ada Gordon                       16
    44453 E. Southgate                     11
    44454 A. E. Hubbard                     8
    44455 Matilda Wattson                  10
    44456 Ernest Pattison                   8
    44457 Beatrice Burrow                   7
    44458 Mary Wesson                      13
    44459 Alice Looker                     13
    44460 Elsie Woodley                    13
    44461 Walter Osborn                    11
    44462 F. E. J. Hubbard                 14
    44463 Rosina Ricketts                  16
    44464 Amy Loaring                      10
    44465 Mary Straiton                    13
    44466 Elizbth. Ballard                 13
    44467 B. L. McLean                     11
    44468 Gertrd. M. Ford                  11
    44469 Elizbth. Harrold                 13
    44470 Wm. R. Ricketts                  13
    44471 Wm. A. Perkins                    8
    44472 Thomas Webb                      12
    44473 Ellen M. Webb                    15
    44474 W. H. Christmas                  14
    44475 E. M. Wilkerson                  14
    44476 Lea L. Christmas                 11
    44477 Elizabeth Osborn                 14
    44478 Esther J. Gill                   11
    44479 Sarah A. Wesson                  11
    44480 A. C. Houlding                   13
    44481 Josaphin Popham                  14
    44482 Clara Bull                       12
    44483 F. H. Ricketts                   12
    44484 Agnes Stedman                    13
    44485 B. Hattersley                    11
    44486 Elizabth. Burrow                 12
    44487 Emily Taylor                     13
    44488 Janet Bright                     12
    44489 E. C. S. Seward                  13
    44490 Hannah Skelton                   13
    44491 Bertha Kellman                   12
    44492 Charlotte Barrett                 8
    44493 FLORCE. GALES, Bow               14
    44494 Edith Fowler                     12
    44495 Hugh Hay                         10
    44496 Catherine Watson                 14
    44497 Fanny Jones                      17
    44498 Annie Hunter                     12
    44499 Eliza Mitchell                   12
    44500 Mary A. Williams                 13
    44501 Maud M. Fowler                   11
    44502 F. A. Weller                     12
    44503 Louisa Fowler                    19
    44504 Jemima Wesson                     9
    44505 Ada H. Hubbard                   16
    44506 Annie Godfrey                    10
    44507 Charlotte Pitt                   14
    44508 Bertha E. Fowler                  9
    44509 Ellen Manhire                     9
    44510 Chas. Ayscough                   11
    44511 Clara Payne                      13
    44512 Thos. Goodfellow                 14
    44513 E. S. Lowery                     13
    44514 C. Hancock                       13
    44515 Kate Whiteway                     9
    44516 William J. Lowis                 17
    44517 Ada Pennell                      20
    44518 Dorothy A. Noble                 10
    44519 Clara Richardson                 13
    44520 Isabella Hay                     13
    44521 Minnie Keable                    10
    44522 Maggie Hay                        7
    44523 Mary A. Osborn                    7
    44524 Margaret Cole                    13
    44525 M. McDonald                      12
    44526 Eliza Whiteway                   11
    44527 Alice Rushbrook                  12
    44528 Clara Gales                      17
    44529 Henry A. Lewis                   12
    44530 Caroline Stride                  12
    44531 Albert Weller                    10
    44532 Ada Gales                         9
    44533 Sarah Eagle                       9
    44534 Alice Stafford                    9
    44535 Florence Fenney                  11
    44536 Elizabh. Wiseman                 17
    44537 Edith I. Gales                    7
    44538 Albert J. Cutting                16
    44539 Elizabeth Grieve                 18
    44540 Keziah Weaver                    17
    44541 Elizabeth Farr                   11
    44542 Jane Read                        10
    44543 Alex. McDonald                    9
    44544 Edith Hoole,
    Camberwell                             13
    44545 Bertie Mitchell                   9
    44546 Bertie Longman                    8
    44547 Louie Longman                    10
    44548 F. Longman                       13
    44549 Horace Brown                      6
    44550 Leonard Brown                     8
    44551 A. Brown                         13
    44552 Lily Hoole                        3
    44553 Edith K. Wood                     9
    44554 Alfred T. Wood                    3
    44555 Maude Wood                        5
    44556 Emma Wood                        11
    44557 Lizzie Edwards                    9
    44558 Isabel Edwards                   11
    44559 Edith Edwards                    19
    44560 Maggie Edwards                   14
    44561 Lizzie Smith                     14
    44562 Louise Melton                     7
    44563 Flory Melton                     11
    44564 George Swain                      9
    44565 Elizabeth Field                   8
    44566 H. Field                         10
    44567 Louisa Field                     12
    44568 Annie Bedford                    11
    44569 Charlie Jarratt                   8
    44570 Selina Jarratt                   15
    44571 Arthur Jarratt                   13
    44572 A. E. Martin                     14
    44573 A Day                            14
    44574 Helen Day                        17
    44575 Mary E. Crawley                  19
    44576 Marian B. Wright                 13
    44577 Alice M. Wright                   9
    44578 Edith Broom                      17
    44579 Laura J. Lockie                  12
    44580 Monty Hammett                     3
    44581 Bertie Hammett                    9
    44582 William Cook                     12
    44583 Emma Short                       16
    44584 Charles Short                     7
    44585 Amelia Short                     11
    44586 Eleanor Short                     8
    44587 Bertha Reed                      14
    44588 Maude Pummell                    10
    44589 A. Hinton                        12
    44590 Jessie Mackie                     8
    44591 Edith Green                       7
    44592 Sydney Green                      9
    44593 Arthur Green                     11
    44594 A. E. Warell                     12
    44595 NELLIE PERCIVAL, Liscard         12
    44596 Ada Mitchell                     12
    44597 Harry Lyons                       6
    44598 Alice Love                       17
    44599 Wm. R. Lyons                      5
    44600 Bessie Robertson                 16
    44601 Ada Holt                         16
    44602 Ada Rowe                         16
    44603 Alice Helsby                     17
    44604 Maggie Sinclair                  16
    44605 Robt. P. Stafford                 9
    44606 Barbara Fletcher                 13
    44607 Bessie Dickson                   13
    44608 Beatrice Hale                    17
    44609 Emily Casement                   17
    44610 Ruth Ryland                      15
    44611 Hettie Ward                      14
    44612 Charles Sinclair                 12
    44613 Maud Bayley                      14
    44614 Emma Crossley                    12
    44615 Jas. H. Stafford                  8
    44616 Louie Bryer                      15
    44617 Annie Percival                   13
    44618 F. Leighton                      14
    44619 Mabel Woodall                    16
    44620 Charlotte Bourne                 15
    44621 Maggie Percival                  15
    44622 M. Casement                      16
    44623 Douglas Sinclair                 10
    44624 Dicky Smith                       7
    44625 Maude Shepherd                   13
    44626 Laura Hirst                      13
    44627 A. M. Johnston                   17
    44628 Marian Morris                    16
    44629 J. Wainwright                    17
    44630 Minnie Evans                     14
    44631 Charlie Gleadell                  6
    44632 Kate Charles                     14
    44633 Mary Lilley                      18
    44634 Maggie Goodlass                  12
    44635 Maggie Lenard                    18
    44636 F. Moulding                      16
    44637 Beatrice Jones                   14
    44638 Minnie Noble                     14
    44639 Barbara Clark                    14
    44640 Alethea Clark                    10
    44641 Margt. E. Noble                  16
    44642 Percy Smith                       5
    44643 Elizbth. Jackson                 17
    44644 Alice M. Taylor                  17
    44645 Alice Willis                     16
    44646 Minnie Sanders                    9
    44647 H. W. Sanders                    15
    44648 Alfred Payne                     11
    44649 FLORENCE BOON,
            Llantrissant                   11
    44650 Charles Smith                    14
    44651 Alfred Boon                      21
    44652 Thomas Williams                  12
    44653 E. A. Davies                      9
    44654 Chas. I. Leyshon                  7
    44655 Thos. Leyshon                     6
    44656 Evan Davies                      11
    44657 E. E. Hasking                     5
    44658 David Roberts                    10
    44659 E. T. Leyshon                     9
    44660 Annie Baker                       9
    44661 William Jenkins                  17
    44662 Eugnie Davies                     6
    44663 Lydia Williams                    7
    44664 Edwin Pritchard                  10
    44665 George Pritchard                 14
    44666 Rosina Pritchard                 12
    44667 Jas. H. Pritchard                 5
    44668 Anne Dells                       10
    44669 Ellen Roberts                    12
    44670 Mary A. Evans                    13
    44671 Martha East                      12
    44672 Edith M. Smith                   10
    44673 Jessie Davies                     8
    44674 Jane East                        14
    44675 Ellen M. Parker                  12
    44676 Charles East                     10
    44677 Thomas Angell                     7
    44678 E. Devonshire                    10
    44679 Amelia Phillips                   9
    44680 Edwin Smith                      11
    44681 Ann Williams                     12
    44682 William Williams                  7
    44683 Annie Hosking                    18
    44684 S. Bartlett                      15
    44685 Samuel Escott                    10
    44686 Ada Thomas                        7
    44687 Wm. Hosking                      13
    44688 Mary E. Thomas                   12
    44689 Evan Angell                      11
    44690 Annie Cox                         6
    44691 S. Devonshire                     8
    44692 Alfred Hosking                   10
    44693 Mary Cox                          8
    44694 Mary J. Baker                     5
    44695 Alice T. Cooke                    7
    44696 Maude M. Cooke                    8
    44697 Bertha E. Cooke                   8
    44698 Wm. J. Warman                     7
    44699 Arthur Cooke                     10
    44700 Lucy Williams                    11
    44701 James Richards                   10
    44702 Frederick Lyes                   17
    44703 Henry Rex                        18
    44704 E. A. Priestley                  20
    44705 Lillie Hugill                    17
    44706 Annie Hugill                     14
    44707 FANNY L. CHEW,
               Stroud                      13
    44708 Nettie Sonthern                  13
    44709 Geo. A. Hulbert                   8
    44710 F. J. Holland                    14
    44711 Bessie Hulbert                   13
    44712 Willie R. Ford                   11
    44713 Alice R. Hulbert                 11
    44714 Fred Griffiths                   14
    44715 Edith E. Holland                 16
    44716 W. E. M. Hulbert                 10
    44717 Robert Johnston                  13
    44718 Lizzie Davis                     21
    44719 Gertrude Holland                 14
    44720 Georgina Chew                     8
    44721 Alfred R. Ford                   14
    44722 W. A. Watkins                    10
    44723 Maud Harrison                     9
    44724 Florence Hooper                  10
    44725 Arthur Ellis                     13
    44726 Lilly McKellar                    8
    44727 Harry Chandler                   13
    44728 Ernest J. Tayler                 10
    44729 Walter Wheeler                   14
    44730 Harry Roberts                    10
    44731 Arthur Chew                      12
    44732 Lionel Chew                       8
    44733 William J. Fass                  11
    44734 Corbett Holland                  11
    44735 E. B. Pitt                       15
    44736 Harry Holland                     9
    44737 Henry Gazard                     13
    44738 C. Baumbrough                    16
    44739 Louisa Parfitt                   18
    44740 Flora E. Watkins                 17
    44741 Gertrd. Watkins                  14
    44742 Fredk. Nind                      13
    44743 Nellie I. Aspinall               11
    44744 Edith Compton                    10
    44745 Ralph Wheeler                    12
    44746 Harry Halford                    12
    44747 Constance Pitt                   12
    44748 George Docker                    13
    44749 Mary Chew                         8
    44750 James Treseder                   12
    44751 Violet McKellar                  10
    44752 Frederick Pitt                   20
    44753 Seymor Bonford                   14
    44754 Ernest Ricketts                  12
    44755 Kate Eliot                       13
    44756 Charlie Bailey                   13
    44757 John Wheller                     14
    44758 Mary Jenney                      11
    44759 Annie E. Throp                   12
    44760 Susannah Jenney                   9
    44761 R. Welsh                         10
    44762 Ernest Wall                      10
    44763 G. Mallalieu                     10
    44764 Ethel Harris                      8
    44765 Arthur F. Pacey                   7
    44766 Ethel Homes                      12
    44767 Edith S. Dealy                   13
    44768 Clara Hoëlzer                    12
    44769 Gilbert Haldane                  14
    44770 Harry G. Assiter                 15
    44771 Agnes M Mullins                  11
    44772 J. C. Waterhouse                  9
    44773 M. Waterhouse                     8
    44774 A. Waterhouse                    11
    44775 LUCY A. GRIEVE, Greenock         13
    44776 Margt. M. Neish                  11
    44777 E. W. Johnston                   11
    44778 Agnes McKinnon                   11
    44779 Margaret Lower                   11
    44780 C. McKinlay                      11
    44781 Eliza A. Boyd                    11
    44782 I. M. McDonald                   11
    44783 Mary McAulay                     10
    44784 Robert McAulay                   12
    44785 Gracie McAulay                   18
    44786 Annie McAulay                    16
    44787 John Cooke                        8
    44788 Jeanie Cooke                     12
    44789 Harry Cooke                      10
    44790 Edwd. L. Grieve                   4
    44791 Florce. A. Grieve                 7
    44792 Robertha Grieve                  10
    44793 James H. Grieve                   8
    44794 Hilda C. Grieve                   5
    44795 Bella Longwill                   10
    44796 Maggie Longwill                  15
    44797 John F. Hodge                     8
    44798 Agnes L. Hodge                   12
    44799 Archie Grieve                    15
    44800 Mary J Grieve                    10
    44801 John Grieve                      13
    44802 Laura M. Trew                    12
    44803 M. Symington                     10
    44804 M. J. Symington                  12
    44805 Robert Smith                     12
    44806 Agnes Smith                      10
    44807 M. E. Brittlebank                16
    44808 M. Brittlebank                   11
    44809 C. D. McKay                      17
    44810 F. J. Thorburn                   11
    44811 Isabella Mara                     9
    44812 Mary Mara                         5
    44813 Jas. B. Fulton                   12
    44814 Agnes B. Fulton                   9
    44815 Wm. B. Fulton                    10
    44816 John Whiteford                   17
    44817 Jane Whiteford                   19
    44818 M. Whiteford                      8
    44819 E. A. Paterson                    9
    44820 J. G. Paterson                   10
    44821 A. F. Whiteford                  11
    44822 Jessie Whiteford                 15
    44823 John Ramsay                       8
    44824 C. Ramsay                        12
    44825 E. J. Whiteford                  12
    44826 M. C. Whiteford                  17
    44827 Mary Trew                        10
    44828 S. R. Paterson                    7
    44829 V. M. Paterson                    6
    44830 Janet McMurtrie                  13
    44831 M. McMurtrie                     16
    44832 Robt. McMurtrie                  10
    44833 Jane McMurtrie                   18
    44834 Jane Thorburn                     9
    44835 Jessie Sime                      16
    44836 John M. Sime                      9
    44837 Sarah Sime                       18
    44838 HILDA VORLEY, Camden Road,
          London                           14
    44839 Jessie Rintoul                   13
    44840 Kate Darvell                     15
    44841 H. Hardy                          9
    44842 Mary A. Darvell                  20
    44843 Fanny Blake                      19
    44844 H. F. Fredricks                  18
    44845 Fredk. W. Darvell                18
    44846 May Vorley                       17
    44847 Herbt. D. Lister                 15
    44848 Thomas Allen                     16
    44849 E. F. Gillott                    15
    44850 Emily F. Colls                   13
    44851 E. Wilkinson                     11
    44852 William Vorley                   12
    44853 Cecilia Loebl                    10
    44854 Arthur Gartley                   10
    44855 Bessie Shaw                      12
    44856 Emmeline Vorley                  16
    44857 John Brooke                       8
    44858 E. M. Jennings                   14
    44859 Harry Brooke                      6
    44860 Ada Parker                       11
    44861 Lucy Merzbach                     8
    44862 Edwd. Merzbach                   11
    44863 L. M. Hearn                      16
    44864 A. H. Colebrook                  10
    44865 Ethel Pyke                       10
    44866 Florence Baker                   12
    44867 Fanny Gartley                    14
    44868 Hilda Corner                     12
    44869 John A. Brown                    11
    44870 Louisa Rintoul                   15
    44871 Lilian Brock                     12
    44372 F. Matthews                      12
    44873 K. A. Wilkinson                  14
    44874 Mary Dowsett                     14
    44875 F. W. Dunaway                    18
    44876 E. A. Townsend                   17
    44877 Lily Barker                       8
    44878 Ethel Barker                     13
    44879 Kathleen C. Gow                  17
    44880 Lillie Stoner                    12
    44881 Gertrd. Rayment                   8
    44882 Samuel Brooke                     9
    44883 Ernestine Baker                  15
    44884 Lydia Gardner                    14
    44885 Emma E. Allen                     8
    44886 Caroline S. Allen                11
    44887 Wm. H. Allen                     14
    44888 Emily M. Allen                   18
    44889 Mary A. Jones                    12
    44890 Ellen G. Jones                   10
    44891 Percy M. Jones                    9
    44892 Mary M. Jose                     13
    44893 Sophie H. Isle                    7
    44894 James C. Isle                     9
    44895 Shirza Ferguson                  14
    44896 Francis L. Smith                 12
    44897 Margaret Gill                    16
    44898 Dora Gill                        14
    44899 Louis H. Daish                   15
    44900 Percy P. Cotton                  11
    44901 Lucy W. Barker                   12
    44902 F. M. Barker                     10
    44903 Frank D. Barker                   7
    44904 K. W. Barker                      5
    44905 Edith Wallace                    15
    44906 Amy Wallace                       9
    44907 John B. Stewart                   8
    44908 Gertrd. A. Escott                10
    44909 Charles Brereton                 11
    44910 Mary E. Wallis                   20
    44911 A. A. Langley                    19
    44912 E. J. Newman                      9
    44913 Evelyn P. Sewell                 10
    44914 Winifred Lamb                    12
    44915 Anna Lamb                        13
    44916 Helen Lamb                       16
    44917 Emily Lamb                        7
    44918 GERTRUDE A. AMOS, Hampstead      16
    44919 Kathleen Jenkins                  8
    44920 F. E. Jenkins                    15
    44921 May Jenkins                      11
    44922 Annie Lee                        19
    44923 Ewart C. Amos                    17
    44924 Thomas Cowney                     7
    44925 Arthur Cowney                     9
    44926 Ethel Cowney                     11
    44927 Minnie M. Shaw                    8
    44928 Charles J. Shaw                  12
    44929 Rose K. Nowlan                   13
    44930 P. L. Nowlan                     15
    44931 Edith M. Dwight                  19
    44932 Edith A. Rogers                  15
    44933 Jessie E. Rogers                  8
    44934 J. A. Rogers                     18
    44935 Miriam Rogers                    16
    44936 Wallace Barron                    8
    44937 Ethel M. Yates                   15
    44938 C. M. Hewetson                   10
    44939 Alice A. Miley                   15
    44940 Emily Fowke                      15
    44941 E. M. Thompson                   16
    44942 E. M. Clements                   11
    44943 Rose M. Smithers                 15
    44944 Katerine Wickes                  11
    44945 A. M. Wickes                     14
    44946 Henry White                      16
    44947 Charles White                    12
    44948 Katie Spalding                    9
    44949 Alice M. Spalding                12
    44950 Catherine White                  15
    44951 K. A. Bergin                      9
    44952 Mary Bergin                      14
    44953 Margaret Bergin                   8
    44954 Thos. G. Bergin                  11
    44955 Gertrude M. Sims                 10
    44956 Edith Sims                       13
    44957 Emmeline Sims                    10
    44958 Mildred P. Orwin                 11
    44959 Ethel M. Orwin                   14
    44960 Henry Wines                      10
    44961 Charlotte Wines                  14
    44962 John Wines                       11
    44963 Bessie Biggs                      9
    44964 Clara D. Mills                   16
    44965 E. M. Spalding                   11
    44966 Violet Spalding                  15
    44967 Marian Goodall                   13
    44968 Mary White                        9
    44969 Susanne E. Price                 12
    44970 Rosa L. Candy                    13
    44971 Jas. H. Nicholson                11
    44972 Frances L. Hyde                  12
    44973 Ellen R. Carr                    12
    44974 Ella M. McCaul                   15
    44975 Albert C. Farmer                 12
    44976 NELLIE CHAPPELL, Camden Road,
          London                           13
    44977 Katie Avern                      13
    44978 Emily Avern                       8
    44979 Annie Gregory                    10
    44980 G. A. Jaques                      8
    44981 Louisa Price                      8
    44982 Kate Spain                       12
    44983 Lily Petch                       11
    44984 M. Bourdelaine                   14
    44985 Gertrude Hedges                  16
    44986 Edith Smith                       9
    44987 E. B. Palmar                     10
    44988 Thos. A. Avern                   11
    44989 L. Bourdelaine                   12
    44990 Eva R. Child                     13
    44991 Edith Pybus                      13
    44992 F. Hughes                        12
    44993 Edith Palmar                      8
    44994 Lizzie J. Shenton                11
    44995 Julia Denny                       9
    44996 Flornce. J. Reeve                14
    44997 Edith T. a'Bois                  14
    44998 Lucy Ashton                      16
    44999 Percy H. Brown                   12
    45000 Alice E. Lloyd                   14
    45001 M. E. Goodman                     9
    45002 Edith F. Ball                    10
    45003 R. G. Durnford                   11
    45004 H. L. Darnton                    11
    45005 Maggie L. Polak                   9
    45006 William P. Ball                   6
    45007 M. W. Smith                       4
    45008 Jenny Ball                        9
    45009 Lydia Taylor                     12
    45010 May Lloyd                         8
    45011 Ada Rayner                       11
    45012 Ellen M. Hunt                    17
    45013 Eleanor C. Muir                  14
    45014 Loetitia Lambert                 12
    45015 Edith A. Cox                     12
    45016 Jessy F. Charles                 14
    45017 Nellie Pybus                     14
    45018 Clara E. Brice                   16
    45019 Jessie E. Davis                  13
    45020 Ada Chappell                     15
    45021 L. H. Shelton                     8
    45022 Emily L. Smith                   11
    45023 Florence M. Pitch                 9
    45024 Bessie Cox                       11
    45025 Florence Mashell                 10
    45026 Annie J. Charles                 16
    45027 JANET M. GREGORY, Paignton       12
    45028 Florce. E. Waith                 12
    45029 M. F. E. Waith                   10
    45030 Mary Bradford                    13
    45031 Lily Telfer                      18
    45032 Edith Cawley                     12
    45033 Beatrice E. Harris               12
    45034 Ethel M. Rundle                  11
    45035 Ida M. Madden                     9
    45036 Kate Cawley                       9
    45037 Blanch Telfer                     9
    45038 L. K. Madden                     14
    45039 E. Mulcaster                      9
    45040 Richd. Mulcaster                  7
    45041 B. E. Shorland                   12
    45042 E. I. Shorland                   11
    45043 Violet Gregory                    4
    45044 Edith M. Lory                    18
    45045 E. A. Richards                   17
    45046 Janie Rowe                       16
    45047 E. M. Madden                     17
    45048 Emily M. Corew                   14
    45049 Ada E. Rowe                      13
    45050 Frances C. Telfer                 8
    45051 C. L. Telfer                      5
    45052 James D. Telfer                   6
    45053 Edith Telfer                     13
    45054 C. M. Rogers                     12
    45055 Ethel H. Clark                   12
    45056 E. M. Hughes                      7
    45057 Mary B. Winch                    12
    45058 Winifred Mason                   10
    45059 Clara M. Mason                    9
    45060 Arthur Mason                      7
    45061 Willie P. Martin                  8
    45062 Effie Robertson                  15
    45063 Gussie Cay                       13
    45064 Agnes Clarke                     14
    45065 Daisy Comber                     13
    45066 Laura R. Trioni                  15
    45067 Sophie Ridley                    16
    45068 Alice F. Morrell                 14
    45069 Annie Fowler                     12
    45070 Blanche Fulton                   13
    45071 Lizzie Franklin                  15
    45072 Effie Lecky                      14
    45073 Ethel Norbury                    13
    45074 E. L. H. Wilder                  12
    45075 Katie Haswell                    13
    45076 Chas. F. Bluett                   5
    45077 Alfred Kingston                   5
    45078 E. M. Kingston                    7
    45079 E. E. Faithfull                  11
    45080 Cathrne. J. Jones                13
    45081 M. W. Jones                       9
    45082 Robert Jones                     11
    45083 L. L. Baxter                     15
    45084 L. J. Stephens                   13
    45085 Florence B. Shaw                 11
    45086 Edith A. Shaw                    15
    45087 Dora K. Purvis                    9
    45088 Hannah S. Purvis                  7
    45089 Mabel F. Shaw                     8
    45090 Jessie C. Shaw                   10
    45091 Annie V. Shaw                     9
    45092 Alice M. Heins                    9
    45093 F. M. Heins                      11
    45094 Mary A. Howard                    9
    45095 F. S. Howard                      7
    45096 John A. Harrison                 11
    45097 J. M. Mackenzie                   8
    45098 JULIA M. CROWHURST, Gt.
          Ormond St., Lond.                14
    45099 Stanley J. Beeson                 7
    45100 Edgar T. Beeson                   9
    45101 Alice Wills                      16
    45102 Julia C. Horley                  11
    45103 Ellen N. Horley                   7
    45104 L. H. Wingfield                  17
    45105 Edith Wingfield                  10
    45106 Frank Wingfield                  12
    45107 G. M. Wingfield                   6
    45108 Florence Carlton                  7
    45109 Ada I. Sanders                   15
    45110 Etta Gash                        17
    45111 Chas. F. Sanders                 11
    45112 E. E. Gunton                     17
    45113 Sarah Oldham                     20
    45114 Arthur Goode                      9
    45115 W. W. Crowhurst                  12
    45116 Annie Goode                      18
    45117 Maria Goode                      19
    45118 Arabella Brooks                  13
    45119 Elliott E. Brooks                12
    45120 John B. Goode                    15
    45121 Ethel S. Brooks                  10
    45122 Wm. C. Brooks                    15
    45123 E. S. Sherwood                   15
    45124 Jas. T. Sherwood                 13
    45125 Thos. N. Carlton                  9
    45126 Ada Edwards                      12
    45127 Henry Edwards                    15
    45128 Annie Edwards                    13
    45129 Frank Neck                       10
    45130 Walter Powell                    11
    45131 C. Hotchkiss                     18
    45132 Rosa Folley                      17
    45133 Mary E. Lucas                    18
    45134 Edwd. H. Adams                    9
    45135 M. E. Symonds                    19
    45136 Frank Allen                      15
    45137 B. Allatt                        13
    45138 I. Crowhurst                     20
    45139 H. A. Crowhurst                  15
    45140 E. M. Crowhurst                  16
    45141 Herbert Wills                    13
    45142 Ormond A. Taylor                 19
    45143 Albert J. Turner                 15
    45144 Louisa Turner                    17
    45145 F. E. Taylor                     15
    45146 Fredk. R. Horley                 13
    45147 George Horley                    12
    45148 Edith Wills                       9
    45149 MIA BOWCOTT, Bath                16
    45150 M. I. C. Whitley                 12
    45151 H. F. Whitley                    10
    45152 H. P. Whitley                    13
    45153 Owen Owen                         9
    45154 Edwd. J. Hughes                  10
    45155 E. Clack                          9
    45156 R. H. Mattingly                  13
    45157 J. F. Healey                     14
    45158 H. R. Hancock                    11
    45159 S. J. Bowcott                    12
    45160 C. S. Chatterton                 15
    45161 F. M. Chatterton                 12
    45162 Kate Chatterton                  11
    45163 Emily A. Estens                  19
    45164 Florce. Hayward                  14
    45165 Flossie Rolfe                    13
    45166 T. E. Archard                    10
    45167 E. E. Archard                    12
    45168 H. Newham                        10
    45169 B. W. Whittaker                  19
    45170 Charles D. Fox                   17