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\Mi’blf. CHAPTER VIII. ~ According to What had grown into a. custom. Digby found Helen and her father by the gate which commanded the steep track. and another delightful evening. all too short, was spent. Min- sic. talk of England. the life there, all had their turn, and then came the time to go. Helen walking beneath the great mellow stars down with her visi- tor to the gate, for the last good-night â€"-t.hat farewell which takes so many times to say. and was here prolonged till Redgrave's voice was heard. "Coming. papa," cried the girl. as she clung to Digby's hand. “Then you go." she whispered. “to the barranco to- morrow 3” “Yes; in good time." "I shall see you at night i" r "Of course." ' I . "And you will take care. heard that some of these places very dangerous." "Take care? Yes; for your sake." he whispered. "Once more, good-night." He ran off, to master the longing to stay; and-with an uneasy feeling at heart. Helen returned slowly to the house, wishing that he had not come alone, so as to have a companion back along the dark path. where it would be so easy for an enemy to do him hhrm. She cast away the foolish dread di- rectly. and with good cause, for Dig- by reached the venlta about the same time as Fraser returned from his late stay with Bamon; and after a short chat over their morrow’s plans, they both went to bed. The sun was streaming into Digby's room when he awoke the next morning with the sensation upon him that it was Very late; and on springing out of bed it was to find a. piece of note- paper lying on his dremingâ€"table, on' which was writtenlz "You were sleeping so soundly I- would not disturb you. I have gone on. Eat your breakfast, and fdllow at your leisure." ‘ Digby dressed under a feeling of an- noyance at his friend's desertion. He did not particularly want to join in the trip, for he had seen enough: of the island and would far rather have gone up to Redgrave's; but Fra- ser's start alone made him immediately feel an intense longing to be off; and‘ consequently in: quite upset his Span- ish landlady by his hurried and scanty meal. "Too bad of Horace," he grumbled to himself as he set off up the moun- tain track to walmre it diverged, and the path led to Baanon’s plantations. with the house away to'i'he left in a‘ beautiful nook which commanded a View of the distant islands. For a moment he hesitated as to whether he should walk down‘ to Ra- men's for a chat before starting; and he hesitated again after going a few yards; but finally he stepped out boldly with the hot sun pouring down; and as he Wont on, a careworn face was slowly raised from out of a clump of semi-tropical foliage. and lt‘raser stood well concealed, watching him till he passed out of sight. Then, after a ‘aulious look rounfl, the sank back into his place of conrealment. and the birds that had flitted away returned, the stillncss around being unbroken. save when the low deep murmur of the surf arose from far bellow. “Too bad of old Horace," said Digby, as he strode along. past Ramou's plan- tations till the wild country began; and recognizing various places he had‘ pit-\le before, the young explorer soon' reached the spot where the track lead- I have are obliterated by the abundant growth. till it gradually became a mere shelf years before. he found that it seemed. on the mountain side. The dense tan- gle at first sloped down to his left.l and up to his right. but grew more and more precipitous. till there was almost perpendicular wall of volcanic rock out of which the shrubby growth and ferns read out. and formed a shadowy arc 1. which screened him from the sun; while a foot away on his left there was a profound drop. the rock again going [x‘rpendicularly down. and in places the shelf along which be puki- ed quite overhung the verdant gorge. And so it continued for quite a couple ’of hours. during which he went on and on along the shelf. whme abundant rowtb hid the danger of the way; or it was only at times that be obtain- ed a glimpse of the deptlmbelow. where some avalanche of stones had crashed down from above. and swept the trees away. “He's right: it is a glorious walk." cried Digby enthusiastically; "only. it seems so stupid to be enjoying it all alone." For another hour he went on. won- dcrin‘; that be had seen no traces left by his friend. but soon forgetting this in the frcsh glories of the. oversbad~ owed path. and the lovely glinls of sunshine in the zigzagging tunnel of fcrns and creepers. which literally seemed to flow down in cos-odes of growing leafage from the wall on his right. ".‘iaturc must have made this path." he said to himself: "and it can only be seldom trod. Leads to nowhere. of course. andâ€"â€" Hillo! here's the end." For. at a sudch turn. after passing an angle of the rock. be found himself face to face with a huge mass of stone. which had evidently lately slipped from a few feet above. the track. and com» plctcly blocked the way. "That's awkward." be said thought- fully. "Too sleep to get ovenâ€"Ila! that's it.“ He smiled as he saw that to the left of the large block the green growth had bcen trampled down, the Ishclf being wide enough for any one to pass round. though the gorge seemed there to be almost dark, so filled _up was it with the tops of the trees which bristled from its side. “The old boy has been round herd for one, this morning. First time I've seen his marksâ€"My word he has been [chipping away here," he added. as he looked at the broken fragments of stone in the newly made curve of‘the path. \Vithout a moment's hesitation he stepped down. then took anather step ‘for the way descended apparently. to rise again beyond the block. Then {another step 'on to some fagot-like ibrush-wood laid across to form a level ;way; and as he did so. he uttered a wild cry. and snatched at the rocky side to save himself. Vain effort, for everything had given way beneath him. land he dropped headlong. to fall, after what seemed to be a terrible descent. Ihcavily far below. He was conscious of an agonizing wnsation of pain, then of astifling ,dust. of a sickening stupefying .dizzt- mass. and then all was darkness. How long h!x lav there stunned he lcould not tell; but he seemed to strug- lgle inlto wakefulness out of a terrible feverish dream. to find that all was ' darkness and mental confusion. \Vhat it all meant was a mystery; for his head was 'tbick anti linavv. and mem- ory refused to give him back the re~ ,coilcction of his “gun and sudden tall. 5 But he realised at last that he was awake, and that he was lying upon what seemed to be fragments of sticks; arm. as he groped about he touched something which set him wondering for the moment, before he could grasp what it was he held. Then- he uttered a_ cry of horror and recoiled. for his finger and thumb had passed into two bony orbits. and he knew that the ob- ject he had grasped was a human skull! "â€"- CEAPTER IX. As Digby cast down the grisly relic of mortality, he clapped his hands to 11-18 throbbing brow, and shrank farther and farther away. feeling as if his rea- son was tottering. and for a time the mastery of his mind had gone. But this terrible sensation passed away as quickly as ill; had come. and he stampi- ed one of his feet with rage. Be shrank away. for his act had raised a cloud of pu which horrified him again. But this only served to make him recover his his basket. . "I must have fallen. then, into one trying to speak aloud and though his words came for the moment hurriedly and sounded strange. excited and perspiration from his brow. "There," hes-said; "l'm better mow; soâ€"â€"-\Vhat's this fâ€"Yes, it must be; I'm bleeding." He felt the back of his head, and wine,â€" ed, for it was out badly, and a tiny neck. out i" He began to move about cautiously, looking up the while in search of the opening through which he had come; but for some minutes he looked in vain. At last though. he saw a dim light far above him, not the sky or the open- ing through which he had fallen. but showed something and at last he reached the conclusion that the opening down which he had dropped was not straight. but sloped to and fro in a rough zigzag. "How horrible!" he muttered. "Yet what a blessing l" he added. killed." By cautious progression Ill! at last found the side. gone in two other directions. seemed to lead him farther into bowels of the mountain. but not until he had which the down after some eruption hundreds of. 801110. of his climbing up to the day. "Ahoy! Fraser!" he shouted aloud. seemed to pass echoing hollowly away. giving hLm an idea of the vastness of' the place in which he was confined. I And now for a few moments his for- mer sensation of horror attacked him, as he felt that he might possibly never! be able to extricate himself from the trap into which he had fallen. and that he might go on wandering amongstl the horrors by which he was surround- ed until he died of exhaustionâ€"mad. Again he. mastered his wandering mind. and spoke aloud in a reassuringi (one. “I am not surrounded by hor- rrrs." bc'said calmly. "That which is here ought to alarm no man of well- balanced intellect. it is known that I have come this way. by the people at the innâ€"â€"-â€" No: I did not tell them. But Fraser knew I was coming. and he will search for me. caning here. and Ramon knew: I was [have nothing to and then a about will do the rest. [forâ€" ace rannot be long." “Good heaven's!" he ejaculated af- tcr a pause. "suppose the poor fellow should tread own the broken and {sillâ€"7N2) fear. 1! when [came alonr. It nmv." He leaned against the side of the ,cave, thinking of his misfortune. and llistcning for step or vcuce to l‘l‘vnii lthc terrible silence around him; l-ut :all was perfectly still: and think bow . he would. he. could not keep back an 09- lcncional shudder at the idea of passing 'a night where. he “no. "Couldn‘t be darker than day." he said with a laugh to restore his cour- :age; and then he began to think about place Wits covered is all open coolly, : pushing these aside, warm streak was trickling down his} a faintly reflected gleam, which. feeblyI black above his head; i on I “If the i 8”” fall had been sheer. I must have been' This discomry di dnlot seem to hel H. . -- . him. for, as he passed his hands (welt -I feverish temples and set off refreshed. ing to the barranco commenced-«a path! the rough vesicular lava, which was." Siime'how' he 0013“ Pet think about” growing fainter and fainter, and more in place as sharp as when it had cooled ‘ Hemn' He [alt “5 If he damd m’t‘ to curve ovor like a dome above his; head; and though he followed it fori distance, he could find no place! an. where there was the faintest. possibility l and then paused aghast. for his voicev do but sit and wait. till I hear voices} Helen. a bright subject. which lastedihim by the arm. "Come" he laconically; and almost ready him for long enough, till the increaehl ing pain and stiffness of his injurieslwith bodily said 'to fall weakness. but With his turned the current of his thoughts iOSagonising thoughts spurring him on. his rival; and then. like a flash. a sus- | Digby I ‘ “What did Hora. grave‘s and walked “'Iih bun step for picion cane to him: thrlist his arm thriugb llcd- ace sav .’â€"-’l‘he man was treacherous and 3 step. false l'Grcat heaven. have I fallen intoI his trap i" ‘ He tried to argue the thought away; . In a few minutes he saw whither he was being led; and ten minutes later. with his heart sinking lower, Red- but the. idea was only strengthened. 1 grave was going down the path which Ramon had been so anxious for him to come thereâ€"for both of them, The. path had evidently been altered; by accident or design. \V’as _it: design. and the contriver’s idea to rid himself of two men.’ he detested at one stroke fâ€"No; this thought was too hor- rible. and he would not harbour ll; Vain effort: it grew the. stronger; and as tho time sped on. and the hurt produced a feverish Sensation of half-1 delirium. Digby found himself fully beâ€" lieving that Ramon had contrived this pitfall; that there was no escape; and. that freed from his pressure, the treacherous Spaniard would renew his advances to Helen. . The. agony increased, and thb the mental suffering came a. wild feverish horror. which grow upon him till his brain throbbcd; a sense of confusion which he could not overcome. increased; and at lastâ€"long aftcr he had fallen -â€"hc felt that he could bear no more, and all was blank. CHAPTER X. ‘ Digby's awakening from his stupor was stran‘fl'er and more wild than 111‘; recovery fiom the stlunning fall. It was hours before he could grasp where he was and then he found h'mself lying upon the soft dust. so stiff that he ccf 11d hardly move an inch. _ It was dark as ever; and he lay list- ening and hoping for the relief which did not come. trying to be cool and think clit some means of escape and still telling himself that he had exâ€" aggerated. and that Helen was safe; this was but an accident. I .As he lay there. longing to rise, and dreading the pain that followed every movement, he became conscmus that the air was cool and pleasant and re- freshing to his blurnin brow. Then. by slow. degrees it. struc him! that the wind came in a soft; steady current on I one check; and byâ€"and-by, reason sug- gested to him that this cool current of air must come from some opening far away in. the, great cavern. 'Hle shivered at first at the idea of lunging farther into the darkness. or how. did he know» where his falter- ing steps might lead him, and_ what hidectis chasms might be yawning in his athf I Still, there was the cool current of 1189!“? (milking dumb I air; so, forcing himself to rise. he be- gan to walk slowly and cautiously in ' the direction from which it came. with mental balance; and as‘ he am there i the result that. after about an hour's in' the utter darkness, he seemed to see : sdmv progression over what was really once more the Slde of that other ravine . . but a short distance. he .suddenly the)’ had Skirted weeks back. When he i caught sight of a pale greenish ray of to have the temperature slightly too had drawn hrasers attention to the. light, and his heart seemed to give a warm, than too cold. in consideration climbing figure which they had afterâ€" : bound. wards encountered as he crept up with} The rest was easy. Ten. mini‘ites' cautious progress over the dust brought. him to‘ the opening, a rift in the rock of the ancient mummy caves," be said, I overgrown wrth hanging'creepers; and he found himself " gazing outl of what was like a roughly ; broken natural window in the perpcné . . i dioular He paused again, and Wiped the dank i which seemed to go down hundreds of rocky face of the 'barranco. Egg; below. . How far up, he could not 1 u - _It was dull and the wind blew im fitf‘u'l puffs, which swept the 'leaves asideas he stood there for a time, askâ€" ing himself what he should do. He was in no trim for climbing up such a place "That's soon doctoned." he muttered, this; but would it be 17088.le to get as he folded and bound a handkerchief 1 about 11.18 brow. "Now them; how farl have I fallen. and how am Ito get. down ?. It seemed a risk; but anything was better than staying in that loathsome place; so. seizing the stautest creeper: Within his reach. he began to descend; 'and,. to his great delight. found. after ; cautiously gotng down about a hundred feet from creeper to creeper. that the rocky sxde of the barranco grew less I perpendicular, and less and less so; till there was no danger, only an awkward descent of a slope. which landed him at last by a trickling stream; while, gazmg up right and left, there were the rocky sides of the ravine, and above them, the dull gray sky. with one tiny orange speck far ahead. ’l‘hen be grasped the idea that it was morningâ€"before sunrise. and that he must have passed the. night in a feverish. slumber in that dreadful place. {the next step was easy. "He knew that if he followed the little stream. sooner of later it would lead him to the seashore; and after sinking his thirst at one of the pools, he bathed his He could only dwell upon the fact that a. pitfalll had been prepared for him, and he )wlinted to call Ramon to ac- count. Then. too, he wanted to know where Fraser was; why he had not! come to his help, and why he had gone off before him. Strange problems these for an injur- ed man to solve. and the only result of his aitcm is, was for his head to grow more eon used. It was a long and painful journey; and the sun had risen hours before Digby bad crept out on to the black winds, where quite a gale. was blowing. as the great Atlantic billous rolling in. Then he made his I‘LLlnl to the little inn. 'l‘he landlady gazed at him in bor- ror. and began talking to him volubly in Spanish, to which Digby could not reply. "The senorâ€"Senor Fraser 2" he said; lint the wunnn only shook her head; came way and he was on the point of starting off, when Redgrave came hurriedly to the door to ask if Fraser and he had re- turned. “Ah. you are here!" cried Redgrave excnedly. "\thit does all this mean? \\ here |S Fraser? Why are you hurt? Helen l’" "Yesâ€"Helen f" grasped Digby citedly. "MM is she?” "(lone !" cried Redgrave. with a .fierCe vindictiveness in his tenes which made the ycung man gaze at him wonder i ngl y. "Gone ?" panied Digby, catching sharpiv at the table. for everything seemei to be whirling round. "Yes. Yru do not know? How is it yin are hurt like this i" A fall. BX- "Don't qUee’tifin. me. ‘But Helen? Ramon ?" "No," mid Redgrave, sadly’ “he sweam be knmvs nothing.” "It is not true." cried Digby fiercely. "It is his wurk. ll: planned to mur- der me and he has taken her away." Redgrave. stcod gazing at him wild- ly for :1 long space; and then gripped “'8 1' e 1 plants are grown 1led to Ilomun's liaise. "Yr-ti will um find him " groaned Digby: but? Redgrave whose face lookâ€" ed stony in his dispiir made no reply. . strode on to llle door and knocked. A uic't-looking Spanish servant ansâ€" the summins. (To Be Continued.) UULTURE [1F TOMATOES SOME HINTS ABOUT GROWING AND MARKETING. â€".â€"- lly John Craig. Horticulturist or the (‘cn trnl Experimental qu'lll. The possibility of marketing Canadian Tomatoes profitably in England has aroused a spirit of enquiry among mar- ket gardeners and fruit growers. rela- tive to the best methods of growing the plants, packing the fruit, and the best varieties to cultivate for this special purpose. The following notes are pre- pared with a view of briefly answer- ing these questions. RAISING PLANTS. The summer season of Ontario and Quebec ‘is hot long enough to admit of the profitable cultivation of toma- toes without the aid of a greenhouse. hot bed. or window box in starting the plants in spring. Soil for Seed Boxesâ€"The soil should not be too rich. A mellow leery of good quality, with sand added to the ex- tent of oneâ€"fifth of the whole, will proâ€" duce stranger and healthier plants than will the leaf mould one frequently meets with in the soil of window boxes. If a greenhouse is available, the seed may be sown about the middle of March, or amonth earlier if the plants are. intended to serve the demands of the home market. A high temperature, 65 degrees to 70 degrees at night and 80 degrees to 85 degrees in the day time. will produce large, succulent, but ten- der plants. A too low temperature will produce stunted weaklings. Neither class is desirable. It is better, however of the nature of the plant. Sow the seed thinly. in rows six inches apart. pressing the soil firmly over the rows. An ounce contains 8,000 to 10,000 seeds. The seedlings should be transplanted at least twice before setting them in the open field. This treatment gives strong, stocky plants. If grown in the greenhouse, the seedlings should be " pricked " into " flats " (shallow boxes) soon after the true leaves appear, setâ€" ting them two to three inches apart each way. From these ” flats" the plants are removed when they begin to crowd each other to the cold frame, or hot bed. setting them six to eight in- ches apart each way. or. further if the plants are large. By the middle-or in a backward seasonâ€"the last week of May (in this section) they will have made large, stocky plants and are reaâ€" dy to plant in the field. The sashes or other covers used to protect the frames should be kept off the frames to harden them. for some time previous to setâ€" ting the plants out. \Vhen the seed is sown directly in the hot bed. this should be done early in April. .A strong. even heat is de- sirable. such as may be secured from a two-foot bed of horse manure. Sow the seed in four or five inches of soil. after the heat of the bed has subsided to 75 degrees. Additional cold frames should be provided for the reception of the plants when they are removed from the seed rows. Transplant twice, if pos- SllJle, before setting ill the field. In Window Boxesâ€"Fairly good plants may be grown in boxes of soil. or in flower pots placed in well lighted rooms; but owing to the fluctuations of the temperature of the dwelling house and the lack of light, the plants are often "drawn." stunted or other- wise injured. When any considerable number of plants is required a hot bed should be emplo 'ed. The remarks made above on transp nnting from the smed rows apply with equal force whether m the greenhouse, in the hot bed, or in the dwelling house. FIELD CULTURE. Soil.â€"It is a mistake to plant toma- toes in poor soil. it is true that a worm and somewhat light soil will produce better plants and earlier fruit than a heavy clay. but a large crop of smooth. well grown tomatoes need not be ex- pected unless the soil is fairly well en- riched. Poor soils, produce early, but small, and often badly shaped and much wrinkled tomatoes. Sandy orlight clay looms. well drained. and well man- ured give the best results. Preparin the Groundâ€"Plough deep- ly in the all. In the spring apply 20 tons to 30 tons of barn-yard manure to the acre. plou b again and barrow smooth two or ghree weeks before plant- ing time. Harrow again 'ust before marking out the rows. to estroy the first crop of weeds. Setting the Plantsâ€"It set the plants in rows 5x3 feet up is better to than 4x4 feet apart each way. as the. wider space facilitates the work of cul- tivating the plants and of picking the fruit. Planting will be expedited if a light furrow is opened in the line of each row. Humbugâ€"Before lifting the plants out of the. boxes or frames, the soil in which they are growing should be. thor- oughly watered. so that it will be sat- urated to the death of the lower t-x- frein'lies of the roots of the. plants. A few hours after this is done the plants may be taken up with a ball of earth” "' about the roots of each. h" using a sharp trowel. or a spade. ' they are for enough apart to allow of the use- of the. latter implement. The :lnnts should then be placed in carrying )xes. transpm‘icd to the field in a cart. or wheellxu‘row and set in the freshly furrmvs. When planted. the lull of cuth should be about an inch below the surface. and the soil firmly pressed about the lower roots. About three ‘ thousand plants are re uircd to set each vacre. when planted 5x. feet apart. If { badly grown and the dams are tall and lsp nailing. they slioud be set in a. slanting position with a view of cov- ering the procumbent stem with soil so that it may strike root. Cultivationâ€"Shallow and level cul- tivation should be given for a month after setting out. It is than advisable to attach the moulding wings to the cultivator and with these turn a slight furrow to the plants. The operation of billing is finished by making with a hoe. about each plant. a broad sloping mound two or three inches in height. This will tend to distribute the fruit and vines and by shedding rain will. to some extent. lessen the tendency to rot. After billing. the level surface should be cultivated as long as it is possible to do so without injury to the plants. If growth is unsatisfactory it may be stimulated. by alight application to each plant. of a mixture of murmie of potash or wood ashes and of nitrate of soda. ~Muriate of potash. 100 pounds. or wood ashes. 1,000 pounds. and nitrate of soda. 200 pounds per acre may gen- erally be used with advantage. This mixture may best be applied by scat-- tering it around each plant before hill- in . gl‘raining.-â€"-ln field culture. it does not pay to train tomato plants to stakes or trellises. This system belongs to the garden of the amateur and may there be practised with economy as to space and satisfaction as to general results. in the field, some attention should given towards securing a proper dis- position of the naturally sprawling branches. to prevent too much inter- lacing and to secure their proper dis- tribution. l’lCKING AND PACKING. Packing for the Home blackishâ€"Pick the fruit when fully coloured. being careful to avoid bruising it. Discard all ill~shapen or blemished .spemmens. The fruit should be carried in baskets. to the sorting shed and then uu‘efully packed in the shipping baskets or pack- ages. Place the fruit in the basket with the stem end downwards. wiping suchspecimens as are soiled. finishing the package with a “ smooth face." Strong basketsâ€"veneer i better than the splintâ€"should be used. and these covered with a. stout frame-like cover made of the veneer trimming mater- ial, but centered with leno, so that the fruit may be readily ins )eohed. Packing for Foreign 'Iarket.â€"â€"If the fruit is intended for the European mar- ket, it should be picked when fully grown and just beginning to change coloursâ€"iii it is to be forwarded in thor- oughly (refrigerated compartments. Partly coloured specimens forwarded last year to Liverpool. with imperfect ice refrigeration. arrived in an over- ripe and unsatisfactory condition. If shipped by ordinary freight. which may be successfully done w1th modcher cool compartments and good ventila- tion. the fruit should be packed when fully developed, but when yet green in colour and well "glazed." All fruit should be carefully graded as to size and with due regard to its characteris- tic colour when mature. Scarlet and purplish red varieties should not be packed together in the same case. PACK AGES. Light. strong wooden ventilated cases are recommended. A case of the diâ€" mensions given below will hold about 20 lbs. of medium sized tomatoes in two rowsâ€"0r layersâ€"about four dozen to- matoes deep. The layers should be sepâ€" arated by a sheet of stiff cardboard.â€" unless each specimen is wrapped in tis- sue or light printers'. paper.-â€"cven with this precaution the cardboard division will be found useful. To prevent the fruit from shaking, place a layer of clean ” excelsior" over the fruit before nailing down the cover. The words " Canadian Tomatoes," should be branded upon the ends of each case. The name and the address of the grower should appear printed on a sheet within. Dimensions of Case Outsideâ€"length 22 inches; width 10 inches; depth 5 l.~2 inches. It should be provided with a. partition placed crosswise in the middle. The. boxes should be made of planed lumber. bass-wood, preferably, with bored holes in the ends. or slits along the corners to give ventilation. Boards ofthc. following thicknesses may be used in the construction of this box. Ends and partition 5-8 inch; sides, top and bottom 3-8 inch. Ventilation may be provided for. by using slightly narrower side. pieces than called for by the depth of the boxâ€"say 4 3-4 inches. The top and bottom pieces should come flush to the. corners. This would leave. a nar- row ventilating slit at each corner Willl- out weakening the. case to any exlcnt. VAR l E’l‘l ES. If it is intended to ship the fruit. to distant points, medium sized, smooth, solid varieties should be. grown. Most of the extra early kinds are. inclined to be rough or wrinkled. Among those that. seem best suited for export. pur- poses. as tested here. armâ€"Longkoep- er (Thorburn). Stone (Livingston), li‘av- ourite (Livingston). Liberty llcll and Conk's Favourite. Dwarf Champion is a smooth. desirable sort, but. not very productive. .___._.__.â€"___â€".â€"â€" HOUSEKI‘IEPING SCHOOLS. \Ve have been reading an account or afrcc housekeeping school in Brus- sels, through which one hundred girls pass every year in classes of ten, each attending one week at a time four times a year: They are taught to go marketing Wisely, to cook well and at- tractively. and to make clothes. They know the. coat of everything they use.’ art ; Such schools are not uncommon through- not be ‘out Europe. \Vhy should they zcommon in this land of free schools? ‘ The basis of our nation. we often say, is the home: but we permit our home- makcrs. so far as the slate is concern- red. to go to their difficult task to- tally unprcparml for it. In hundreds of thousands of cases, waste and want, cheerlesa boos-“s. tawdry clothes. poor- ly nourished families are the results. Bricks cannot be made without straw, or v. ise homes without wise training for home-making. ‘ l -â€".r . .m..- A-â€"nm~ , n M- --..,.~ .m.'â€"â€"â€"- _â€".~...â€"....._. -..........â€"....4 .