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Should the case be lengthened, or the nurse feel herself unequal to what is certainly trying work, she can best help her patient by placing it in bed, supported by one of those netted hammocks we referred to in a former paper.

This will give a feeling of security; and by careful watching, the nurse should be able, at the instant of waking, to take its little hands in hers and speak soothing words, which shall dispel its terrors. If the face is a well-known one, the effect will be greater; and for this reason, home-nursing has a decided advantage; but where there is no excessive fright, it might almost be said that in the majority of cases most children have a better chance with any sensible stranger, than with mother or nursemaid; children are so very quick to find out who has to be obeyed, and are equally sharp in discovering the advantage to be taken of love unbalanced by wisdom. I have seen a small child, threatened with bronchitis, refuse to allow mother or nurse to give her her medicine, or the prescribed hot bath; and instead of being well wrapped up and poulticed, she insisted upon being carried about on a chilly night without extra covering; yet, with a kindly stranger, the same child became a model of propriety, and took her medicine without a murmur.

In home-nursing, there is sometimes difficulty in keeping a child who is not very ill, in bed; and I have heard it gravely said: Yes, I know Tommy ought to be in bed; the doctor was saying so this morning; but it's no good, for he won't keep there.' Imagine the work of a hospital ward, if the small patients wouldn't stay in bed! The plan in such places is, to let all the children who are well enough sit up in bed, well wrapped up, and with their toys on a sliding tray, pushed close up to them; and I would advise those mothers who spoil and pamper their children in illness, to pay a visit to any hospital, and see how happily even the tiniest will amuse themselves for hours, though the chances are ten to one those same children would whine and fret to any extent if by so doing they could draw attention to every whim and fancy. This applies, of course, to milder cases only. In serious illness, the child's utter helplessness demands the greatest care and watchfulness; and it must never be forgotten that a child is exquisitely sensitive to external influences, so that all we have said as to cleanliness, &c., applies with double_force to the nursing and tending of children. It must also be remembered that the skin is very delicate, and many a child has been terrified beyond expression by a too hot application; indeed, so true is this, that no counter-irritant should be used to a child without express orders from a doctor. In preparing a poultice even, a nurse should be very careful not to apply it as she would to an adult, and she should test its heat by her own face. If using for the first time, it will be well to put a piece of flannel between the poultice and the skin, removing it as the child becomes accustomed to the warmth. As a rule, the comfort of the poultice will soon be felt, and there will be no difficulty over a second application.

The same difficulty sometimes occurs in giving a warm bath. I have known children shriek

the whole time, and struggle so violently, that no possible good could result from what, properly managed, should be soothing and comforting. The trouble may arise from the memory of a too hot bath, or the rising steam may frighten a timid child. such cases is to prepare the bath out of sight, The best way of dealing with cover with a blanket, and gently lower the child into it, offering it at the same time a toy or cork to swim in the water; and it will be strange indeed if you have further trouble. But it is necessary, even with these precautions, to be very careful in getting the bath to the right temperature; this should be done by the use of a thermometer, according to the doctor's orders. Should a bath be needed in a hurry, the heat should be tested by the arm or elbow, never by the hand alone, which is far less sensitive than protected skin.

One word of warning in regard to the adminis tration of remedies to children. If the nurse is asked whether the medicine is nasty or the blister will hurt, let the answer be the plain truth: 'It is disagreeable, but it will do you good,' and there may well be added the inducement of a harmless sweet or biscuit, if the medicine is well taken or the pain bravely borne. Apart from considerations of right and wrong, nothing is gained by attempting to deceive a child; you may succeed the first time, you certainly will not the second; and once lose a child's confidence, and you have lost your greatest hold upon it; whilst, if the child is quite sure you will not deceive it, it will trust you afterwards. Happy the nurse who so wins the love of her little charge, that an approving kiss or shake of the head shall be sufficient reward, or punishment.

In contrast to the special difficulties of nursing children, stand those which have reference to the aged. One or two things must be borne in mind in nursing old people. It generally happens that the faculties become more or less impaired, and the nurse must do her best to supply the deficiencies With the deaf, she must cultivate a clear way of speaking, and be quick to prevent misunder standings between her patient and his visitors With dimmed sight, she must be careful to place everything that he will be likely to need within the patient's reach. And when the taste is! affected, extra care will be needed in choosing and flavouring-as far as possible-in accordance with what looks like fancifulness. Elderly people and chronic cases often suffer from cold feet, and a good nurse will anticipate her patient's wants, and, by occasionally putting her hand under the clothes, will easily detect the approach of chilliness. A hot bottle, brick, or tin is generally used for cold feet; but in sickness, I much prefer an india-rubber bag, which is softer and more mouldable. Either variety should be provided with a flannel cover, which can be removed and washed.

In paralysis, insensibility, or great weakness, I advise the use of a good large piece of flannel, in preference to either of the above-to warm it, hold it out before a brisk fire till one side is thoroughly hot; then double it, hold it again to the fire, then fold again, so as to inclose the side just warmed. Repeat the process till the flannel is quite small; open at the bedside, and

you will find a thoroughly comfortable applica- I am sure, without implying any deeper feeling, tion, which will retain the heat for a considerable is strong.'


Chronic cases are very trying to a nurse's spirits, health, and temper; and if possible, no unprofessional should continue such work uninterruptedly for any length of time. In all longcontinued illness, there is a tendency towards the patient's becoming fretful and selfish; and in addition to ordinary sickroom work, the nurse will have to make special efforts to take the patient out of himself. Anything he may be able to do for himself, he should be encouraged to undertake; and it will be no little kindness to find him employment, such as reading, drawing, painting, making of scrap-books, fretwork, or easy needlework, according to his capacity and taste.

The furniture, and especially the pictures, should be changed, or at least the position altered, from time to time. If able to get up, there should be at least two or three easy-chairs and footstools of various heights; and if possible, the patient should be carried occasionally into a room with a different aspect.



'SHE thinks I am fanciful,' he said.

He shook his head a little. 'Dear Lady Markham,' he said, 'you know if I am to marry, I want, above all things, to marry a daughter of yours.'

'Dear boy!' she said, with a look full of tender meaning.

'You have always been so good to me, since ever I can remember. But what am I to do if they-object? Constance-has run away from me, people say run away-to escape me!' His voice took so tragically complaining a tone, that Lady Markham bit her lip and held her screen higher to conceal her smile. Next moment, however, she turned upon him with a perfectly grave and troubled face.

'Dear Claude!' she cried, 'what an injustice to poor Con. I thought I had explained all that to you. You have known all along the painful position I am in with their father, and you know how impulsive she is.-And then, Markham- Alas,' she continued with sigh, 'my position is very complicated, Claude. Markham is the best son that ever was; but you know I have to pay a great deal for it.'

'Ah!' said Claude; 'Nelly Winterbourn and all that,' with a good many sage nods of his head.

'Not only Nelly Winterbourn-there is no harm in her, that I know-but he has a great influence with the girls. It was he who put it into Constance' head to go to her father. I am quite sure it was. He put it before her that it was her duty.'

"O-oh!' Claude made this very English comment with the doubtful tone which it expresses; and added, 'Her duty!' with a very unconvinced air.

He was sitting with Lady Markham in the room which was her special sanctuary. She did not call it her boudoir; she was not at all inclined to bouder; but it answered to that retirement in common parlance. Those who wanted to see her alone, to confide in her, as many people did, knocked at the door of this room. It opened with a large window upon the lawn, and looked down through a carefully 'He did so, I know. And she was so fond of kept opening upon the sea. Amid all the adventure and change. I agreed with him partly little luxuries appropriate to my lady's chamber, afterwards that it was the best thing that could you could see the biggest ships in the world happen to her. She is finding out by experience pass across the gleaming foreground, shut in what banishment from society and from all that between two massifs of laurel, making a delight- makes life pleasant, is. I have no doubt she ful confusion of the great and the small, which will come back-in a very different frame of was specially pleasant to her. She sat, how-mind.'

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ever, with her back to this pleasant prospect, Claude did not respond, as perhaps Lady holding up a a screen, to shade her delicate Markham expected him to do. He sat and cheek from the bright little fire, which, though dandled his leg before the fire, not looking at April was far advanced, was still thought her. After some time, he said in a reflective necessary so near the sea. Claude had thrown way: Whoever I marry, she will have to himself into another chair in front of the resign herself to banishment, as you call itfireplace. No warmth was ever too much for that has been always understood. A warm him. There was the usual pathos in his tone, climate in winter-and to be ready to start at but a faint consciousness of something amusing any moment.' was in his face.

'Did she?' said Lady Markham with a laugh. 'The little impertinent! But you know, my dear boy, that is what I have always said.'

'Yes-it is quite true. You healthy people, you are always of opinion that one can get over it if one makes the effort; and there is no way of proving the contrary but by dying, which is a strong step.'

A very strong step-one, I hope, that you will not think of taking. They are both very sincere, my girls, though in a different way. They mean what they say; and yet they do not mean it, Claude. That is, it is quite true; but does not affect their regard for you, which,

That is always understood-till you get stronger,' said Lady Markham in the gentlest tone. 'But you know I have always expected that you would get stronger. Remember, you have been kept at home all this year-and you are better; at all events, you have not suffered.'

'Had I been sent away, Constance would have remained at home,' he said. "I am not speaking out of irritation, but only to understand it fully. It is not as if I were finding fault with Constance; but you see for yourself she could not stand me all the year round. A fellow who has always to be thinking about the thermometer is trying.'

'My dear boy,' said Lady Markham, 'everything is trying. The thermometer is much less offensive than most things that men care for. Girls are brought up in that fastidious way; you all like them to be so, and to think they have refined tastes, and so forth; and then you are surprised when you find they have a little difficulty- Constance was only fanciful, that was all-impatient.'

'Fanciful,' he repeated. That was what the little one said. I wish she were fanciful, and not so horribly well and strong.'

'My dear Claude,' said Lady Markham quickly, 'you would not like that at all! A delicate wife is the most dreadful thing-one that you would always have to be considering; who could not perhaps go to the places that suited you; who would not be able to go out with you when you wanted her. I don't insist upon a daughter of mine: but not that, not that, for your own sake, my dear boy!'

'I believe you are right,' he said with a look of conviction. Then I suppose the only thing to be done is to wait for a little and see how things turn out. There is no hurry about it, you know.'

'Oh, no hurry!' she said with uneasy assent. "That is, if you are not in a hurry,' she added after a pause.

'No, I don't think so. I am rather enjoying myself, I think. It always does one good,' he said, getting up slowly, to come and have it out with you.'

Lady Markham said 'Dear boy!' once more, and gave him her hand, which he kissed; and then his audience was over. He went away; and she turned round to her writing-table to the inevitable correspondence. There was a little cloud upon her forehead so long as she was alone; but when another knock came at the door it cleared by magic as she said 'Come in.' This time it was Sir Thomas who appeared. He was a tall man, with gray hair, and had the air of being very carefully brushed and dressed. He came in, and seated himself where Claude had been, but pushed back the chair from the fire.

'Don't you think,' he said, 'that you keep your room a little too warm?'

'Claude complained that it was cold-it is difficult to please everybody.'

'Oh, Claude.—I have come to speak to you, dear Lady Markham, on a very different subject. I was talking to Frances last night.'

'So I perceived. And what do you think of my little girl?'

You know,' he said with some solemnity, the hopes I have always entertained that some time or other our dear Waring might be brought among us once more.'

'I have always told you,' said Lady Markham, 'that no difficulties should be raised by me.'

'You were always everything that is good and kind,' said Sir Thomas. 'I was talking to his dear little daughter last night. She reminds me very much of Waring, Lady Markham.'

"That is odd; for everybody tells me-and indeed I can see it myself that she is like


'She is very like you; still, she reminds me of her father more than I can say. I do

think we have in her the instrument-the very instrument that is wanted. If he is ever to be brought back again'

"Which I doubt,' she said, shaking her head. 'Don't let us doubt. With perseverance, everything is to be hoped; and here we have in our very hands what I have always looked for some one devoted to him and very fond of you.'

'Is she very fond of me?" said Lady Markham. Her face softened-a little moisture crept into her eyes. 'Ah, Sir Thomas, I wonder if that is true. She was very much moved by the idea of her mother-a relation she had never known. She expected I don't know what, but more, I am sure, than she has found in me.-Oh, don't say anything. I am scarcely surprised; I am not at all displeased. To come with your heart full of an ideal, and to find an ordinary womana woman in society!' The moisture enlarged in Lady Markham's eyes, not tears, but yet a liquid mist that gave them pathos. She shook her head, looking at him with a smile.

'We need not argue the question,' said Sir Thomas; for I know she is very fond of you. You should have heard her stop me, when she thought I was going to criticise you. Of course, had she known me better, she would have known how impossible that was.'

Lady Markham did not say 'Dear Sir Thomas!' as she had said 'Dear boy!' but her look was the same as that which she had turned upon Claude. She was in no doubt as to what his account of her would be.

She can persuade him, if anybody can,' he said. 'I think I shall go and see him as soon as I can get away-if you do not object. To bring our dear Waring back, to see you two together again, who have always been the objects of my warmest admiration '

'You are too kind. You have always had a higher opinion of me than I deserve,' she said. 'One can only be grateful. One cannot try to persuade you that you are mistaken. As for my-husband'-there was the slightest momentary pause before she said the name-'I fear you will never get him to think so well of me as you do. It is a great misfortune; but still it sometimes happens that other people think more of a woman than-her very own.'

'You must not say that. Waring adored you.'

She shook her head again. He had a great admiration,' she said, 'for a woman to whom he gave my name. But he discovered that it was a mistake; and for me in my own person he had no particular feeling. Think a little whether you are doing wisely. If you should succeed in bringing us two together again '

'What then?'

She did not say any more: her face grew pale-paled, it were better to say, as by a sudden touch or breath. When such a tie as marriage is severed, if by death, if by any other separation, it is not a light thing to renew it again. The thought of that possibility-which yet was not a possibility-suddenly realised, sent the blood back to Lady Markham's heart. It was not that she was unforgiving, or even that she had not a certain remainder of love for her husband. But to resume those habits of close companionship after so many years-to give up her own


individuality, in part at least, and live a dual life-this thought startled her. She had said that she would put no difficulties in the way. But then she had not thought of all that was involved.

The next visitor who interrupted her retirement came in without the preliminary of knocking. It was Markham who thus made his appearance, presenting himself to the full daylight in his light clothes and colourless aspect; not very well dressed, a complete contrast to the beautiful if sickly youth of her first visitor, and the size and vigour of the other. Markham had neither beauty nor vigour. Even the usual keenness and humorous look had gone out of his face. He held a letter in his hand. He did not, like the others, put himself into the chair where Lady Markhani, herself turned from the light, could mark every change of countenance in her interlocutor. He went up to the fire with the ease of the master of the house, and stood in front of it as an Englishman loves to do. But he was not quite at his ease on this occasion. He said nothing until he had assumed this place, and even stood for a whole minute or more silent before he found his voice. Lady Markham had turned her chair towards him at once, and sat with her head raised and expectant, watching him. For with Markham, never very reticent of his words, this prolonged pause seemed to mean that there was something important to say. But it did not appear when he spoke. He put the forefinger of one hand on the letter he held in the other. 'I have heard from the Winterbourns,' he said. "They are coming to

she said. 'You must write and say it is impossible in the circumstances.'

'Can't,' said Markham. "They must have started by this time. They are to travel slowly -to husband his strength.'

'To husband- -Telegraph, then!-Good heavens, Markham, don't you see what a dreadful nuisance-how impossible in every point of view.'

'Come,' he said, with a return of his more familiar tone. 'There's no evidence that he means to die here. I daresay he won't, if he can help it, poor beggar! The telegraph is as impossible as the post. We are in for it, mammy. Let's hope he'll pull through.'

'And if he doesn't, Markham!'

"That will be-more awkward still,' he said. Markham was not himself: he shuffled from one foot to another, and looked straight before him, never glancing aside with those keen looks of understanding which made his insignificant countenance interesting. His mother was, what mothers too seldom are, his most intimate friend; but he did not meet her eye. His hands were thrust into his pockets, his shoulders up to his ears. At last a faint and doubtful gleam broke over his face. He burst into a sudden chuckle, one of those hoarse brief notes of laughter which were peculiar to him. 'By Jove! it would be poetic justice,' he said.

Lady Markham showed no inclination to laughter. 'Is there nothing we can do?' she cried.

'Think of something else,' said Markham with a sudden recovery. I always find that the morrow.' best thing to do-for the moment.-What was Lady Markham made the usual little exclama-Claude saying to you-and t' other man?' tion Oh !'-faintly breathed with the slightest catch, as if it might have meant more. Then, after a moment: Very well, Markham: they can have their usual rooms,' she said.

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Markham did not find that his mother divined what he wanted to say with her usual promptitude. I am afraid Winterbourn is in a bad way,' he said at length, moving uneasily from one foot to the other, and avoiding her eye.

'Do you mean that there is anything serious -dangerous?-Good heavens!' cried Lady Markham, now fully roused, 'I hope she is not going to bring that man to die here.'

That's just what I have been thinking. It would be decidedly awkward.'

Oh, awkward is not the word,' cried Lady Markham, with a sudden vision of all the inconveniences: her pretty house turned upside down -though it was not hers, but his-a stop put to everything-the flight of her guests in every direction-herself detained and separated from all her social duties. You take it very coolly,'

'Claude! I don't know what he was saying. News like this is enough to drive everything else out of one's head.-He is wavering between Con and Frances.'

'Mother, I told you. Frances will have nothing to say to him.'

'Frances-will obey the leading of events, I


Poor little Fan! I don't think she will, though. That child has a great deal in her. She shows her parentage.'

'Sir Thomas says she reminds him much of her-father,' Lady Markham said with a faint smile.

"There is something of Waring too,' said her son, nodding his head.'

This seemed to jar upon the mother. She changed colour a little; and then added, her smile growing more constrained: 'He thinks she may be a powerful instrument in-changing his mind-bringing him, after all these years, back-here she paused a little, as if seeking for a phrase; then added, her smile growing less and less pleasant to his duty.'

Then Markham for the first time looked at her. He had been paying but partial attention up to this moment, his mind being engrossed with difficulties of his own; but he awoke at this suggestion, and looked at her with something of his usual keenness, but with a gravity not at all usual. And she met his eye with an awakening in hers which was still more remarkable. For a moment they thus contemplated each other, not like mother and son, nor like

the dear and close friends they were, but like be fired ahead of the vessel with considerable two antagonists suddenly perceiving, on either advantage. side, the coming conflict. For almost the first time there woke in Lady Markham's mind a consciousness that it was possible her son, who had been always her champion, her defender, her companion, might wish her out of his way. She looked at him with a rising colour, with all her nerves thrilling, and her whole soul on the alert for his next words. These were words which he would have preferred not to speak; but they seemed to be forced from his lips against his will, though even as he said them he explained to himself that they had been in his mind to say before he knew-before the dilemma that might occur had seemed possible.

The second appliance is specially intended to distribute oil on the sea between a stranded vessel and the shore in those cases where the vessel has no oil on board, and communication by boat is, with the assistance of the oil, practicable. It consists of a mortar and some hundred yards of fine light hose, to one end of which is attached a heavy iron cylinder, so shaped that it can be fired from the mortar. This apparatus is worked as follows: On a ship going aground near the shore, the cylinder is fired as near to it as possible. The cylinder of course sinks, and acts as an anchor to the hose, through which oil is pumped from the shore. The oil rises near the vessel, and being blown towards the shorein most cases, vessels are wrecked on a lee-shore

"Yes?' he said. 'I understand what he means. I-even I had been thinking that something-forms a track of fairly smooth water for the of the sort might be a good thing.'

She clasped her hands with a quick passionate movement. Has it come to this-in a moment -without warning?' she cried.

(To be continued.)


THE use of oil to smooth the surface of raging
seas has on more than one occasion been dis-
cussed in this Journal. The subject is, how-
ever, far from being exhausted. The increasing
favour with which practical mariners regard the
practice, which can only be looked upon as in
its infancy, has caused a considerable number of
appliances for the distribution of the oil to be
invented. Two of these, of American origin, we
believe, are deserving of mention. Those of our
readers who read our article on the subject in
our issue of January 31st may remember that,
the oil being distributed from the ship, there
was some difficulty, indeed an apparent impos-
sibility, in getting it well to windward, and that
this could only be done when the vessel was
either at anchor, or lying to, or running before
a gale. The object of the two appliances to
which we have referred may be said, roughly,
to be the distribution of the oil in any direction
without regard to the wind. The first one is
specially intended to spread the oil between two
ships which wish to communicate with one
another in bad weather. The apparatus consists
of a mortar and a few shells filled with oil,
which are fired to various points on the water
between the two vessels, and burst, thus allowing
the oil to spread. Should the distance between
the two ships be so great that it cannot be
covered with oil, the oil from each of the shells
would nevertheless be of considerable use, form-
ing little havens, into which the boat could go,
and not only allow the men to rest and recover
their strength for further battle with the wind
and waves, but also furnish them with a place
of comparative security during any exceptionally
heavy bursts of the tempest. Under certain
circumstances, this apparatus might be used for
insuring the safety of the vessel itself. For
instance, when about to pass through a danger-
ous and narrow channel in bad weather with
wind against tide, a few oil-charged shells might

boats to traverse. In cases where the whole volume of water rushes along and breaks, the oil has little or no effect, and consequently this apparatus would then be useless; but in ordinary broken water, the appliance would no doubt be of considerable service. Ships at anchor would find such an apparatus of great use in bad weather, as it would enable them to get the oil well to windward. The alternative thing to do, as described in our former article, would be to fasten a bag of oil by a light line to the anchor, over which it would float and intercept the broken waves.


It is not generally known that the spongefishers of Florida make considerable use of oil for the purpose of calming the surface of the water. During the greater part of the year the slight ripple on the water is easily overcome by that time-honoured device, the water-telescope. the aid of that instrument, the fishers easily discern the sponges, and hook them up from the bottom. But it sometimes happens in the spring that the roughness of the sea prevents the handling of both hooks and telescopes. Then the sponger throws a spoonful of oil upon the waves, which produces a calm about his boat as long as he cares to drift about with it. The oil preferred by the spongers for this purpose is obtained from the liver of the 'nurse' shark. So effective is this oil considered, that as much as a dollar a gallon is paid for it. This species of shark abounds in the vicinity of the Florida reefs, and is very easily captured.



IT was breakfast-time once more at Brierleigh Rectory, some four weeks after my return from London. The windows were open; but the sunshine had not yet pierced the thin white haze that hung over the lawn and the fields beyond, giving promise of a sultry day. My father and Aunt Marjory sat in their accustomed places; Tom and Gip, too, were making their usual pretence of a nap on the hearth. Thus far, the grouping was the same as on the morning when I first introduced the reader to the rectory parlour. But other faces and forms now sat around the table, and other voices enlivened the morning meal. Colonel Stanton, his daughter,

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