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ADVERTISER AND TIMES, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1935. j OUR SHORT STORY.


| T R A V E L L E R S JO Y . BY STELLA M. DURING.


Kim mu


roadside eyed her useless bicycle and sighed. J t looked almost as disconsolate as she did, with its wheels uppermost and its saddle on the ground, one tyre off ami a medley of miscellaneous tools scattered all round it. She stretched out a pair of pretty feet


“ I haven’t a notion where 1 ami” The girl sitting on a pile of stones by the


up. ..." There’s nothing for it, I ’ve got to walk,”


hkj


swung out on tho fork .and indicated an unturned} box covered with newspaper, * You could sit on the step and I’ve got a


until we know we can’t be sure whether Friar’s Gate belongs to me or to my cousin Tuny. Aunt JCmily is afraid lie has left it to me, because he was veo* fond of mo when 1 was little, and he couldn’t bear Tony. So sho wants me to marry Tony before we get tho news. And J ’m not eighteen yet, 1 don’t want to many anybody. But it’s very uncomfortable. J ’m not allowed any money. 1 can’t even post a letter without asking her for a stamp, ami then she wants to know who it’s to. J had to borrow—even that sixpence —from otic of tho maids. And I never go out, hub she sends Tony with me—and she’s at me morning, noon and night----- ”


Aunt JSmily,” said the stranger softly. Joyce gasped. Among all possible remits


“ J think 1 shall have to go up and sec


spare knife and fork somewhere.” “ Oh,” said the girl with a little gasp of


in stout and sensible bicycling shoes, and regarded them pensively for a moment. Then she pulled her blue velvet cap firmly down upon her ruffled brown head and stood


sho told herself with a little laugh. “ No one comes along this road in a month of Sundays, so its no use waiting any longer for help.


walk, and if only I wasn’t so hungry.” She glanced half ruefully about her as


If only 1 know which way to


she spoke. Really it had been very stupid to come out with nothing iu her pockets after such a very early and insuflicient breakfast! But she had not contemplated losing her way among Buckinghamshire hills and being miles ami miles from homo at mid-day. Of course the puncture was responsible, the puncture which without a pail of water she could not find, and without a helper she certainly could not mend. And if sho really had to walk home what about


Lhc bicycle? “ J shall have to leave it,” she decided.


“ i ’ll leave it behind the hedge and Tony must either come with the car or send a man with a cart to fetch it. I t ’ll be all right here. No one comes near From week-end to week-end.” But how to get through the hedge was the I t was high and thick, one of


problem.


pleasure. “ i should be glad. J can pay----- ” She put her hand into her pocket ami drew it out again—empty. “ I haven’t any money,” she said blankly—and this time the man laughed.


he said, “ unless, of course, you insist. Jn that case you can pay me afterwards!” For never, never had lie seen a girl like this girl before. Rather than lose sight of her he would even submit to being paid for his bacon. “ And now—if you will go and sit down?”


1 I don’t take money for my hospitality,”


ham was cooked to a turn, the coffee tho best she ever tasted, and the conversation after her own heart. The two had a thousand interests in common for, all tho wonders of the countryside were their chief delight and concern. Never had she met a man like this man before. He knew where the lapwing nested on the upland ami the bandicoot in tho mere, lie could tell her where the autumn crocus, “ naked ladies ” the country people call it, was even now making a purple haze in the meadows, and the hecf-stcak fungus, most unattrac­ tive of edibles, grew upon the trees. Ilut one thing neither told the other, niul


That was a must satisfying meal. The


of her impulsive and inexcusable confidences she had never imagined this.


under her breath. “ Aunt Kmily Jins a horror of people like 3*011. The servants would be rude to you!”—with distress. “ Besides, why?” she broke off, sudden wonder in her eyes. “ Did 3*011 know Percival?” she asked. “ Have you heard nin'thiug about him?” “ l knew him well. I was the best friend he ever had—and the worst, I think.


“ They wouldn’t let you iu,” she said,


could tell Aunt Kmily one or two things about him she would be rather astonished to hear. J think I’ll come up and see her— this afternoon. Oh, no,” with rather a grim laugh, “ not looking like this. I ’ve got quite a decent suit—in there.” The girl rose, a hundred thousand amaz­


I


ing possibilities rising through her mind. “ Am I to sa\* anything?” she asked, in


phatically. It was a lovely afternoon for late October,


a whisper. “ Not a word,” said the stranger em­


w:


those luxuriant and lovely hedges only found in England, white in the springtime with may, crimson now with haws. Cascades of blackberries, quickly ripening under the sun­ shine of early October, swept Iroin top to bottom. Clusters of hazel nuts peeped among their yellowing leaves. Here and there honeysuckle still showed its starry crown; the soft foam of the traveller’s joy fell in showv sprays yards long. The girl began to pick with dainty discriminating lingers.


empty stomach sho need not go empty- If she had to go home with an


handed. On the very top of the pile of stones sho


sSggijll *** 'll


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PHYSICIAN'S REMEDY


THE


poised herself, adding sprays of hawthorn, all gemmed with ruby berries, to the fluffy trails of clematis that lay along her arms. And as she stood there an nstonishiug aroma diffused itself upon the still, warm air, dominating tho rich smell of the rotting leaves’ in the hedge-bottom, sweeter at the moment even than the honeysuckle in her hand, tho smell of toasting bacon. It drew her, bv the sheer force of her own hunger, down tho pile of stones and along the rutty, sun-filled lane to a bend some hundred feet


away. And there behind the bend was a little


grassy bay, with a tiny wood, sheltered in a fold of the hills behind it. A rill of water, ice cold and crystal clear, spouted from a wooden trough iu the bankside and rippled away down the ditch, ami on the middle of the grassy patch stood a green-


painted caravan I t was not quite a common caravan,


either.


flashing all-comprehending glances of which feminine eyes, nlonp are capable, but it was not tho caravan that interested her for the moment. Sho could hoar tho crackle of a fire and tho sizzle of rashers in a pan. She sensed coffee, good coffee, and bread hot from the bakehouse. I t would have been too much for anv really hungry girl. ’Jins one took a step or two forward, drawn irresistibly. “ Hello,” she said clearly, “ ITel-lo!” A mair came from behind the caravan, a


engine, not a horse, and across the front of the bonnet was the legend “ Daimler.” Tho windows were fitted with spotless curtains and brass curtain rails, all winking in the sun, and through its open door tho gill caught a glimpse of well-bound hooks on a shelf, and a sleeping berth covered with a thick and handsome eiderdown. All this she took in with one of those


Its means of locomotion was an


that was their name. As far as his was con­ cerned, she had no curiosity. As far as hers was concerned, lie knew it-already. Tho mention of Frier’s Gate had been enough. This must he little .Joyce, Baby Joy who had been a chubby infant of four when he left heme, under a cloud, thirteen years ago. There was another kid, ho told himself, a hoy of Aunt Emily’s, delicate, whining, and very insufficiently smacked. What had got him, he wondered, though he was careful not to a>k. When the meal was over he rose. “ Ami now,” lie said, “ J propose to put


The sunlight streamed across the tea table, standing in the open windows of the draw­ ing-room at Friar’s Gate. All the big blue and white vases in the corners were filled with hunches of ruby berries and long snowy, foamy sprays of traveller’s joy. Joyce wore a knot of it tucked into the belt of her blue silk frock, and touched it occasional^* with trembling lingers.


thing,” said Aunt Kmily, for Joyce's appe­ tite was a matter of most tender concern. Joyce shook her head, she dare not speak


“ Joyce, my dear, 3*011 are not eating an\-


for her voice she knew was not under con­ trol.


a tramp and yet was coming up to Friar’s Gate with such quiet assurance this voiy afternoon ? And then came a step, the stop she was


Who was he? This man who looked like


you ami your bicycle in my caravan, and run you back to Friar’s Gate. Jt is more than fourteen miles from here, and you cannot possibly walk it. Why? What?” For the girl’s face had lengthened. Her


eyes were dubious, almost afraid. “ I should get into the most awful trouble


if I went home like that,” sho said. “ You would havo to put me down before we got to tho village and let me walk part of tho way.” He nodded. Ho could quite understand.


Emily always was a cat. “ And when and how shall I see you


me if you like, a silver sixpence, and I'll bore a hole through it and wear it for tho rest of my life in memory of—the most astonishing and delightful day in it. But— it isn’t only that. J want to hear how you get on, whether 3*011 get into trouble for— unconventional behaviour.” “ Oh,” with a little start, “ J shan’t say


again?” ho asked. For that was the im­ perative necessity, to sec her again. Tho girl flushed to her hair. “ You mean—because I haven’t paid you?” “ I don’t ,” with emphasis. “ You can pay


a word about that! I—1 don’t like keeping things to myself—but ”—with a sigh—“ I have to. And now—how shall I pay you that sixpence? Where can I find you? Who arc you?” The stranger smiled. That was a question


waiting for, on the terrace outside. A stranger unannounced, was walking towards the open window, a stranger in a Bond-street suit of grey, who carried a pair of lemon kid gloves and a silver-topped stick in one hand, and raised a winking silk hat with the other. He stood bareheaded in the sun­ shine looking at the two ladies with a smile. Autie Kmily rose.


Friar's Gate. Aunt JCmily still ruled there. Jt would be impossible, Porcival told her, fur him ami Joyce to live there without her. But she ruled with a lighter hand and Joyce had all the liberty she wanted and more pocket-money than she could spend. And Ton\*, convinced of the unlike­ lihood of Jits ever being able to arrange for himself a comfortable future by manning his cousin, took himself off to London and began seriously to study for the bar. So that for Joyce the next three 3*ears were happ3* ones. Then came trouble. Percival stopped her one joyous spring morning and his face was clouded and his mouth grim. ** I can’t stand it,” he told her. “ 1 can’t


lessly down again. After which things were different at


stand it any longer. I t’s killing me. J shall have to got her out, the old caravan and paint her up and set her going and take to the road again. J shall have to—or I ’ll


he had no intention of answering. Also a sudden warmth crept about his heart born of a sudden hope. Was it—only tho six­ pence?—or was sho, also, just a little anxious to see him again? “ 1 haven’t a name—for the present,” ho


told her. “ I’m known simply ns the traveller. T shall stay around here, oh, for quite a while, now, and if 3*011 ask any of tho villagers where to find me and 1113* cara­ van. they’ll any of them be able to tell you.” The girl looked up at him, and her smiling


eyes said more than she know. “ I ’ll find 3*011,” she told him softly. “ I'll


come again—with the sixpence.” Rut the days passed and the days passed,


big, broad-shouldered man in a blue jersey like a fisherman’s, a man of about thirtv- live, with keen grey eyes set under straight black brows and a well-cut, humorous mouth. He stared at the girl standing in tho middle of the grassy patch with her sheaf of autumn treasures on her arm and her astonished eyes widely regarding him. “ The very spirit of the day,” he^ said softlv to himself, but to her he said simply


was only one word but it was enough. Carelessly ns he was dressed, roughly though he was lodged, the man was a gentle­ man. She came a step or two forward. “ I’ve lost my way,” she told him. A little gleam sprang into the man’s eyes


“ Well?’.’ The girl gave a little gasp of relief. It


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came out this morning quite early, before seven, and I ’ve got into a part of the country that l don’t know at all. Could


enquired. “ From Friar’s Gate, where I live.


I


you direct me back again?” “ Friar’s Gate in Abbolstoekc?” he


returned. “ That’s n long way from here. How did you get here?”


ture. J’vo left it up the lane, There’s nothing for me to do but walk and 1 don’t think J can unless----- Is your wife here?” The stranger looked away for the gleam


in liis eyes had brightened into what was dangerously near laughter, and laughter would have been fatal to further confidences. His tone when he spoke was graver than


ever. “ Unfortunately I don’t possess such .a commodity. Did you want to speak to her?


A.D. 1720


I t would have been so much easier if ho had had a wife. But easy or difficult it had to


AVliy?” The girl looked down in embarrassment.


he done. * 4T haven’t had anv lunch and I ’m very


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tragedy----- “ your bacon burning!” T t was, indubitably. The man hurried


hungry,” she said. “ I was going to ask if I might buy—oh!”—on a quick note of


with me?” ho asked gravely. “ You sec my domestic arrangements the rasher


said. He turned still holding the suspended “ Will rou do me the honour of lunching


round the caravan ami the girl hurried after him. He plunged a fork into the sizzling rasher, succulent and thick. The girl regarded it with anxious eyes. “ I t ’s onlv a little. At one corner,” she


“ I came on my bicycle. I t has a punc­


mouth set grimly as ho waited. “ 1 shall have to go up,” he told himself.


and the brown-eyed girl in the blue velvet cap never came again. Tho traveller’s


cable, hurrying through the little copse on tho edgo of which his caravan was halted. With her cheeks carmine, and her eyes alight, sho offered him—sixpence.


“ 1 must know what is happening.” And then, one misty October morning, she


“ and J was so afraid you would bo gone away. You see J can never get out alone, there is always someone with me. And it makes it so very difficult—well, to pay six­ pences J owe—if 1 don’t want to say any­ thing about them.” “ Oh!” The traveller gently weighed the


“ J couldn’t come before,” she told him,


but his face remained almost prcternnturnlly grave. “ Your way from where?” ho


die.” Joyce held out two appealing hands “ Oh, take me with you,]’ she begged. Jle drew her hands to his shoulders and


hair is grizzled at the temples and getting thin on top.”


studied her face with haggard eyes. “ I’m battered and old,” he said. “ My


me,” ho went on steadily, “ ami that’s as— my wife. Do you mean that? Will 3*011 come—that way, Joyce?” She hid her face on his arm, ami he


“ Oh, does that matter?” whispered Joyce. “ There’s only one way you can come with


gathered her close. “ Joy,” he whispered brokenly. “ Joy!”


shone wet. “ Traveller's Jnv!” she said.


(The End.) ARE DOGS PSYCHIC ?


sixpence on his broad, brown palm, as ho spoke. “ And why are you not allowed out alone? Aren’t they good to you—at Friar's Gate?” The girl hesitated, and her colour faded a


little. “ I t’s—it’s vcr3* uncomfortable,” she said


had to offer, the lower step of his caravan— and spoke with' a touch of authorit}*. “ Sit down,” he said, “ and tell me all


at last. Tho traveller indicated the one seat ho


about it.” Very slowly, half reluctantly, yet with a


“ I ’ve been considering it—all this last fort­ night. I must tell somebody—and I can’t go to tbe Vicar, or anyone like that, because th03’ think so much of Aunt Kmily, I’m afraid they wouldn’t believe me. they’d think I was just a naughty girl making up tales against her best friends. But you—;aro different. You look ”—rwith n touch of in­ dignation—“ like a travelling tinker—but 3*ou’re not, you’re n gentleman: and ns I ’m sure I can trust 3*011 1 really think I ’ll tell you.”


curious determination, tho girl sat down. “ j_ j really think I will.” she returned.


well, already, tho talo of the much older cousin, one Fcrcivnl, to whom Friar’s Gate, and all its revenues belonged, and who had left homo under some unexplained cloud thirteen 3’cnrs ago. But it was only the. hegining of the tale ho.know. .The end, ho discovered, was acutely new.


lean knees. “ Go on,” he said simply. And then ho heard it, tho tale he knew so


He seated himself on the grass beside her, his powerful hands clasped about his blue


, . , ,


got news from Australia that Pcrmvnl had died there. Aunt Emily has sent a .lawyer out to -see if ho left a will. Because you see


“ Six months ago,” the girl told him, " wo


are often confused with one another. Dogs are frequently credited with possessing what is known as second sight. They are sup­ posed to have the power of seeing the in­ visible and foretelling events that arc about to happen. A belief that is entertained by many relates to the possibility of dogs and other animals having a future life. Wo may agree with one without assenting to the other. Because wo think they have a hereafter it does not follow that in this life they can read the riddle of the spirit world any more than man can with his superior mind.


ANIMALS AND TIIK HEREAFTER. Two questions, which are really different,


that seem so puzzling at first are capable of a rational explanation on careful con­ sideration. Wo have to remember that conic of their senses are much more acute than our own, not having been vitiated by disease or such habits as smoking. Their noses apprise them of a great deal that passes unnoticed by us. Their hearing is better than ours, and they ran sec in the dark. Here, then, are satisfactory reasons for their curious behaviour sometimes, a- behaviour so puzzling that, if we had a mind to it, we might be convinced tlint they were ps3*chic. One nighty wlien 1 was out with my dog ho showed signs of alarm on reaching a certain spot, running back and declining to go any farther. After much encouragement I persuaded him to return and siiow me what was the matter. Very carefully, step b3* step, he led me to tho hedgerow, where T discovered a hedgehog, n creature that lie had never encountered before.


• Man.v of the actions performed l>\* dogs


.clairvoyant.- after giving a further explana­ tion, remarked: “ Yes, yon remember. Mis. Masons tho old lady who bad a dog called Bennie, of which .she was very fond, and which was knocked down by a tram and killed.” Tho lady then recalled Mrs. Mason, who sent her several messages, ono


Tho medium,asked-.0110 °f tho audience “ Tf sho remembered Mrs. Mason?” At first the name conveyed nothing to her. Tho


A lady sends mo an account of a spiritualistic seance that is interesting.


She looked up laughing though her eyes “ Percival!” she gasped, and sat help­


__ 1


mm mm . . ■■ ■■__■■__■■__■■__■■__■■__■■__■■__■■__■■_i Food and Flowers


—■■ ■■ MIXED MEMOS.


coat of lead paint in order to protect it from winter’s wet. The roof of the summer­ house might be creosotcd in order to pre­ serve the wood. Keep the grccnliouse-door mid tho frame-light hinges greased, and th03* do not rust. Fill the oiling holc-s of tlie mower a few times, and grease the knives, so that the machine is not rust3* iu the spring.


REMEMBER.—Give the garden .-.eat a


permanent labels before tbe paper ones liavo rotted. Some growers supply stamped, zinc labels with their roses. These labels are worth their price—a penny each. Wood labels inaj* bo used. Paint the wood with white paint, write the names of the flowers in iuk, varnish the labels with pale varnish, and the writing is clear and weather-proof. FLOWER SUPPORTS. — Split bamboo


LABELS.—Plants should bo marked with .


new plot. Blocks of cement and other etceteras have been removed. Yet. after a. pot of tea, he feels as fit ns a fiddle. And, lie lias the satisfaction that he has taken tho first step iu providing vegetables for. the family.


WINTER MUSHROOMS.


ing for planting a mushroom bed for produc­ ing some mushrooms early in the year. Tho shed on the allotment, made draught-proof, may be the mushroom house. No atmo­ spheric heating is necessary, though some gardeners forward the crop with an oil ?.tove. Form the bed against the wall. A corner is the better position, because tho heap of manure will only have to be sup­ ported with planks on two sides. Tho boards of tbe wall and of the floor may lie coated with cement-wash for the preserva­ tion. of the wood. Instead of the mushroom bed Icing in a


The present may be the time for prepar­


canes will support small plants. The ribs of old umbrellas should be saved for sup­ ports. Metal meat skewers make neat supports for small plants, and the rings prevent the ties slipping. Two sound lengths of old stakes can he put into splints in order to make one long stake. SAVE THE RAIN.—The next summer


mav be dry. Prepare against a dry sum­ mer by digging an opening in the garden, by lining the opening with slates, and by making the opening water-tight with a thick coating of a mixture of cement ami coarse sand. Tho slates must he wet while appl\*- ing the cement mixture. THE J XDOOR HYACINTHS. — The


corner of the shed, equally good rouits will be obtained by cultivation in a packing- case. While the depth of manure for the bed on the floor should be two fe-t when the bed has been trodden, an eighteen-inches depth serves with the latter culture, be­ cause more warmth is retained by tile sides of .a sound box than by a fed of manure supported with hoard*. Some holes for drainage should In* bored along the bottom edge of tbe box, two inches from the floor.


water in the glasses should not reach within half an inch of the bulb", because it might rot them. Jivaporation will give the bulbs moisture enough to start their root'. Rain-water is nature's drink, and the water from the rain-water butt is better for the plants than the water from the cistern. No harm will come from wetting the bulbs when adding water to tbe glasses,


come from a stable where the horses aio bedded on straw. On arrival, the lumpy portions should be broken up. and th*' longest straw should be dragged out and >houkl be put aside for use a* the cover of the bed. When the 'temperature of tho manure falls to around >0 degs. Fabr., with the bulb of tbe mercury -ix inches deep, m the time to make the manure into a led and, to plant the mu-broom spawn. Manure can be cooled by turning tbe heap in>idA out at daily interval*.


The manure should be fresh, and it should


evening. SLUGS.—Slugs find places of refuge


if the bulbs will have dried before the


beneath decaying leafage. Scrape off this upper crust of animal and vegetable matter, and bury it under a spade’s depth 01 soil. Inserts ami leaves will become manure, ami the future plant* will feed on the slug*. A ROBUST MARGUERITE.—'The dull


Cut the spawn brick* into piece*, about two inches acro*s. and plant the piece.- six 'inches apart.


manure, so that their top* are level with the surface of the manure. Next, shov.l on three inches ol powdery mould. Then, over the bed, spread a layer of -traw, * r spread a layer of a substitut**. >m h as hay or bracken (wild fern).


the pieces into the


season—between the bulbs of spring and the plants of summer—can be relieved with perennials, such as doronienins. The variety, Harper Crewe, crops more than once a 3*ear. Bed out the plants this >*ear in order to have some blooms early. VARIEGATED HEDGES.—The golden


privet, a variegated laurel or holly, the silver-leaved cuonymus. etc., will turn green with too liberal treatment. The shrubs will become re-variegated by withholding the dressing of manure for two winter*.


Loganberries and the other brambles may bo planted'as far apart as ten feet. The autumn following the planting one, fix the tips of some of the new stems six inches into the ground in order to root them. Keep tho stems upright with >tnkes. Single canes will grow into huge hushes.


BRAMBLE BERRIES. — Lowborrio*,


comes from growing three-feet-higli varieties on trenches that have a well-nourished sub­ soil. The manure, fresh and holding all its nourishment, can he mixed into the second spit at this time of the year. Dwarf peas certainly require less soil support, but they have not the room up their foot-high stems for numerous pods; while staking giant varieties is expensive.


PROFITABLE PEAS.—The most profit


of crops that are not grown for their edible roots have to pass around half-bricks, and have to try to light their way through clods of cinv. Bricks and stones warm a soil by draining it, and they also hold the warmth


TUBERS.—I t matters not that the roots


of tho sun. RHUBARB.—'Rhubarb is the easiest fruit


to grow, because the plant is of vegetable habit. Plant this perennial this year, if it is to he cropped next spring. Use the sticks while they are young, for then tho\* have less fibre.


for the spring can be provided if the soil around the prickly-seeded and around the beet spinach is forked up once a month. Variety can he given to the menus, how­ ever, with second-class sprouts—the growths from where the Brussels sprouts have been cut, with cabbage greens—the shoots from the stumps of the cut cabbages, and with turnip tops—the leaves from the turnips that have refused to bulb.


THE SEASON OF SCARCITY.—Greens — THE ALLOTMENT. OX THE LAND.


object of national importance—tho produc­ tion of food. At a time when our oldest industry, agriculture, is experiencing diffi­ culties*,* the extension of tho allotment move­ ment among urban dwellers can do much to establish a bond of sympathy between them and their fellows who live wholly* by* tlie iand. A closer acquaintance with tho soil gained by the part-timo occupation of cultivating a kitchen garden in or near a town should tend to good relations between town and country. Exercise in the open-air does much to


People who cultivate allotments have ono


ensure good health. Ono not only “ earns a night’s repose,” but does much to make sure of it. Xo finer tonic for unstcadied nerves is there than digging. The writer iias come in from digging a portion of a


.survive in another state. He wrote: “ Wlint if it should please the All Wise,


“ Havo dogs a future life?” No one can say definitely, though many believe firmly that they have. John Wesley, who died in 1791, would not deny that animals might


of which was that she found Bennie on the other sido and his legs were all right. This naturally brings us to the question:


the All Gracious Creator, to rniso them higher in the scale of beings? What if it should please Him, when Ho makes us equal to angels, to make them what we are now —creatures capable of God: capable of knowing and loving and enjoying the Author of their being?” These significant re­ marks almost suggest tlmt ho was accepting Darwin’s theory of evolution long before tho great scientist lived. Archbishop Benson wrote about, tho death of a favourito mare: “ No ono would pcrsnndo mo that she comes to an end hero.” These are but two among many divines who liko to think that they •will meet their dumb friends again in another life.


regulates the warmth of the bed: the tem­ perature of tho three inches of mould iiiu-t he regulated. The bed gradually lo'« * warmth for a time, but, when it fall> :■> below l>0 degrees, add more straw. Tho loading most favourable to cropping * between do and 70. During tlie less cold weather, while plenty of straw is on the bed, the thermometer may rise above 75, where­ upon tho thickness of the cover should temporarily reduced.


The thickness of the straw n.voting


the bottom of the mushroom to be used will be several infant mu-broom*. Do not tut off tho head, because the remaining fungoid stem ns it decays will spoil the infants, but gently twist the mushroom out of tho soil, and the infants grow. When the mu-b­ rooms have finished cropping, the bed may bo spawned agaiu, if it has: not lost too much heat. Turn the bed of manure up­ side down, and. if it is 70 degrees hot, that warmth is sufficient.


When the bed is ready for pulling, around — THE FLOWER GARDEN. RENOVATING THE LAWN.


many people, who do not spare them>clv«.s on their flower bods, neglect the grass plot. The most likely trouble* are unovenne--, weeds, moss and broken edge*. The way to make the lawn smooth is to pack the sunken spot*. The turf i* peeled off. ><•:! is put down and, before tbe grass is re­ turned, the patches are firmed with the flat of tho spade. Tho roller ought to be pulled. If the roller were pushed, the feet would h* pressed into tho ground.


The lawn cakes or mars the garden, but


soil. Weeds will soon make their appear­ ance in poor ground and, if thev do not receive attention, they will crowd out tho grass plants. Where tho woods have not established themselves, try to get rid of them by enriching the ground. The best way of feeding heavy soil is with powdered lime and, a few weeks afterwards, with nitrate of soda. Lime is not a food, lmt increases tho porosity of the ground. Lima aerates the ground, and air liberates plant food locked up in it. Nitrate of soda by itself give* bettor results on light ground, because it is not desirable to make dry ground drier. Tlie quantities per squaro yard may be four ounces of tbe lime and one ounce of the fertiliser.


The chief cause of weeds i* poverty of


it turns brown; and, where moss persist-*, it chokes the grasses. Begin the cure by brushing off the intruder. The cause of the moss would be wetness; therefore, sticky gvound riioukl be lightened by a dressing of lime—half a pound per square yard. The way to’ make sure that a lawn benefit* from all the lime and fertiliser i* to perforate the surface with the garden fork and is to give the sprinklings when the rain will soon bo washing it into the tiny boring*.


Mo*s i* unsightly in dry weather, because


ami whero it is not desired to widen th° path, the neat verge can he restored if a narrow width of turf is moved forward. The space behind should be filled with tho broken pieces of turf and with mould. Tho spade will cut a straight edge—with two stakes and a tight line of string.


Whore an edge of the lawn lias broken,


Wnggers’ Club, 58, Mark-lano, London, E.C.3. The Club will he pleased to answer any enquiries submitted by Tail-Wngger owners m connexion with canine hygiene and welfare.


Note.—This chat is issued by Tho Tail-


jg£


S P R A T T ’S B O N I©


SPRATTS GAUNT ITO S8 MARK lAItt MUM EC* ;


-it wM


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