INSTRUCTIONS

HOW TO TAKE THE MEASURES.

The way to take the measures when a Lady wishes to send for a body pattern of the size suited to her is as follows:-First, with an ordinary inch tape, take the exact Chest measure all round the body at the most prominent part of the chest, marked 1 on the diagram, Fig. 1: then take the Waist measure marked 2: then measure the exact Length of Back from the neck to the Waist, marked 3 on the diagram. Write all these measures down, and to ensure accuracy, measure them again, and compare with the writing.

HOW TO

CHANGE THE SIZE OF OUR PATTERNS.

If a Lady possesses a good fitting body pattern, she can easily alter, to her own size, any of 'DEVERE'S PARIS MODEL PATTERNS," which are all cut for 34 inches Chest measure, 24 inches Waist measure, and 14 inches Length of Waist. If a lady has not a body pattern of her own size, she can select one from Devere's Series of Patterns, which are cut for Chest measures ranging from 31 to 42; that is to say, from the most petite lady, to the tall lady of fine figure. Any size will be sent post free, for 6 stamps. If however the lady is only a size larger or smaller than 34 Chest, viz:has a Chest measure of 36 or 33, then she can alter the size of the pattern when cutting out, by the instructions given in the follow. 4ing diagrams:

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Fig. 2

Fig. 3

TO ENLARGE A PATTERN FROM 34 INCHES CHEST MEASURE TO 36 INCHES. FIG. 2.

Add to the front edge of an inch, the same at the seam under the arm, and down the middle of back; these additions are indicated by the shaded parts. At the bottom of armhole, hollow out of an inch, indicated by the black parts.

TO DECREASE A PATTERN FROM 34 INCHES CHEST MEASURE TO 33 INCHES. FIG. 3.

Narrow the front edge of an inch, and take off the same under the arm and at the middle of back, as shown by the black parts of the pattern. At the bottom of armhole, add the of an inch indicated by the shaded portions.

THE WAY TO CUT OUT.

The best plan is to lay all the pieces composing the pattern on the material at the same time, so as to be able to judge of the most economical way of cutting out. The larger pieces should be placed on first, and the smaller pieces at the sides of them. The trimmings (if any) must not be forgotten.

Fig. 4. The direction in which the various pieces are laid on the material has more to do with the fit of a pattern than is generally supposed. In all close-fitting garments, the side pieces and the backs should all have the waist line in an exact line with the straight weft or woof thread of the material: this will bring the side pieces and the backs on the right way of the stuff, and the side pieces will not draw or crease as they would do if they were cut in the least degree on the biais. The fronts must be laid lengthwise on the material and be perfectly straight. It is best to place the front edge at the edge of the material, and to allow enough for the turning in. For double breasted garments the middle of front must lay exactly on the warp, or lengthwise thread of the material. The same rules must be observed for all Princesse Robes and for Polonaises.

In cutting out striped materials, there should be a perfect stripe down the middle of the front, and also down the middle of back when the back is made without a seam. Especial care must be taken that the stripes in the sidepieces and in the back, may exactly correspond.

In sleeves, the part above the elbow must be the straight way of the

material.

When any part of a dress, such as the trimmings, &c. has to be cut on the biais, care must be taken that it is exactly on the biais, or it will drag and hang badly when made up.

In a gored skirt, the fronts of the gored pieces must always be on the straight thread; the sides which are towards the back being sloped. If pos sible, avoid having any seam down the middle of the back of a skirt. The allowance for the hem at the bottom must not be forgotten.

In figured or brocaded materials, all the parts of the pattern must be cut the same way of the stuff; that is, with the pattern running in the same direction. It is the same in velvets and napped matrials, all the pieces must be cut so that the pile or nap runs the same way.

Always place all the pieces of the pattern on the material, and make whatever calculations are necessary, before commencing to cut out the stuff.

DEVERE'S SERIES OF

PATTERNS FOR DRESSMAKERS AND FAMILIES. This set of patterns is divided into two parts. The first series has seven brown-paper patterns, for Children and Young Ladies, and is sold for 2s. 6d. post free. The second series has eight brown-paper patterns for Ladies from the smallest to the largest sizes, and is sold for 3s. post free. The sizes of the first Series are:-Chest 19 inches, age 2.-Chest 204, age 4.-Chest 22, age 6.-Chest 24, age 8.-Chest 27, age 11 to 12.-Chest 28, age 12 to 13.Chest 30, age 14 to 15.

The sizes of the second Series are:-Small sizes, Chest 31 and Chest 33. Medium sizes, Chest 344 and Chest 36. Large sizes, Chest measures 371, 304, 41, and 42 inches.

Both these series of patterns are principally intended for Dressmakers. If Ladies require any of the above sizes to suit themselves or their families, they can be supplied at 6d. each pattern.

THE USE OF A

BUST TO LADIES AND DRESSMAKERS, Devere's Model Bust for the use of dressmakers, and private families, will be found a useful adjunct to the dressmakers' art: it is accurately moulded in papier maché, from the most perfect figures, and is covered with stout twilled calico, thus affording a firm yet flexible surface for the various purposes of trying-on garments. It is mounted on a handsome stand, and by means of the screw shown on the engraving, can be raised or lowered in height according to requirement. Another great advantage is the facility with which it turns round on the pivot, thus enabling the worker to fit or trim the back or front of a dress without moving from her position. French dressmakers find these Busts invaluable in their business, from the ease they afford for the arrangement of the elegant but complicated styles of trimmings so much in vogue at the present time.

For private families, where much of the dressmaking is done at home, a Devere's Model Bust would be found most useful, as with its use, and the aid of our Paris Model Patterns, the most complicated costume can be reproduced with the greatest ease; and one bust would serve for all members of the same family who are not smaller in size than the bust.

It will also be found very useful in making up lace collars, fich ús, &c., &c. In fact any lady once possessing this desirable article will find countless ways of making it useful, and will wonder how she has contrived to do so long without it.

We have arranged to supply these busts for the following sizes of chest measure:-31, 33, 34, 36, 37 391, 41, 42 and 44 inches, and to deliver them, carefully packed in a crate, and carriage free within 3 miles of Charing Cross, or at any London Railway terminus, on receipt of P. O. O. for 269.

HOW TO ORDER A BUST AND ADAPT IT TO THE FIGURE. When ordering a Bust it is better to send a calico body made to fit, or an old dress body that fits well: the three measures shown on fig. 1 should also be sent, and it should be stated whether the lady is of proportionate figure, or stoops, or is very erect. A Bust suited to the lady will then be carefully selected from our stock, and forwarded with the body.

N. B. It must be understood that it is always necessary to select a Bust slightly smaller than the lady's dress body, because the bust cannot under any circumstances be made smaller, while it is very easy to pad it up to the required size.

If the Bust is too small at the waist, a belt of wadding of the required thickness is to be fastened round the waist, and the same thing can be done as regards the Chest, the shoulders, &c.: if the lady is stooping or round shoul dered, two thickness of flannel placed on the upper part of back will bring the Bust to the proper shape; these paddings are simply pinned on the Bust, which may thus be made to serve for persons of different figures and sizes. The best way of enclosing the dress body and Post Office Order, is to buy one of the large Registered letter envelopes measuring 10 inches by 7 inches, which are sold at all Post Offices, price 3d. This will be sufficiently large to contain the Letter, P. O. Order, and Body, without any trouble in packing: the postage will be about 2d. or 3d. according to the thickness of the body.

N. B. The various articles named above can be obtained only from Messrs. Louis Devere & Co., 1, Kelso Place, Kensington, London, W. Or. ders to be sent by letter, enclosing stamps or P. O. Örder, for the amount

she fretted both outwardly and silently at the good chance of marriage which her daughter had thrown away. Milicent's life became a burden to her that autumn time, because of her mother's complaining, and not a few bickerings resulted between the two women on the subject.

On the principle that continual dropping wears away a stone, Mrs. Gray hoped by constant allusions to Gilbert's love, and his worldly circumstances, to wear away Milicent's objection to his suit, and by thus uniting her daughter to the well-to-do miller, secure a comfortable home for her own old age. But Milicent Gray was firm. She steadily refused to incline her ear to praises of Gilbert Armstrong's character and attainments, and above all, of his love for herself, and persistently declined to believe in the probability of a renewal of his offer. Her mother's constant allusions to these unwelcome topics produced a result in the girl's mind contrary to that which was intended, and she became silent and even sullen when alone with her mother.

In these bright autumn days, Milicent Gray spent most of her leisure time in out-door exercise. On holiday afternoons she wandered over a distant common clad in its raiment of gold and purple, and sat among the gorse and heather, dressed in homely garb, the autumn breezes blowing among the braided waves of her dark hair, and deepening the rare bloom on her oval face. She took a book with her always, being anxious in her girlish, shallow way to improve what little mind she had, but how often that unformed mind wandered from the page before her, and was lost in girlish mazy day-dreams, while the dark eyes, full of vague longing, swept over the landscape unconscious of its beauty.

Ever since the day of the fête Milicent was altered, she had had a glimpse of a brighter life than the dull routine which was her present lot, and that foolish heart yearned like simple Maud Muller's, for

"Something better than she had known," and in the visions which filled her mind while dreaming on the breezy moor, her isolated life, her poverty and its cares, her mother, and Gilbert Armstrong with his unwelcome suit, were all forgotten.

Wilfred North had taken possession of Cleethorpe Manor, which was distant eight miles from Colemarsh, but Milicent had seen him many times since the day of his birthday fête, and as that young gentleman had been at great pains to render himself agreeable to the "village

beauty" as he called her, it was no wonder that his image came oftener on the mirror of her maiden fancy than was wise or safe for her happiness, or that he was the hero of all her day-dreamings on the moorland.

As September drew to a close, the accidental meetings between Wilfred and Milicent became more frequent, and at length the girl grew to look for his familiar figure pacing the heath, when she hurried to her favorite spot on holiday afternoons.

Milicent would not admit to herself that these meetings were assignations, nor, strictly speaking, were they so, but she knew that Wilfred North was aware of her hours of liberty, and also of her predeliction for the spot to which she was now so easily drawn by the silent promptings of her too-readily won heart. She did not however go to the rendezvous with a clear conscience and undisturbed mind. Now and then, alarmed at her own temerity, she had tried to turn her steps another way, but her walk always ended by way of the moor, where she came in time to hear tender reproaches for her lateness.

Yes! it had gone so far as that. Wilfred smiled to himself sometimes at her timidity, at her evident fear of public opinion, at her easiness of persuasion, and evident admiration of himself. He had no fear of consequences; he took his gun in his hand on those stated afternoons, and followed by his dogs, he walked from Colemarsh Hall, past the mill, past the cottage, and through the busy gossiping town with supreme boldness, and when he reached the lonely moor, and saw the burst of sunshine on the face of the lovely girl who had tacitly come there to meet him, no feeling of shame clogged his utterance in the greeting words, no inward reproachful voice bade him pause, no ominous shadow of the evil to come fell across the pathway which he and his companion were treading, to warn him while he had yet the power to desist.

But let me speak the truth of Wilfred North, let me tell the bare case as it was known to this man and his Maker. His mind was set to do evil. He meant to bring destruction of soul and body upon this woman, who foolishly played with the fire of his unhallowed love, and fancied it a stedfast flame which would warm and comfort her all life long. Beneath the outer crust of refinement and education, Wilfred North's mind was coarse and sensual, and it was with the eyes of his true soul, with the selfish sentiments of his real heart that he regarded Milicent Gray. His life-young as

he was, had not been a good one, and the deed he contemplated concerning this rustic beauty, was no new thing for him to do. I cannot clothe his conduct with a flimsy covering of romance, by letting you believe that he was, like Milicent, drifting on the stream of fancy, led on by the rosy passions of youth and inexperience. Wilfred North was deliberately luring this girl from the paths of rectitude and honor; with the full knowledge of the consequences, he was winning her foolish heart, perverting her ill-balanced judgment. Remember this, my reader, when the man's fate, sudden and awful, meets him in the way he deliberately goes; then, if you can, pity him.

CHAPTER IX.

IN CROWHURST LANE.

A long bright day early in October was drawing to its close, as Gilbert Armstrong shut his garden gate behind him, and walked along the road to Colemarsh. A little crescent moon was in the sky, upright and clear, denoting continued fine weather, and a sharp, frosty air touched Gilbert's face with a pleasant freshness. He was going into the town to transact business with the landlord of the White Hart, a regular customer of his, who united in his proper person the callings of baker, farmer, and innkeeper.

Gilbert Armstrong must needs pass the Grays' cottage on his way, and as he came in sight of the house, he saw Mrs. Gray standing at the gate, her white cap and kerchief shining in the dusk.

Although he had avoided the cottage, and had not spoken to Milicent since the 11th of August, Gilbert and Mrs. Gray had seen a good deal of each other, and much conversation had taken place between them on the subject nearest to the hearts of each, therefore as he approached he was not surprised to see the widow beckon him, and obeying her summons he stopped at the gate.

"It seems an age since I saw you, Mr. Armstrong," she said, "do stop a minute or two, Milicent is at the Rectory."

Gilbert declined to go in, but remained a few minutes in conversation with Mrs. Gray. While they were speaking, Wilfred North came the road. A dark frown knit Gilbert's brow, up and his eyes flashed as they rested on the tall, well-made figure of the heir of Colemarsh, who was rapidly approaching them with his swinging, semi-military gait.

"Good evening, Mrs. Gray," he said as he

passed, speaking the words in a tone half-condescending, half-contemptuous, a tone that might have aroused Milicent Gray's suspicions had she heard her mother so addressed by the man who professed to love her.

"Good evening, sir," said the widow with a profound curtsey. The Norths of Colemarsh were as the salt of the earth to her unsophisticated, unsuspicious mind.

Mr. Wilfred North deigned a salutation likewise to Gilbert, who acknowledged it in a sullen way, and the young man passed on.

"What a handsome man he is," said Mrs. Gray before he was quite out of hearing.

"Yes," answered Gilbert Armstrong steadily, "he is handsome enough to look at certainly, but I don't think his heart will wear well." "La! Mr. Armstrong, you are so suspicious of people. I am sure Mr. Wilfred seems beloved by every one." Gilbert turned the subject abruptly.

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I must go now," he said, "I want to catch Davies before he gets busy with his night customers."

He shook hands with Mrs. Gray, and walking briskly forward, was soon lost in the growing darkness.

"I wish Milicent was at home," said the widow to herself as she walked through the little garden, now lying in darkness. "I don't like her coming through the town after dark alone."

Meanwhile Gilbert Armstrong went to the "White Hart," but the landlord was out on his farm, which lay distant two miles over the

common.

"If you like to walk that way, sir, you will very likely meet him coming back," said the landlady, "and it would save time."

"So it would," said Gilbert Armstrong, and after a civil good-night, he stepped from the well-lighted cosy little bar into the dark road, and took the path to the common.

The approach from the town to the common, was through Crowhurst Lane, a narrow grassy road bordered with high hedges, from which the leaves were thinning rapidly. Gilbert walked quickly up the lane, his footsteps making no sound on the thickly-swarded path, but about half-way through, he stopped suddenly, his heart beating quickly in the darkness.

Surely that was the voice of Milicent Gray! He listened again, the voices came nearer, and suspicion became certainty. Without a moment's hesitation, Gilbert Armstrong threw himself silently on the grass by the hedgerow, and lay perfectly still, the only sound being

the fierce throbbing of his wild unhappy heart. Close to the spot on which he lay, was an old bench, which was much affected by lovers who plentifully frequented this lane and the adjoining common at all seasons of the year.

The voices, speaking in low whispers, came nearer, and presently Gilbert became aware that Wilfred North and Milicent Gray had seated themselves upon the bench. Not a sound save the whispering voices, broke the silence of the autumn night, and Gilbert Armstrong listening in his agony, heard every word spoken in the dense darkness of the lane.

Two months before, when the unhappy man had surprised the same couple in the tent at Colemarsh Park, and Wilfred North had kissed the hand he fondly hoped to win, he had sprung upon them at once and separated them. But it was not so now, jealousy had done its mean work since that day, and now its power over this wretched man was such, that he feared to stir a hair's-breadth from his ignoble position, lest he should miss one word of that whispered conversation which was driving him to madness.

He did not at once clearly understand the nature of what he heard, he could only gather vaguely that Wilfred North was pressing the girl hard to comply with some plan he had formed. But as their talk proceeded it became plainer to the hidden listener.

"But Milicent," urged Wilfred North in an eager whisper, "there is not the slightest risk or danger. You have merely to be in your little garden at half-past one, wearing the darkest clothes you have. I will not keep you waiting. We will then walk to Gainsly station. It is only four miles, you will not mind that ?" "No," faltered the girl.

"We will travel in separate carriages to Mayford Junction, where I will join you, and in two hours we shall be in London. Best, my man, you know, has undertaken to answer all questions concerning my absence."

"But," said Milicent timidly, "have you made all the other arrangements as safe as this? Will all be ready at our journey's end for our-"

She hesitated to pronounce the word, but her companion took it up lightly enough."

7

when I said good-bye to my father this evening. Give me your promise, Milicent."

"It is so sudden," murmured the foolish girl, "you are so hasty."

"If I gave you a longer time you would refuse perhaps, and I must have you for my own, Milicent."

Whispered words of love-broken by passionate kisses-followed, arguments that broke down the poor girl's weak resolves, and Gilbert Armstrong heard the woman he adored, promise to leave her parent's roof in that night's darkness with Wilfred North. A cold sweat broke out over him, as he listened, and a mocking demon entered in and took possession of his soul.

The lovers rose, and went towards the town. For some time Gilbert Armstrong lay on the damp grass with his white despairing face turned up to the densely-black sky; with a blackness as dense in his heart, and curses upon his lips. At last he rose.

"He thinks to take her from me, but I have a word to say to that," he muttered.

He walked through the lane, and into the quiet streets of the town. Passing the Rectory, he heard Wilfred North's clear voice, and farther on he saw the cottage, with a light in Milicent's room.

He went on steadily towards the Mill. The town clock struck ten as he reached his own gate.

The house was quiet and dark, and though it was his usual time for repose, Gilbert Armstrong did not unlatch the wicket gate, but walked steadily to and fro on the road beyond Colemarsh Mill.

(To be continued).

A BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT.-When the summer of youth is slowly wasting away on the nightfall of age, and the shadow of the past becomes deeper and deeper, and life wears to its close, it is pleasant to look through the vista of time upon the sorrows and facilities of our earlier years. If we have a home to shelter and hearts to rejoice with us, and friends have been gathered together around our firesides, then the rough places of wayfaring will have been worn and smoothed away in the twilight of life, while the many dark spots we have passed through will grow brighter and more beautiful. Happy, indeed, are those whose intercourse with the world has not changed the tone of their holier feeling, or broken those musical chords of the heart, whose vibrations are so melodious, 80 tender and so touching in the evening of their life.