rp
knife, and let the cut be "clean," not jagged--this is an important
consideration.

* * * * *

The kitchen-gardens of young folk will require but little attention
during the month of August, although just the reverse is the case in
large establishments. However, all the necessary weeding, raking, and
hoeing should be done without fail. Seeds also may be now sown of cress,
mustard, and radishes, but they must all be gathered when in a very
young state. Seeds of the American Red-stone Turnip or other good sort
can be sown in any odd piece of ordinary garden soil. Delicious little
turnips will be produced in about five or six weeks very easily, if a
small amount of care is given, the chief requirements being water when
the weather is dry, thinning-out where they come up very close together,
and keeping thoroughly clear of weeds--mere matters of detail, which
require but little time to carry out, and which will ensure a very good
crop of a most desirable vegetable.

JEMMY'S AND MY ADVENTURE.

_By the Author of "Claimed at Last" &c._

[Illustration]

Jemmy was five, I seven--two quaint little people we must have looked,
as we trotted out through the lengthening shadows from the old Manor
Farmhouse, where we had been sojourning with our grandmother and Uncle
John, all the summer-time. Now August was fast glowing itself away
towards September, and all was rich, ripe grain, happy toiling and
mirth, in the far-stretching fields. Out from the old flower-wreathed
porch we both of us trudged, and away on an expedition of our own.

"We mustn't be idle--the bees are not idle, are they?" piped Jemmy,
turning to watch the bees working in the flower-beds. And I responded--

"No, nor are we idle if we try to be busy."

"And seeing other folk work is like working ourselves, isn't it?"
reasoned Jemmy.

"And picking flowers for grandmamma is real work," was my complacent
rejoinder, pressing the wooden basket I carried closer to my side, and
thinking myself a very industrious little woman.

Away on the downs, all beautiful colours were chasing each other among
the sunbeams, and the trees waved overhead, as if they liked to fan all
the busy toilers on the earth. And by the old beech-tree, at the
cross-roads, we met Uncle John.

"Well," was his greeting; "where do you two midges think you're off to?"

"I'm going to look after the harvest folk," quoth Jemmy, with a swagger.

"And I'm g