We have never seen the plant, and though we tried hard to obtain a bulb of this species we were unsuccessful in our quest. So of its culture we know nothing. (_To be continued._) IN THE TWILIGHT SIDE BY SIDE. BY RUTH LAMB. PART VI. CORN OR STRAW. “Let us draw near with a true heart.” Hebrews x. 22. I think we may spend an hour profitably, my dear girl friends, in contrasting the fair-seeming part of our lives with that which is real, true, and thorough. It is good to be real in all things. True to the core. In thought, word, and deed to be the same human being as we wish our friends to think us. On this subject of reality I will tell you a story to begin with. I dare say most of us joined in harvest thanksgiving services after we returned home last autumn; probably many of you joined in preparing for them, and in arranging the offerings sent by the congregations. It was in autumn, but not this year, and in city and village churches the “Feast of Ingathering” was being kept. Daily songs of thanksgiving were going up to the God of harvest, in acknowledgment of the bounteous provision He had made to supply the wants of the teeming millions dependent on Him for their daily bread. A number of young people, mostly girls, were busily engaged in decorating a church for the Harvest Festival services on the following day. Flowers, fruit, vegetables, loaves of all sizes and corn in sheaves, or shaped into miniature stacks, had been sent in abundance. The poorest members of the congregation were not the least willing givers. They could not offer hot-house grapes or fruits that were costly to mature, but they brought of their best from cottage gardens and in no stinted measure. The clean, ruddy carrots, white turnips, cauliflowers in their nest of green leaves, with other homely vegetables, the best of their kind, added much to the picturesqueness of the offerings. The pulpit and font were bordered with green moss on which were pretty devices in scarlet berries, and below these hung a fringe of oats, dainty-looking, light and graceful as lace. There was a foot of this fringing to finish when the material ran short. “More oats wanted,” said the worker. “Bring me some, please.” But none were forthcoming. “You have used them all,” was the answer. “I cannot fill this space with anything else. The design would be spoiled. There seemed to be any quantity of oats, but this fringe takes so much. Who will give us some more?” Nobody seemed to know and time was precious. At last a girl spoke, though in a rather shamefaced way and in a hesitating tone. “I know who would give us a bundle of oat straw. We could pick out the best pieces and by mixing them in with the unthreshed corn, the length could be made up. There would be some undoing and working up again, but I don’t think anybody would notice the difference.” There was a short uncomfortable silence, soon broken by the tremulous voice of the youngest helper present—a mere child.