Peas meal, if it can be got in bulk and fresh, makes an excellent staple of diet for many hard-working girls. It can be made into porridge (thick), and eaten with butter and milk it is most nourishing and delicious. The Aberdeen girls (factory hands, etc.) use a deal of this, and no more wholesome, blooming and bonnie lassies are to be found anywhere. Indeed, I have never yet seen any to match them. The fresh and bracing sea air may account to some extent for their “caller” looks, but, believe me, the diet has a deal to do with their health. Nervousness is another hereditary complaint. Now although there are a great many medicines that have an effect for good on the nervous system, they need to be used with caution, and only in conjunction with a well-regulated diet. Rheumatism is still another heirloom that descends in families. On both these subjects and others I shall speak at length in early numbers of THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER, so those interested should look out for my papers. “OUR HERO.” A TALE OF THE FRANCO-ENGLISH WAR NINETY YEARS AGO. BY AGNES GIBERNE, Author of “Sun, Moon and Stars,” “The Girl at the Dower House,” etc. CHAPTER XXXIV. As a heavy stone falling into a pond sends waves circling outward to a distance, so the death of Sir John Moore at Coruña sent many a wave of sorrow to the hearts of men, north and south, east and west. One such wave found its way to the distant town of Verdun, where still languished the détenus, taken captive in 1803, together with many later Prisoners of War on parole, sent thither. News in those days travelled slowly, and prisoners travelled more slowly still. But a day arrived, though not till very many weeks after the Battle of Coruña, when Jack Keene found himself within the ramparts of Verdun. It was spring; and he carried his right arm in a sling, and when he moved a distinct limp might be seen. He had just been to report himself at the citadel, and he now stood outside, meditating on his next move. A rather young man, with a keen clever face, passed him quickly, then pulled up, turning in his direction. “I beg your pardon. Have you just arrived here?” “Yes. You’re English. That’s right,” said Jack heartily. “I’m a prisoner.” “Can I be of service to you? Have you friends in the place?” “Could you direct me to Colonel Baron’s house or lodgings?” “Certainly. I know them all. My name is Curtis.” “Ah! I have heard that name from Roy Baron.” “Roy and I were great friends, when he was here. Anything you can tell me about him will be welcome.” Curtis looked questioningly, and Jack answered the look. “My name is Keene. Roy and I have been through the Campaign in Spain together, and on the retreat I was wounded and taken prisoner.” Curtis held out his hand, to be grasped by Jack’s left. “You have travelled all the way from Spain.”