IT is a pity to throw away clean paper-bags. They should be kept together and given to some small tradesman who will be glad to use them again. Old newspapers should be given to some poor invalid who will be glad of something to read, or sent to the workhouse or hospital. THE plug in a lavatory basin should not be left out, as it is liable to let sewer gas into the house. FLOWERING plants and their seeds should be planted with the growing and not with a waning moon. AFTER cooking is done, the dampers of a kitchen range should be shut in to save the coals. CULTIVATE the grace of thoughtfulness for others. This is invaluable in a household, and makes the wheels go round smoothly. Want of consideration for others, and thoughtlessness, is the source of much trouble. GAME and fowl bones should never be given to pet dogs. They cannot digest them, and such bones have been the cause of painful deaths. A FRUITFUL source of friction between the servants of a household is the unauthorised use of each other’s dusters, brooms, etc. To avoid all such unpleasantness, the cook and housemaid should have a completely independent and distinct set of things, and kept in different places; they should also be of a different colour or pattern, so as to be easily identified by the owners. The cloths should be returned clean each week to whoever presides over the linen cupboard, and fresh ones given out. It is bad economy and worse management to use the same cloths over and over again. [Illustration] SHEILA’S COUSIN EFFIE. A STORY FOR GIRLS. BY EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN, Author of “Greyfriars,” “Half-a-dozen Sisters,” etc. CHAPTER XII. A FAIR ISLAND. “Oh, how lovely!” cried Sheila. The glow of a golden sunset was on sea and shore, as the great vessel rounded the corner and came into view of the harbour of Funchal. The lonely Desertas to their left lay bathed in the reflected light from the westering sun, whilst upon their right lay the fair island of Madeira, its wild mountain range cleft with great ravines, and dotted with innumerable quintas and little houses shining in a sort of shimmering glory, the white city with its many buildings and spires lying peacefully on the margin of the sea, the shore alive with little boats, looking like so many caterpillars upon the green water as the rowers pushed them outwards towards the great in-coming steamer. “Oh, Miss Adene, I am quite sorry the voyage is over; but how lovely Madeira is!”