(3) It seemed wiser to start the Industry in a neighbourhood where the promoter was well known, and had many friends and acquaintances. It is also within easy distance of one or more of the late summer and autumn crowded health resorts. The late summer and autumn being the season when the bulk of all perishable fruits ripen, a moment's reflection will point out to all that these health resorts are, as a rule, whether by the seaside or inland, usually in a non-fruit-growing district. But it would not answer to rely on these places entirely, because for some months of the year they are practically empty. (4) No sane people would plant fruit trees on other land than their own without the protection of a long lease, the very shortest being thirty years. [Illustration: PRUNING AND POTTING.] I am continually receiving offers of land from all parts of the country, but I wish it distinctly understood that we entertain the idea of none unless owned by those of sufficient influence and enterprise to secure a ready market for the produce grown by the lady gardeners. [Illustration: PLANTING POTATOES.] I gather from my correspondents that some do not even grasp the fundamental fact that their £100 is required solely to provide their own share of garden and house; the smallest, and at the same time the largest, number to be advantageously placed during the summer is thirty-six, as many expenses necessary to a fewer number could well be common to all. More than that number I can also easily and advantageously place. I have had some hundreds of applications, but I prefer none to decide until they see the exact model of the Industry, in full working order now. Full particulars may be obtained of the business part by sending a stamped address to the promoter, +Miss Grace Harriman+, The Hut, Mount-park. Harrow-on-the-Hill. [Illustration] _The Waltz in "Faust."_ +By Richard Dowling.+ My original name was John Fowler. I am known to the world by one much more high sounding. This is the first time since I came to man's estate that I have written the name of my boyhood, and I have never spoken it. The one I have gone by most of my life is hardly more removed in splendour from plain John Fowler than the life of variety and rich experiences I now enjoy compared with the experience of my early years. I follow one of the fine arts as a profession, and in the impetuous days of my youth I adopted a _nom de guerre_ of fine sound and picturesque associations. I have refused all requests that I would furnish an account of my youth. I would not speak of it now if I did not feel absolutely certain that the man well known in certain art circles in London can never be identified through the autobiographical sketch with John Fowler, the miller's youngest son.