I. ASSOCIATES to be of the Church of England (no such restriction being made as to Members), and the organization of the Society to follow as much as possible that of the Church, being diocesan, ruridecanal, and parochial.

II. Associates (Working and Honorary), and Members, to contribute annually to the funds; the former not less than 2s. 6d. a-year, the latter not less than 6d. a-year. Members' payments to go to the Central Fund.

III. No girl who has not borne a virtuous character to be admitted as a Member; such character being lost, the Member to forfeit her Card.

Our Friendly Chronicle.

LEASANT news have we to chronicle this month, dear readers! Namely, that our beloved Queen has been graciously pleased to become Patron of the Girls' Friendly Society in Ireland (as she has already done in Scotland, as

well as in England), and has made a do

nation of 50%. to the Central Fund of the Irish G. F. S.

Well do we recollect the enthusiasm with

which the first tidings of our Queen's patronage of the Girls' Friendly Society in England were

received, and we know well that the same will be stirred in the hearts of many loyal Irish. maidens and their Associates, when they see the name of their Sovereign heading the roll of their friendly band.

Much need is there, truly, in these days, that we should remember how much may be done by

PRICE ONE PENNY Post Free 1d.

CONTENTS.

OUR FRIENDLY CHRONICLE. By the Editor

A DESERT JOURNEY. By Alma

CHANGED PLACES. By H. Brooke Houston
THE GOLDEN WEDDING. By D. H.

THE THREE GARDENS: a Meditation. By M. E. T.
MUSIC-At the Linn Side.' By Samuel Gee, A.R,A,M....
OUR EARNINGS. By Mrs. Wigley
NEEDLEWORK GUILD

OUR ELDER MEMBERS: WHAT CAN THEY Do? By M. E. T. 69 MOSSES-II. Moss Colonies

61

CORRESPONDENCE:

62

A Letter from Egypt

RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE CORRESPONDENCE CLASS

63

63

A CORRECTION

63

NOTICE

64

CENTRAL DEPARTMENTS

64

64

64

64

FLOWERS FOR WORKROOMS

FRIENDLY WORK COMPETITIONS:

Domestic Economy

Riddles and Puzzles..

Answers to Puzzles

All Communications for the Editors of FRIENDLY WORK should be addressed 'Mrs. Townsend, care of the Secretary, G. F. S. Central Office, 3 Victoria Mansions, Victoria Street, Westminster, s.w.'

Manuscripts will be returned if stamps are enclosed for postage.

women to inculcate those principles of personal loyalty to our Sovereign, and devotion to her throne, which are so dear to every true patriotic heart.

As wives and mothers and elder sisters, as friends and nurses, in our influence over men and over children, in the home, the workroom, and the household, whatever our rank or call

ing may be, we shall find abundant opportunities of teaching and upholding the beautiful virtue of loyalty; while, as Christian women, we can every one of us do our part in encompassing our Queen with the bright, though invisible, shield of prayer-according to those grand and truly religious words of our beloved National Anthem:

'Thy choicest gifts in store
On her be pleased to pour;
Long may she reign!
May she defend our laws,
And ever give us cause
To sing with heart and voice,
God save the Queen!'

EDITOR,

'T the present time, when the interest and sympathy of the whole nation. have been centered on General Gordon's heroic journey to the Soudan, the following explanation given by him of the somewhat difficult passage in Psalm lxxxiii., ver. 13, will be of special interest to many of our readers. The verse runs thus in the Prayer-book: 'O my God, make them like unto a wheel, and

as the stubble before the wind.'

'General Gordon told a friend, that whilst making a journey on camel - back across the Korosko Desert, when he was last in the Soudan, the real meaning of

the verse for the first time was realised by him.

'It seems that during the season in which he traversed

this dreadful desert, a man accomplishes it much as he does in passing through a fire: he travels along a line of skele

his camel. On the borders of the desert grows a grass which, when sere and withered with the heat, breaks off and mats and felts itself together. The prevailing wind blowing desertwards sets these bundles in motion, and they gather and increase as they roll, till some are even three feet in diameter; all finally get driven out on the fiery sea. General Gordon said, that the idea of desola

tion was intensified

when one met these weird families of roll

Samusing balls driven on night and day over the sand and stones, unable to stop, to turn or rest, and the full awfulness of the Psalmist's imprecation appeared to hover over them and compel them onwards.'

Since leaving England in February, General Gordon has

once more safely traversed this hideous waste on a swift dromedary, as he hastened to the rescue of the beleaguered garrisons in the

in the efficacy of prayer one for the other, and England thanks God that the prayers offered up for his safety have been heard and answered.

ALMA.

CHAPTER II.

T was just seven o'clock on a fine July evening, when Anna Bently drove to Mr. Chalfont's shop in Sydney Street, a rather narrow turning a little way from Upper Street. The very first glance was a disappointment; it was neither so large nor so imposing-looking as she imagined. The doorway was almost blocked with pieces of calico, heavy rolls of tweed, and long lengths of cheap dress-material hung from the upper windows. Inside was still worse: heaps of goods were piled up in every direction, and the atmosphere was so close that Anna wondered how the girls lived in it. For a moment she stood unnoticed inside the door; then a tall, middle-aged man, came forward and asked what he could do for her.

'I am the new assistant, and I should like to see Miss Chalfont,' Anna replied, timidly.

'She's at tea just now. Here, Miss Wilson, show Miss Bently to her room, and tell the cabman to take her box to the side-door.'

Miss Wilson, a meek, pale-faced girl, obeyed in silence. She led the way down a dark, narrow passage blocked with window-shutters, then up a bare, dusty staircase, to a large room at the top of the house, in which were six small beds.

"That's your place next the door,' Miss Wilson said, pointing out the smallest and most uncomfortable-looking of all the beds; 'the last comer always has to take it.'

Anna sat on her box, and glanced round curiously, then her eyes filled with tears, which she tried in vain to force back.

'You had better take off your things, and come down to tea,' Miss Wilson said, apathetically. 'I must go, and I might as well show you the way to the dining-room.'

'Will Miss Chalfont be there?' Anna asked, as she laid aside her bonnet and gloves. 'I should so like to see her!'

Do you

'No; she will be in the show-room now. know her?' Miss Wilson said in a voice that betrayed extreme surprise at any one wanting to see the governor's daughter.

'We were at school together, and were great friends,' Anna replied, as she stumbled down the steep, dark stairs.

'Oh! then you will be in her department of course. I don't envy you. She's extremely hard to please. No one stays in the show-room long. If it were not

for her, we would often get out ten minutes earlier in the evening. Two steps, mind. This is the diningroom!'

It was a long, narrow apartment in the basement, with a large table and several chairs ranged round it. The gas was alight, and added to the intense heat and closeness of the room; the floor was littered with crumbs, and the walls and ceiling dull and discoloured. Not an inviting room by any means, and with the closed windows and blazing gas it seemed to Anna as if she should be suffocated. Nor was the weak, half-cold tea, and thick bread and butter, very tempting fare to a weary, disappointed traveller. However, it was a word of welcome, and the sight of a familiar face Anna missed most of all, and she ventured to ask one of the girls, who sat near her, if she thought Miss Chalfont had heard of her arrival.

'Yes, I know she did; I heard the governor tell her!' was the reply; and then Anna's heart seemed to stand still for a moment. Could it be that Clara no longer considered her as a friend, that she was ashamed of her in her altered circumstances?

After a few moments' reflection, however, she resolved not to let Clara's coldness cast her down. It would be poor courage to be disheartened and downcast at the very outset, so she forced back her tears, and tried to eat something, though each mouthful nearly choked her. Then she entered into conversation with the girls; told them in a few words her little history, and learned theirs. They were all pitifully alike. Four out of five were situated much as Anna was, save that she was the only one fatherless, and the only one who was quite friendless in London.

From them, too, she learned the routine of Mr. Chalfont's shop. Business began at eight, and they closed at eight, except on Saturdays, when they kept open till eleven, and during 'sales,' which were very frequent. They had fourteen girls in all, and four young men. Mr. Chalfont, or the 'Governor,' as they called him, was always about; first in the shop, and last to leave it, and was not a very hard master if he was let alone. 'But Miss Clara is dreadful!' one girl said lowering her voice. 'Nothing escapes her! and she's always finding fault!'

'Yes, even when you do your best,' a slight, fairhaired girl said, sadly. 'I'm sure I keep my stock nicely, and try to sell as well as I can, but I can't force people to take things they don't want, or don't like. I would not buy goods myself if they did not suit me. Do you know, I asked Mr. Ramsay to-day

to find me a berth in the West End. I can't stand this much longer!'

'He can, if he likes, and he's very kind,' another girl remarked. You would just do for a mantle show-room, Miss Lacy. For myself, though I hate this place, I'll stay as long as I can, because you really do learn your business, and we do a fine, pushing trade!'

'Too pushing for me,' Miss Lacy remarked, rising from the table. 'What department are you in, Miss Bently? I did not think we had a vacancy anywhere!'

'I really don't know,' Anna replied. 'I understand gloves a little--not much.'

'Hush!' Miss Wilson interrupted, holding up a warning finger, and in another moment Mr. Chalfont entered the room.

'Late over your tea, young ladies,' he said, with a glance round. Ah! Miss Bently, I think. Miss Lacy, this young lady is to be with you. Gloves, ribbons, and laces.' And without another word he left the room, followed by all the girls.

'I'm sorry you are to be with me,' Miss Lacy said, as they went upstairs. Miss Clara superintends the millinery, and, of course, comes a good deal to the "laces" and "ribbons;" however, perhaps, as you're an old friend she may be kinder to you than she is to me,' and the girl sighed wearily. Anna smothered an inclination to sigh, too.

'What's the good of it?' she said, giving herself a little shake. 'I must learn, and no one can do that without some trouble, and the sooner I begin the better !'

The shop was full of people, and Anna wondered how the litter and confusion that seemed to reign supreme, both on the counters and the long tables down the middle of the shop, could ever be cleared away by eight o'clock; but when the customers departed and the shutters were put up, things were put to rights as if by magic; parcels were deftly tied up, boxes put away, and as each girl made her department perfectly neat and tidy she left the shop. Miss Lacy Miss Lacy was the last; her stock required careful arranging, and Anna stood watching closely in order that she might know how to help the next day. When all was finished both girls went upstairs together, and Isabel Lacy sank wearily on her bed. Three other girls were dressing Three other girls were dressing hastily; one was ready and urging the others to be quick: Aren't you coming, Belle?' one cried. 'We're going up West.'

'I can't; I'm so utterly tired, and have such a pain in my chest I can hardly breathe,' and almost before she had done speaking the girls started without her. They were not interested in pains, and every

None

moment of the summer evening was precious. of them had taken the slightest notice of Anna. She stood by the open window, gazing down into the street, lost in wonder mixed with terror. The lamps were lit, and the figures hurrying to and fro cast weird shadows, while the roar of traffic and the shrieking of trains ascended like ceaseless, discordant thunder. For a quarter of an hour she stood silent, not thinking, only feeling that she was alone in London, launched on the great ocean of life! Would she make the voyage bravely, keeping always the glorious haven of 'Perfect Peace' in view; or would she drift aimlessly, become wrecked on the shoreward shallows of youth and pleasure, not daring to take the helm and steer direct for the only safe port? How shall I perform the voyage?' she said, half aloud; and then in the close, oppres sive room, there came to her an odour of flowers, a scent of roses that made her heart leap, for they spoke of home-of the mother, and Edna, and the future that might be.

'I will steer bravely, with God's help,' said Anna to herself; and then she turned to place her bunch of roses (gathered with such love and pleasure for Clara) in water. Isabel Lacy, lying pale and languid on her bed, breathed a deep sigh of pleasure.

'How sweet they are, Miss Bently! Dear, fragrant, old cabbage-roses and maiden-blushes! and what exquisite "Glory's!" Oh, I am so fond of flowers!"

'So am I,' Anna replied, with equal enthusiasm ; and I am so sorry, Miss Lacy, to see you so ill!'

'Oh, I'm not really ill, thanks, only a good bit weary and depressed. I dare say if I could make an effort and get out into the air it would do me good, but I can't! I suppose I really want a rest! I have been two years here, and never one day out of London, and the heat and closeness make me so faint. I believe if I got in a better ventilated, less busy and crowded shop, I would not feel so ill at night. And then we have no amusement here. There's nothing to do but walk through the tiresome, noisy streets, and run the risk of having people speak to you rudely. I prefer staying indoors!'

'Are all shops in London like this?' Anna asked, curiously.

'Oh, dear, no! there are houses of business in which girls are made extremely comfortable: have pleasant sitting-rooms, with couches, easy-chairs, bright fires in winter, and a good library; but, of course, they are the best shops, and have the best assistants. We must all serve and wait, you know! I have even heard that there is a Society for helping business girls by teaching them to help themselves. There are Lodges founded where they can reside while out of

situation, and best of all, places at the seaside where they can reside cheaply, and at the same time have the benefit of good care and cheerful, refined society. If I were only able to get about I should endeavour to learn more about the Society. It ought to be a great blessing to girls situated as I am and as you are. Suppose, Miss Bently, that you did not please 'the Governor,' and he sent you away at an hour's notice, what would you do? Suppose you were sent away to-morrow?'

'I'm afraid I should have to go home to my mother,' Anna replied, sadly. I don't see what else I could do.'

'It would be the best thing you could do, if you have sufficient money!'

'But I haven't,' Anna exclaimed. 'I have only six shillings!'

'Many a girl has been dismissed at a moment's notice with even less than that, Miss Bently. Perhaps she has been foolish and extravagant, and spent her month's salary on a fashionable hat or bonnet; perhaps she has anticipated it by buying some really requisite articles. It's all the same at the end; her account is balanced against her salary. She has got to go. I have often asked myself where I should go if I were suddenly dismissed. I always try to keep at least a month's salary clear; but it's so hard when you want to help people, and my home, which is only with a step-mother, is in Carlisle. I often think about these things when I lie here, too tired to go out, and it seems to me that our life is a very sad one. No one knows us; no one cares for us, except-except very

often people we were much safer not to know! But there! Don't look so frightened, Miss Bently. You will find out all those things yourself-only too soon!' 'I'd much rather find out all about that Society,' Anna said, eagerly. Surely it was a grand idea to establish places where girls might go to in difficulty!'

'Yes, if they were only better known. Are you fond of reading? have you got any books, Miss Bently?' 'Very few here; but I am fond of reading.' 'I wish you had something to read to me now.' 'Do you like poetry? If you do I could repeat some to you,' Anna said, shyly. 'I know a great deal by heart!'

'Oh, that's splendid! I love poetry, and I'll never rest till I get into a house where there's a library and a sitting-room. Do say something.'

Anna sat down and repeated, 'The May Queen,' 'The Lord of Burleigh,' and the introduction to Marmion;' and when she finished, Isabel Lacy stood up and kissed her affectionately; 'Thank you so much; I have not enjoyed anything so well for years, and if I possibly can, I'll take you to church-to Westminster Abbey-on Sunday. I'm sure you would like it, and perhaps some evening when you don't care to go out you will repeat me some more poetry.'

Anna promised willingly, and as she lay down to rest she could not help thinking that her new acquaintance, Miss Lacy, was a much nicer and more sympathetic companion than Clara Chalfont had ever been, and her first night in London ended more pleasantly than it began.

(To be continued.)

JOLDEN daffodils are springing,

Burnishing the copse around; Sweetly, sweetly, birds are singing To the Spring, when 'Love is crowned.'

See two lovers slow advancing

Through the little woodland way; Round their feet the flowers are dancing, Greeting thus their wedding-day. Lovers? Yes, though birds are singing On their fiftieth wedding morn, And the golden bells are ringing To their golden wedding's dawn. Lovers are they now, as ever

In the spring time long ago; Nought has come their love to sever, Through years passing swift or slow.

Now the lover plucks a flower,

In his sweetheart's dress to twine, Saying, 'Love, in such an hour First you promised to be minc.

'We have had full many a sorrow;
But, through winter days of pain
Love has warmed us, and the morrow
Has brought back the Spring again.
'Time has brought our Golden Wedding
While our hearts still throb with love,
And the golden path we're treading
Speaks of golden homes above.'

Then she turns, no sign of grieving
In her eyes so free from care,
Whispers, Though this land we're leaving,
We shall meet the Spring-tide there.'

Golden daffodils are springing

In their pathway all around; Sweetly, sweetly, birds are singing

To the Spring, when 'Love is crowned.'

'Love is crowned' with fragrant flowers, And the birds loud anthems sing; 'Love is crowned,' through sun and showers, With the golden flowers of Spring.

D. H.