Three days after leaving Suez they saw, for the first time, the Southern
Cross, and, on the following morning, they steamed into what, at first
sight, Fred and Charlie thought was land, but was simply a wide streak
of floating sand which had been blown out to sea during a sand-storm.
At night they were now permitted to sleep on deck--a boon which all
three appreciated highly. They took their blankets and pillows on to the
poop, and slept with greater comfort than they had experienced for many
days, though one night they were caught in a heavy thunder-shower.
One morning, when they went on deck, they found it literally strewn with
flying fish. The ship's rats had evidently had a good feed, for many of
the fish were gnawed and bitten.
'Would you like some flying fish for breakfast, gentlemen?' the cook
said to the three passengers as they stood looking at the stranded fish.
'Are they good?' Charlie inquired, suspiciously.
'First class,' the cook declared; so Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang had
flying fish for breakfast.
'I can't say that I consider them "first class,"' Fred said when he had
eaten two of them, 'but I am glad that I shall be able to say that I
have eaten one.'
'Eaten two,' Charlie said, but Fred ignored the interruption.
'I make a practice of tasting any new dish I come across,' he continued.
'When we get to China,' Charlie said, 'Ping Wang will have the pleasure
of offering you puppy-dog pie.'
Ping Wang smiled serenely.
'I don't think that you will find Chinese food so bad as you imagine,'
he said. 'Certainly it will be better than what we had to eat on the
_Sparrow-hawk_.'
While they were looking at a heap of dead fish, the captain shouted to
them to come over to the starboard side; and on doing so they beheld a
shoal of small fish being chased by big ones. To escape their pursuers
the small fish jumped out of the water, and were instantly seized by the
gulls, a flock of which were hovering around. The gulls had a splendid
feast, several hundred of small fish being eaten by them before the
_Twilight_ steamed away from the shoal.
It was not long before the _Twilight_ arrived at Aden, where they all
went ashore for a short time.
After they left Aden the days were extremely monotonous, for there was
nothing to be seen but the ocean.
'I shall be jolly glad when the voyage is at an end,' Charlie declared
when they had passed Ceylon without catching a glimpse of it.
'So shall I,' Fred answered, 'but it won't be much longer, and then the
fun will begin.'
'I hope,' Ping Wang said, 'that you will not mind being dressed as
Chinamen.'
'But, my dear fellow,' Fred replied, 'if we were dressed as Chinamen, we
should not deceive any one. Our faces are not at all Chinese.'
'I can alter that by shaving your eyebrows.'
'Very likely, but Chinamen without pigtails would be as absurd as a
wingless bird.'
'I will buy two pigtails,' Ping Wang declared, calmly.
'What! Surely Chinamen don't wear false pigtails?' Charlie exclaimed.
'Thousands of them do, but, of course they keep it as secret as do your
English ladies who wear false hair.'
'But how do they fix it to their head? Stick it on to their bald pates
with gum?'
'Oh, no! Chinamen are never quite bald--at least, I have never met any
who are--and the pigtail is fixed to what hair they have. My reason for
advising you not to have your hair cut in Port Said was that I wanted
you to have long hair by the time we reached Hongkong. I think that it
is already long enough for pigtails to be attached.'
Charlie was delighted at the prospect of having to don Chinese attire,
but Fred was far from pleased. He had provided himself with an excellent
khaki campaigning suit, and did not at all like the idea of its lying
idle. However, after some further conversation, Ping Wang succeeded in
convincing him that, for the success of their plans for recovering the
idol, it was necessary that he and Charlie should pass themselves off as
Chinese.
'We shall have to eat our food with chop-sticks I suppose?' Charlie
remarked.
'Certainly,' Ping Wang replied.
'Then lend me yours, and I'll start practising at once. I don't want to
be starved when I get to China.'
Ping Wang lent his chop-sticks willingly, and having obtained some
boiled rice from the cook, Charlie practised getting it into his mouth.
It was an easier task than he had imagined, and when he had become
proficient, he passed the chop-sticks on to Fred, who at once set to
work to become as accomplished as his brother. Long before they arrived
at Hongkong, Fred and Charlie found it as easy to eat with chop-sticks
as with a knife and fork.
(_Continued on page 291._)
ONE WAS MISSING.
Two men once stopped at a French inn, and gave in charge of the
landlady, who was a widow, a bag of money, telling her to give it up to
neither of them unless they were both together. A little while
afterwards one of the men came alone and asked the landlady to give up
the money under the pretence that his companion had to make an important
payment immediately. The widow had paid little attention to what had
been said to her before, and now, forgetting all about it, gave up the
bag. The rogue disappeared with it so quickly that the landlady asked
herself if she had not made a mistake.
The next day the other man turned up, and made the same request as his
comrade had done the previous day, and when the widow told him what had
happened, he went into a passion, and summoned her for the loss of his
money.
Some one who heard of the poor woman's plight advised her to say that
she was ready to bring forth the money on the original terms. She asked
the plaintiff to produce his comrade. The argument was found plausible
by the court, and as the thief took care not to come back, his comrade
had to give up his claim.
W. YARWOOD.
PUSSY'S PLAYMATE.
Many instances of curious animal friendships have been recorded, but not
many are stranger than that which a correspondent of the _Field_ relates
of a kitten and a peacock in his own grounds. The kitten was a half-wild
one, living in the shrubberies near the house. All its brothers and
sisters had been destroyed or taken away, and the kitten must have felt
very lonely when there were none of its own kind to play with. Being
very young and playful, it felt that it must have a friend and playmate
of some kind, and it looked round to find one. There was a handsome
peacock in the grounds, and pussy admired him very much, and thought she
would like to play with him. So she tried to form an acquaintance, and,
as the peacock was not half so vain as he looked, she succeeded very
well. They were soon so friendly that pussy could rub against him and
box his ears with impunity; she even tried to scramble upon his back. He
took all her play in good part, and seemed to enjoy it quite as much as
she did. Perhaps he was flattered by pussy's admiration, or perhaps he
felt a true friendship for his strange companion. Whichever it was, he
always looked out for his little playmate, and was evidently pleased to
see her.
W. A. A.
[Illustration: "The peacock took all her play in good part."]
[Illustration: "The cat washed the jackdaw in its turn."]
STRANGE CHILDREN.
We have all seen instances of the affection and care which most animals
give to their helpless or nearly helpless offspring. The cat spends
nearly all her day coiled up in some quiet, cosy corner with her family
of kittens, and when she leaves them for a few minutes, to stretch her
limbs and seek some refreshment for herself, the least squeak of one of
her children will bring her back to its side. The hen struts about the
farmyard surrounded by her chickens, and at the least appearance of
danger the brood runs for shelter under her wings. When the lamb in the
field strays from its mother's side she is soon alarmed, and shows her
fear by her anxious bleating, which does not cease until the lamb
returns to her. And thus it is with nearly every animal, tame or wild.
Each gives proofs, if we could only see and understand them, of a
wonderful and beautiful love for her young.
This motherly care is not quite like the ordinary friendship which one
animal may have for another. A cat and a dog may be good friends all
their lives. But, though the cat loves her kittens before all things
while they are young and weak, later on, when they are sufficiently
grown in size and strength to take good care of themselves, her
affection gradually dies away, and she becomes indifferent to their
wants. Sometimes she will even drive them away from her.
Another feature of this parental love is what might almost be called its
unthinking strength. The mother animal feels her affections so strong
that she cannot restrain them, and she often bestows them upon the
strangest animals, along with her own young ones, or when she has been
deprived of her own offspring. A hen will hatch ducks' eggs, and take
the same care of the ducklings which she would have taken of her own
chickens. I have heard of a hen taking charge of three young ferrets for
a fortnight. They were placed in her nest because their own mother had
died, and she took to them at once, and nestled down over them just as
if they had been chickens. They were too helpless to follow her about,
as chickens would have done, and she had to sit with them almost the
whole time. She combed out their hair with her bill, just as she would
have preened the feathers of chickens. The ferrets were fed by their
owner, and they were taken away from the nest before they were old
enough to do the hen any harm.
An even stranger instance of this misplaced affection on the part of a
parent has been seen at a railway station recently, according to the
newspapers. A cat in the goods shed had three kittens, which she was
bringing up in the usual way. Soon after the kittens were born, some of
the railwaymen found a young jackdaw, and put it with them. The cat made
no objection, but received the bird kindly, and gave just as much care
to it as to the kittens. The workmen fed the bird, while the cat took
every other care of it, and even washed it, in its turn, with the
kittens. The rearing was quite successful, and the bird grew up strong
and healthy.
W. A. ATKINSON.
A QUEER ADDRESS ON A POST-CARD.
On Coronation Day (August 9th, 1902), a number of balloons filled with
natural gas were sent off from Heathfield, near Tunbridge Wells. One of
these balloons was picked up on August 10th at Ulm, in Germany, having
travelled the six hundred miles in less than twenty-four hours.
Notice of this fact was sent in German by the finder on a post-card, but
he evidently did not understand English, for he copied the wording on
the little medal fastened to the balloon: '_Natural gas carried me from
Heathfield, Sussex._'
With these words for address, the post-card, after some delay, reached
Heathfield, and was delivered to the manager of the Natural Gas Works.
S. CLARENDON.
PUZZLERS FOR WISE HEADS.
14.--DECAPITATIONS.
1. Behead weak, and leave a bar.
2. Behead kept too long, and leave an interesting narrative.
3. Behead a firm hard animal substance, and leave a single number.
4. Behead to agitate, and leave a sea-fish.
5. Behead sudden terror, and leave what we should all do.
6. Behead to melt, and leave a berry.
C. J. B.
[_Answers on page 339._]
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES ON PAGE 263.
12.--1. Rigid.
2. China.
3. Shovel.
4. Shrewd.
5. Stage.
6. Thanet.
13.--
K
NET
STARE
SCATTER
BLESSINGS
THE KING OF THE 'PEELERS.'
About the year 1845, a 'Ragged School,' as it was called, was started in
a very poor quarter of London, but so turbulent and noisy were the boys
that at last the teachers found themselves obliged to engage the
services of a policeman to keep order.
This policeman was himself a 'bit of a scholar,' and had also a love of
boys, and he suggested that if he took a class in the school it might be
the best way of maintaining order amongst the unruly crew.
The experiment was tried, and proved a great success. The worst and
noisiest boys were drafted into the policeman's class, and he somehow
tamed them all. More than that, his class was so popular that all the
boys wanted to belong to it, and they gave their constable the title of
'King of the Peelers.'
'Peelers,' a name which has been nearly ousted by our slang word
'Bobby.' was derived from Sir Robert Peel, who instituted the police.
'Bobby,' of course, comes from Peel's Christian name.
X.
AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(_Continued from page 287._)
It was early one morning when the _Twilight_ arrived at Hongkong, and
the Pages and Ping Wang at once went ashore in a _sampan_, or native
boat, to present a letter of introduction which they had brought from
England.
Although it was only half-past six when they arrived at the Hongkong
merchant's office, they found the manager, to whom their letter was
addressed, already hard at work. He had received, some days before, from
the head of the firm in London, notification of the Pages being on their
way to Hongkong, and greeted them very cordially.
'I had hoped,' he said, after a few minutes' conversation, 'that you
would have been here a day or two ago, for there is a very decent boat
starting for Tien-tsin this afternoon, on which you would have been very
comfortable. The next one will not be leaving until to-day three weeks.'
'Then let us start this afternoon,' Charlie exclaimed.
'I am quite willing,' Ping Wang said, 'if we can get you and Fred
disguised in time.--As we are going to my native village, which is a
very anti-foreign place,' he continued, addressing the manager, 'I think
that it will be wise to have my friends disguised as Chinamen.'
'If they can act up to their disguise the suggestion is an excellent
one,' the manager declared, 'for there are rumours that the Boxers or
Big Sword Society are threatening to drive out all the foreigners in the
land. If you wish to go on by this afternoon's boat there should be no
difficulty about getting your friends disguised in time. I will send for
my barber and tailor at once.'
The manager sent for the barber and tailor, and also dispatched a
message to the skipper of the boat which was sailing that afternoon, the
_Canton_. The Pages and Ping Wang had breakfast when these orders had
been given, and long before they had finished their meal the barber
arrived, the tailor following him very quickly. After breakfast the
manager took his guests up to his bedroom, and called to the barber and
the tailor to follow them. The latter had brought with him an excellent
assortment of Chinese garments, and from them Ping Wang speedily
selected suitable clothes for his English friends. He also chose, with
the aid of the barber, a couple of splendid pigtails. Charlie having
paid for the goods, the tailor departed, leaving the barber to begin
shaving the Englishmen's heads and eyebrows.
Fred was the first to be operated on, and Charlie laughed heartily when
he saw the alteration which the loss of eyebrows made in the appearance
of his brother. The barber was a quick worker, and turning his attention
to Fred's head, speedily removed with scissors and razor a large portion
of his hair. He found, however, that although Fred's hair had been
allowed to grow during the voyage, it was not sufficiently long for a
pigtail to be tied securely to it. Therefore he sewed the pigtail to the
inside of a skull-cap, and placed the cap on Fred's head.
'It is very well done,' Ping Wang admitted, when Fred was fully dressed
in Chinese garments. 'If I had glanced at you casually out of doors, I
should not have suspected that you were not a Chinaman.'
'But I don't like the idea of wearing this little cap,' Fred protested;
'I shall get sunstroke.'
'When you go into the sun you can wear a beehive,' Ping Wang replied,
pointing to several big Chinese hats which the tailor had left for
inspection.
Charlie's disguise was completed with even more speed than Fred's had
been.
'It's splendid,' Charlie declared, as he surveyed himself in the glass;
'don't you think so, Fred?'
A few minutes later the barber was dismissed, and the four of them
returned to the sitting-room, where the skipper of the _Canton_ was
awaiting them. He shook hands with the manager and greeted the other
three men in Chinese. Charlie was nearest to them, and feeling that
politeness demanded that he should say something, blurted out, '_Je ne
parle pas Chinese._'
The skipper looked puzzled, and the manager, who was already in a
laughing humour, roared, but Ping Wang was very serious.
'I say, Charlie,' he exclaimed, 'do remember that you are not to answer
any one who addresses you in Chinese, or we shall be discovered.'
The skipper looked at Charlie in surprise. It was the first time that he
had heard a Chinaman called Charlie.
'Two of these gentlemen are Englishmen,' the manager explained. 'What do
you think of their disguise?'
'It is excellent. If I had not heard you speak,' he added, addressing
Ping Wang, 'I should never have believed that you were an Englishman.'
'I'm not one,' Ping Wang declared merrily; 'I'm a Chinaman.'
'Well, who am I to believe?' the skipper exclaimed in bewilderment.
'They are the Englishmen,' the manager answered, pointing to Fred and
Charlie; 'the other gentleman is a Chinaman. But to come to the point, I
want you to take my three friends to Tien-tsin. They wish to be
undisturbed, and do not want it to be known that they are not Chinamen.
Therefore let every one--even the mate--fancy that they are Celestials.'
'I understand. I will have the saloon berths got ready at once. What
time will they come aboard? I shall sail about four.'
'Will half-past three be early enough?'
'Half-past three, sharp, will do.'
The skipper departed a few minutes later, leaving the three travellers
alone with the manager.
'Let us sit in the verandah,' the manager suggested, and for fully two
hours they sat in long chairs chatting together, and watching the busy
scene in the street below.
'Would it not be a good idea if we went for a short stroll?' Fred asked,
after a time. 'It would accustom us to appearing in public in our
Chinese garb.'
'That is a good suggestion,' Charlie declared. 'Don't you think so, Ping
Wang?'
'You would be safer here,' said Ping Wang, 'but if you wish to go out, I
will come with pleasure. We must not go far. We needn't wear our
beehives. We will keep in the shade.'
[Illustration: "Fred was the first to be operated on."]
'We mustn't walk three abreast, I suppose?' Fred remarked, as they
quitted the premises.
'No,' Ping Wang answered. 'It will be better to walk single file. I'll
walk in the rear, so that I can keep watch on you, and hurry forward if
any of my countrymen speak to you. Don't walk fast.'
Charlie stepped into the street, Fred followed, and Ping Wang brought up
the rear. At first Charlie and Fred felt decidedly uncomfortable, and
fancied that every one who glanced at them had discovered that they were
not Chinamen.
(_Continued on page 300._)
[Illustration: The Giant's Hall, Luray.]
WONDERFUL CAVERNS.
VIII.--THE CAVERNS OF LURAY.
The United States of America, forming such a huge country, seem to have
been provided by Nature with fittings on a similar scale. Niagara, the
Rocky Mountains, the big trees of the Yosemite Valley, the wonders of
Yellowstone Park and the Mammoth Cave are instances of this, and the
caverns of Luray, some eighty miles from Washington, are both in size
and beauty not unworthy of their mighty mother-land. They were only
brought to light in 1878, although the existence of several small
hollows in the neighbourhood had suggested that larger caverns might be
found, and it was when actually looking for another entrance into one of
the known grottoes that a Mr. Andrew Campbell accidentally came upon
this wonder of the world. With an eye to business, the find was without
delay turned to profit, and a Company formed which has lighted the
caverns with electricity and put staircases and paths for the
convenience of visitors, who flock there in great numbers. Some idea of
the vast size of the caves may be gained from the fact that the electric
wire is three and a half miles long, and that this only illuminates the
chief halls and galleries. Each visitor carries a tin reflector to
penetrate dark corners and smaller passages.
One curious cavern is called the Fish Market, from rows of fish-shaped
stalactites hanging from the roof, looking exactly like bass or catfish
hung on a string. Another is known as the Toyshop, from quantities of
stalactites twisted into all possible shapes, many of which suggest some
well-known plaything. In one place is a huge cascade of alabaster
resembling a frozen waterfall, and frequently the walls appear to be
hung with curtains and draperies of gleaming white, or tinted with all
shades of beautiful colours. In one cavern six curious blade-shaped
stalactites are called the Major Chimes. When struck by the hand they
give out sweet musical tones, the vibrations of which last from a minute
to a minute and a half, and resound to far-distant parts of the caverns.
One enormous stalagmite bears the name of the Hollow Column, and
measures one hundred feet round by forty feet high. This column shows
plainly the overwhelming force of a current of water, as it is pierced
from top to bottom, and visitors climb right up inside to explore the
great galleries above the Giant's Hall. Learned people say that some
time in the days of long ago, when the cave was filled with angry water
trying to find a way of escape, the flood forced a passage right through
the heart of this huge stalagmite, and on subsiding left a hollow column
where it had found a solid one. The 'Tower of Babel' is another
wonderful sight, with twenty-two rows of dwarf columns, and from it we
pass into the Giant's Hall, where the colossal stalagmites look like
monster chess kings and queens standing on pedestals. One of these is
particularly beautiful, being white below and changing above to a
delicate rose-pink, the colour of the inside of a shell.
One enormous stalactite was taken from the roof, and presented to the
Smithsonian Institution at Washington. It weighed a thousand pounds, and
was removed with great care. First it was wrapped all over in cotton
cloth, every little point being separately packed. Then bits of wood
were fitted exactly between the points, and, to prevent any jarring, a
wooden case was built round it while it was still hanging from the roof
of the cave. Then, resting on a scaffolding, it was sawn from the rock,
cautiously lowered, and sent off to its new home.
From marks of claws on the stalagmites, as well as of teeth, it is clear
that some of the caverns have been used by huge animals in former times,
and many impressions of smaller animals are also found, such as wolves,
panthers, rats, and rabbits. These marks are perfectly clear, and they
must be of great age, as the stalagmites on which they are found have
grown into huge pillars carrying the records of their visitors up with
them far out of reach.
In one cavern, known as the Round Room, arrow and spear heads have been
found, proving that human beings formerly made use of the caves.
One peculiar feature of these caves are what appear to be limpid pools,
though really they are quite dry now. An unfortunate traveller slipped
into one of these many years ago, when the pool was not fully hardened,
and the impression of his form is still quite clearly seen, whilst the
pool, in honour of him, is known as Chapman's Lake.
THE SONG OF THE BROOM.
Dust! dust! dust! dust!
Carpet, curtain, window, floor;
Right, left, thrust, thrust--
Clouds are rising more and more!
Sweep, sweep, sweep, sweep--
Kitchen, parlour, passage, stair;
Sweep, sweep, sweep, sweep--
That's what _I'm_ obliged to bear!
Dust, dust, dust, dust,
In the lofty attic found;
Dust, dust, dust, dust,
In the cellar underground.
Cobwebs, spiders, beetles, flies,
Nooks and corners dark and drear,
That is where my pathway lies,
Month by month and year by year;
Buckets, boxes, brushes, boots,
Near to me for ever dwell;
No one lets me share the fruits
Of the work I do so well;
Boys and girls will often play
In some clean and pleasant room,
Making litter all the day,
For the poor unhappy broom.
No one shows me gratitude;
No one cares a jot for me,
For when work is done I'm stood
In some gloomy scullery.
But no matter! time will come--
When my hair is worn away,
I shall rest, while some new broom
Does what I must do to-day.
ONE MORE CHANCE.
'I want you to look after the new boy, Angus,' said Mrs. Macdonald, the
wife of the head master, to her son.
'Oh, Mother, I know that means he is either a molly-coddle or a black
sheep. I remember the time I had when you set me on to look after young
Smith.'
'My boy, I want your help. I am sure you will not refuse it.'
'Well, fire away, Mother. Let me know the worst,' and Angus put on a
resigned look.
'It is Andrews, the boy who has been sent home from India,' Mrs.
Macdonald explained. 'He has been brought up so badly. His mother died
when he was a baby, and he has been quite neglected, and left to native
servants. His father writes that he hopes English school-life will break
him of the bad habits he has formed, but I am afraid it will be no easy
matter. Of course, I am telling you this in confidence, Angus, but I
cannot help thinking of the fight the poor boy has before him, and I
want you to understand it and to befriend him.'
'Well, this is a nice treat for me,' Angus said. 'But you know, Mother,
you always get your own way, and so I suppose I must do the best I can
for him.'
'Thank you, my boy; I knew I could count on you. I want Andrews to have
a real chance.'
'How about _me_, though?' asked Angus, with a smile. 'Perhaps I shall
learn his bad habits, instead of breaking him of them!'
'I am not afraid,' said his mother, proudly, as she left him.
A month later Angus Macdonald told himself he had not done much towards
fulfilling his promise, although he had faithfully tried.
Andrews was a most difficult boy to deal with. He was untruthful, and
seemed to have no idea of honour, and he had a hot, passionate temper.
On the other hand, he could evidently be led by his affections to some
extent. He liked Macdonald, who had taken his part once or twice when
the other boys were bullying him, and he would have done anything to
show his gratitude.
'But I cannot stick up for you if you are not straight, Andrews,'
Macdonald had told him plainly. 'And you will never get on here unless
you act on the square and tell the truth always.'
'Indeed, I will try,' Andrews would say, and within an hour or so he
would very likely be detected in some mean, deceitful act, which would
make Macdonald inclined to throw up his charge and let him go his own
way. Then he would remember he was the boy's only friend, and would make
up his mind to give him another chance.
Howard, one of the bigger boys, lost no opportunity of bullying Andrews.
He was no friend of Macdonald's, and so he took a delight in making the
younger boy show off his worst points.
'Hullo, nigger, keep your hair on!' he said tauntingly one day when
Andrews was beginning to get angry about some trick that had been played
on him. The words made Andrews furious.
'I am as English as you are; how dare you call me that name?' he cried,
and flew at his tormentor, who of course made short work of him. In a
moment Andrews was lying on the floor, with Howard ready to upset him if
he got up again. But after a time Howard let him go, and he walked away,
vowing vengeance in his heart.
The same evening he was in the play-room alone, and he remembered that
Howard had received a hamper the day before, the contents of which were
packed away in his cupboard.
The temptation was too great. First, there was his love of sweet things;
then his long-accustomed habit of never denying himself anything he
wanted, if he could get it by fair means or foul. And his lessons in
honour had been learnt such a little time that the disgrace and wrong of
stealing scarcely troubled him. Finally, he would be doing his enemy an
injury, and the thought of revenge was sweet to him.
He had cut some rich plum-cake, and was eagerly devouring it, when
Howard came suddenly into the room and caught him in the act.
'You young rascal!' he cried, catching hold of the younger boy and
tweaking his ear so unmercifully that he cried out with pain. 'I shall
just make you pay for this.'
At the same moment Macdonald appeared in the doorway.
'What's the row?' he asked.
'Why, your precious friend is the row,' Howard said. 'I hope you are
proud of him--the little thief! I will leave you to enjoy one another's
company,' and he turned away, not sorry to have such a story to tell the
other boys.
'Now you see what you have done!' Macdonald said to the culprit, who was
hanging his head, remorse having overtaken him. 'How can you hope to
keep your friends if you bring disgrace on them?'
'I didn't think,' murmured the unhappy boy. 'Oh, yes, I see now! Of
course, you can never speak again to a boy who is a thief. It doesn't
matter. I don't care what becomes of me now,' and he turned miserably
away.
There was such a forlorn look about him that Macdonald was touched in
spite of his anger. There flashed into his mind his mother's words, and
also those others from an even Higher Authority--'until seventy times
seven.'
'Hold hard, Andrews,' he said. 'I will give you one more chance.'
Then the boy broke down and promised he would never forget his friend's
kindness, but would fight hard to win the victory over his faults.
And although he did not succeed without some more falls, he did, to the
best of his ability, keep his word, and in the end took an honourable
place in the school.
[Illustration: "'You young rascal!'"]
[Illustration: Andrée's Departure for the North Pole.]
CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.
IX.--HERR ANDRÉE AND HIS BALLOON.
On the 7th June, 1896, the steam-ship _Virgo_ sailed from the port of
Gothenburg in Sweden with a very distinguished company on board. Rising
young engineers, students of the Stockholm Polytechnic, and gentlemen of
scientific fame, had engaged themselves as common sailors, so deep was
their interest in the object for which the _Virgo_ sailed. The principal
person on board was Herr Solomon Auguste Andrée, who, with two
companions, Dr. Erkholm and Dr. Strindberg, was bent on making an
adventurous attempt to reach the North Pole by means of a balloon. The
_Virgo_ was therefore steering for the lonely shores of Spitzbergen, six
hundred miles south of the Pole. Here the balloon would be inflated to
carry Herr Andrée and his companions (it was hoped) over the rest of
that pathless, snowbound journey. The balloon itself, at present, lay
carefully packed in its berth, together with the car and the apparatus
for making the necessary gas. It had been manufactured in France a month
before, and while on exhibition for four days at the Champ de Mars, had
been seen by thirty thousand visitors.
But the very finest balloon in the world could not sail against the
wind, and, though on the 27th July it was inflated and quite ready for
flight, the north wind blew steadily down from the Pole as though to
say, 'You are not wanted here! You are not wanted here!'
Herr Andrée and his friends waited patiently for three weeks, and then,
as it still blew from the north, he ordered the gas to be let out and
the silk bag packed for a return to the south. The captain of the
_Virgo_ said that he feared, if they stayed longer, his ship would be
frozen in. The shed which they had erected on Dane's Island was left
standing for use another time, together with the machinery for making
the gas.
Nine months later, on May 30th, 1897, the _Svensksund_ (a ship lent to
the expedition by the King of Sweden) landed Andrée once more at Dane's
Island, and once more he filled his air-ship with gas. This time it had
been considerably increased in size, and measured sixty-six feet in
diameter, with room for one hundred and seventy-six thousand cubic feet
of gas. The globe was made of bands of silk eighteen inches wide,
varying in thickness according to the strains it would have to bear. It
was provided with two additional valves and an arrangement called a
'rending flap.' This flap was intended to avoid bumping, when, at the
end of the voyage, the aeronauts would descend for the last time. A
rope, carrying a small grapnel at one end, was at the other end attached
to the 'flap.' The moment the grapnel was thrown out and caught in the
ground, the tightened rope would tear a large opening in the balloon
and let out all the gas instantaneously. If care in construction had
been all that was necessary to make Herr Andrée's journey a success,
then our story would surely have had a happier ending.
Again, as in 1896, the contrary wind delayed the start, but on July 11th
it veered round to the south, and though it was by no means a settled
wind, Herr Andrée decided to weigh anchor. All was ready. A hasty note
to the King of Sweden was written by the leader. Farewells were spoken,
and the captain leapt into his car.
'Strindberg! Frankel!'[5] he cried, 'we must be off!'
The next moment his two fellow-travellers stood at his side. Each held a
knife with which to cut loose three bags of ballast that kept the
balloon from rising. It was an impressive moment, and those who stood on
that lonely shore to wish Godspeed to the tiny expedition are not likely
to forget the smallest detail of the scene. The ballast fell, and the
'Ornen' (as the balloon was named) rose a little way, being still held
by three strong ropes. Near each of these a sailor stood with a knife
ready to cut the rope the moment Herr Andrée gave the word. A little
more delay, till the great globe swayed to a favourable puff of wind,
and then Herr Andrée called, 'One, two! Cut the ropes!'--and the balloon
rose into the air, while the quiet shores of the lonely little island
echoed the hearty cheers of the company left behind.
From the car of the balloon hung a long 'trailing' rope, which it was
Andrée's intention to keep always in contact with the earth or water,
and by so doing control the direction of the balloon. Between the car
and the balloon itself was an arrangement of three sails, which could be
trimmed to the wind against the resistance of the trailing rope. The
great difficulty in steering balloons has always been that since they
travel at exactly the same speed as the wind, there is nothing for sails
to react against; but by checking the speed of the balloon (just as the
speed of a ship is checked by the water) this difficulty may be got over
to _some_ extent.
So Herr Andrée dropped his trailing rope, and, as he left Dane's Island,
those who had gone to see him off watched the little bubbling wake that
was left behind by the rope. Narrower and narrower it grew in the
distance till it was no more than a silver line, and the vast balloon
above it moved like a grey shadow on the Arctic sky. The three explorers
in the car were soon beyond the reach of sight, but the crew of the
_Svensksund_ never took their eyes from the air-ship till, sailing in a
north-easterly direction at a height of about one hundred and fifty
feet, it disappeared behind a range of low hills.
Eleven days later a message was received by carrier pigeon (the fourth
dispatched by Herr Andrée). It stated that on July 13th, two days after
the departure, all was going well. On August 31st a floating buoy was
found in the Arctic seas, and contained another message, but as it was
dated July 11th it was of less interest than the first.
Since then the explorer and his companions have passed from our
knowledge as completely as the silver wake of his trailing rope has
faded from the Arctic sea. The efforts made to follow its mysterious
path have failed for eight years, and the traveller's fate is another
secret locked in these frozen regions.
JOHN LEA.
FOOTNOTE:
[5] Herr Frankel had taken the place of Dr. Erkholm, who had retired
from the enterprise.
A STRONG MOTIVE.
Robert Louis Stevenson tells of a Welsh blacksmith who, at the age of
twenty-five, could neither read nor write. He then heard a chapter of
_Robinson Crusoe_ read aloud. It was the scene of the wreck, and he was
so impressed by the thought of what he missed by his ignorance, that he
set to work that very day, and was not satisfied until he had learned to
read in Welsh. His disappointment was great when he found all his pains
had been thrown away, for he could only obtain an English copy of the
book. Nothing daunted, he began once more, and learned English, and at
last had the joy and triumph of being able to read the delightful story
for himself.
A strong motive and a steady purpose overcome the greatest difficulties.
M. H.
DIAMONDS.
A man named John O'Reilly died not long ago in a store near Taungs, in
the Kimberley district of South Africa. Few people, perhaps, remember or
know that this man began the great diamond trade of Africa.
The story is quite a romance. In 1867 the baby son of a Mrs. Jacobs
found 'a pretty pebble' near the Orange River, and brought it to his
mother. She showed it to a Boer, who offered to buy it. 'You may have it
as a gift,' laughed the woman; 'there is no value in it.'
The Boer thought otherwise, and showed it to O'Reilly, who was then a
travelling trader. He took it to Colesberg, and there cut his initials
with it on the window of an inn, proving the stone to be a diamond.
It was then shown to the Clerk of the Peace, and finally it reached the
Colonial Secretary, and was sent to the Paris Exhibition, where it was
sold for five hundred pounds, and established the fact that diamonds
could be found in the Colony.
But it was some years yet before people in Cape Colony at all realised
the wealth of diamonds which lay scattered at their very feet. A Boer,
living at Dutoitspan, found a diamond sticking in the mud walls of which
his house was built, and in July, 1871, a man scratched the soil near
Colesberg Kopje with his knife, and unearthed a diamond. A town was
built round it, which has grown into the modern Kimberley.
So, from John O'Reilly's first diamond of five hundred pounds has grown
a great trade, which last year produced diamonds valued at over four
million pounds sterling.
There is little doubt that though Cape diamonds were 'discovered' first
in 1867, they were known in Africa long ago. Stone and bronze
instruments found beside skeletons in the Orange Free State show that
pre-historic miners had been at work, and on an old map of 1750 the
words, 'Here be diamonds' are written across what is now Griqualand
West.
SAD COMPANY IN THE NURSERY.
I found in a nursery corner,
A pocket-knife, pen, and a ball,
And this was the story they told me,
If I can remember it all.
'My beautiful handle was broken,'
The pocket-knife mournfully cried,
'When Alfred forced open the clock-face
To see if old Time was inside.'
'And look,' said the ball with a shudder,
'I'm scratched in a horrible way,
Because through the drawing-room window
He carelessly flung me to-day.'
'And worse,' cried the pen in a passion,
'Worse, worse than their troubles a lot!
I've been in disgrace, since he used me,
For making a terrible blot.'
And then they all cried in a chorus:
'In sorrow we're ending our days,
Because Master Alfred is careless,
And walks in such mischievous ways.'
THE JUMPING MOUSE.
New Jersey, in the United States of America, still has the name given it
when British explorers paid their first visit, but it does not look new
at present, and we can hardly believe that a few hundred years ago
savages roamed in its forests and woods. Many of its old trees have been
cut down, yet some remain to make a pleasant shade, and some curious
wild animals are found in its woodlands, which are very plentiful; there
is the dull-coloured wood-mouse, which often escapes notice amongst the
herbage; the lively, more conspicuous white-footed species; and
especially the jumping mouse, the briskest and most amusing of all.
The jumping mouse is a lover of woods or copses, but it comes also to
the open ground, where, probably, it is in more peril from bird-foes;
and it will visit garden shrubberies, and build a nest for itself in the
corner of some zigzag fence. Some people who have watched this mouse
have told us how active it is by night, but it may often be seen on a
summer's day running home to the nest, with the pouches in its cheeks
full of food, to be hoarded up or given to the young ones. It can run
with great speed, as well as leap. Now and then a mother mouse may be
noticed basking in the sun, her little ones round her, generally keeping
near the nest.
Usually, it is only when in danger or frightened that the little
creature travels along in its peculiar jumping way. It appears that
wherever a jumping mouse is, be it field or woodland, it takes to the
thick grass or underbrush, probably because amongst these it finds the
food required. But in these places it is in peril from enemies coming
suddenly to seize it, and the mouse has a great advantage by being able
to leap, and not run through tangled grass.
[Illustration: The Jumping Mouse.]
People have disagreed as to the distance these mice can jump; five or
six feet has been stated, but that is beyond the fact. A gentleman who
had a tame specimen found that on his parlour carpet it would jump about
two feet, though very likely, if in danger, it would have covered a
greater distance.
When the sharp frosts of autumn have begun, the jumping mouse looks out
for a winter retreat. It is able to dig, and so it burrows down into the
earth, when it is not too hard, and scoops itself a nest. Away from
observation and sheltered from the cold, it curls round, head, tail, and
feet together, eating occasionally from its store, till the spring days
rouse it to fresh energy.
J. R. S. C.
AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(_Continued from page 293._)