Fig. 1.—Aphis, showing "Tracheæ" (greatly magnified). Fig. 2.—"Tracheal Filaments" of Aphis (greatly magnified). Fig. 3.—"Spiracles" of Water Beetle (greatly magnified). Fig. 4.—Section of Crayfish, showing gills (magnified).Fig. 1.—Aphis, showing "Tracheæ" (greatly magnified).Fig. 2.—"Tracheal Filaments" of Aphis (greatly magnified).Fig. 3.—"Spiracles" of Water Beetle (greatly magnified).Fig. 4.—Section of Crayfish, showing gills (magnified).
Animal life cannot be sustained without breathing, though, strange as it may seem, many of the lower animals have no special breathing organs. By breathing, we mean supplying the body with the life-giving oxygen contained in the air. Animals which live in the water breathe by taking in the oxygen held in solution in the water.
In the simplest animals which live in water, the body is only a small 'blob' of jelly, so small that the oxygen passes directly into the body. The bodies of some worms are so delicate that the oxygen easily passes through the outer layers and mixes with the blood within.
In more complicated animals this life-giving gas is conveyed all over the body by means of the blood, which is brought into contact with the water, or the air, by structures known as gills. In the crayfish, for example, the gills are placed above and rise from the bases of the legs, being saved from injury by a broad shield lying behind the head. (In fig.4this shield has been cut away so as to show the gills, markedg, which it really covers.) By means of the circulation of the blood, the crayfish breathes. This blood is carried to the gills and bathed by a constant stream of fresh water, which enters behind the covering and shield, and passes forwards till it comes out on each side of the mouth. The blood, thus refreshed by the oxygen in the water, is carried again all over the body, and in its course loses more and more oxygen, and becomes more and more charged with poisonous gases, which are got rid of on the return of the blood to the gills. The lettersin this figure marks the stump of the leg, which, for the sake of clearness, has been cut off.
In ourselves, the work of breathing, or of purifying the blood, is done by means of the lungs. The lungs are large, spongy organs in the chest, and are continually supplied with fresh air, which passes in through the nose and mouth and down the wind-pipe, by what we call the act of breathing.
Insects take in oxygen in a way quite different from that of the crayfish or mankind. In some larval insects, which live in water, as in some worms, the body is so thin that no special breathing organs are necessary; others breathe by means of gills like those of the crayfish, but arranged differently—sometimes along each side, and sometimes at the tail end of the body. But in the ordinary adult insect the work of breathing is carried on by means of a system of tubes, known as 'tracheæ,' which run all over the body. Into these tubes the air is drawn through a number of holes on the surface of the body, called 'spiracles,' or breathing pores. The tracheæ or tubes are everywhere bathed by the blood, which is thus constantly 'aerated,' or kept fresh.
One very remarkable thing about these tubes is the way they are kept open. A horny, spirally-twisted thread runs through them, and thus they are prevented from closing up by pressure, or by the bending of the body or limbs. In fig.2, this thread is markedc. This plan of keeping open the passage in a tube likely to be blocked by sudden bending, has been imitated by mankind, in making rubber gas tubing, for example. As a plain rubber tube is easily bent, the gas would be in constant danger of being cut off. To prevent this, Nature's patent is usually imitated, and a coil of wire is placed along the inside of the tube. Thus, a sharp bend, such as would instantly obstruct the passage of the gas, is prevented.
The openings at the end of the breathing tubes, on the surface of the insect's body, are known, as we have said, as 'spiracles,' or 'stigmata.' They can be closed at will by special muscles, and, to prevent dust from getting into the tube, the rim of each spiracle has a more or less complicated fringe or strainer. In fig.3the spiracle is shown open, the opening being marked by the lettero. When closed the fringes interlock like clasped fingers.
Fig.1shows the position of the breathing tubes in the aphis or green fly. The spiracles or pores are markedo, the breathing tubest.
Some insects which live in water, such as the water-beetle, breathe air in the same way as their relatives who live on land. To do this they have to come frequently to the surface of the water to take in fresh supplies of air. In the great Dyticus water-beetle this is done in a curious way. The creature, rising to the surface, first thrusts its tail up into the air, and then bending it downwards, lets the air rush in to fill the space between the body and the upper wing-cases. This done, the tail is pressed back again, and the beetle returns to the depths, where the imprisoned air is taken in through the pores into the tubes.
Besides the system of tubes just described, many insects possess a wonderful system of air-cells, which give extra help in breathing during flight. These air-cells are largest in insects which fly most. It is a curious fact that birds have an exactly similar system; in many cases, even the bones of birds are filled with air. It is generally stated, indeed, that birds with the strongest flight have the most 'pneumatic' bones. This not quite true, for the swallow, for example, has the long bones of its wing filled with marrow, and not with air. Other birds, however, like the storks, which fly much, and the owls and nightjars, have all the bones in the body thus filled with air which they obtain from the air-cells.
W. P. Pycraft, F.Z.S., A.L.S.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(Continued from page 227.)
'I shall not be able to make plum duff,' said Charlie to Ping Wang, about half an hour after his loss of the cook's recipe-book.
'There will be a row if the men discover that you don't know how to make it,' Ping Wang declared, looking serious. 'But never mind that, I have something more important to tell you. Come aft; the skipper may be listening to what we are saying.'
They went right to the stem of the trawler and stood against the gunwale.
'No one can come near us without our seeing him,' Ping Wang said, and continued at once: 'Could you swim a mile in a sea like this?'
'I think so.'
'Then let us desert theSparrow-hawkwhen darkness comes on.'
'But where are we to swim to? I don't see any boats within five miles of us.'
Ping Wang pointed to the horizon, where the smoke of about half-a-dozen trawlers was plainly visible.
'That's a fleet of steam trawlers,' he declared, 'and before midnight we shall be among them. When one comes within a mile or so of us, we will jump overboard and swim to her. The skippers and men on the steam trawlers belonging to the large fleets are splendid fellows, and when they hear what a beast Skipper Drummond is, they won't send us back. We must start as soon as possible after the midnight shoot, if there is any trawler near us then.'
'Suppose the skipper thinks we have fallen overboard and sends a boat to rescue us?'
'I don't think that he would take the trouble. But listen! I can hear him on the bridge. Don't let him see us talking, in case he suspects that we are up to something.'
Ping Wang made his way for'ard, while Charlie returned to the galley and busied himself in making buns. He had made some on the previous evening, and although he did not enjoy the one that he tasted, the crew found no fault with them.
As he worked, he could see through the porthole that the fishing fleet was drawing nearer. Some of the trawlers were miles away on the starboard bow, and others on the port.
Three hours later, when it was dark, Charlie counted twenty-five trawlers, and every now and again he could see the mark-ship's rockets piercing the night gloom. At ten o'clock he calculated that the nearest trawler was quite three miles away, and judging from the course the steamers were taking, he began to fear that it would come no nearer. But shortly before the men turned out to haul, Ping Wang popped his head into the galley and beckoned Charlie to come outside.
'As soon as we have hauled and shot,' he said in a whisper, 'we must slip off aft and dive overboard.'
'We shall have to swim nearly two miles.'
'Oh, no; nothing like that distance,' Ping Wang declared, and pointed to a smack on the starboard side which Charlie had not noticed.
'It's a mission ship,' Ping Wang explained, 'and she will lay to until daybreak. By the time that we have hauled and shot we shall be abreast of her, and won't have more than half a mile to swim. The skipper is fast asleep, and, as the mate is not going to disturb him, we shall have a quiet haul.'
A few minutes later, Charlie and Ping Wang were tugging at the cold, dripping net, delighted at the thought that it was the last time they would have to perform such work.
'It's a splendid haul,' the bo's'un called out to the mate, as the net of fish was swung over the pound.
As he spoke, the fish fell with a splash in the pound, and, the catch being extra large, many of the bigger fish jumped out of the enclosure and wriggled and slid about the deck. Charlie and another man picked them up and tossed them back into the pound.
As soon as the net had been let right out again, Charlie walked aft and found that Ping Wang was already there. The other men had gone for'ard to clean and pack the fish.
'Are you ready?' Charlie asked.
'Quite,' Ping Wang answered, and at once they began to undress.
'I shall not take off my under-clothes,' Charlie said, 'in case the water is very cold.'
'Nor will I,' Ping Wang said.
In a few moments both were ready.
'Chinee!' the mate shouted from the bridge. 'Chinee!' the men in the fish-pound repeated.
'They have missed us,' Charlie said. 'I'm off.' He climbed on the starboard gunwale, balanced himself for a moment and then dived into the sea. Ping Wang was after him in an instant.
Charlie saw the sailing-boat and made towards it.
'Let us keep close together,' he said to Ping Wang, 'in case anything should happen to either of us.'
Ping Wang did not wish to waste his breath in talking, but showed that he agreed with Charlie's suggestion by drawing closer to him. For a time—they did not know for how long—they swam silently onwards, but there was a big ocean swell, and often the ship for which they were bound was completely hidden from their sight for some minutes. When they did catch sight of her, they found that they were not making rapid progress. They were still a long way from the ship, and when they had been swimming for a good time, Ping Wang's courage began to fail him.
'I shall never reach her,' he declared, 'I'm getting tired. It is all up with me.'
'Nonsense, man,' Charlie answered, swimming a little closer to him. 'Have a rest; float.'
Ping Wang acted on Charlie's advice.
'She was much farther from theSparrow-hawkthan we thought,' Ping Wang declared, when he had rested for a few moments.
'You're right,' Charlie answered; 'but we shall reach her in ten minutes at the latest.'
Ping Wang, encouraged by what Charlie had said, turned over and resumed swimming.
For more than ten minutes they swam steadily onward without saying a word, but still the sailing-boat was a long way from them, and Charlie vowed to himself that never again would he attempt to judge distances at sea.
A few minutes later Ping Wang again turned on to his back. He did not utter a word, but Charlie knew by his heavy breathing that he was nearly exhausted. When he had lain there for some minutes he said, with a gasp, 'I will have one more try,' and started off again. But when he had swum a few yards he said, feebly, 'I can't reach her. Don't you bother about me. Look after yourself.'
'I won't go aboard her without you,' Charlie declared, and kept a closer watch on his companion. Soon he saw that Ping Wang, if left to himself, would be drowned.
'Turn on your back and lie still,' he said, 'and I'll tow you.'
Very fortunately Charlie had often practised the art of saving life from drowning, and therefore had no difficulty in supporting Ping Wang, who had the presence of mind to lie still. In a few minutes the Chinaman recovered somewhat, and Charlie, seeing the improvement, said, 'If you can support yourself for a few moments I'll hail the ship.'
'All right,' Ping Wang replied, and Charlie, letting him go, turned over and shouted towards the sailing ship, 'What ho, there!'
For two or three minutes he waited for an answering shout, but none came.
'What ho! what ho!' he sang out, and almost immediately he saw some lights moving about on the deck of the ship.
'Help, help!' he shouted with all his strength.
'Coming,' was the faint reply that reached him, and almost at the same moment he noticed that a boat was being lowered.
'We shall be picked up in a few minutes,' he said to Ping Wang, and the good news had such a reviving effect upon the Chinaman that he turned over and began to swim again.
'Lie still,' Charlie shouted, knowing that his companion's strength would otherwise soon expire.
Ping Wang obeyed instantly.
'Where are you?' the men in the boat called out.
'Here,' Charlie answered, and so that the boat might not have much difficulty in finding them, he hailed her every few moments.
Sometimes he caught sight of her on the top of a wave, and then he would see nothing more of her for quite a minute. But at last she reached them.
'Take my friend first,' Charlie sang out to the man who was holding aloft a big lantern to get a look at them.
In a moment the boat was brought alongside Ping Wang, who was fished out in a state of collapse. Charlie, almost unaided, scrambled in, and at once busied himself in striving to revive his companion. Fortunately he was successful, and by the time the boat reached the ship, Ping Wang was not much the worse for his long and unpleasant swim.
(Continued on page 242.)
"Ping Wang was fished out in a state of collapse.""Ping Wang was fished out in a state of collapse."
"Charlie sprang upwards, and climbed aboard.""Charlie sprang upwards, and climbed aboard."
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(Continued from page 239.)
The three men who had rescued Charlie and Ping Wang were not talkative, and beyond saying, 'That's all right,' when they were thanked for their assistance, scarcely said a word. The skipper of the sailing ship was, however, very different.
'Get down below, boys, and put on some dry togs,' he exclaimed genially, as Charlie and Ping Wang scrambled over the gunwale. 'There are chests full of them.'
The fugitives obeyed him willingly, but as Charlie put on the dry things provided for him, he took stock of the saloon, and was astonished at what he saw. Pictures of prize-fighters and race-horses hung on the walls, and at the far end of the saloon there was a sort of bar, behind which he noted some black bottles.
'Surely this can't be a mission ship,' Charlie said, in an undertone, to Ping Wang.
'It isn't what I expected to find on one,' Ping Wang answered. 'However, we shall soon know, for here comes the skipper.'
'Well, how are you feeling now?' the skipper inquired boisterously.
'Better,' Charlie answered, wondering what his nationality was, for although he spoke English fluently, he was evidently a foreigner.
'That's good,' the skipper replied, 'but why didn't you tip me the wink that you were coming over to us? I would have had the boat hanging around for you. Do any of the other fellows want to come aboard?'
'No, they have all turned in by now.'
'What a crew they must be. Who is your skipper?'
'Drummond, of theSparrow-hawk.'
'I know him. He passed a bad five-shilling piece on me the last time he was aboard this craft.'
'Will he come aboard to-morrow do you think?' Ping Wang asked, with difficulty concealing his anxiety.
'Not likely. I told him that if ever he set foot on theLily, I would go for him. However, we don't want to talk about him. What are you going to drink?'
'Tea or coffee, I don't mind which.'
The skipper threw back his head and laughed heartily, as if Charlie had said something that was witty. 'Do you really mean it?' he asked at length.
'I do.'
'Well!' the skipper gasped, and was evidently overcome with surprise.
After a few minutes' silence his spirits revived.
'I'll send you some tea down before long,' he said, and then went on deck without another word.
'Do you know what this ship is?' Charlie asked as soon as he was gone.
'If this is not a pleasure-boat, I do not know what it is,' Ping Wang answered.
'It's a coper.'
'A coper! What is that?'
'I thought every one in the North Sea knew.'
'This is only my second voyage, and your countrymen do not talk to me as freely as if I were an Englishman. What is a coper?'
'It is a boat that sails about the North Sea to sell drink and tobacco to our fishermen. She flies a flag to show that she has tobacco for sale, and when the men come aboard her, they are tempted to drink, just as we were a few minutes ago. As a rule the poor fellows do drink, and if their money is not all spent by the time that they are intoxicated, they are cheated at cards or robbed. I am very much afraid that we have not bettered ourselves by leaving theSparrow-hawk, for if the skipper of the coper finds that we have money, even though we neither drink nor gamble, he will be anxious to get rid of us.'
A few minutes later a boy brought down to them two mugs of what was supposed to be tea.
'What awful stuff,' Charlie exclaimed after tasting it. 'One sip is quite enough for me.'
'There must be something besides sugar and milk in it,' Ping Wang declared.
'That is very likely. The skipper hopes that it will get in our heads without our knowing that we have been drinking intoxicants. We will upset the rascal's plans by not drinking any more of the tea.'
In about a quarter of an hour the skipper returned.
'Well, boys, how are you getting on?' he exclaimed. 'Have some more tea?'
'No, thank you,' Charlie replied. 'We haven't drunk this. There's something about the taste that we don't like.'
'It's first-class tea. I've never had any complaints about it until now. I'm very sorry that you don't like it, for you need something warming after your long swim. But look here, if you are tee-totalers, what did you come aboard theLilyfor?'
'We made a mistake. We mistook her for another boat.'
The skipper looked at Charlie searchingly. 'Did you think she was a revenue cutter?' he asked.
'Oh, no; we mistook her for a mission ship.'
Now, coper skippers have the same hatred for mission ships that they have for revenue cutters, for the former, by selling tobacco at low prices, keep the North Sea fishermen away from the copers, and so have spoiled their traffic in intoxicant drinks.
'You thought she was a mission ship, did you?' the skipper growled. 'Well, you made a fine mistake.'
'We know that now,' Charlie replied.
'Then why are you sticking here? Jump overboard, and swim back to theSparrow-hawk.'
'I should be drowned,' Ping Wang declared.
'Well, that wouldn't be much of a loss. There are too many Chinamen already.'
'Look here, skipper,' Charlie interrupted, anxious to prevent a quarrel, 'I have a proposal to make. My friend and I left theSparrow-hawkbecause the skipper was a wretched little bully. I suggest that we stay here, as passengers, until we meet a boat for Grimsby that will take us aboard.'
'You will have to pay me before you leave theLily.'
'I'll do so, willingly, unless your charges are unreasonable.'
'Will you pay in advance?'
'Certainly not; but I'll settle up with you every evening.'
'Then hand over sixpence for those two cups of tea.'
'Sixpence!' Charlie answered, 'Why, you are charging as if you had put brandy in them. I'll give you threepence.'
Charlie took his belt from his pocket, and, as he undid the pouch attached to it, in which he kept his money, the skipper caught sight of three or four sovereigns.
'Well,' he said, as he pocketed the three pennies which Charlie gave him, 'I ought to let Skipper Drummond know that you are aboard; but, as I owe him a grudge, I won't. I haven't any spare bunks for you, so you must sleep on the cushions here.'
Charlie and Ping Wang were far from considering that a hardship, for the coper's saloon was a little palace compared with theSparrow-hawk'sfoc's'le.
'Well,' the skipper continued, 'I'm going to shut up for the night.'
He drew a sliding-door down over the bottles, and locked it, and left them. As soon as he had gone they lay down and, finding the saloon cushions fairly comfortable, were soon asleep. They awoke about seven o'clock and, going on deck immediately, found that during the night theSparrow-hawkhad steamed away. The coper was, however, in the midst of a busy scene; for the stream-trawlers belonging to the fleet which Charlie and Ping Wang had seen on the previous day had closed in, and were busy sending their boxes of fish aboard the steam-carrier that was waiting to hurry off with them to Grimsby. The fish was conveyed from the trawlers to the carriers in small, but strongly built, rowing-boats, and some of these, after getting rid of their load, came to theLily. As the men sprang over the gunwale on to the deck, the skipper greeted each with a hearty 'What cheer, sonny?'
Many of the fishermen were easily prevailed upon to go below and drink. Some indulged in one glass, and then hurried off to their ships; but two men remained in the saloon long after the others had departed. When they had been there for half an hour their skipper blew his siren loudly, as a command for them to return at once. Each came on deck quickly; but they were intoxicated to an extent that surprised Charlie, considering the short time they had been on theLily.
'They will never get back to their ship,' Charlie declared to the skipper of the coper.
'That is their look-out, not mine,' the skipper answered, and turned away, evidently not caring what happened to them.
TheLily, in common with all the North Sea trawlers, had no ladder by which men quitting the ship could descend into the small boat. The departing man has to hang from the gunwale until the small boat is lifted high on a wave, and then he drops quickly into it. A moment's hesitation may result in his falling into the sea, sometimes with the risk of being crushed between the ship and the small boat. Charlie had good reason, therefore, for thinking that the two poor fellows might meet with an accident, but the men themselves did not consider that there was any danger.
'We shall be all right,' one of them answered noisily, when Charlie advised them to be careful, and the man who spoke certainly dropped into the small boat as easily as if he were sober. The other man, however, hung to the gunwale longer than he should have done, and, consequently, when he did release his hold he had a long way to drop. He landed with both feet on one of the seats, and after struggling for a moment to balance himself, fell backwards into the sea, but, fortunately, not between the boat and the ship. His mate broke into a laugh, but made no attempt to rescue him. Possibly he thought that the man could swim, but it was clear to Charlie that he could not, and that unless he went to his assistance he would be drowned. So he pulled off his coat and dived into the sea. He came to the surface just beside the man, and, seizing him, pushed him along until they reached the boat, into which the now sober fisherman quickly scrambled. In the meanwhile the other man, seeing Charlie dive to the assistance of his shipmate, had come to the conclusion that he also ought to do something. He dived in, but in consequence of the muddled state of his head, swam in the wrong direction, and by the time that it dawned on him that he had made a mistake his mate had been rescued by Charlie.
Being a good swimmer, the man regained the boat easily, and Charlie was glad to see that the water had sobered him as effectually as it had his mate.
'You've had a very narrow escape,' Charlie said to the man whom he had rescued. 'Now take my advice, both of you, and don't you ever again set foot on a coper. If you want tobacco, go to a mission ship.'
Charlie got on the seat as he finished speaking, and as the little boat was lifted on a big wave he sprang upwards, grasped theLily'sgunwale and climbed aboard, leaving the men to whom he had denounced copers to wonder why he was on one. Loud blasts from their trawler's siren instantly drove all thoughts of Charlie's action from their minds, and rowing hard they worked their way back to their ship, where they received a lecture from the skipper which they did not forget that voyage.
(Continued on page 253.)
Many years ago there was a clever and kind doctor at a Paris hospital where the patients were of the poorest class. The skill of this doctor somehow reached the ears of the then Premier of France, who, being about to undergo a very serious operation, sent for this doctor to perform it.
'You must not expect, doctor,' said the Prime Minister to the surgeon as he entered the room to arrange for the operation, 'to treat me in the same rough manner as if I were one of your poor wretches at the hospital.'
'Sir,' answered the doctor with dignity, 'every one of those poor wretches, as you are pleased to call them, is a Prime Minister in my eyes.'
X.
"'I saw it first—'tis mine—let go!'""'I saw it first—'tis mine—let go!'"
Two little dogs, one summer's day,Who tired of play had grown,Discovered lying in their wayA most attractive bone.'I saw it first—'tis mine—let go!'The one in anger cried;'I shan't, how dare you say 'tis so,'The other one replied.And so no doubt they wrangled on,Although I cannot tellWhere those two little dogs have gone,Or how the fight befell.But quarrels, as we know, take two,And some one must give in,So far the wisest thing to doIs simply—don't begin.
Two little dogs, one summer's day,Who tired of play had grown,Discovered lying in their wayA most attractive bone.
'I saw it first—'tis mine—let go!'The one in anger cried;'I shan't, how dare you say 'tis so,'The other one replied.
And so no doubt they wrangled on,Although I cannot tellWhere those two little dogs have gone,Or how the fight befell.
But quarrels, as we know, take two,And some one must give in,So far the wisest thing to doIs simply—don't begin.
C. D. B.
A Scene in Clissold Park.A Scene in Clissold Park.
In the days of Queen Bess the pretty village of Stoke Newington was a pleasant object for a country walk of about three miles from the City boundary of London. The village lay amid dense woods whence came its name—Stoe being the Saxon word for wood, and Stoke Newington meaning the new town in the wood. Its derivation shows what an old place it is, and we may picture to ourselves how, ages ago, the dwellers within the City walls would joyfully leave London, on holidays, by the Moor Gate, and wend their way northward to the shady trees and grassy banks of the roadway knownas the 'Green Lanes'—names which, like Stoke Newington, still survive. Along that road the royal chariot of Queen Elizabeth might occasionally be met coming from the Tower; for at Stoke Newington, in a mansion beside the church, dwelt some of the Dudley family, whom she delighted to honour.
A story is told how, when her Majesty was the persecuted Princess Elizabeth, living under the stern rule of her sister, Queen Mary, she paid a stolen visit to London to see how Court matters were progressing. The Dudleys befriended her, and went so far as to hide her in a brick tower in the Park, communicating with their home by a secret passage. To judge by what history tells of Queen Mary, these devoted friends ran no slight risk, and Queen Elizabeth, in later years, did her best to repay their kindness. We read that, on one visit after her accession, she took a jewel of great value from her dress and presented it to the daughter of the house, Lady Anne Dudley. One avenue off the Park is still known as Queen Elizabeth's Walk, and tradition says she was fond of pacing up and down there with the master of the house.
The next time we hear much of Stoke Newington Park, it was in the hands of Mr. Jonathan Hoare, one of the founders of the great banking house of that name; and, later still, it was rented from the Ecclesiastical Commissioners by one of the Crawshay family, then known as 'the iron princes' of Wales. His lease set forth that he was to pay the sum of one hundred and nine pounds a year rent, with one good, fat turkey, the latter probably appearing at the annual dinner of his landlords. For this consideration he was allowed to call house and land after his own name, but was forbidden to cut down timber. Mr. Crawshay's tenancy closed romantically with the incident which won the place its present title.
He had two fair daughters, whom no doubt he wished to see married to rich and noble husbands. Great, therefore, was his anger when he found that one of them had given her affections to the curate of the parish, Mr. Clissold by name. Mr. Clissold was forthwith forbidden to set foot within Crawshay Farm again. To ensure this, the walls of the place were made higher, and the hard-hearted parent expressed his firm resolve of shooting any messenger who tried to carry letters secretly. How long this state of affairs lasted does not appear, but it was ended by the death of Mr. Crawshay. Then the curate and his hardly-won bride became tenants of the mansion, and changed its name to Clissold Park or Place.
As Clissold Park it was bought from the Ecclesiastical Commissioners for ninety-six thousand pounds, and formally opened by Lord Rosebery in 1889.
Perhaps the greatest charm of this particular park lies in its evident old age—trees, turf, and the disused mansion all bear witness that it is no newly planted recreation ground, but a noble relic of the days of old, with a stately dignity all its own.
A number of deer enclosed in the middle of the park prove that these pretty creatures are not always shy. A family of kittens could not be less afraid of the admiring crowd which watches them. At the same time the deer were presented to the park, a number of guinea-pigs were also introduced, and they still flourish in their cosy enclosure, giving endless delight to the children of the neighbourhood.
The beauty of the park is greatly increased by the waters of the New River, which wind in and out of the grounds as well as round them, although the charm of the stream is somewhat spoilt by a close iron fencing, walling in the water on both sides. This, however, appears to be a necessity, to protect the numerous fish from the keenness of would-be fishermen.
Bridges cross the river in many places, and two lakes of some size, studded with wooded islets, afford homes for swans, ducks, and other water-fowl. Near the mansion there is a bandstand, and all about the grounds there are seats and rustic shelters for the elders, whilst the young folk and children are making merry with games.
In the spring and autumn a very favourite place for basking in the sun is the terrace before the old house, in part of which refreshments are provided. Some of the views in the park are exceedingly pretty, especially in the direction of the deer park, looking towards the mansion, where the old parish church stands out against the trees, whilst the fine open tower of a new church, with a graceful spire, rises above the green foliage.
Stoke Newington has been the home of various celebrated men: John Howard, the philanthropist, who did so much to alleviate the horrors of prison-life; Defoe, whom we all love for the sake ofRobinson Crusoe; Dr. Watts, author of many of our best-known hymns, among the number.
It is pleasant to know that the leafy walk of the Green Lanes is still an attractive one for Londoners, although the mossy banks of former days have long been lined with handsome houses, and though a wide expanse of densely populated town lies between Clissold Park and the street still known as London Wall, whence the Moor Gate, with all its companion portals, have long vanished.
A gentleman was once entertaining his friends at a grand dinner. He was a sad boaster, and was often guilty of describing deeds that he had done when an officer in the army, which those who knew him well felt sure were greatly exaggerated. He was in the midst of some such anecdote when the butler brought him word that a man wished to see him.
'Tell him I am engaged with my friends, and can see no one,' said the gentleman, pompously.
The butler retired, but soon came back to say the man was most urgent in wishing to speak to the gentleman, and said he had been in his regiment at a famous battle, where he owed his life to the officer.
'Show him in! show him in!' said the host, much gratified. 'This good fellow says I saved his lifeat X——,' he added, turning to his guests as the old soldier came in. 'How was it?' he went on, 'for I am sure I forget; in the heat of battle one does brave things almost unconsciously.'
'It was like this, your Honour,' said the soldier: 'I owed my life to you, for I certainly should never have thought of running away if you had not set me the example!'
I
t is comparatively easy now to run over to Switzerland, and through the lovely scenery of the St. Gothard Pass, to the plains of sunny Italy; but this land of light and song is very little known to English boys and girls.
Of all the lovely lakes that reflect the deep blue of the summer skies, none is more beautiful than Lake Lugano, although Como is larger and Maggiore has a charm of its own. The town of Lugano stands at one end of the lake. It is pretty and bright, with many things to interest and amuse; but it is in the villages dotted along the south side of the lake that the real life of the people is to be seen.
These villages are surrounded by vineyards. The grapes are gathered in October, when the whole scene is very animated and gay. Every one—men, women, children, even the ox-waggons of the country—is pressed into the service, and the vineyards resound with songs and laughter. From these grapes a red wine is made. It is the ambition of every peasant to own a small vineyard and a boat.
On the other side of the lake rises a range of hills covered almost to the water's edge with deep green woods. In some places cliffs rise between wood and water, and in these cliffs are many small natural caves. These have been enlarged and enclosed with doors, so as to form wine vaults, and in them is stored much of the wine made in the district.
On Sunday afternoons in summer the lake is alive with boats, each holding a happy family party of father, mother, and children, and laden with cakes made frompolenta, and other dainties. They are all bound for the caves, where a series of merry picnic parties is soon in progress.
The provisions are taken from the boats, the wine vault is opened with a key, for all are kept carefully locked, and then the feast begins. Soon the air is filled with song and laughter. The whole afternoon is spent in this way, and only in the cool of the evening do the merry revellers return to their simple homes across the lake.
The boats look very pretty. They are rather wide and shallow, and in the middle a white canvas covering is stretched from side to side, supported on bent canes, to make a shelter from the heat of the sun. The boatman in the dress of the country stands at the end, and drives the boat through the water with rapid strokes from his single oar.
The streets are narrow and crooked, and the houses are built very irregularly. There is no pavement, and the dust is amazing. The brown-faced, bare-legged children, with large solemn-looking brown eyes, tumble about in it, munching ripe red tomatoes with their hunches of brown bread. In the grass by the road-side funny little green lizards run in and out, hurrying away at your approach as fast as their legs will carry them.
It is very strange to see even the smallest cottages fitted with electric light, but this is the case in one village, Marroggia. A clever German has set up some works close by, and drives the machinery by power derived from a beautiful waterfall near the village.
From Marroggia a young Italian went to London some years ago to seek his fortune. He succeeded so well that he soon became rich. Returning to his native village, he built there a beautiful villa, with gardens and lawns sloping down to the lake. When it was finished he gave a feast to all the villagers. Thousands of fairy lamps and Chinese lanterns were sent for from London to illuminate the gardens, and turn them for the occasion into fairyland. The peasants had never before seen anything like it. They danced, they sang, and ate the good things provided for them. They would willingly have lingered there all night, and it was only when the last lamp flickered and went out that they returned home to dream of what they had enjoyed.
At one end of the lake stands Monte Generoso. The top is reached by a mountain railway, which zig-zags its way up through the woods. It feels very strange as the engine goes up panting and puffing, turning a sharp corner at every few yards; but the view from the summit is very fine, and the journey down still more exciting than the ascent.
At the other end of the lake is a famous china and earthenware manufactory. You can reach it by steamboat, but it is much better fun to go in a small boat, where you can lie under the awning and watch the boatman, in his white shirt-sleeves and coloured velvet waistcoat, steering his boat like the gondoliers of Venice.
The china manufactory is old-fashioned, but very interesting. The potter's wheel is still used there, and it is wonderful to see the ease and quickness with which a lump of clay is made into a cup, a saucer, a vase, or any other article you may ask for. After it is taken off the wheel, it is dipped into liquid glaze, then ornamented with some design transferred from coloured paper, and finally fired in the furnace.
Most people who visit the Italian lakes go on to Milan, a very important, busy town. On the way you pass through large tracts of country covered with maize and rice fields. The maize grows to an enormous height, and the rice is watered artificially by tiny streams, which may be seen trickling through the fields in all directions.
Elaine Carruthers.