Fig. 1.—Silkworm, natural size.Fig. 1.—Silkworm, natural size.
Spiders when small often use their spinnerets much as the witches of old were supposed to use a broom-stick—that is to say, as a means of travelling through the air. Turning the end of the body upwards they force out a few threads, which, caught by the breeze, are blown away, and so a number of long threads are rapidly drawn out, sufficiently long at last to carry the spider itself with them. When too heavy to fly, they sometimes send a thread adrift and wait until it catches in some projecting bough; this done, they make fast the end to the bough or leaf on which they may be resting, and climb along this tight-rope to build a new home.
Fig. 2.—Silk Threads of Spider's Web, highly magnified.Fig. 2.—Silk Threads of Spider's Web, highly magnified.
The floating threads formed by broods of small spiders are sometimes very numerous, and cover everything: they are especially noticeable in hedges, and are one of the causes of what is called in the country 'Gossamer.'
W. P. Pycraft, F.Z.S., A.L.S.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(Continued from page 303.)
The journey up-river was a very tedious one, and promised to be longer than Ping Wang had expected, for, as soon as darkness came up, the boat was moored for the night near a riverside village. The boatman declared, in a very humble tone, that he dared not go any further until daybreak for fear of being attacked by pirates.
On the following morning, at daybreak, the journey was resumed, but before the travellers had covered two miles, while the mist was still hanging over the river, Ping Wang noticed a boat rapidly overtaking them. It was a long, narrow craft, paddled by eight men. Another man knelt in the bows, and two more stood up in the stern. The latter were armed with old-fashioned rifles.
'Pirates!' the boat-owner shouted in terror when he had glanced at the pursuers, and instantly there was a panic among his men. One of them dived into the river and swam towards the bank; but the otherthree, who could not swim, ceased rowing, and hid themselves among the cargo.
"Fred took aim and fired.""Fred took aim and fired."
'Make the cowards row,' Ping Wang commanded the boat-owner, but without any result, for the man was himself terror-stricken.
'Hasn't the wretched man got any weapons aboard?' Charlie said aloud.
Ping Wang translated Charlie's question, and the boat-owner answered promptly, 'Your miserable slave has one gun, which does not belong to him.He is taking it to a mandarin. Your wretched servant does not know where it was bought.'
'Never mind about that,' Ping Wang declared, guessing at once that the fellow had a rifle which had been stolen from some European. 'Bring it here at once.'
The boat-owner produced quickly a long bundle of cloth, and from the middle of it pulled out a rifle.
'A Lee-Metford,' Fred exclaimed, as he snatched the rifle out of the man's hand. 'Where is the ammunition?'
'Here it is,' Ping Wang said, as he burst open a box and displayed several packets of cartridges.
'That is splendid,' Fred declared, as he opened a packet. Like many London medical students, he had become a Volunteer, and was, moreover, a good shot. Having placed the open packet of cartridges beside him, he took up the rifle, and, after loading it, raised it to his shoulder, but did not yet fire. 'I won't shoot,' he said, 'until I am sure they mean to attack us.'
He had not long to wait before receiving proof of the pirates' intention. The boat was approaching fast, and when it was about a hundred yards from them, the pirates fired. Their rifles made a tremendous noise, and the travellers' boat was hit about an inch above water.
'That is enough,' Fred declared, and, placing his left foot on a seat and resting his left elbow on his knee, he took aim and fired.
'Good shot, Fred!' Charlie cried, as one of the pirates who had fired on them fell forward, wounded, among his comrades. The pirates had evidently not expected such a reception, and the result of Fred's shot filled them with dismay. They ceased rowing, and took counsel for a few moments.
'Look out, Fred,' Charlie said, 'there is a man in the bow with a breechloader. He's aiming at you.'
Just as he spoke the man fired, and the bullet whizzed perilously near to Fred's head.
'Get under cover,' Charlie begged, but Fred replied calmly, 'I can do best where I am.'
Again he fired, and this time he smashed the blade of an oar.
Finding that no one was hit by that shot, the pirates took courage, and the three men with guns fired simultaneously, but without doing any damage.
'I'll give them the magazine,' Fred said, and fired eight times in quick succession. How many men he hit they never knew. Charlie and Ping Wang saw five men throw up their arms, while a sixth, who fell overboard, made such frantic efforts to save himself that the boat capsized.
'Now row,' Ping Wang shouted, and, pulling the three boatmen from their hiding-places, pushed them back to their oars. Seeing that all danger was gone, the men smiled happily as they resumed work, and were not at all ashamed of their recent cowardice.
Charlie turned to his brother. 'Fred, I am awfully proud of you—you have saved our lives! I wish I had joined the Volunteers. But, I say,' he continued, 'put on your goggles, or the boatmen will see that you are not a Chinaman.'
'They must have found that out some minutes ago,' Fred answered, 'for we have been talking ever since we saw the pirates.'
'Perhaps they did not notice it,' Ping Wang suggested; but he soon discovered that this was not the case.
While Fred, from force of habit, was cleaning the rifle after using it, the boat-owner approached the travellers, and said to Ping Wang: 'The foreigner shoots very straight in spite of his sore eyes.'
'He has saved your life,' Ping Wang replied, sharply. 'If he had not shot the pirates, they would have killed all of us.'
'That is true, honourable brother. I and my men are full of gratitude.'
'Then you must all vow not to tell any one that he is a foreigner.'
The boatman considered the matter for a few moments. 'We will promise. We will take an oath,' he declared at length. He lighted a piece of paper, and, as it burned to ashes, he expressed the hope that, if he told any one that the two men with goggles were foreigners, he might also be totally destroyed by fire. The other men took the oath in the same fashion.
'Will they keep it?' Charlie inquired, when Ping Wang had made known to Fred and him the nature of the oath.
'I cannot be sure of it,' Ping Wang said.
'I will keep this rifle until we reach the end of our river-trip,' Fred declared.
Shortly after the sun had set, the boat arrived at the place where Ping Wang had decided to land.
'The foreigners and I will not land until daybreak,' he said to the boat-owner. 'Moor the boat. It will be safer for us to begin our journey by daylight,' Ping Wang said to Charlie and Fred, after telling them that they were to remain on board until the morning. 'I have not travelled by the road we are going to take since I was a small boy, and consequently it is not familiar to me. There is another road which leads to Kwang-ngan, but it is more frequented than the one by which we are to travel. Our road is a round-about one, and rarely used since the shorter road has been made. I hope that we shall meet very few people.'
'How far shall we have to walk before we reach the first village?' Charlie asked.
'About five miles; and Kwang-ngan is six miles beyond that.'
'Then we shall be there to-morrow night, I suppose?'
'I hope so. By-the-bye, do you feel hungry?'
'Very,' Charlie answered, speaking for Fred as well as for himself.
'Then I'll ask the boat-owner to sell us a couple of ducks I know he has on board.'
Ping Wang returned to his friends presently, holding in his hands two well-cooked ducks.
'We shall soon polish these off,' Charlie said, as he, Fred, and Ping Wang took their seats under the awning, with the ducks on a big wooden plate on their knees.
'Your appetite always was enormous,' Fred remarked. 'But I was thinking whether we ought not to save one of them. Ping Wang, shall we have any difficulty in obtaining food to-morrow?'
'I don't think so,' Ping Wang replied. 'However, it would be a good thing to save one of thebirds until the morning, so that we may have a good meal to start the day.'
One duck was therefore kept, and the other eaten. Ten minutes after the meal, Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang were sound asleep, with the duck near them on the wooden dish in which it had been served up. When they awoke at daybreak the dish was where they had left it, but the duck had disappeared.
'This is serious,' Ping Wang said. 'One of the boatmen must have stolen it. I will ask them.'
He did so; but the men promptly vowed that they had not stolen the duck. They did not appear at all surprised, however, when the accusation was made; and Ping Wang concluded that they were not speaking the truth.
'As you have stolen the duck,' Ping Wang continued, sternly, 'you must return to me the money which I gave for it.'
'Would my honourable brother rob his slave?' the boat-owner asked, in alarm.
'Yes. If you cannot give me the duck, I must have back the price I paid for it. If you cannot give me the money, I will keep the rifle which the foreigner is holding.'
This decision alarmed the boat-owner. 'Honourable brother,' he said, after a few moments' silence, 'I will search for the duck: perhaps it has rolled off the dish.'
He searched in what appeared to Ping Wang to be very unlikely places, and found the missing dainty in a basket on top of the pile of cargo.
'The rifle shall be given you,' said Ping Wang, and then turned to speak to Charlie and Fred. 'We had better breakfast on shore,' he said; 'let us land at once.'
Ping Wang handed over the Lee-Metford to the boat-owner, and the three travellers stepped ashore, thoroughly glad to get out of the boat.
(Continued on page 317.)
The accounts which travellers and hunters sometimes give us of their encounters with wild animals are often very interesting, not only because they are exciting, but also because they show us the habits of the various animals, and the effects which are produced upon the human brain by these sudden and unusual attacks.
Mr. Moffat, the missionary, describes the very strange behaviour of a lion which caught a native asleep. The man was returning home from a visit alone, when, tired with his walk, he sat down to refresh himself by the side of a pool, and fell asleep. He awoke with the heat of the sun, and found a lion crouching scarcely more than a yard from his feet. He sat still for a few minutes, and tried to think what he ought to do. His gun was lying a little distance away beyond his reach, and he moved his hand towards it several times. But whenever he did so, the lion raised his head and uttered a loud roar. So long as the man remained quite still, the lion did not molest him. The day and the night passed, and neither the man nor the lion moved from the spot. At noon on the following day the lion went down to the pool for a drink, watching the poor man all the while, and then returned to its former position. Another night passed, and again on the following day the lion went for a drink. On this occasion it was alarmed by some noise, and made off to the bush. The poor native crawled to his gun, and then crept down to the pool to drink. His toes were so scorched by the heat of the rock that he could not walk. Fortunately, he was discovered by a person passing, and was rescued. He lost the use of his toes, however, and he was a cripple for the rest of his life.
Livingstone once nearly lost his life in an encounter with a lion in South Africa. He had gone out to shoot one of a troop of lions, in order to frighten the rest away from the village. After the natives who were with him had allowed several to escape, Livingstone shot at one about thirty yards off, and wounded it. He was quietly re-loading his gun, when he heard a shout from one of his attendants, and, looking up, he saw the lion springing upon him. It caught him by the shoulder, and shook him as a dog shakes a rat. The shaking seemed to deprive him of his sense of feeling, and he felt neither pain nor alarm, though he knew quite well what was happening. The lion growled all the while, and placed his heavy foot upon the doctor's head. At this moment one of the natives had courage enough to fire, and, though the shot failed, the lion's attention was drawn to the native, and it rushed upon him and bit him in the thigh. Another native tried to spear it, and he in his turn was attacked, and bitten in the shoulder. But this time the lion was exhausted by its wounds, and fell down dead.
Not long ago a Government ranger in the Transvaal had a fierce struggle with a lion, which was reported inThe Field. He was riding homewards alone, having left his companions behind, when he heard his dog bark at something near the path, and saw a lion crouching near him on the right side, ready to spring. He turned his horse quickly and the lion missed his spring, but the ranger was thrown from his horse. No sooner did he touch the ground than another lion pounced upon him from the opposite side, while the first ran after the runaway horse. The second lion seized him by the right shoulder, and dragged him quickly along the path, his back and legs trailing along the ground. The animal growled and purred like a cat with a mouse, but in very much louder tones. The poor ranger was greatly distressed, both in body and in mind, and it was not until the lion had dragged him about two hundred yards that he remembered that he had a sheath-knife at his belt. As the lion stopped at the foot of a large tree, he drew his sheath-knife with his left hand, and stabbed the animal twice in the right side. The lion jumped back, and in a few moments he turned and walked away, growling and moaning as he went. Meanwhile, the ranger climbed a tree, and tied himself to a branch, lest he should lose consciousness and fall off. There he was found by his companions, and conveyed to the nearest hospital. The body of the lion was afterwards discovered not far away. Its heart had been pierced by the blade of the sheath-knife. The lion was an old male, and its empty stomach showed that it had been rendered unusually fierce by hunger.
"The second lion seized him.""The second lion seized him."
"'It is good! very good!'""'It is good! very good!'"
'Be off, I tell you! We want no loiterers here!' said a workman, roughly pushing away a country lad who was gazing with deep interest at the busy crowd of people engaged in the rebuilding of St. Paul's Cathedral.
This famous church, destroyed by the Great Fire in 1666, was now—some three years later—being restored under the direction of Sir Christopher Wren.
'I am not loitering, sir,' answered the lad humbly. 'I have come up from Suffolk to seek work. I can carve, and I can——'
'Be off, I tell you!' harshly interrupted the foreman; 'we want no hedge-carpenters here! Here comes the master. Be off, or he will make short work of you!'
The master, no less a person than the great Sir Christopher himself, now came up, and catching sight of the lad, said sternly:
'Who is that youth? Has he business here? If not, bid him begone, for lookers-on hinder the work.'
'Just what I was telling him, your honour,' said the foreman, scowling at the boy. 'He has come to look for work, he says, but I told him we wanted no country bumpkins here.'
Sir Christopher cast a searching glance at the boy. 'What sort of work can you do?' he asked.
The boy, Philip Wood, by name, was much flustered at being addressed by the great architect himself, and hardly knowing what he said, he stammered out, 'I am very fond of carving, sir.'
'Carving—umph! What was the last thing you carved?' asked Sir Christopher.
'The last thing was a trough, but——' and Philip was about to describe the group of roses and columbines he had made for the Squire's chimney-piece, but was interrupted by a scornful laugh from the foreman.
'A trough! and he to seek work on St. Paul's! Let him return to his swine.'
Sir Christopher joined in the laugh. Then, seeing the crestfallen look of the boy, he said, half-scornfully, 'Troughs! Well, then, you have seen pigs. Suppose your carve me a sow and her little ones; that will be in your line. Bring it me here this day week.'
He walked away, and the workmen burst into loud laughter as they hustled Philip out of the yard.
He, poor fellow, was utterly cast down at this mocking suggestion of Sir Christopher's, and hurrying back to his attic he flung himself on his bed and burst into tears.
Some hours later, his landlady, a motherly old soul, who pitied the friendless lad, toiled up the attic stairs with a basin of broth for him, knowing that he had had no food that day.
'Highty-tighty!' she said, going up to Philip and putting a kind hand on his shoulder. 'What's amiss? What's wrong to-day may prove right on the morrow, so never fret, lad.'
Philip could not resist her sympathy, and she soon got from him the story of his reception by Sir Christopher, and how the great architect had scornfully told him to go and carve 'a sow and her little ones.'
'It was all my own fault,' continued the boy. 'I was so confused, I never told him of the bedstead I had carved for the Hall, nor of the mantel-shelf, but I blurted out about the trough, and then he bade me "carve a sow,"' and Philip turned red at the remembrance.
'He said that, did he?' said the woman eagerly. 'Then do it, and show your skill. Sir Christopher bade you come again, and he will not refuse to see you. Set to work on the sow, and mind she is a good one.'
Encouraged by these words, Philip got up, drank the broth, and, feeling cheered by the food, took his last crown-piece, bought a good block of wood, and returned to his attic.
He worked at his wood block from morning to night for the next week, hoping—aye, and praying earnestly—that he might turn out something that the master would not despise.
It was finished at last, and pronounced by the landlady to be 'as like a sow as one pea is like another.' So, hoping much and fearing more, Philip took his group, carefully wrapped in an apron lent him for the purpose, and made his way to the Cathedral yard.
'Hallo! here comes our young hedge-carpenter,' exclaimed the foreman, as Philip passed the gate. 'What's he got so carefully wrapped up? Another trough, I take it. Let's have a look at the treasure,' and as he spoke he reached towards the bundle.
But Philip would not part with it. 'No,' he said firmly. 'Sir Christopher set me the task, and he shall be the first to see it.'
Before long Sir Christopher appeared, and, seeing the boy standing humbly waiting by the gate, he called to him, and, taking the bundle from Philip's hands, slowly unwound the wrapping. There, to the very life, was a fat old sow, with nine little piglings grouped about her in every possible attitude.
Sir Christopher looked long at the group, saying never a word, whilst poor Philip grew hot and cold with terror. He hardly knew if his work were good or bad; he only knew that he had put all his heart into it, and tried to do his very best.
At last the great man spoke.
'It is good! very good!' he said firmly. 'I will keep it and give you a guinea for it, and I engage you, young man, to work on this building. Attend at my office to-morrow forenoon.'
Philip bowed low; his heart was too full to speak, and Sir Christopher continued:
'I fear I did you some injustice a little time back, and for this I am sorry; but a great national work is entrusted to my care, and it is my duty to see that no part of the work falls into unskilful hands.'
So the country lad, Philip Wood of Sudbury, accomplished his ambition, and found regular work on St. Paul's Cathedral.
Those people who care to study the old parchments, still preserved, on which the building accounts ofthe Cathedral are kept, may read that large sums of money were from time to time paid to Philip Wood (or Haylittle as he was called after his marriage, when he took his wife's name), 'for carved work in the cathedral church of St. Paul.'
S. Clarendon.
Ihave a doll, an old, old doll,The playmate of many years;I've danced around with her in my smiles,And hugged her tight in my tears.And I've a doll, a new, new doll,'Twas given me yesterday;Dressed out in silk and beautiful lace,Ever so bonny and gay.One is battered and scratched and grey,The other has hair like gold;But much as I love the new, new doll,Better I love the old.
Ihave a doll, an old, old doll,The playmate of many years;I've danced around with her in my smiles,And hugged her tight in my tears.
And I've a doll, a new, new doll,'Twas given me yesterday;Dressed out in silk and beautiful lace,Ever so bonny and gay.
One is battered and scratched and grey,The other has hair like gold;But much as I love the new, new doll,Better I love the old.
Rings, from a time very far back, have been worn as ornaments on the hands, and given by people to each other as tokens of affection or as a sign of power. The oldest rings known were very large and cumbrous, and they were adorned with stones, sometimes flattened to make seals on wax or clay. The gemmal ring, as it is called, is an old kind, probably several centuries old, and rings of this sort are not made now. From what we know about them, it would appear the first ones were of French work, that nation being long remarkable for skill in contriving curious jewellery. Some may have been made in Italy, and even in our own land rings have been dug up from the earth, where they were hidden away with other valuables, or perhaps occasionally buried with those who had worn them.
A gemmal ring has a double row of hoops, locked within each other like the links of a chain. One edge of each ring is flat, so that when one is slipped over the other, the gemmal looks like a single ring. While opened out, two persons can put a finger into the hoops, and this fact gives the origin of the old name applied to them, though it has somehow got a little altered. 'Geminal' was the proper spelling, coming from the Latingeminus(a twin), because such a ring is twin or double. Of course, owing to its form, a gemmal ring was valued as a love token; and at one period it was often used as an engagement ring, or even as a marriage ring. It is supposed that some gemmals, which have one ring gold and the other silver, were made for wedding rings, the gold being for the wife and the silver for the husband. There are gemmals still existing which are adorned with precious stones, and some have singular devices on their sides. One found at Horsleydown, in Surrey, had on each of the two parts of the ring a hand, draped, and holding half a heart; when the ring was closed, the hands appeared joined, holding a whole heart between them. Other rings had mottoes in French or English.
The word 'gemmal' was formerly applied to other objects besides rings. Thus we have in Shakespeare a mention of the 'gemmal bit,' some sort of double bit for a horse.
J. R. S. C.
T
he worshippers of Buddha and Brahma have not been alone in taking advantage of caverns to build temples and religious houses, for in Dauphiné, in Eastern France, we find the magnificent grotto of La Balme used for the same purpose. The builders of the West have not, however, taken the same trouble over hewing out the solid rock as did their Eastern brethren, but have contented themselves with building in an ordinary way a handsome church in the mouth of the cave. The cave is of great height, being more than a hundred feet to the roof, whilst the breadth at the entrance is sixty-five feet.
In reality the building consists of two chapels placed side by side, with rooms for the clergy and a belfry. The effect of the white building against the dark arch of the cavern, surrounded by a frame of rich green creepers, is very fine. Masonry has also been used to support the cliff to the right of the church. A broad causeway with parapets leads into the cave, and down each side rushes a stream, which comes from the recesses beyond.
On entering the cavern the roof soon becomes lower, and we soon find that the single cave divides into two long galleries. Taking the one to the left, we come into what is called the Grotto of Diamonds, in which the water oozing through the rocks has left a crystal sediment which sparkles like diamonds when light is flashed over it. Small rock basins form a ring, and, pouring water from one to the other in tiny cascades, have also crystallised into beautiful forms which reflect and multiply the gleams of light.
We follow a rocky ledge edged with a fringe of stalactite drops about six inches long, and then creep along a dangerous path with dark depths on either side. This leads downwards to a tranquil lake which reflects our lamps and torches.
On our return we take the gallery to the right, and come across a curious stalagmite (called the Capuchin Monk), wonderfully like a human being about six feet high. All around are stalactites and stalagmites of every possible form, and we long to do a great deal more exploration of the endless rock passages branching on every side. But, alas! they are too dangerous, owing to the endless crevasses ofunknown depth which cross and recross the rocky galleries, where a slip probably means a horrible death.
Entrance to the Grotto of La Balme.Entrance to the Grotto of La Balme.
As long ago as the time of Francis I. of France, who reigned in the sixteenth century, two criminals condemned to death, were, by order of the King, offered their lives if they explored the Grotto of La Balme to its extreme limits. No record seems to have been kept whether they accepted the offer. Possibly they preferred a certain and speedy form of death to long sufferings in the darkness and terrors of the gloomy cavern.
Helena Heath.
"Some Yamên runners rushed out and seized them.""Some Yamên runners rushed out and seized them."
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(Continued from page 311.)
As soon as the travellers had landed, they set out on the road to Kwang-ngan, eating the second duck as they went. They understood perfectly that they were about to begin the most dangerous part of their journey.
'Don't appear surprised at anything you see or hear,' was Ping Wang's sensible advice, 'and remember that an exclamation from either of you would probably lead to its being discovered that you are not Chinamen.'
Charlie and Fred promised not to forget what he had said.
When they had trudged about three-quarters of a mile they joined the main road to the village for which they were bound, and from now onwards at every few yards they met a Chinaman.
The Pages thoroughly enjoyed the novel scene. Chinamen of almost all stations of life seemed to be using that road. One moment they would see a pompous-looking man riding on a sturdy, shaggy pony; the next, a dandy being carried in a palanquin. Coolies with a long pole across one shoulder, and a basket or bundle hanging from each end, hurried past them at a shuffling kind of run. Heavier loads were carried on poles, which rested on the shoulders of two coolies. Occasionally some pedestrian would make a friendly remark to the three travellers, and when that happened Ping Wang replied in the most genial manner.
When they had been on the tramp for about an hour and a half, Ping Wang looked round, and seeing that no Chinamen were near, said, as he pointed to a square-looking object in the distance, 'That is Su-ching, our first halting-place.'
After this the three friends were compelled to remain silent, so constantly were they meeting people, and the nearer they drew to the town the more numerous did the people become. The town was enclosed by a brick wall, and from a distance looked able to withstand the attack of any enemy; but a closer inspection showed that the defences were practically worthless, and that the town could be quickly destroyed by modern guns. In some places the walls had crumbled away. Some of the guns were so old and rusty that to have fired them would have done more harm to the gunners than to the enemy. But most of the guns were dummies—wooden things, mounted to give a formidable look to the place.
'Will there be any difficulty about getting into the town?' Fred whispered.
'Oh, no!' Ping Wang replied. 'We will enter by that gate facing us. There will probably be some soldiers there, but they won't interfere with us.'
Ten minutes later Ping Wang and the Pages arrived at the open gate, near which were some half-dozen dirty rascals playing some Chinese game. They were soldiers, but so interested were they in their game that they did not even glance at the people passing in and out. Ping Wang told Fred and Charlie, later, that these imitations of soldiers usually passed their time in that fashion.
Once in the town Charlie and Fred felt that they were comparatively safe, for it seemed that among the large population they would escape notice. No one appeared to suspect that they were not Chinamen, and Ping Wang, who had recently been regretting he had induced the Pages to take part in such a dangerous enterprise, became convinced that they would reach the house for which they were bound without any difficulty. The reason for entering the town was to discover from a cousin of his, who resided there, if Chin Choo were still alive. He knew that it was a risky thing for him to do to bring the Pages into the town, but he was convinced that to have left them by themselves outside would have been far more dangerous.
'In a few minutes,' he said, quietly, 'we shall arrive at my cousin's house. He is a Christian, and will not let any one know that you are Englishmen. He will give us a meal, and then we can start off refreshed to Kwang-ngan.'
But before they had gone another fifty yards, and just as they were passing a big building, which Ping Wang whispered was the residence of some high official, some twenty Yamên runners, or policemen, suddenly rushed out of the courtyard and seized the three of them. The men were armed with swords, and to have resisted would have been madness. Ping Wang indignantly asked to be told why they were treated thus, but got no reply. Charlie and Fred had the good sense not to utter a word, for, although they believed that it had been discovered that they were Europeans, they were determined not to convict themselves. With unnecessary roughness they were hurried into the courtyard from which their captors had sallied, and before long a mandarin came out of the house to inspect them. He was not attired in his official clothes, and did not come within twenty yards of the prisoners, but after a glance at them made some remark to the leader of the men who had captured them, and then returned indoors.
Ping Wang was still ignorant of the cause of their arrest, but, as no cries of 'Foreigners!' had been raised, he knew that it had not yet been discovered that Charlie and Fred were Europeans. Once again he demanded to be told why they had been arrested, but, instead of replying, the leader raised his bamboo cane menacingly. As Ping Wang had no desire to be beaten, he made no further efforts to solve the mystery of their arrest. His sole anxiety now was as to what would be done to them. That they were supposed to have committed some crime he guessed, and that they would be punished, although they had not been tried, he was also sure.
Without any delay, Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang were marched out of the courtyard, and through the streets, until they came to a large building, which Ping Wang recognised with dismay as a prison. But, with a thrill of hope, he found that they were not taken into the prison, but marched round the wall until they came to a spot where there were half-a-dozen wooden collars lying on the ground. These wooden collars are very much like the old English pillory, with the exception that the person who has to wear the instrument is not placed on a platform, but stands or sits on the ground.
Charlie and Fred did not recognise the instruments of punishment, and, when they were suddenly flung to the ground, they imagined that they were about to be executed. As they felt the collars tighten round their necks, and had their hands pushed through two holes lower down on the wooden board, they came to the conclusion that they were to be tortured to death. But when they found that nothing more was done to them they turned their heads—as far as their wooden collars would permit—to see how their companion was faring. Then,seeing each other, they understood the nature of their punishment.
The Chinamen, having chained the wooden collars to the prison wall, departed, leaving the three prisoners to the tender mercies of any passers-by.
'Now they are all gone I must speak,' Charlie exclaimed. 'How long will they keep us in these things?'
'I haven't the faintest idea,' Ping Wang answered.
For fully half an hour they did not speak a word. Scores of people passed them during that time, but very few took any notice of them, for it was by no means an unusual sight to see prisoners there. Two or three chaffed them, but no one molested them. Their first tormentors were two boys, who walked up and down in front of them, pulling their noses as they passed; but, fortunately, an official, whose duty it was to pay periodical visits to men in their position, came in sight, and the young rascals fled in alarm.
This official, who was aged, smiled with delight at having caused the boys to go without much exertion on his part. He wore a hat which reminded Charlie and Fred of a candle-extinguisher. In other respects his costume did not differ from that of any ordinary Chinaman.
'Venerable uncle,' Ping Wang exclaimed as soon as the old man reached them, 'why are your dogs of servants placed in the wooden collars?'
The old man smiled, for in his time he had heard hundreds of prisoners ask that question. Nevertheless he replied, for he always treated prisoners courteously, having seen many respectable men in the position of his questioner.
'Did not my honourable brothers steal a horse that belonged to the foreigners?' he asked.
'Your dogs of servants have not stolen anything.'
The old man laughed incredulously. 'The foreigners say that you did,' he declared.
'They have not seen us.'
'But they have declared to the mandarin that three men stole their horse at daybreak. Therefore you were arrested.'
Having given this very unsatisfactory piece of information, the old man calmly walked away.
When he was out of hearing, Ping Wang said to his friends in misfortune: 'We are arrested for horse-stealing. Some foreigners—missionaries, I imagine, as there are not likely to be any other Europeans in this place—have complained that they have had their horse stolen by three men. Evidently the mandarin, or one of his subordinates, promised to inquire into the matter, and, in order to give the missionaries the impression that they had caught the thieves, ordered the arrest of any three men. Apparently we happened to be passing just as the Yamên runners started out, and therefore they took us. Now the mandarin will inform the missionaries that he has had the thieves caught and punished.'
Nothing more was said by either of the unfortunate prisoners for nearly an hour, so continuously were people passing to and fro. Their necks were aching terribly, and, in spite of their determination not to lose heart, they became very dispirited.
(Continued on page 324.)
'I
want the boat smartened up a bit, Jack. You will lend a hand this afternoon, and help me to give her a fresh coat of paint.'
'What is the use of wasting paint over an old thing like that, Grandfather? You only use her for taking out the lobster-pots. I wish we had a good boat we could hire out to visitors.'
'"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride,"' the old man said, 'or perhaps, in the present case, they would sail. But I have not quite enough money put by for a new boat yet.'
'And there is little chance of making any,' Jack grumbled.
'Well, we must just make the best of what we have got. And, you know, Jack, I must have things ship-shape about me, and so, even if theMary Janehas seen her best days, she can still be kept spick and span as well as seaworthy.'
'There would be some sense in keeping a smart little craft which looked nice,' Jack argued, 'but this old tub is only fit for firewood.'
'Now, look here, sonny, suppose I were to say, "It is no use for an old fellow like me to try to look respectable. I will just have done with brush and comb, soap and water, and go in rags, and will leave it for the young folks to be smart and tidy?"'
'Oh, that wouldn't do at all!' Jack said, looking at the old man, with his jolly ruddy face and white hair. 'Granny would never allow that.'
'And I am not going to allow my oldMary Janeto be slovenly either. But I will manage the job myself if old folks and old boats are not worth your troubling about.'
Now this made Jack rather ashamed of his reluctance to help, so in the afternoon he came and worked with a will, until the old boat in her new dress looked as if she had grown young again.
Indeed, the fresh paint had such a smart appearance that a little girl passing down to the beach stopped and gazed at it with admiration.
'Look, Daddy,' she called to her father. 'Isn't it a dear little boat? Could we have it to go for a row?'
'It certainly looks broad and safe enough for a small girl who finds it difficult to keep still,' was the answer, and the result was an arrangement to hire the boat at intervals for the rest of the summer season.
And when theMary Janewas laid up for the winter, Jack and his grandfather counted their earnings, and found that enough had been gained to make up the sum wanted for a new boat.
'That coat of paint was worth something after all,' the old man said. 'And remember, sonny, that "taut and trim" is a good motto to hold by whether your work lies among boats or not.'
M. H.