"The horse shot by him.""The horse shot by him."
"The dog hailed his master as he passed.""The dog hailed his master as he passed."
Venturesome people are always on the look-out for fresh excitements. To them it is not enough to go up in the car of a balloon in the ordinary way. They must do something that no one else had ever done. So a M. Margat ascended sitting astride a wooden horse, and Madame Blanchard attached fireworks toherballoon, and discharged them in mid-air. At Paris, on July 6th, 1819, she meant to make a finer display than usual, and succeeded in letting off fountains of fire from a wooden platform beneath the car. But, not content with this, she hoped to surprise and delight the people of Paris still further by letting off a fresh display from the car itself. Unfortunately she overlooked the fact that a small stream of gas was pouring from the lower end of her balloon, owing to the envelope having been too fully charged, and the moment she struck the match this stream caught fire. A tongue of flame ran up the outside of the bag, and, her efforts to put it out proving in vain, she pulled the valve-rope to descend. The gas rushed out at the top, but caught fire in turn, and the falling car, coming in contact with the roof of a house, threw Madame Blanchard to the ground with fatal result.
Accidents in the air have been countless, a large number of them being due to the use of the parachute. But this invention has frequently been employed effectively. Though the idea of such a machine may be traced back many hundreds of years in old drawings and old books, the inventor of the first in which a descent was actually made, was Jacques Garnerin, a pupil of the celebrated Professor Charles. The first to make use of it was his little dog. M. Garnerin carried the parachute, tied underneath a balloon, above a dense cloud. Here the little dog was carefully secured in the car of the parachute, and the next moment disappeared swiftly into the cloud. Garnerin pulled the valve-rope, and followed. But his little dog was nowhere to be seen, on account of the mist. His master was about to let out more gas, thinking that he was behindhand in this race to the earth, when a loud and joyous barking fell on his ear. It came from overhead, but Garnerin could see nothing until, when the cloud was left behind, the parachute emerged into the sunshine a few yards away. The dog, with senses quicker than his own, had been conscious of his master's presence, and hailed him as he passed. But the balloon continued rapidly on its downward course, and, answering the barks with consoling words, the aeronaut hurried to the earth. A moment or two later he welcomed his strange little traveller from the clouds. The dog, happily, suffered nothing, and even seemed to enjoy the experiment, which might have proved both cruel and fatal.
Garnerin's dog was the pioneer of many human travellers in the same machine. The master himself was the next to perform the feat, and, watched by a large crowd, on October 22nd, 1797, he cut his parachute loose from his balloon at a height of three thousand feet. A cry of horror broke from the watchers as the parachute was seen to descend with awful swiftness. But it flew open the next moment, and though M. Garnerin was swung dangerously from side to side, he reached the ground in safety. This swaying was due to the fact that he had not made a hole in the top of his 'umbrella,' to allow the air to rush through. Imprisoned in the dome, its only outlet was over the sides, and this caused the apparatus to swing. M. Garnerin took advantage of the lesson, and made the opening before his next flight.
This parachute was built like a huge umbrella, the cords supporting the car coming from the outside ends of the 'ribs.' Being closed, when detached from the balloon it, of course, descended at a great speed till the rush of air became strong enough to force it open. It was used without mishap in many descents, and is still the pattern for parachutes.
Among many who sought to improve upon M. Garnerin's machine was an Englishman, named Cocking. In 1836 he built a parachute with the sides turned up instead of down, like an umbrella blown inside out, thinking that it would give greater steadiness in the descent. Thus far he was correct, but, being too sure of success, he allowed himself, without first making experiments, to be cut loose from a balloon three thousand feet up, and was instantly killed, the parachute being too weak in construction. Sixteen years later another inventor made a parachute like Garnerin's, but provided with large wings. Standing in an iron frame he worked these wings with both arms, with the intention of directing the parachute in its fall, thus, to a certain extent, turning it into a flying machine. But when he was descending near Tottenham, on June 27th, 1854, an unfortunate accident resulted in the inventor's death.
Such were some of the misuses of the parachute; but, though with care it may be employed with safety, it is not popular with aeronauts, who have pointed out that the balloon itself may, in emergencies, be turned into a parachute. When the gas has nearly all escaped the passage of air will drive the silk up into the netting, and so check the speed of descent. Mr. Coxwell more than once came safely to earth in this way. Only a short time ago, on July 24th, 1904, an incident bearing on this point occurred in France. A captive balloon, when some hundred feet from the ground, was torn from its anchorage by a sudden gust of wind. The nine passengers in the car were horrified to find themselves a few moments later sailing above the clouds. At ten thousand feet the pressure of gas had become so great that the silk envelope was ruptured, and the terrified travellers realised that they were falling rapidly. They then left the car, and climbed into the network. Fortunately, as the balloon collapsed more and more, it took the form of a parachute, and eventually landed two miles from the starting-point, with its passengers more terrified than hurt.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(Continued from page 343.)
They walked on in silence. Soon they were able to distinguish some of the men. All of them were armed—some with swords, some with sticks,and one or two with bows and arrows. None, so far as could be seen, carried fire-arms. They soon caught sight of the Pages and Ping Wang, and stood watching the travellers as they approached.
Concealing their excitement, Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang continued walking on until they came face to face with the men, who wore yellow cloths round their heads and also round their bodies and legs. One of them spoke sharply, and Ping Wang replied promptly and cheerfully. His reply evidently pleased them, for they spoke to him in a friendly manner. Charlie and Fred stood silently a foot or two in rear of their friend, and, as they did not understand anything of what was being said, it was easy for them not to show any sign of interest. Suddenly one of the men spoke to Charlie, who acted his part well, continuing to gaze at Ping Wang's back, and appearing ignorant of the fact that he had been addressed. Ping Wang turned round instantly, and, with a sorrowful air, spoke to the man. Charlie and Fred guessed from Ping Wang's manner, and the surprise which his words created, that he had declared that they could not speak or understand.
When the people had, apparently, expressed their sorrow, Ping Wang suddenly addressed the crowd in a loud voice. He pointed to Charlie and Fred, and, as he did so, his tone became more indignant, his manner more excited. When he had brought his speech to an end, the crowd behaved like a gathering of madmen. Swords, spears, and sticks were flourished about in a most reckless and threatening manner.
After the performance, which might be called a war-dance, had subsided, a portly Chinaman, with a red cloth tied round his head, and cloth of a similar colour covering his body and legs, advanced to within a yard of Ping Wang, and shook hands with himself. Ping Wang instantly shook his own hands. Having thus greeted each other, the two men entered into an earnest conversation, and it was clear that they were discussing a matter of importance from the manner in which the crowd closed on them, so as to hear everything that was said. And then it was that Charlie and Fred noticed that every man present was wearing either a yellow or a red cloth round his head. The majority wore yellow ones, those who were wearing red being, evidently, the bodyguard of the fat gentleman who was talking to Ping Wang.
At length the conversation came to an end, and from the smile on the portly Chinaman's face Charlie and Fred concluded, rightly, that Ping Wang had succeeded in pleasing him. But what followed puzzled them completely. The crowd moved back, leaving them with Ping Wang and the big man in the centre of a circle. Then three men advanced to join them. One was carrying a long cane, the second two lighted incense candles, and the third a handful of square pieces of paper, on which were written some Chinese characters. The fat man and Ping Wang then went down on their knees, face to face, and so close to each other that their noses almost touched. As they knelt, the man with the paper set light to one of the pieces, and tossed it in the air above the kneeling men. As he did so Ping Wang and the man opposite to him bent down their heads, and butted each other gently. When the kneeling men had butted each other seven times, the man with the cane struck Ping Wang one blow across the back. The butting ceased at once, and Ping Wang stood up, the crowd giving vent to harsh cries, which were meant for applause.
The fat man remained on his knees, and Ping Wang signed to Charlie to take the position which he had just left. Charlie was put through the same performance as Ping Wang, and when he rose up, Fred knelt down, and went through the same ceremony.
When the portly Chinaman had got on his feet, he shouted to some one in the crowd, and a man ran to him, carrying in his hand three pieces of yellow cloth. These were presented to Ping Wang and the Pages. Ping Wang did not don the yellow cloth, but placed it in his pocket, and Charlie and Fred followed his example.
The crowd now separated, some men proceeding towards Kwang-ngan, and others starting off to more distant villages. The Pages and Ping Wang went with the former; but, as they walked slowly, they were soon left behind, much to their satisfaction. Having looked round and satisfied himself that the nearest men were more than a hundred yards ahead of them, Charlie said to Ping Wang, in an undertone, 'What was the meaning of it all?'
'Simply this,' Ping Wang answered with a smile, 'we have been sworn in members of the Big Sword, or Boxer Society—a Society which exists for the sole purpose of ferreting out and killing foreigners.'
Before Charlie and Fred had recovered from the surprise of this announcement, the people in front started running quickly towards the town.
'The town gates are about to be closed for the night,' Ping Wang explained. 'We will stay out here until they are opened to-morrow. Let us hide among these bushes, in case any more men should come along and be suspicious of us for not hurrying.'
They pushed their way through the dwarf bushes until they came to a small clearing. Then they sat down and waited silently until the last townsman had hurried by.
'They have all gone,' Ping Wang declared a quarter of an hour after the last man had passed, 'so now I will tell you all about the Boxers. After we had exchanged greetings they told me that they were members of the Big Sword or Big Fist Society, commonly known as Boxers, and asked me to join them. I agreed to do so; if I had refused we should not be alive now. Then they told me that the Empress Dowager, Tsi-Hsi, and most of the mandarins were supporting them, and had approved of their plan to destroy every European and native Christian in the land. I asked when the rising was likely to take place, and was told that, as far as they knew, it would begin in about three weeks' time. Then I heard a man address you, and therefore declared at once that you could not speak, and after that I made a speech pretending to be very hostile to foreigners.'
'Don't you think,' said Charlie, 'that we ought to hurry back to warn Barton and his friends of the threatened rising?'
'We can warn them without going back to them. I will send word to my cousin. Since he has becomea Christian, all the members of his family, excepting his youngest brother, have refused to speak to him. His youngest brother, who is in Kwang-ngan, is very fond of him, and when I tell him of his brother's danger, he will, I am certain, hurry off to warn him—and, of course, my cousin will tell Barton.'
"They butted each other gently.""They butted each other gently."
Then they began to discuss once more the object of their visit to China—the recovery of the idol.
'I'm very anxious to get that treasure,' Charlie declared, 'but I feel just now as if I would willingly sell my share of it for a good meal. I'm both hungry and cold.'
'Then let us walk about,' Ping Wang suggested. 'It will keep us warm. Our hunger we shall have to put up with for several hours, I'm afraid.'
As they tried to get warm, Ping Wang told them of many curious customs of his countrymen, to make the time pass. But in spite of his stories they became very tired and hungry, and were exceedingly thankful when, at last, daylight appeared.
(Continued on page 354.)
"He hit out with all his force.""He hit out with all his force."
Frank Ardlamont and his younger brother Dick had a liking for every kind of country sport, and were always ready for any adventure which required skill and daring. When, therefore,they were spending a holiday in the Highlands of Scotland, and learned that there was an eagle's nest built upon an almost inaccessible ledge on the steep side of Ben Galt, scarcely three miles away from the house where they were staying, they thought it would be a fine thing to try and capture one of the young. The lads had recently seen an eagle in one of the cages of a travelling menagerie, and they thought that if they could capture a young one, they might perhaps be able to rear it. They talked the matter over, arranged their plans, and finally proceeded to carry them out.
The nest was a little below the edge of a steep cliff, and there was a rugged, winding path, leading up to the top of the cliff. Having provided themselves with a strong iron bar, a rope, and several stout sticks, Frank and Dick started out for Ben Galt, accompanied by a Scotch gillie. They climbed to the top of the cliff without much difficulty, and drove the iron bar firmly into a crevice of the rock. Then Frank tied one end of the rope round his waist, and having fastened the other to the iron bar, he passed the middle of the rope round it in a loop, and told the others how to pay it out in sailor fashion. This done he dropped over the edge of the cliff, and began his descent.
The boys had seen the eagles starting out upon their morning hunt, as they were on their way to Ben Galt. The birds were nowhere in sight when Frank swung himself from the cliff, and he had no fear of an attack. He was careful, nevertheless, to carry a good stout stick with him. He dropped upon the edge where the nest was built, and drew down just enough rope to allow him to move about freely. The nest was a flat pile or floor of sticks, covered with rushes, heath, and grass. It was not hollowed out, but the eaglets upon it were protected to some extent by the overhanging of the cliff itself. About the nest lay the scattered bones of hares, rabbits, and moor-fowl, with here and there a larger one which might have belonged to some young lamb or kid.
Frank stood looking at the nest for a few minutes before he took up one of the young birds. The eaglet gaped hungrily as he lifted it up, and made a sort of screeching noise, struggling apparently to reach something behind Frank. He turned quickly, and was horrified to see one of the parent birds sweeping up from the valley below. His first impulse was to give the signal for those above to haul him up, and to jump off the edge at once; but a moment's reflection showed him that it would be foolish to do so. The eagle was close upon him, and he saw that he would be much more helpless dangling at the end of a rope, than standing firmly upon his feet. So he withdrew as far as he could under the shelter of the overhanging rock, and waited, stick in hand, for the angry bird. As it came up, he hit out with all his force. It was well that he had remained where he was, for the eagle was placed at a disadvantage by having to draw in its wings in order to approach him. With gaping beak and extended claws it flew at him, but before it could touch him he delivered another heavy blow at its neck, and three or four in quick succession upon its shoulders. The first blow crippled it for the moment, and the succession of them so disabled it that it dropped in the air, and fell fluttering helplessly down into the valley.
Frank cast a quick glance across the sky, and saw the companion eagle returning high in the air. The pair had evidently been hunting in their usual way, one near the ground, and the other at a great height. He saw that he had no time to lose. He gave three sharp tugs at the rope, and sprang from the ledge. In a few minutes he was drawn up safely to the top of the cliff, carrying the eaglet in his arm. The returning eagle flew straight to the nest; then, hearing the cries of his wounded companion, he directed his course to where it lay. The two boys and the gillie, finding the eagles' attention diverted from them, made haste to return to the valley, glad to have escaped without injury.
Ding-dong,The Sun has gone:A crimson night-gown he put on:I saw him cover up his head:Ding dong,He's now in bed.Fairy maid,Come to the glade:The meadow is with pearls arrayed:The moonbeams cling to every treeLovingly.From thy bowerTo dance an hourCome, and leave the cosy flowerThat cradles thee.Fairy man,Arise, arise!Stars are dancing in the skies:Leaves are dancing on the treesTo the music of night's breeze.Come a-tripping,Come a-tripping,Time is slipping fast away,Ever slipping towards the day!Drag each lazy fairy-fellowFrom his sleepy bed;Dress him up in crocus yellow,Or in roses red.Arise, arise!Stars are kissing in the skies.Ding-dong,The Sun has gone:A crimson night-gown he put on:I saw him cover up his head:Ding-dong,He's safe in bed.
Ding-dong,The Sun has gone:A crimson night-gown he put on:I saw him cover up his head:Ding dong,He's now in bed.
Fairy maid,Come to the glade:The meadow is with pearls arrayed:The moonbeams cling to every treeLovingly.From thy bowerTo dance an hourCome, and leave the cosy flowerThat cradles thee.
Fairy man,Arise, arise!Stars are dancing in the skies:Leaves are dancing on the treesTo the music of night's breeze.Come a-tripping,Come a-tripping,Time is slipping fast away,Ever slipping towards the day!Drag each lazy fairy-fellowFrom his sleepy bed;Dress him up in crocus yellow,Or in roses red.Arise, arise!Stars are kissing in the skies.
Ding-dong,The Sun has gone:A crimson night-gown he put on:I saw him cover up his head:Ding-dong,He's safe in bed.
The regiment of the Third Grenadier Guards not long ago changed its quarters from the Tower to the Wellington Barracks, and marched past the Mansion House in the City of London in full panoply of war, band playing, colours flying, and bayonets glittering in the bright sunshine.
Before, however, their Colonel could thus proudly lead his regiment through the old historic streets of London, he had to obtain permission from the Lord Mayor, who, by virtue of a power dating back to a very remote period, can refuse the marching of troops through the City without his permission.
Two regiments only are exceptions to this law, the 'Buffs,' or East Kent Regiment, and the Honourable Artillery Company; both these are descended from the old trained bands of the City, and therefore have the right to march through when they will, with arms and unfurled colours.
Unfurled colours, it may be mentioned, always claim great honour and respect. When first presented to a regiment, the officer receives them on bended knee, and to this day very many people raise their hats to the colours as they are carried by.
There once lived in Bagdad a poor porter, whose name was Hindbad. One day, during the excessive heat of summer, he was carrying a heavy load from one end of the city to the other, and, just as he was feeling very tired of his burden, came upon a street refreshed by a gentle breeze. The pavement was sprinkled with rose-water, and in a fine position, close to the street, stood a splendid mansion. Asking whose house it was, Hindbad was told that it was the residence of Sinbad the Sailor, 'that famous voyager who had sailed over all the seas under the sun.' Hindbad could not help thinking how different this man's situation was from his own, and he exclaimed in a loud voice, 'Alas, what a difference there is between Sinbad and myself! I suffer daily a thousand ills, and find the greatest difficulty in providing my wretched family with bad barley bread, whilst Sinbad spends his riches freely, and enjoys every pleasure. What has he done to be so happy, or I to be so unhappy?'
As he said this, he struck the ground with his foot angrily, and stood there looking at the house, the picture of despair. As he remained thus, a servant came out from the great house, and, taking hold of his arm, said, 'Come, follow me; my master, Sinbad, wishes to speak with you.' Very soon Hindbad was brought into the presence of the great man, who was surrounded by a crowd of officers and servants. He was a very grave and venerable person, with a long white beard. The poor porter felt very much afraid when he saw so much magnificence; but Sinbad drove away his fears by his kindness, and helped him to the choicest dishes.
After the feast Sinbad addressed Hindbad by the title of 'brother,' and asked his name and profession. Hindbad answered him faithfully. Sinbad wished to know what it was he had said in the street, and this also Hindbad told him. Then Sinbad pointed out how foolish the porter's anger and envy had been, since he did not really know whether this wealth had not been won worthily by toil and hardship; and when Hindbad began to see that he had spoken without thought, Sinbad went on to give some account of his adventures in seven voyages that he had made on different seas. We shall not narrate the whole of these adventures during the various voyages, but shall only take two of them, one of which has passed into a proverb.
When Sinbad was a young man, he spent the fortune he inherited from his father foolishly. But there came a day, happily while he was still young, when he saw his folly, and determined to use what was left of his fortune in a better manner. As a first step in this direction, he sought the advice of some merchants who traded by sea, with the result that he embarked with several of them in a vessel which they had fitted out at their united expense. It was a lovely day when they set sail, but before long the wind fell, and they were becalmed off a small island. The captain ordered the sails to be furled, and gave permission for those who wished to go ashore. Amongst those who took advantage of the permission was Sinbad himself. He and his comrades sat down to lunch on one of the greenest parts of the island, and had just begun their meal, when the island suddenly trembled, and they felt a great shock. They at first supposed that it was an earthquake, but in this they were mistaken, for the island turned out to be nothing more nor less than a huge whale! The most active of the party jumped into the boat, while others threw themselves into the water to swim to the ship. Sinbad himself was still on the 'island' when it plunged into the sea. He had only time, as he sank, to catch hold of a piece of wood which had been brought to make a fire with. A breeze had sprung up, and the captain of the ship set sail, leaving Sinbad, whom he had possibly not missed, to the mercy of the waves.
At last a great wave dashed Sinbad, nearly exhausted, on to an island which, this time, he found to be really good firm earth. The men of the island were kind to him, and told him that had he been a day later he would very likely have perished from starvation, for on the following day they were leaving that part of the island, with the horses which they were to take to the King.
The King received Sinbad in a friendly manner, and the wanderer stayed in the chief city for some time. At length, one day, when he was standing near the harbour, he saw a ship come towards the land. It was loaded with goods, and as he was looking he saw his own name on some of the packages, and knew them to be those which he had left behind him in the vessel. On making inquiries of the captain, whom he recollected as the captain with whom he had formerly sailed, he was told that the parcels belonged to 'a merchant of Bagdad, named Sinbad.' Of course, it took but a short time to convince the captain that the man to whom he was speaking was the missing passenger. Sinbad related his adventures, and was soon in possession of his merchandise again. He selected from it some of the most valuable things, and presented them to the King of the island. He sold the remainder for a good sum of money, and at length returned in the ship to his native land, where he was received by his family and friends with great joy.
(Concluded on page 354.)
"'My master wishes to speak with you.'""'My master wishes to speak with you.'"
"He saw an old man, who seemed to be very weary.""He saw an old man, who seemed to be very weary."
(Concluded from page 351.)
Sinbad bought a magnificent house and grounds, and thought of settling down and forgetting all the disagreeable things that had happened to him; but this state of idleness did not please his active turn of mind, and he soon gave it up and took to his travels again. He made no less than seven voyages before he retired and settled down with his family. On one of these voyages he was again wrecked, and after a narrow escape from drowning, was cast up on another island. He wandered along the shore for some time, and presently came upon a little stream. On the banks of this brook he saw an old man seated, who seemed to be very broken down and weary. 'I approached and saluted him,' said Sinbad to Hindbad, 'but instead of replying he made signs to me to take him on my shoulders and cross the brook, making me understand that he wanted to gather some fruit.' This Sinbad did, and when he had reached the other side of the stream with his heavy load, he stopped and asked the old man to get down.
But then a strange thing happened. 'This old man,' said Sinbad, 'who appeared so decrepit, nimbly threw his legs, which I now saw were covered with a hard skin, over my neck, and seated himself on my shoulders, at the same time squeezing my throat so tightly that I expected to be strangled. I was so alarmed that I fainted away.' The old man, however, would not loose his hold, but made his prisoner carry him and gather fruit for him, and work for him generally, without paying him any money or allowing him any liberty, merely raining down blows on him for all that he did.
But at last, one day, Sinbad's opportunity came. The old man having taken a drink which Sinbad had prepared for him out of some grapes he found, became drowsy, and began to sway about on the shoulders of his carrier, who, understanding how things were, threw his burden to the ground, and thus got rid of him. Overjoyed at being once again free, he walked towards the sea-shore, and here, to his great joy, he met some people who belonged to a vessel which had anchored there to get fresh water. He told them of his adventures, and they assured him that he had fallen into the hands of the Old Man of the Sea, adding, 'You are the first whom he has not strangled; he never left those whom he had once mastered till he had put an end to their lives. The sailors and merchants who land here never dare approach him except in a strong body.'
No doubtChatterboxreaders have often heard the phrase, 'The old man of the sea,' which is only another term for a weight that we have taken upon ourselves and cannot shake off. Thus, if a man is in debt, and cannot get clear, the debt is said to be a veritable 'old man of the sea' to him who carries the burden.
All Sinbad's fatigue at last ended, and he arrived happily at Bagdad, where he lived a quiet and worthy life till the hour of his death. Hindbad, when he heard the tale, was obliged to admit that the man whose riches he had so envied had not won them without fearful perils, and that his own miseries, as compared with those undergone by the owner of the mansion, were as nothing; and Sinbad, remembering what he had once suffered himself, behaved kindly and generously to the porter, making him his friend, and promising him that all his life he should have reason to remember Sinbad the Sailor.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(Continued from page 349.)
The Pages and Ping Wang were among the first twenty to pass in at the town gates, and the latter at once crossed over to an inn and peeped in at the door. The glance he gave satisfied him, and he beckoned to Charlie and Fred to enter. It was not an attractive-looking place, but there was a smell of roast pork, that made the hungry travellers sniff with delight.
The dining-room into which Ping Wang led the way was very dirty, and until Charlie and Fred were told what the room was they had no idea that it was there that they were to breakfast. They sat down on a form at a little, bare wooden table, and before long were enjoying a hearty meal of roast pork and tea.
'And now,' Fred said, when they had satisfied their healthy appetites, 'I should like to lie down and sleep.'
'So should I,' Charlie declared. 'What kind of beds do they have here?'
'We can lie on the floor here if we like,' Ping Wang answered.
'I'll do so,' Charlie said, and down he went on the floor, turned his face to the wall, rested his head on his arm, and closed his eyes: Fred followed his example at once.
Ping Wang waited until his friends were asleep, and then, having satisfied himself that their pigtails were not slipping off, and that there was nothing about their appearance to attract attention, he lay down beside them.
All three slept soundly until the landlord came in and awoke Ping Wang, who had an argument with him about the price of roast pork.
'What is our next move?' Charlie asked, quietly, when the landlord had left the room.
'To go and see my cousin,' Ping Wang replied, 'to warn him of the danger which threatens his brother and all other Christians.'
Ping Wang found his cousin—a fan-maker—at his shop. He had heard of the Boxers' intentions the day before, and had already been to his brother to warn him and his friends. This was indeed good news, and Ping Wang was anxious to tell his friends of it, but dared not, for his cousin's work-people were in the next room, and would probably hear themspeaking English. He told his cousin, however, that his friends, who were standing at the door, were Englishmen, a piece of news which caused the fan-maker much uneasiness. He begged Ping Wang not to introduce him to the Englishmen, and urged him to get them out of the town as quickly as possible. Ping Wang chatted with him for a few more minutes and then departed.
The streets were now crowded with people, and Ping Wang whispered to his friends not to speak on any account until they were safe at another inn. He led them through numerous narrow streets, and was within a hundred yards of the inn where he hoped to get a room when a man came running along the street, shouting wildly, slashing about with a whip, and driving the people back against the houses on either side. Ping Wang pushed the Pages back quickly and stood in front of them.
A few moments later Charlie and Fred understood the cause of the excitement. A gorgeous palanquin was borne rapidly past them, but not so quickly that they were unable to see the occupant. He was a fat, cruel-looking man, and took no notice whatever of the kowtowing of the people. On his head he wore a yellow cloth, such as the Boxers had worn on the previous evening, and this was regarded, as it was meant to be, as a sign that he was in sympathy with the Boxer movement.
'Chin Choo,' Ping Wang muttered, as the palanquin passed out of sight, and Charlie and Fred knew that they had seen the murderer of their friend's father, and the possessor of the treasure which they had come to China to secure.
The inn to which Ping Wang led his friends was the best in Kwang-ngan. It was roomy, fairly clean, and was the only place of its kind that was two storeys high. The other inns had but one storey.
Ping Wang took a room on the first floor, and they entered into occupation at once.
'Let us sit in the middle of the room,' Ping Wang said, 'and then, if we talk very quietly, there will be no fear of any one hearing that we are not talking Chinese.'
Ping Wang then told his friends of what his cousin had said to him. They were very much relieved to hear that the missionaries had been warned of the danger that threatened them, but were rather worried by the difficulties before them.
'The easiest way to get into Chin Choo's garden,' Ping Wang said, 'will be by climbing over the wall. It is a high one, certainly, but I do not think that we shall have much difficulty in scaling it. What I do fear is that, as Chin Choo's house is in the busiest part of the town, we may have to wait days, perhaps weeks, before we find the road deserted, even at night. As soon as it is dark, we will go out and find the most convenient spots for climbing. In the meanwhile, are either of you hungry?'
Charlie and Fred had had such a hearty breakfast that they almost shuddered at the mention of food.
'Well,' Ping Wang said, 'I'm not hungry either, but we shall want some dinner.'
He went downstairs to give the order and have a chat with the inn-keeper. He was absent about twenty minutes, and when he returned the Pages saw that he had some news to tell them.
'What is it?' Charlie asked.
Ping Wang quietly turned the key in the door and then sat down beside his friends.
'There is to be a feast to-night. It's to be held at the other end of the town, and everybody who possibly can will be there. That will leave this end of the town nearly deserted. A better opportunity for climbing over Chin Choo's wall we could not possibly have. The road will be deserted, and most of Chin Choo's servants will be at the feast. Perhaps Chin Choo himself will be there. Don't let us talk about it just now. Our dinner will not be brought up for three hours, and in the meantime we had better get all the sleep that we can. We must be as fresh as possible this evening.'
Charlie and Fred agreed, and five minutes later all three were sleeping soundly.
They were aroused from their slumber by a terrific banging at their door.
'Who's there?' Ping Wang asked in Chinese, and the reply came, from the landlord himself, that he was their disreputable nephew, who would, if permitted to intrude his worthless body upon their exalted presence, lay the dinner.
Ping Wang replied instantly that if their intellectual uncle would condescend to demean himself by waiting on such idiotic monkeys, they would at once admit his glorious body to their ridiculous and contemptible presence.
These flowery Chinese compliments having been exchanged, Ping Wang opened the door to his 'uncle,' and his 'nephew' walked in and placed a couple of ducks on the table.
As soon as they had finished their meal, the Pages and Ping Wang went to the window and stood gazing down into the busy street. Charlie quickly noticed that nearly all the people who were proceeding in one direction were carrying provisions.
'Are they taking those things to give to their ancestors' ghosts?' he inquired.
'Well, no,' Ping Wang replied. 'The feast to be given to-night has been got up by the priests of Fo.'
'Who is Fo?'
'Buddha. Fo is our name for him. The Buddhists decided, many years ago, that the Confucians were to be blamed for neglecting to feast the ghosts of those who had been so unfortunate as to die without leaving any descendants, and agreed to do the work themselves. They published accounts of the terrible sufferings of the starving ghosts who had no descendants, and urged the people to contribute food to relieve their wants. The people gave willingly, and from that time the Buddhist priests have had feasts at intervals. I think that we shall be able to see part of this evening's performance. At dusk we will go out and examine the wall round Chin Choo's house, and when we have found the best place for scaling it, we will hurry off to the feast. We will stay there a short time, and then return to finish our job. By this time to-morrow I hope that we shall be back at Su-ching, with our pockets full of rubies. But Chin Choo is not likely to be merciful to any one found robbing him.'
'But we are not going to rob him,' Charlie declared. 'We are simply going to recover what he has stolen from you.'
"A gorgeous palanquin was borne rapidly past.""A gorgeous palanquin was borne rapidly past."
'That is so,' said Fred; 'but Chin Choo will think that as much stealing as if we were taking from him something to which he had a perfect right.'
'Oh, well, don't let us look on the gloomy side of the affair,' said Ping Wang. 'We need not talk about it any more now. I must go out for a few minutes. Wait for me here.'
(Continued on page 366.)
The feebler folk among Nature's children have many enemies; against these they are, as a rule, nearly powerless; but here and there, among the different groups of animals, we meet with strange devices for repelling attacks. Though these are by no means always successful, it seems clear that they are good enough to serve as a fairly sure protection. This is especially the case with the Caterpillars.
Fig. 1.—Caterpillars of Procession Moth.Fig. 1.—Caterpillars of Procession Moth.
There are two methods of defence used by caterpillars. One of these is the device of squirting noxious fluids from the body; the other is found in the poisonous hairs and spines which are scattered more or less all over the body.
Fig. 2.—Caltrops and Spines of Caterpillars.Fig. 2.—Caltrops and Spines of Caterpillars.
Those who have taken up the study of butterflies and moths, will do well to be careful in handling hairy caterpillars, especially those of the family known as the Bombyces. Some of the members of this family, such as the Fox-moth and the Brown and Gold-tailed moths, when in the caterpillar stage are thickly clothed with long stiff hairs, and these, if the creature be handled, pierce the skin and break off. In consequence very painful itching and irritation is set up. But this is nothing to the pain caused by the caterpillars of the wonderful 'Procession moth' (fig.1). In these caterpillars the poison hairs are very loosely attached to the body, and studded with exceedingly fine hooks that curve inwards, as may be seen in the diagram of a magnified portion of one of the spines (fig.2,dande). Partly by adhering to the skin, and partly by means of a very fine dust with which they are covered, these hairs set up a very violent inflammation on the skin of men and animals, which is hard to get rid of. On this account, moreover, the neighbourhood of the nests of these larvæ is dangerous, for the surrounding air is filled with the hairs and dust borne about by the wind. These are thus inhaled, and give rise to internal inflammation and swellings which have sometimes caused death.
One of the most remarkable of all hairy caterpillars is that of an American species (fig.3), burdened by scientific men with the terrible name—Megalopyga!The shorter hairs are poisonous.