N O .

25, V O L U M E

XXXV.]

SATURDAY,

MARCH

2 2 , 1913.

Price One Penny.
[ALL BIGHTS RESERVED.]

OVER

THE

CLIFF

le a dash at h i m ; he d u c k e d , both feet w e n t over the e d g e , and d o w n he w e n t . "

(See p. 387.)

386

The

"Boy's

Obvn

Taper.
indeed under-cut, red, seaward, nether support to the Edge was a gorgeous thing seen thus in profile. The delight lasted until he was about a dozen yards on the narrow way itself. Then he came to a gap about eighteen inches wide which changed his feelings. He had to jump it, and, no­ thing of a jump though it was, he said " Thank goodness ! " when he was over it. Another eight or ten paces and he crept round a bulge of the cliff and met a far worse shock. On the other side he came face to face with Josh. Not exactly face to face at first. The fellow was sitting like Jack on those two calm days just mentioned, but with a pipe in his mouth. He grinned up at Jack, removed his pipe, lazily hoisted himself on to his feet, and then faced the boy, com­ pletely blocking his path. . " ' E r e we are again, nipper!" he shouted. " And we're goin' to talk a bit, you an' me." The ledge was about a foot wide—no more. The surprise meeting made Jack almost forget its narrowness. He took a step backwards, and his left foot went an inch or two over the Edge. That gave him a blood-curdling thrill and kept him briefly silent afterwards. " What do you mean ? " he asked, when he had his breath under control again. Down came " Yellow " Josh's left hand upon his shoulder. " There's two things you've got to do, sonny, if you vally yer life," hissed the giant, close to Jack's ear. " Fust, pass over that chap's finger you've got in yer pocket. After that you'll get along on and tell any sort of a lie you like about losin' it—only you've not set eyes on me. Just you remember that. Not a soul 'ave you seen till you get down to Galligan Bay. Now then, out with i t ! " The giant stood before Jack like an impassable wall, and, flushed though he was by the wind and his walk, Jack felt a cold shiver all over him. Looking straight at Josh, in that instant he saw further than his Uncle Bill into the mystery of the finger in his pocket. The unusual mittens on the fellow's hand, the threat—every­ thing made it plain to him. And then he turned suddenly and would have rushed back in neck-or-nothing retreat but for someone else. Caesar the nigger had come out of his hiding-place in the gorse and followed him, and now blocked the way on that side also, with a grin as wide as his head. " No go, young boss ! " cried he, stand­ ing motionless, his hands on his hips. Jack turned again towards Josh, with still more of that cold shiver on him. " You—brutes ! " he panted. " Brutes, is it ? Right you are, sonny ! " jeered the giant. " You're wot they call a perlite young piece, but you're cornered 'ere, an' no get out! " " It's your own finger ! " shouted Jack. " You robbed the ship in the night! " " A n y t h i n ' m o r e ? " asked Josh, with grim serenity. " T e l l us somethin' fresh while you're about it. Well, wot's it to be ? It's a narsty journey down there" (he jerked his mittened hand towards the abyss), " but it's that, or what I've telled

It was no use protesting about such needless regard for his health. Jack grinned at his Uncle Bill, and submitted to be tucked up. But Uncle Bill didn't grin back. He had thoughts about that finger still on his mind. They had come to him in the last ten minutes, and they were of a kind he didn't care to share with anyone. I f he hadn't been such an amiable old thick­ head, they might well have come sooner, but all he said now was a casual word about " Yellow " Josh and his gloves. " Odd thing for him to turn up in mitts, missus! " he had said while Jack laid in scones and jam. Aunt Nan said it showed he had some commonplace human sense on such a cold day. " A y , perhaps that is i t ! " the coast­ guard seemed to assent. " It's a big body, that of his, for the blood to circulate in. I reckon he might feel it at the extremitiss. He's getting on in years too. He must be fifty, for all he hasn't a grey hair." He said no more about his mind's working, but when Jack was scarfed and ready, he went outside with him. " You won't want to go into the Cove on your way, Johnnie," he shouted in his ear. The wind was roaring round the flagstaff of the station enclosure. " Keep a bit up inside." " Of course I will," yelled Jack. " And don't forget to explain to Mr. Tregoran, Johnnie, that it's because he's lord of the manor and the nearest magis­ trate that we're troubling him like this. I don't want him to miss his train." " . R i g h t ! " cried Jack. " Y o u ' v e told me everything. The more you tell me now, the longer I'll be. Good-bye ! " But the coastguard had one thing more to say. " And be sure and tell him I was vexed with myself this morn­ ing for not noticing he'd left his umbrella. If it hadn't cleared after the rain he'd have noticed it himself, but I reckon when he got t 6 his carriage at the bottom of tjie hill he wouldn't think it worth coming back for ! " j " I'll tell him ! " cried Jack, breaking into a trot. j He started with the carriage umbrella tucked under his arm. It was a nuisance, this big bulky green thing. Great-coat and scarf were quite enough cargo without it. As for Aunt Nan's suggestion that it would be useful if it rained—that was ridiculous in such a wind. He had said so. How would she like to see him on OneMan-at-a-Time Edge in a gale of wind and rain, with a thing like that open ? This thought was almost too awful for Aunt Nan. " You'd never dream of opening it there, my dear ? " she had responded, in much alarm; and Jack assured her that he was not such a donKey. For the first two miles he enjoyed the tussle with the wind. The sea was in splendid trouble. Its waves rolled and wrestled far beneath him with a roar like that of London's streets at their noisiest. He was tempted to stop awhile at Lot's Wife Corner, a cape with a rock tooth from which the wrecked Mackerel was visible. But he stopped only for a moment or two. The tide was tearing in upon the

stranded vessel with a terrific upthrow of spray. The spectacle was a grand one, but Jack reflected that, weather helping, it would be just as grand in the morning. Then came the descent towards Italian Cove. From high up he could see the tarred shedding and enclosure of " Y e l l o w " Josh's lonely home, on a little tongue of shingle at the mouth of the Cove. A boat was beached behind it, and some nets were spread, with stones on them. But, as Uncle Bill bade him, he de­ scended well inland towards the little stream which trickled down the combe to enter the sea by the hut. He didn't want to see any more of Josh that day, here or in Sanmouth. One bound and he was over the brook. Then began the gradual ascent to the cliff beyond, and in less than a mile the tit bit of the trip. That was Jack's view of One-Man-at-a-

WHhT! NEVER 6 0 P!
THE"

Time Edge, until he reached it. He had been on it twice already—calm days both times—and had sat in the middle of it, with his legs dangling and his back against the rock, looking at the ships and the sea without a qualm. Nerves didn't bother him then. And it was much the same to-day, for the first few steps. He had to clutch the umbrella very tight, though. It had no fastening and no one had thought of tying it up at Neptune Hill. Ere reaching the Edge the wind tried to play tricks with it, and once blew it open with a pop that made him stagger. Anything like this on One-Man-at-aTime Edge would be nasty. Jack quite understood that, and held the gamp fast under his landward arm. Just before the Edge there was a steep slope of scrub, gorse and heather, and here he paused to prepare himself. There was just the chance that he might have seen someone here—crouched in the gorse. But he missed that chance. He climbed on with a gulp of delight, for the sheer,

O-Oer
" I ' m to lie to keep you out of g a o l ? " suggested Jack. " A y , an' to save yer own skin, sonny. Mind 'im, Caesar." " Yellow " Josh turned to the wall and struck a match. His coolness was almost fascinating to Jack in spite of his danger. Caesar the nigger's hand was on him now, to remind him that he had two enemies instead of one. It did all that, but it didn't make him flinch. Not even to save his skin would he give Josh the promise he exacted. " Y o u ' l l have to tear it out of me," he whispered. " You cowards ! " " Stubborn little top, ain't 'e? " mocked the giant amid the whirl of his tobacco smoke. Wind notwithstanding, he had lit his pipe. " But 'e'll be wiser afore we part company, I lay. Now let's see wot we can do with him." What Jack himself did the next moment he did upon a sudden impulse. He slipped his clutch of Mr. Tregoran's umbrella down to the handle and hit at Josh's right hand with it. The fellow's other hand was up to get hold of him, but it was the hand that was short of a finger that Jack aimed at. This brought on the catastrophe. Both men made a dash at h i m ; he ducked, both his feet went over the edge, and down he went. The umbrella's tip was the last part of him to disappear. He shouted as if in defiance of Josh and the nigger, and even death itself, and left the two rascals with open mouths above him. " Y e l l o w " Josh's pipe fell from his teeth and followed him. The drop to the shore here was fully two hundred and fifty feet, without any possibility of a handhold on the way. It really seemed as certain a death as beheading. But—and this was the strange mercy of it—with him went the umbrella, and he held to its handle as one does uncon­ sciously hold on to anything in such extreme times of dread. In a second or two he felt himself being buoyed up, tossed about in the air, and then, there he hung as from a parachute, swaying and descending so slowly that he could breath as comfortably as if he were standing still. He didn't hear the yells of those other two, when they also perceived what had happened. But he opened his eyes and got his other hand also to the umbrella, which had opened so providentially, and, thus steadying it, the rest of the journey was as safe and easy as a ride on a London 'bus. A splash ended it. He landed in a puddle a few yards only from the wash of the last white-capped wave. There was a fringe of firm sand close under the cliff, and, hesitating only to furl the truly blessed " brolly,'' which had worked such a miracle for him, Jack rushed for it, and ran on fast. His mind was all alive again in the last few moments of his descent, and he knew that even if he got down without broken limbs and escaped being drowned, he would still have to run for his life. Half a mile farther west there was a track down to the shore, and Josh was bound to try and be beforehand with him there. T o the east the Tising tide cut off his chances on the shore. In spite of all, however, he let loose a gentle " Hurrah ! " in the beginning of his second flight for life. It was a sprint he will never forget. The sand was not all firm. There was a lot of shingle, bespread with slippery

the

Cliff

Edge.

387
umbrella . . . . " Jack stopped, out o l breath. The groom and Mr. Tregoran both stared at him. But the latter did better than that. " See here, my boy," he said, " jump up, and you shall tell me about it between this and Starmouth." He gave Jack a helping lift, and joined him on the back seat. " Get along with you, Wilson ! " he said to the groom, and away they went.

boulders, and twice he had to clamber over tongues of rock covered with barnacles and seaweed, and plunge through water knee deep on the other side. The odds seemed all against him still. Josh and the nigger had a simple task compared with his. Jack thought of this now almost with despair, and expected at any moment to see them break down ahead of him from the land. He felt that he was trapped between the cliff and the sea. But he stuck to his work. What else could he d o ? There was no going back, and if he had to die he would die struggling. But, in fact, fortune was still with him. He reached the base of the cliff path with­ out seeing anything more of the two beauties, rounded a short headland, and l o ! there stood a man calmly stooping over a lobster pot. He was saved at last! Little doubt " Y e l l o w " Josh and the nigger had also seen this Galligan fisher­ man, and, realising that all was over for them, had taken to their heels. With glowing face, Jack hailed the man in a whisper. Dusk was at hand, but that didn't matter now. The white houses of Galligan were in sight on the Galligan inlet, and Mr. Tregoran's house in its park above the village. " H u l l o ! " exclaimed the fisherman. " Where've you dropped f r o m ? " " Y o u haven't seen two men come down—Josh Hull and his nigger ? " Jack gasped. i'ne man shook his head. " N o , nor don't want to see such scum ! " said he. " That's all right. Good evening. I'm in a hurry ! " With no more words Jack sped o n ; and, running and walking, he made the rest of his way to Galligan Manor without a single halt. Here he was just in time. A dogcart was at the door, the groom was on the box, and before Jack could ring the bell out came Mr. Tregoran himself. " I want to speak to you, sir," said Jack. " I ' v e come on purpose from Neptune Hill. It's very important, and this is the umbrella you left this morning. It saved my life, sir — just now." He rattled it off like a school lesson well learned. "Eh! What's that? A n umbrella saved your life ! " Mr. Tregoran laughed incredulously, looked at his watch, and said he couldn't wait for fairy tales. " I've a train to c a t c h ! " he added. " But—didn't I see you this morning at Griffiths', the coastguard's? " " Yes, sir, you did. I'm his nephew. There's been a robbery on the wreck. Josh Hull's lost his finger. I've got it in my pocket. He threatened to murder me, and I fell over the cliff and but for the

And a very interesting and absorbing story the magistrate found it. So much so that he went first to the Starmouth Police Station to give instructions for an imme­ diate pursuit and arrest of ' ' Yellow " Josh—if he was to be found This done, he bade his man drive Jack on to Neptune Hill. " Y o u ' r e a fortunate as well as a brave youngster, John Eastland," he said at parting. " That adventure of yours would look mighty well in the papers for a day or two, but its memory will last you your lifetime." One thing more he said—to the police. It was about " Yellow " Josh. If he knew anything of the working of that accom­ plished scoundrel's mind, he had spent his last day in his shanty at Italian Cove. Whether or not he had succeeded in getting any booty out of the Mackerel, he would make himself very scarce after the affair on the Edge. But they were bound t o search for him. ' Mr. Tregoran was, of course, right about that. Neither " Y e l l o w " Josh nor his ally., Caesar, the nigger, was to be found in the Cove. They left nothing behind them worth anything except the boat. Nor was any clue about them to be had in Sanmoutb the next day. They disappeared from the district as completely as if the sea had drowned them and the fishes had eaten them, bones and all. And, to tell the truth, that was the hope of more than one in this part of the c o a s t ! Jack himself was back at Neptune Hill that night well before eight o'clock; and had the pleasure of astonishing his Uncle Bill and scaring his Aunt Nan. But he did as little scaring as he could. Some­ how, he didn't much feel like attempting it. H e said his descent with the umbrella was one of the jolliest experiences imagin­ able—after the first bit—and whether he really meant it or not he tried to look as if he did. " Next chance I get, I'll do it in better style—if I'm forced to ! " he added, with a laugh that was intended to cheer Aunt Nan'6 pale face. " M y dear Johnnie!" whispered Aunt Nan tremulously. " Heaven keep you from all such dangers again ! " " Amen ! " said Uncle Bill earnestly.

A

P a g e Tor t h e
By

" B O P " Wheelman.
RAIFE.

RAYMOND

N the early spring, the hardy cyclist who is actively awheel has often to contend with strong, blustering winds. And a real business-like breeze can do much to spoil all the pleasure of a cycling run, more especially at the beginning of the season, when we are most of us a bit soft in the muscles after the winter's rest, and not exactly in tip-top form for mile after mile oft hard pedalling on the long stretch of road. When robust winds are raging, therefore, or are liable to do so, a capital plan, before starting out for a run, is to find out which way the wind is blowing, and to select a destination that will enable you to ride out against the wind, and come back with it helpfully blowing you homewards. Doing that, of course, you have all the hardest work to tackle while you are still compara­ tively fresh. You come bowling back again, pedalling lightly and not at all fagged out and tired of the trip; which, naturally enough, causes you to rightfully consider that early spring cycling is the grand game that it certainly is, and makes you pity the fellows who don't come out on their bikes till the nice, still, warm summer days are here, and who, so doing, miss several months of the riding season. Searching winds, though, make it more than ever necessary for the cyclist to protect himself by wearing good, warm, woollen underclothing. B y that I do not mean that he is to convert himself into a kind of travelling bundle of flannel, or wear chest protectors all over his body ; just ordinary woollen underwear is quite enough, so long as it is woollen. For don't forget this : you are most liable to take a chill during what is absolutely the jolliest and easiest part of the entire run. After, perhaps, you have been slogging up a long rise, and in the process have become rather puffed, and most certainly somewhat heated, there comes a glorious, long free­ wheel down, a sheer rush of joy through the bracing air. That, splendid as it is, very suddenly cools you, for the wind is all the while coming in at your neck, between the buttons of your jacket, and up your sleeves. So the motto is : Wear wool, and dodge the doleful dumps of a bad cold.

I

on the road now is the chainless bicycle, made by the Rover people of Coventry. I call it a novelty, because there have been no chainless bikes about for some time past, though, twenty years ago or so, they were comparatively common here, both of English and American make. Instead of having a chain, these machines are driven by a shaft and bevel gear, as it is called, a very neat and compact contrivance indeed. Years ago the chainless bike didn't hold its own against the chain-driven one, because these gears are very difficult to make, and, as then constructed, they set up more friction than a chain does, thus rendering a bike harder to drive along. But we must not to-day overlook this fact. Nearly all motor-cars are driven by some variety or other of shaft and bevel gearing. That means, that that kind of gearing has been much perfected of late years, and so the chainless bike may this time have come to stay. Such a machine certainly looks well;

racing man, coming out of the dressingroom, who had then never even heard of free-wheels, put his hands up to his mouth, and roared in tones of agonised warning: " Come off, old man, your chain's broken ! " And at first sight, of course, the chainless bike itself looks as if it had accidentally shed its chain, which it never has.
CLEAN T H E ENAMEL.

Once upon a time—which sounds much like the commencement of a fairy-tale, but which here certainly is not—I won a competition for the best cycling proverb. The home­ made adage that gained me the five-shilling prize, was: " I h e self-respecting cyclist is careful of the appearance of his bicycle," which, like all good proverbs, is absolutely true. Now, there are any number of cyclists who, while they wash the mud from their bicycles, and also, very likely, brighten up the plated parts, never give a thought to the enamel: which is a mistake, if you want

T h e Drive of the Rover Chainless B i c y c l e .

A CHAINLESS

BICYCLE.

A novelty that is seen fairly frequently

it is easier to keep clean; and usually is some­ what lighter in weight than a chain-driven bicycle. I well remember a rather funny incident when the free-wheel made its first appear­ ance on a certain cycle racing track. A rider had decided to test its merits on a racing machine, had sprinted after a knot of riders who were on ahead, and free-wheeled when catching up to them. Whereupon another

your bike to continue looking spick and span—and it is so simple to cause it to do so. All that you have to do is wipe the enamel­ led parts over with a soft rag and ordinary furniture cream, and then polish with a soft chamois leather. Performing this easy operation now and again, you will be able to keep your bike up to " show-room form," as I once heard it expressed.

Cycling
A F A M O U S TRICK-RIDER.

for the

Month:

March.

389

The other day I had an entertaining talk with Mr. A. Daunton-Shaw, who is one of the best-known and cleverest cycle trickriders in the world. He is an Australian, born near Bendigo, and he told me an amus­ ing story as to how he became a trick-rider. As a boy, he was always fond of practising all sorts of odd feats awheel, amongst others that of riding upon the rear wheel only, holding the front wheel elevated in the air. Well, one day, he and five of his boy friends went for a twenty-mile spin together, he, as usual, performing all manner of astonish­ ing tricks on the way. But then, in trying to do something more than ordinarily daring, he went smack into a deep ditch beside the road, and crumpled up his front wheel. They were six miles from their destination, where there was the nearest repair shop, and also railway station. " Sit down and wait till a farmer's cart comes by," said the others. " You must ask for a lift." " That won't do for me," responded the youthful expert. "Come on, you fellows, else I'll be there before you." He nipped on to the broken bike, hoisted the front wheel in air and away he rode mer­ rily on the one wheel. His comrades cheered, other cyclists joined in the procession, and so the six miles were covered, the broken front wheel never once being allowed to touch the ground all the way. As young Daunton-Shaw and his score or so of attendant wheelmen entered the town, he still on the one wheel, a gentleman who had made a fortune in the entertainment line of business saw him and said : " My lad, if you are as smart as that, you ought to be able to make money by your cleverness." In that case it was good advice that was promptly followed. He practised for a year in his every spare moment, and beginning in a small way, soon obtained plenty of engagements. Sixteen years ago Mr. Daunton-Shaw came on a flying visit to England ; he has remained here ever since, doing his trick-riding, and is now proprietor of two big trick-riding troupes that are appearing all over the kingdom. I asked him for a word for my readers about trick-riding, and he said: " Tell them that cycling in the open country is the healthiest, manliest sport there is ; while fooling about on a bike makes a fellow look silly. But if you are sufficiently master of your machine to do a few effective tricks on it, well, such agility and ability may perhaps, some day, preserve you from accident. It's the nimblest wheelman who gets out of the tightest corners."
CYCLING C L U B S .

the pen-pushing part of the performance. Yet, as a matter of fact, such secretarial duties will afford many a youth means for. making a start in business routine and procedure, writing crisp, practical letters, and even negotiating little matters between the members. All of which is exceedingly useful practice for any young fellow who later on will have to make his own way in the world. So, if opportunity offers, take my advice, and be an hon. secretary if you can.
A VETERAN'S OPINION.

Mr.

A . D a u n t o n - S h a w in a trick riding

feat.

Very often I am asked by young fellows who are taking up cycling, whether there is much advantage in joining a cycling club. The clubs are, of course, just now beginning their active riding season, so we may very well have a word or two on this topic. There are some cycling clubs specially devoted to path racing, or to road racing, or to social festivities, and, if he is going in for one of those things, a fellow is, no doubt, well advised in joining such clubs. But I will tell you a most melancholy ex­ perience, and that is to join a club, and then fail to find one other member there whose tastes so far coincide with your own that you can make a real chum of him. I have belonged to a good many cycling clubs, from little ones in which nearly every member was captain, sub-captain, secretary, treasurer or other official of some kind, to great big clubs that had hundreds of members and were limited liability concerns, just like

public companies. And there is no doubt whatever that the jolliest club to belong to is that in which you have the greatest number of intimate friends. For that reason, and when you and a sufficient number of your close friends are all keen cyclists, it is not half a bad plan to form a little cycling club of your own. You see, you don't really need to have a "headquarters," or " c l u b stationery," an ". annual dinner," or anything of that kind. Meetings can be held at one another's houses ; your meeting place for runs can be any con­ venient open space in the neighbourhood ; club badges cost only a shilling or so each, and a rubber stamp, if you like, can be used to make the club notepaper look more " official." It is well, though, to have a printed fixture list of runs, and you will find that the exhibiting of that fixture card and the club badge to other fellows is quite a powerful factor in bringing additions to your membership roll. But the great feature in making a success of a small club of this kind is that you are all friends together. Even in the big clubs you will see that the members often split up into little groups, each group riding down together and practically only mingling when all meet at tea. Hundreds of these jolly little clubs are in existence, and some rattling good times their members manage to have. "Little and g o o d " is thus an adage that here often applies. The oddest cycling club I ever struck had its " headquarters" in an open railwayarch in the East End of London, close to the Bow Road. Its members wore " badges " punched from the lids of Swiss milk-tins, and only the wealthier of them could sport knickers and cycling stockings. So far as I remember, there was not a really sound tyre in the whole club; yet they were good, keen cyclists all. And once, when returning from a long August bank-holiday jaunt, 1 encountered them deciding their " annual championship," for a bronze medal, and a silk necktie to the second man home. As a rule, when a cycling club is being formed, there are plenty of individuals willing, and even eager, to act as captain, or sub-captain, or even treasurer of the club, but for the post of lion, secretary there are few volunteers. All the members are shy of

One of the most interesting cycling veterans—if I may so describe him—that I have met for a long time, is Sir Hiram Stevens Maxim, the famous inventor of the automatic system of firearms, and whose wonderful Maxim gun, by its sheer deadly effi­ ciency, helps to keep the peace of the world. Sir Hiram Maxim is now seventy-two years of age and he told me that this is the first year for a great many years that he has not been actively out and about on his bicycle, which has kept him in very "fit " physical condition, and he is to-day an exceedingly strong and powerful man. The following personal opinion that he expressed to me, I think you will all agree, is well worth repeating. He said : ' ' I am sure that if the young men of to­ day would cycle more and motor less, their health would be much improved by their so doing." Which, coming from such a mentally and physically remarkable authority, is assuredly an eloquent testimonial to the merits of cyclirg as an exercise. Of however good make one's cycle tyres may bo, the terrors of puncturing are always with us. Many punctures, though, are caused, not by sharp substances that, picked up on the road, suddenly penetrate outer cover and inner tube, but are, instead, occasioned by bits of flint, or something of that nature, that, sticking into the outer cover, in time, as the wheel revolves, gradually pierce the tyre, and so eventually result in a puncture. To be quit of these nuisances, just give the tyres a wipe round with a damp cloth, each time you start out for, or return from, a spin.

^
B y HORACE A . WOOLLEY.

^

MOUNT YOUR WHEEL!

F

ROZEN ponds have broken up, Snow finds it cannot s t a y ; Roads are drying, and the sun Grows stronger every day. Winter's fairly on the trot— Obliged to quit, that's clear! Hedge and tree proclaim the fact That Spring is really here.

Spring I the time for you, my boy, To bring your cycle forth ; Clean it well in every part— Rub hard—don't spare the cloth 1 Overhaul the whole machine, However long it takes; Make it like a brand new pin— And don't forget the brakes I Until cricket comes some chaps Don't know what to d o ; Tell them to jump on their bikes And come along with you. Once awheel 3 ou'll hear no more Of " off-season " trials ; Mirth and song will fill the bill, A s they tick off the miles !
r

H e y 1 'tis good to turn your back Upon the busv street; To see the green and sun-lit fields, T o hear the bird-song sweet; To watch the stretch of road fly past A s you spin along— Mount your wheel, this bright Spring morn, And join the cycling throng!

390

The

Boy's

Oban

Taper.
By SERCOMBE CRIFFIN,
Author 0/ " The Mad Yatheht," ' A Goorkha's Kookri," " The Dum ) Chief," etc., etc.
1

B e t w e e n the T w o
A
Story

of Grammar School

Life.
PARTY.

CHAPTER X X V I . — C Y R I L FALKLAND S

BIRTHDAY

UR story really ended with the last chapter, for in this chapter Cyril Falk­ land is no longer— Between the Two. Cressington had requested the land­ lord toimmediately turn the two boys out into the road ; but, seeing Arm­ strong's condition, Mr. Singleton quietly persuaded Cressington to go away, while a trap was procured in which to drive the injured boy to his home. Cressington had gone from the " Bed Bull," post haste, to Dr. Sanders with his stories of Cyril's E M rA misdeeds, for he was determined to avenge himself on his former p e t ; but his accusations proved his own undoing. Dr. Sanders had been watching Cressington for some time, but had no definite charge against the monitor whose influence in the school he did not like. Footle was re­ quested to confirm the story of the midnight escapade in the big schoolroom at the end of the previous term, and the Head Master was not slow in demonstrating to the wretched Cressington that Falkland was not the one most to blame ; all the punish­ ment must be borne by the monitor who arranged and condoned the wilful disregard of discipline. This was not all, however; Dr. Sanders extracted from the wretched boy much more —much more than Cressington ever intended to divulge. The result of this was that Cressington was expelled, and he not only left the school but persuaded his foolish mother to leave the town also. And so Cressington passes out of our story, and King Edward's School was the better for his going. The next day Cyril Falkland had a long interview with the Head Master, and came out from the ordeal sobered and chastened. Sandy had avoided administering a thrash­ ing, but, probably, Cyril would have preferred it to the lashing and scourging of Dr. Sanders' tongue, that laid bare all the baseness of his conduct, all the trouble he had brought upon an innocent head, and all the dis­ appointment he had caused in the Armstrong family in consequence of Donald's failure to attend the scholarship examination. Afterwards, Dr. Sanders paid a call upon Mr. and Mrs. Falkland, and laid such facts as he thought sufficient before them, pleading that Cressington's bad influence having been removed, Cyril would be far more amenable, and that there was no need to take their son away from King Edward's School and send him to Milden Lane where he would, doubtless, learn rough ways and uncouth manners, which could not fail to annoy and distress his parents. The Head Master laid a good deal of emphasis on his last point, and I fancy there was a twinkle in his wily old eyes as he

enlarged on the incompatibility of Milden Lane manners with the domicile of C. Shirley Falkland, Esq. Be that as it may, Cyril Falkland was informed that his evil ways had come as a shock and a surprise to the parental ears, that they were deeply grieved and pained and—they had almost feared that the whist drive of the same evening would have to be postponed. They were pleased, however, to hear that Dr. Sanders had spoken reassuringly of their son's future, and had hinted at the disadvantages of a Milden Lane education. They trusted that their ceaseless care and worry for his welfare would not be unrewarded, that he would make greater friends of the Armstrong boys, who never troubled their parents—Dr. Armstrong had spoken so highly of Donald—and that, seeing the whist party would not want to have a boy loitering about the house, he might spend that very evening with the said Donald Armstrong who was laid up with an accident to his ankle. So, while the whist drive was in full progress, Cyril was enjoying himself, waiting hand and foot on the helpless Armstrong, who was ordered absolute rest for a week at least. For days to come Cyril spent all his spare minutes in Armstrong's company, fagging for the senior with an almost pathetic devotion, trying to atone for all the trouble he had caused the one who had really been his greatest friend. Not many words passed between the two friends as y e t ; Cyril felt too ashamed to talk much, for had not he by his wicked ways ruined Armstrong's chance of a 'Varsity career ? It seemed as if Cyril had done Armstrong an irreparable injury ; any ideas of going to Heatheote had to be dismissed, and en­ quiries were made with a view to apprenticing Donald to a chemist. Suddenly, however, a most wonderful letter was received, and Armstrong took many days to realise the glorious news it brought. A firm of lawyers wrote to say that their client, whose name they were forbidden to divulge, had deposited with them the sum of one hundred pounds sterling, which was to be used for educational purposes, in the person of one, Donald Armstrong, son of Dr. Armstrong of 16 Lycombe Place. In the event of a refusal to make use of this sum for the purpose specified, they were em­ powered to hand over the whole amount to a local Dogs' Home. They had pleasure in enclosing the first instalment of twenty-five pounds, the remaining instalments would be forwarded quarterly. The total sum was equivalent to the value of the exhibition to Heatheote," and, after fruitless efforts to extract further informa­ tion from the lawyers, Dr. Armstrong decided to accept the totally unexpected gift. It was a case of Donald getting his chance at Heatheote, or the Dogs' Home benefiting: and Dr. Armstrong decided it was wasteful to fling money to the dogs. The reader expects all secrets to be re­ vealed, and the author will therefore not disappoint the expectant one. The anonymous donor of the sum of money for Armstrong's education was no other than Dr. Sanders himself, though he took good care that no one should ever know of the fact (an author, however, is specially privileged). The Head Master realised that Donald Armstrong had sacrificed his all on the altar of friendship, and recognised

that the boy's sterling qualities should be given fuller scope than his father's means allowed. Wily Dr. Sanders knew that the matter would require delicate handling; so in order to avoid offending the suscepti­ bilities of Dr. Armstrong, he made the offer in the manner that has just been recorded. Easter was approaching, and the term was nearing its completion. Cyril had shown distinct progress in his lessons, and in many ways proved that he was endeavouring to atone for the past; so that even his father and mother went so far as to suggest that he invite the Armstrongs, and any other friends he liked to the number of ten, to tea on his birthday. His parents had arranged to spend a few days in London at the Motor Exhibition; so it was left to Cyril and Terry and Martha to arrange the programme for the festive occasion, with Armstrong as a sort of advisory counsellor. Donald, and Geoffrey, of course, were coming. Invitations were also sent to Huniset (as company for Armstrong), Sneider, Warden, Bobs, Arthur Brice, Bishop and Peters. All, except the lastnamed, accepted. Peters was suffering temporary eclipse ; reading one particularly gory book of horror, he sought to emulate its hero and flung his big pocket-knife at a neighbour's child, with intent to gently lift its hat from its head, instead of which it pinned the squealing child by its ear to the yard-door—since which event his reading had undergone strict supervision, and he himself was closely watched for further incipient signs of insanity ; but it was not insanity, it was only an attack of " pennyhorribilism." The birthday party was to be given on the Wednesday afternoon; so Cyril and Terry were able to arrange all preliminaries— outside of kitchen affairs. But even in the culinary department Terry must needs put his nose, as he had done on the previous Fifth of November; he was very solicitous as to Martha's health,—and the quality of the macaroons. The macaroons were pronounced even better than last time, and everything pointed to a most successful entertainment. After tea, when the two seniors, Armstrong and Huniset, were to arrive, there were to be round games, an American Dwarf, and Acting Charades and music (if anyone could play, and everyone else wanted to listen) and singing (if anyone would sing, and if there was anyone to accompany, and if everyone was agreeable). There was a nice little supper to roundoff the evening. Cyril and Terry thought that no better arrangement was possible. The guests arrived looking rather stiff, literally and in their manners; starched linen is not in favour with boys early in their teens. Martha, as she rapidly surveyed them talking decorously to each other and sitting on the extreme edge of the drawingroom chairs, declared that they " looked perfect little angels. But there, you never know, for boys are as artful as a waggon-load of monkeys." Certainly, after tea had thawed them, some of the stiffness of linen and behaviour had disappeared; and when Armstrong and Huniset arrived and pro­ posed "Judge and Jury," Martha gave it as her opinion that they looked less like angels and more like " the artful little monkeys they were." They were installed, not in the drawing-

"Betbveen
room, but in a room where they "could kick about as they liked"—as Cyril announced. What a jolly, rollicking party that was ! How Terry, in his excitement, made erratic Irish statements that sent Armstrong and Huniset into fits of laughter; how Bobs, a trifle disappointed at finding everyone so happy that they refused to fight him, joyfully punched the sofa till one of the springs broke ; how Arthur Brice, accom­ panied by Donald Armstrong on the piano, sang " Killarney," luring Martha to come from downstair regions and listen through the keyhole ; how Terry and Cyril retired for a few minutes and by an adjustment of curtains in an adjoining room produced an " American Dwarf " which puzzled all beholders ; how Huniset kept the " Family Coach " running, spite of perpetual accidents to wheels, axles, whip, shafts, and little dog ; how Sneider did a marvellous bit of thoughtreading, assisted by accomplice Bishop— how all these and more interesting things happened, we cannot here detail. As a final piece de resistance there was a charade acted under the management of Huniset. Martha was requisitioned to assist in dressing the various characters, and was allowed occasional breathing spaces when she might join the audience, which consisted of Donald Armstrong, Cyril, Sneider, Arthur Brice, and Bishop. There were to be three acts, representing a two-syllable word; first syllable to be acted and spoken in the first act, the second syllable in the second act, and the whole word in the third act. In the first act, Huniset, Warden, Bobs, Terry and Geoffrey, with blacked faces, came in representing a party of darkies on a nigger plantation. No one would consent to be a slave-driver except good-humoured Warden, and it was unanimously decided

the

Tboo.

391
art thou, Adolphus ? Villain, give me back my chi-ild." " Return us our offspring," added Huniset with outstretched hands, his paternal heart evidently on the point of breaking. Bobs, who had appeared from beneath the sheet, ran his fingers through his auburn locks, and then sternly declared that he required one hundred pounds, cash down, for the kid. Huniset, feeling in all his pockets, said he hadn't got quite enough cash on him just then, could the gipsy kindly make a reduction ? Bobs replied that a hundred pounds was absolutely the lowest figure, and that the kid was cheap at the price. Huniset shook his paternal head; it was one of the audience, Sneider, who suggested a way out of the difficulty : " Warden, you fat ass, why the dickens don't you go and collar your rotten kid instead of cater­ wauling there, tied up in a carpet ? " Bobs sternly rebuked the audience in an aside, and bade Sneider " shut up ! " Suddenly from the landing outside the room came a voice: " A h a ! Aha!! A h a ! ! ! " The wicked gipsy commenced to tremble and the parental tears gave way to hopeful smiles, as Terry arrived on the scene, wearing an old pair of Mr. Falkland's trousers, and a bowler hat belonging to the same gentle­ man, stuffed full of paper and thus rising high from Terry's head. " Terry's a policeman—best we could do," explained Bobs in an aside, while Armstrong sat rocking with laughter at the ludicrous sight of Terry representing the majesty of the law. " Deliver up the son," cried Terry. " Or else I will brain thee with my truncheon." Whereat the wicked gipsy fell at the policeman's feet begging for mercy, and the son came forth, running jo3'ously to his

that he was too fat and smiling for his part. Their ideas of how black gentlemen con­ versed were somewhat varied, Huniset occasionally lapsing into French, but all of them used the word " gib " for " give." " Gib me dat stick toute de suite, you chuckle-headed coon," remarked Huniset to Bobs. Bobs wilfully misunderstood the senior, and proceeded to " gib " Huniset the stick by belabouring him with it. • This was an unre­ hearsed effect, and Huniset quickly ruled it out of order, and gave Bobs a resounding smack in an appropriate place. The second act was seen to have a very tragic plot. Bobs, with a red handkerchief tied round his neck, and his coat turned inside out, entered, dragging Geoffrey crying bitterly— with occasional sniggers and squeaks of enjoyment. Gipsy Sobs was evidently anxious to be revenged on Geoffrey's "' parents," and in the course of his speech indirectly informed the audience that the sheet-covered table represented a gipsies' caravan (Sneider insisted it was a pallcovered coffin, while Bishop said it was plainly meant for a flying machine). The truculent gipsy and the weeping son crawled under the sheet—that is to say, they retired to their caravan. Immediately there were heard sounds of wailing: " My son, my leetle son. Where, oh where is my chi-ild ? " Warden, arrayed in a hearth-rug suitably adjusted, entered in company with Huniset, the pair representing the fond parents of the gipsy-stolen Geoffrey, who was making a most pitiful row under the sheet. " Voild! Surely my poor kid is there in the villain's clutches ? " exclaimed " father " Huniset. " Hark ! I hear the voice of my darling son," cried the maternal Warden. " Where

At

Morning

Prayers

on

a

Flagship. Navy.

A Familiar Scene in the Royal

392

The

Boy's

Otvn

Paper.
Armstrong did as requested and, on the fly-leaf, read " To the Tudor Ghost, from his friends Cyril and Terry." Armstrong looked up with shining eyes. " Thanks, you two ! It's awfully good of you." " Cyril and I wouldn't have been chums but for you," said Terry. " I was a beast to you, Donald," cdded Cyril Falkland penitently, " but I am glad that, spite of my wickedness, you are going to Heatheote after all." " Perhaps, Cyril, you will join me at Heatheote one of these days," said Arm­ strong, little thinking how true his surmise would prove to be. But this story is of King Edward's School, and of the schoolboy who wavered " Between the Two " ; so it is high time to write,
[THE END.]

carpet-wound mother, while the father surveyed the whole scene in a see-what-Ihave-done sort of manner. The third and last act opened with Terry and Warden carrying in motionless, stiff Bobs. Terry vouchsafed the information that Bobs was not alive, but represented a guy. Whereat Sneider, from amongst the audience, remarked that Bobs was born for his part, and must have needed no making-up. The " guy," holding on his long towmoustache, sprang from his bearer's arms, and said if Sneider wanted to be insulting, he might, at least, wait till the end of the charade. Public opinion being with Bobs, Sneider relapsed into silence, the " guy " returned to the arms of his bearers, and the act proceeded. To be brief, the third act was intended as a reproduction of the burning of the " Gib-guy," on the previous Fifth of November. Huniset, as " Mr. Gibson," was very convincing, and as the act terminated, there was a united cry of " Gibson ! " The audience having guessed the correct word acted, there was a stampede for the supper-room, and Martha had her powers taxed to the utmost running hither and thither, attending to the wants of the guests. When the dishes looked rather empty and the guests looked rather—comfortable, Donald Armstrong rose from his seat, rapping on the table for silence. " Well, you chaps," said he, " I have a pleasant duty to perform. Our jolly host, Cyril Falkland, is thirteen years old to-day, as you all know. He has given us a jolly good spread, and we all thank him for a ripping evening. W e wish him all good luck in the years to come, and Huniset and I, who both leave the dear old school this term, are glad that chaps like Cyril, and you other fellows here, are meaning to fight an upward fight and keep up the good name of King Edward's School." Tumultuous applause greeted these words. The boy hearers absolutely swelled with pride as they imagined themselves Sixth Form stalwarts. " Well, you chaps, you know what I am going to propose," continued Donald Arm­ strong. " Our good friend, Martha "—-great applause, and a reference to " artfulness " by Martha—•" will fill up your glasses with lemonade—our King permits his health to be drunk in water; so I guess a little added lemon won't alter the efficacy of the toast— and when you're ready . . . . Here's t o the long life and happiness of Cvril Falkland ! " Which toast having been celebrated with a due clinking of glasses, and a gulping of their contents, Terry shrieked out in so high a key that no one could follow—" For he's a jolly good fellow." However, Armstrong seated himself at the piano, and a fresh start was made, the verse being most heartily rendered. Cyril had lost a fork under the table—at least, he said he thought he had. He was still hunting for the mythical fork when called on for a speech. He emerged looking very dishevelled and rather warm. Don't funk it, old sport," whispered Huniset. " Avancez ! " " I'm glad that all you chaps have had a good time—er—er—er—. It was jolly good of Armstrong to say such nice things of us " — applause, during which Cyril's nervousness took to itself wings—•" we really will try and buck up the old school. Armstrong's done a lot for me, you chaps. I've been a little fool (" Hear ! Hear ! ! " from Bobs) and but for good old Donald I'd have gone to the dogs, and there wouldn't have

been a party here to-night, so now I vote we all drink old Armstrong's health . . . Buck up with the lemonade, Martha! . . . Now then, you chaps, you know how to do i t ; I've never done this sort of thing before. Here ! wait a minute, Bobs—get ready to strike up the chorus, Terry, when we've drunk the toast. I'll say ' one! two ! ! three ! ! ! go ! ! ! ! ' and when I say ' go ! ' you must all drink." Cyril said " go ! " and everyone having " gone," Terry struck up " For he's a jolly good fellow." Donald thanked his schoolfellows in a few words, and then the party rose from the table, and proceeded to return to their respective homes. Cyril and Terry, how­ ever, requested Donald to stay behind for a minute, a request which necessitated Geoffrey also remaining. When the rest of the guests were gone, Donald was installed in the most com­ fortable armchair. Cyril and Terry came forward together, Terry undoing the string around a small parcel and Cyril pulling away the brown paper to reveal a beautiful copy of " Westward H o ! " " It's for you, Donald," said Terry. " W e bought it out of our pocket-money," added Cyril. " We don't know what to say, you've been so jolly good to us, and— and " " So we said we'd give you a book," said Terry. " Please open it."

.54. w J>^ IT is not given to all of us to achieve great things, to occupy a prominent position in the public eye, but each of us, in his own modest way, may perform little less useful or important service in the world. The guiding principle remains the same. " The smallest effort is not lost; Each wavelet on the ocean tossed Aids in the ebb-tide or the flow ; Each raindrop makes some flow'ret blow ; Each struggle lessens human woe."

X

X

Tompkins Explains. MASTER : " Tompkins, what is the meaning of the expression ' a bolt from the blue ' ? ' TOMPKINS : " Please, sir, an escape from the police."

(Brawn for the " Bon's Own Paper " byV. A . WILLIAMS.)

394

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What song can beat those dulcet tones Which tell of halves " and ** backs," And how young Smith and Brown and Jones Are cheering on the cracks V A t once one sees the forward rush, The deadly shot at goal, *' Well saved " ! Then half a moment's hush In ecstasy of soul; And the lovely time Hrises on the wind, Majestic in its power to charm and vivify the mind. CHORUS : Play up, School! etc.

I've given place to younger men, My joints are stiff, and so I'm like some ancient war-horse when He hears the trumpet blow ; He kicks his heels, but cannot take His old part in the fray ; But can a body "sport" forsake? Like him, I answer " neigh ! " And the chorus grand which flood?; the list'ning air Attracts me with a magic force and *• drives away dull care.' CHORUS : Play up, School 1 etc.

396

The

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Oban

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CHESS.
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White to play and Self-mate in ten (10) moves. O L U T I O N of No. 726. 1, R—B3, and the mates follow with Q—QB3, R—B5, or K t — B 4 o r K 7 . The P at R2 prevents a dual,

for if the Kt could go there, there would be two mates. The problem by J. K. and C. K. is 1, 0 D6, N:D6. 2, L E2, N F4. 3, P:F4, K:D4. 4, L E5J. The other is 1, N B7, M-.B7 (a). 2, M C7, N:C7 (b). 3, 0 D3 (here is the dual, for either 0 can move to D3), N F4. 4, 0:F4{. (6) M:C7. 3, 0 E4, M C3. 4, 0:C3J(a). M D 6 ( c ) . 2, N:A6f,M:A6. 3 , 0 E4. (c) 0 H3. 2, N F3t, P:F3. 3, 0:H3, P: G2. 4, 0 G l f . Campbell's is 1, M G6, P D4. 2, N G4, P:G4. 3, M:F6f. Manner's is 1, L G7, K E5 (a, b, c). 2, L G5f, K E6. 3, N D5t- (a) K E6. 2, N E4, K E5. 3, L E7 J. (b) P D6. 2, 0 D4f, K E5. 3, P F7f. (c) P D5. 2, N G4f, K E4. 3, L E7{. Stang's is 1, N F7, P D5 (a). 2, N E8, K:D4 (6). 3, N C6, K E4. 4, M C4J. (6) K:F4. 3, N G6, K E4. 4, M G4J. (a) K:F4. 2, N G6, K E4. 3, M G4f, K D5. 4, N F7t.. Bruski's is 1, K A3, P C3. 2, L D3, P C4. 3, L:E4+, K C5. 4, L:C6t. KoUmann's is 1, N H8, N C3. 2, P:C3, P:B4. 3, P:B4J. Nissl's is 1, N D2, M C5 (a). 2, N E3, M D5. 3, N:D5. P G2. 4, N D 4 | . (a) M A3. 2, N CI, M A2. 3, N:A2. 4, N B2J. The M is taken on the four squares A2, B3, C4 and D5.

Cywinski's is 1, L H2f, L E5. 2, 0 B4, L:H2(a). 3 , 0 D3,—. 4,PJ. (a) K C5. 3, 0 A6t, K D4. 4, L D2f. Seuffert's is 1, N C3, K B6. 2, N A5f, K B5. 3, N D8, K C5. 4, N H4, K B6. 5, N G 5 , K C 5 . 0, N E3t, K D 5 . 7, N D4, 0 D6. 8, P C7 and wins. This two-er in C. D. Locock's new book was composed 20 years ago, and will be appreciated for the nine pretty mates in i t : K G l ; L B4 ; M E l ; N A7 ; 0 F8, H6 ; P D3, H4. K E 5 ; 0 G7, H 5 ; P D5, D7, E4, G2, G3. 2. The Munich book contains many fine problems, of which this one, by W. A. Shinkman, should be studied for its simplicity and beauty: K E 7 ; L F 5 ; N H2, H5. K C6 ; N A4 ; P B4. J3. Another of this character is by S. Loyd : K A5 ; M B4 ; N F8 ; 0 E3, 0 8 ; P E7. K E8. { 3 . With this may be compared one by J. K. and C. K. : K F5 ; M G7 ; N G8 ; O F8 ; P E7. K E8 ; O H7. J3. Beginners should solve this easy one by J. G. Campbell: K D7 ; M B2 ; N D3. K C5 ; P C6, D4. J4. Another simple one is by F. Kohnlein : K C3 ; M C I ; N C4. K A l ; N B l ; P A3. J6. One of two variations is by P. A. Orlimont: K E l ; N E2 ; O G l , H3 ; P D2, F4, K H2 ; N HI ; P E4, F5, G2, G3. { 3 . By J. K and C. K.: K B7 ; L B 6 ; O D4, D 6 ; P C2. K D5. 13.

t

^0
Serial Story.

^0
A Tale of a Vendetta.

^0
By A. F E R G U S O N , Author of " The Singing Kettle," " Held as Hostages," " Up the Esscquibo," etc., etc. ^

S c a r r e d Cliff Island.
C H A P T E R I V . — M Y S T E R I O U S VISITORS I N T H E FOG.

S

was now with us. Summer was the time when our island showed to best advantage, and the life of its very limited human population was at its liveliest, by reason of numerous visits from the yacht­ ing community of Northport. Scarred Cliff Island was a great rendezvous for pleasure craft, and on special holidays quite a number of yachts, of varying sizes, might be found at one time in the almost land-locked little harbour beneath our house. And there was no doubt we found the cheery ring of human voices, the laughter, and the gay snatches of song, trolled in manly tenors and basses, a very pleasant addition to the criec of the sea-gulls and the noise of the breakers on the cliffs outside.
UMMER

mised a decent lot of fuss and excitement," he confessed confidentially to me. " I've always had a kind of hope that the ruffians would come nosing after Francie some time when I had the luck to be on the island. You see, Dick, I rather think that you and I, with our young spryness, would have known how to deal with them, in spite of their knives and greater weight and size— especially if we had had the loan of your father's gun." I rather thought so too, and enlarged on my belief as to what two boys with gumption —or even one—could do if only put to it. A few days after Cuthbert had gone home again, my father was suddenly called to town by some private business. He went to Northport in his own little yacht, leaving home rather in haste as the business pressed for instant attention. He expected that he would have to stay a week in town in order to settle the affair properly. " But still I may be able to manage it, so that I get home on Wednesday, and will very likely bring Captain Fielding and his cousin back with me for a few days' fishing," he said as he left. I urged him to have a good time in town and not to hurry home on my account. For, left in sole charge with Francie, I felt as uplifted as if I had been sultan of an en­ chanted isle out of the Arabian Nights and he my grand vizier. The days certainly passed quickly in my father's absence. For the novel sense of responsibility seemed to make us work with

Then, on other occasions, our friends on the mainland opposite would sail across the tempting summer sea to visit us, or our own little yacht Mollyhawk would take us across to them. When the breaking up of the Northport schools brought Cuthbert Dawson home, I spent a week at the Dawsons' on the main­ land, and brought him back for a week's stay with us. Cuth had been a good deal disappointed to hear that the Sicilian des­ perado, Barto Barbuzzi, and his brother had left the colony, even though their departure had released him from his promise of secrecy on the subject of Francie's thrilling story. " Of course, I'm glad for Francie's sake that they are gone. But, all the same, it's a rotten kind of an ending to an affair that pro-

an additional zest and energy that we carried into our recreations too. We played cricket—I had taught Francie the game, and he was shaping to be a very good bats­ man—we shot rabbits and went fishing to­ gether as enthusiastically as if we had never done any of these things before. Altogether we were having a very good time, and had scarcely begun to miss my father when the bolt came out of the blue. On the morning of the Wednesday on which he had said he might be back, we rose at our usual very early hour. After we had had breakfast, and Francie, with me assisting, had attended to all the necessary duties in and outside the house, we started off on the daily inspection of the island, which I in­ sisted it was our duty to perform as custodians of the place in my father's absence. It was an amazingly fine morning, though the brilliancy of the sunlight was too great to continue without a change. The dew beads, that hung thick on every leaf and blade of grass on the island, were sparkling points of light. Light pointed the tiny ridges of the placid ocean surrounding us; and the sun seemed to have spilled so much of his fierce brilliance on the dazzling path­ way that stretched across the sea to the far horizon, that it could only be looked at through interlocked eyelashes. It was not quite bare, that vast sea space. A far-off banner of smoke, hanging low like a cloud, made us take note of a big ocean-liner making for Northport. Nearer, variously scattered about, were a couple of

Scarred
coastal steamers, a few fishing smacks, and some timber-laden, slow-moving scows. A small yacht, with all its sail set to catch what imperceptible wind there was, was ooming from the direction of Northport and making apparently for the wide channel between us and the mainland. Francie and I completed the best part of our tour of inspection without finding, as I secretly hoped that we might, that tres­ passers had been on the island, heedlessly or wilfully cutting down and carrying away for sale as fuel our carefully guarded timber, or doing damage in other ways to this Government Reserve. We had turned homewards, when further inspection of our domain was rendered impracticable by the sudden descent of a heavy sea-fog, which blotted out sun and sky and shimmering ocean, and almost the ground beneath our feet. But as every inch of ground on the island was familiar to me, and, in some degree, to my companion too, we had no difficulty in finding our way back to the house. As we sat down to rest for a few minutes on the verandah, a sound, muffled by the thick fleecy white blanket that lay on land and sea, reached our ears—the sound of oars very quietly and cautiously pulled in the bay below. " Listen ! A boat makes for the beach," cried Francie. " Wherever can it have sprung from ? " I wondered. " Oh, I have i t ! It must belong to that yacht which we saw heading for the Channel when we started for our walk." " How can they find where to land in this so thick fog ? " cried Francie, jumping to his feet quite concerned. He always had a thought for other people's worries, had Francie. I jumped off the verandah, and, with him following, ran some way down the steep path that led to the beach more than a hundred feet below, and hailed the boat in my shrill but loud boyish treble. But I got no answer, which certainly seemed queer since the rowers could not but have heard me. Listening to learn from the sound of the oars for what point the boat was making, I scented danger for the unseen rowers. " Have the rocks on your left!" I yelled to them at the top of my voice. " Keep to your right, and pull for where you hear me shouting." That they heard and understood was clear enough, for our ears told us that the course of the boat had been instantly altered, and that it was now heading for the landing below where we stood. But no word or shout of answer came, no human voice from below pierced the shroud of fog. As Francie and I stood looking at each other, much puzzled and a little uneasy, though we could scarcely have told why, there came a sudden jumble of noise from below—it sounded as if a rower had " caught a crab," and tumbled back in the boat pulling his oars and rowlocks after him. Francie jumped nervously. " Ah, guarda la gamba!" he cried out, involuntarily, in his strong Sicilian voice, the words slipping out in his own language.

Cliff

Island.

397

to our ears through the deadly stillness and thickness of the fog. We heard the boat ground on the shingly beach at our landingplace. We heard the rowers jump ashore and haul her far up the beach, unnecessarily far it sounded to us. Then we heard them doing the same to another boat. " Why, that must be ours," I said to Francie in amazement. " What on earth are they doing that for ? What right have they to touch our boat ? " " It is all vairy queer," he answered, his eyes large with wonder. " They do not call back when we call. They do not speak the one to the other—no, not one word —if it not be they whisper. What are they, these strangers down there beneath the mist ? Why act they so curious ? " We looked at each other, doubtful and vaguely apprehensive, but never dreaming of possible personal danger to either of us. " Can it be they are stealers of wood, who have learned that your signor padre is not here, and who come to steal therefore ? " continued Francie.

" Oh no," I replied. " Folks out to sneak a cutter load of fuel from our bush would not dare to come into the harbour, they would slink quietly round the island and try to land on the other side without being seen." Goaded by my uneasiness, I again hailed the intruders with an ear-splitting shout: " Down below there ! Please speak ! Who are you ? What do you want'! " Still no answer ! But the noisy tread of two heavy men, coming over the shingle to the path that led up to us, sounded like a vague menace. It was now I began to feel really frightened. A " c r e e p y " sort of fear got hold of me. I suppose the dense fog, that did not let us see a yard in front of us, may have had something to do with the feeling; but not for a kingdom would I have gone forward down the path just then to meet those strange trespassers on our island, who would not answer a friendly hail. I felt more like running back with all speed to the house, and Francie's expressive face

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down below, as a signal the coast is clear." " But you ! " stammered Francie. " You must come t o o ; you must not be left alone here." "Oh, I'm going to stay to see what they do ! And it'll be no end of fun throwing dust in their eyes and bamboozling them. Wouldn't Cuth Dawson give his eyes just to be in my shoes! Oh, don't you worry, Francie! I'm as right as rain. They wouldn't dream of harming me—I'm only a boy. Besides, it's not me they're after, but you." " That is true," he said, partly relieved. " Still— " " O h , don't waste more time!" I broke in impatiently. " They'll be here this minute. Scoot, Francie! Scoot for your life ! " " The good God keep you and me safe from hurt this day! " said Francie solemnly. And with that our rapid exchange of whispers came to an end. He slipped noiselessly from my side, and the next moment was swallowed up in the fog.

showed me that his feelings were the same as mine. Our fears ran vaguely in the direction of something weird and unnatural about those mysterious intruders on our solitude. And though we were both ashamed to turn tail and run from we knew not what, it was with thumping hearts that we stood our ground waiting, listening to the heavy tramp of feet coming up the rocky path. We did not dream that those feet were bringing death to one of us if he stayed where he was ! And there he would have stayed, had not one of the unseen intruders tripped suddenly against a stone and fallen. That pulled an angry exclamation out of him. The exclamation was a Sicilian oath. Francie reeled and convulsively clutched my arm. " The Barbuzzi! " he whispered, with white lips that could scarcely move. " I am a man dead ! " He already looked like one, so ghostly was his face. He was no coward, this little Italian, but it must be remembered that fear of the Barbuzzi had been with him from his cradle. And this fear had, not without good reason, strengthened and

deepened as the years passed on, since he was a kindly, peaceable soul who could not cherish the hate that would have counter­ balanced his fear. I had been very much frightened, scent­ ing some uncanny menace in the unseen approach of these mysteriously silent strangers. But now, Francie's terrified whisper sent my fear flying to give place to a not unpleasant excitement. The Bar­ buzzi ! There was nothing weird and blood-chilling about them to me. I had often met their kind in the pages of boyish romance. I thrilled to hear that the oppor­ tunity, which the supposed departure of Francie's enemies from the colony had taken away from me, was now restored, and that I should be face to face with the villains in a couple of minutes. " Fly, Francie, fly for your l i f e ! " I whispered excitedly. " The fog will hide you while you're making for the ' Tree of Refuge' gully. Once up the tree, you're beyond the Barbuzzi's finding. Only, mind, you must stay hidden up in your nest until you hear me whistling ' Rule Britannia,'
(To be continued.}

^0

The S o n of an Anarchist:
A Tale of Strange Mystery and Wild Adventure.
CHAPTER X I . — P A O L O S I L L N E S S .

By W. A . B. CLEMENTSON,
M.A.,
Author of " A Couple of Scamps" etc.

is un­ necessary to d e s c r i be how Paolo broke the news to his mother. Ronald and the detec­ tive had ac­ companied him to the hotel where Madame Costa was staying, and engaged rooms for themselves, leaving Paolo to join his mother, as if he had come of his own accord. The detective pretended he had nothing to do with either of the boys, but sat in the lounge all the evening and from behind a newspaper carefully eyed every fresh arrival. When Paolo was alone with his mother, ho told her everything as gently as he could. It was an additional grief to him to see her distress, but it was a relief to share his t rouble with her, and to feel that he was no longer alone. They decided to return to London early next morning, hoping against hope that Luigi might have been found by then. When they reached Victoria next day the newsboys were singing o u t : " Daring raid by police on anarchist headquarters ! " Ronald bought a paper and breathlessly read the account to the poor lady, who was T

heart-broken to hear that no trace of her husband had been found. " Perhaps the police know where he is all the time, and are keeping it quiet," suggested Paolo. At this moment another batch of news­ boys came running up, eagerly announcing a " special edition." " Anarchist houtrage in Kensington ! " they cried. " Bomb explosion outside a house in Kensington." Ronald and Paolo both raced for copies, hardly daring to think what it all might mean. They were just in the act of unfolding their papers, when who should drive up in his car but Sir Samuel Overbury. He had received a wire from Ronald early in the day to say what time they would arrive, and the startling event of which they had just heard decided him to meet them at the station. Ronald gave a great cry of relief when he saw his father. " You are safe then, dad," he said. " Tell us what has happened." " I am glad you were all three away," said Sir Samuel, looking grave. " It appears that an infernal machine left outside your house, Madame, exploded at an early hour this morning. Luckily no one was hurt, as the servants were at the back of the house ; but the front has been very badly " Have they any news of my husband ? " inquired Madame Costa, all hope dying within her. Sir Samuel shook his head. " Alas, no. But we must hope for the best. The police are working very hard to find him. But let me drive you back to

my house, since it is obvious that you cannot return to your own. Lady Overbury is expecting y o u . " So Madame Costa and Paolo got into the car with Sir Samuel and Ronald, while the detective joined his colleague in the other car, which the boys noticed still continued to follow them wherever they went. Thus it happened that Paolo and his mother became the guests of Sir Samuel and Lady Overbury, who did all they could to make them comfortable and to help them to forget, if it were possible for a few moments now and then, the terrible anxiety which hung over them, a fear which day by day grew more dark and hopeless.' A change had come over Paolo almost as great as that which raised him from a spoilt boy into a hero. It was not surprising that he should feel the reaction after the terrible strain of the last few days ; and the agony of mind through which he had passed seemed to have taken all the spirit out of him and left him quite" limp and listless. It did not take long for the two mothers to discover that Paolo was really ill and needed medical attention. The doctor declared that a change of air and scene was absolutely necessary for him, and that his thoughts must be kept away, as much as possible, from the events of the last few days. But each day he grew rapidly worse, and before long was confined to bed with a high temperature ; so nothing further could be done till he was fit to travel. Meanwhile his mother and Lady Overbury proved most capable and devoted nurses, taking turns in being with him night and

The
day. This was a blessing in disguise for Madame Costa, for it gave her something to do and prevented her from brooding over her husband's disappearance. During Paolo's illness Ronald was quite unhappy. He was very cross when he was not allowed to see him ; and he used to inquire for him at his bedroom door many times during the day, bringing him fruit and other delicacies, which he had bought with his own pocket-money. Not that Paolo needed them, for Sir Samuel saw to it that he had everything that money could buy to make him comfortable. At last the doctor began to look very grave, came several times a day to see Paolo, and finally brought, in another physician; all of which oppressed Ronald with a feeling that was quite new to him. He began to fear that Paolo would die, and the thought of it nearly drove him mad, all the more because he could do nothing to save him. But Paolo was not going to die. After the crisis of his illness he slowly began to mend, and before long Ronald was allowed to see him for a few minutes every day. It was during this period of convalescence that a startling thing happened in the Overburys' house, which alarmed everyone greatly. As nothing further had been heard of the anarchists after the explosion at the Costas' house, the police began to think that the gang had been broken up by the discovery of their headquarters and had fled from the country. Though Sir Samuel was still under the protection of the police, the detectives employed in watching his house had been reduced to two, only one of whom was on duty at a time ; otherwise this new develop­ ment would not have occurred. It was early one morning that Ronald was going out for his usual walk before breakfast, when something caught his eye in the passage which led to the back door—it was a dead cat ! He went up to the animal and examined it carefully. It was quite dead, but the body was still warm. There was no sign of any wound on the body or any blood on the pavement. But stop ! What was this ? Milk! The milkman had carelessly spilt some of his milk just outside the kitchen d o o r ; the cat had found it, had licked it up and died. This was clear because the milkman had not long since called at the house and the cat was.only just dead. This pointed to a horrible conclusion. The milk must be poisoned ! Ronald rushed down into the kitchen and told the servants on no account to touch the milk till it had been examined. He then inquired about the way in which the. milk was left at the house and what was the name of the milkman. " It's like this, Master Ronald," said the cook. " We have a can of our own and we leave it outside for. the man to fill. He doesn't like to be kept waiting, and it saves us answering the door at awkward times." She then added the name of the milkman and the dairy who employed him. " They are quite respectable people," said Ronald. " And I am sure they have no reason to wish us ill. But perhaps the milk is not poisoned after all. The cat may have died from some other cause."

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Ronald at once reported the matter to his father, the police were informed, and a sample of the milk, together with the can, was sent down to a chemist to be analysed. A message was also sent to the neighbouring houses, where the same milkman had called, to warn the people not to drink any of their milk. The chemist's report confirmed Ronald's suspicion. The milk contained a deadly poison and there was a large quantity of the same poison at the bottom of the Overburys' can. The milkman's cans were also ex­ amined ; and, though he had had no time to remove the milk that remained from his morning rounds, no trace of poison was discovered. It was therefore very evident that some evilly-disposed person had put poison into the Overburys' can while it stood outside the house, and that the milkman was quite innocent. The case, of course, got into the papers,

and Ronald received great praise for his observation and presence of mind. Another point scored by the Boy Scouts, said every­ one. But the matter was really very serious. It completely baffled the police, for there was no clue to the criminal, nor any certain motive for the crime. Sir Samuel could not be sure whether it was aimed at himself or the Costa family. What motive could the anarchists have for persecuting not only their deserting comrade, but even his wife and son ? Was it possible that the gang had discovered that it was Paolo who had found out their secrets, and were determined to revenge themselves on a defenceless child ? At any rate Sir Samuel decided that at the earliest possible moment he would send Paolo and his mother, together with Lady Overbury and Ronald, down to his country house in Devonshire, where they might at least have peace and safety from these socalled " Sons of Glorious Liberty."

(To be continued.)

A

SIMPLE

BLOWLAMP,

And H o w t o M a k e It.
By GEOFFREY P R O U T .
OLDERING is one of the most useful things a boy can be able to do. H e can mend kettles, tins, gas-pipes and do sundry little jobs for himself, such as repairing his steamengine, his billy-can, etc. A very common way is to heat a soldering iron, but this cannot be done in his own little workshop, where it is unhandy, probably dangerous, to have a big fire. Some excellent work—I know from experience—can be done with a small blow­ lamp, and this can be made for a few pence. The things required are, an empty liquid metal-polish tin with a screw top, a strip of brass 1 inch longer than the circum­ ference of the tin, and J an inch in breadth, a small bolt about £ an inch long, and a nut to run on it, a 6-inch length of fine piping, such as is used for model engines, and sold at 2d. a foot length, 1 foot of valve tubingj sold by cycle agents for cycle valves, and some round wick £ an inch in diameter.

S

in that as in the strip of brass round the lamp. N o w fit into the space between the ends of the strip of brass, insert the bolt and tighten with the nut. Now, in order that the pipe shall not split, you must

rig i.

First of all take the tin and unscrew ttie top and for a moput it aside take out the ment. Then the top and little well in hole left to enlarge the inch in dinearly \ an that the ameter (so tightly). If wick will fit get J-inch you cannot stranded wick, that or a piece stuff will do f l a n n e l of ordinary round, r o l l e d your strip of Now take Site and b e n d thin brass tin and bore round the spare ends a hole in the bolt to go for the small Fig. 1, being through, as allow £ of careful to

carefully bend over the top of the piping so that when blown through, the shaft of air will go into the flame (see Fig. 3). Then work on the valve tubing after cut­ ting off the pipe £ an inch up from the bottom of the tin to allow your lamp to stand on the bench. N o w you can make a small mouthpiece for fitting at the end of the valve tubing (see Fig. 4). A pin can be put through the wick (and the point cut off to allow screw-top to go on) like a, Fig. 3, to keep the wick from falling in­ to the lamp, in which should be burnt methylated spirit. Oils and other burning fluids may prove injurious to the system, but there is no fear with methylated spirit. The flame will be blown to a point as illustrated and can be directed on the work. With your simple little lamp you will be able to do all kinds of delicate little jobs, and successfully solder in very awkward places where it would be useless to attempt to work with the iron.

ao

Tig 4

Tig

an inch between the two ends marked a, 6, as when the bolt is put through it and the pipe-piece it must be wide enough apart to tighten to make perfectly rigid. Now put that aside for a time and turn your atten­ tion to the piping. Fix with solder (or get soldered) in the middle of the tube a little piece of tin for fixing to the lamp, as Fig. 2, and bore the same gauge hole

And what work can be done with the iron can also be done with the lamp ; so you see this little con­ trivance, although so simple and inexpensive, has great advantages over the iron, and does not require a roaring tire to assist it in its useful labours.

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of Henry V I . , and an officer of State under Edward I V . l i e was Sheriff of Yorkshire, and for his courage at the battle of Huttonfield was made a knight banneret.

Q U A I N T

E A S T E B

CUSTOMS.

D . KELLY (Kalgoorlie, W.A.).—Thanks for your good wishes and appreciation of the " B . O . P . " The letter-cards showing views of Kalgoorlie and other parts of Western Australia are most interesting. As we have been to the mines and seen the Golden Horseshoe, Boulder City, etc., we are the more pleased to see the pictures of these places.—Talbot Baines Reed died some years ago, and no story from his pen has appeared in the paper since 1893. Let us hear from you again, and when writing say how you like the present serials and other stories. PERCY WALDOCH.—There is no market value for old stamps, unless certain of them are very old English issues or foreign ones that are rare. W e assume you mean old used English stamps of a common variety. One use for them is as a decoration for a screen or a plaque. Many boys have made pretty additions to their dens in this manner. RESTLESS.—You have been misinformed. There is no demand for clerks in the colonies you name. Skilled artisans and farm labourers are most in demand. I t would be foolish to emigrate and possibly be stranded in some city. S. COOPER (Gravesend).—You are partly right and partly wrong in your criticism. In the stamp article referred to, " whom she had slain " should read " whom she had caused to be slain." Accord­ ing to standard works Pallas Athene furnished Perseus with the weapons, directing him to slay the Gorgon. A s regards the second query, Atlas— giant or mythological superhuman monster—is right­ ly described as owner of the Garden of the Hesperides, according to the " Enc. Brit.," which reads (vol, iii. p. 2 7 ) : " Atlas . . . rich in flocks and herds, owning the garden of the Hesperides." The latter, as you know, were the- maidens guarding the golden apples, etc. W e may remind you that the accounts of Greek legends differ, their rendering being derived by expert writers from various sources—chiefly, of course, the works of ancient writers, the myths of gods and fabulous personages being much intermixed.

E . E . MORGAN.—We have had many articles on the subject. See Mr. Louis Nikola's series on " T h e Drawing Room Magician" in our last volume. " The Book of Conjuring, etc.," by Prof. R . Kunard (Upcott Gill, 170 Strand, London), might serve your purpose. CRAMP.—You should see a doctor about the stiffness in your hand muscles. A course of massage or other treatment might bring you relief, but we cannot speak with any certainty on such a matter ; it is a case for medical opinion. W e do not know of a n y series of postcards giving the views you mention. Y o u might write to the Town Clerks of the places of which.you particularly want pictures and ask for these special views.

THE name of Easter, like those of the days of the week, is a survival of the old Teutonic mythology. To the Germans it was known as Ostern, and to the Anglo-Saxons as Eastre, or Eostre, a name derived from Eostre, or Ostara, the Anglo-Saxon goddess of spring. The oldest and most universal of all Easter customs are those associated with eggs. The sight of street boys striking their rival eggs together t » see which was the stronger and could win the other was as common in the streets of Rome and Athens two thousand years ago, if we are to believe antiquarians, as it is in some places at the present day. These eggs, now called Easter eggs, were originally known as Pasche eggs, corrupted to Paste eggs, because connected with the Paschal, or Passover Feast. In the north of England it has long been customary to exchange presents of Easter eggs among the children of families who are on intimate terms, a custom which also prevailed largely among the ancients, and to which the sending of Easter cards and other offerings, which has become so popular of late years, may he traced. A century or more ago both the clergy and laity used to play ball in the churches for tansy cakes at Easter­ tide. The ball-playing part of this custom was lout: since abandoned, but tansy cakes and puddings are still favourite Easter delicacies in many parts of this country, tansy having been selected from the bitter herbs eaten by the Jews at this season. A t Twickenham it was customary to divide two large cakes among the young people in the parish church, but in 1645 it was directed by Act of Parlia­ ment that thenceforward there should be bought, in lieu of the cakes, loaves of bread for the parish poor, and from that time it was customary to throw these loaves from the church tower, to be scrambled for by the poor children on the Thursday following Easter.

F O B

B O Y S

Y O U N G

A N D O L D .

Our note Book.
B I D I N G T H E " B L A C K K N I G H T . " O N Easter Monday the " Black Knight " m a y be seen again in the streets of Ashton-under-Lyne. This Easter Monday apparition is a relic of feudal times, and had its origin in what was known as carr-guld riding, a custom established by Sir John de Assheton in the fifteenth century. The manor lands at this time were overrun by a yellow weed, destructive of the growth of corn. T o extirpate this Sir John instituted fines against those tenants on whose land it was found, and appointed his son, Ralph de Assheton, to collect them. The tyrannical exactions of Ralph so exasperated the tenants that they rose in revolt and Sir Ralph was slain. The designation of " Black Knight," it is thought, arose from the fact that he rode a black charger, and on his annual visitations was attired in armour. A t his death the office was abolished, but the custom was long perpetuated in the annual ceremony of riding the " Black Knight," a pageant of some pretensions, which, though still continued, has greatly deteriorated of late years, while public interest in it has much declined. Sir Ralph de Assheton was a page of honour in the reign

A VERY pressing need was found to exist in Carshalton, Surrey, for a Lads' Social Club, and one or two " Old B o y s " put their heads together to see what could be done in this way, with the result that a scheme was soon started which at once enabled persons to help forward this most desirable object,, practically without being one farthing out of pocket. The scheme, which has since been carried out and is now in full working order, was to purchase 50,000 good-quality, full-sized pencils, with the following words printed on them: " To Help the Boys' Club, Carshalton." These have been distributed round in dozens to any who could be persuaded to take them, to be sold for the small sum of one penny each. Th«* entire profit made in the selling of these pencils gots towards the Club funds. The objects of " The Carshalton Lads' Social Club " are to provide social intercourse and healthy recreation during the week-day evenings for the many lads for whom no other means are available for satisfying their social needs; and in this respect the Club forms a very necessary and important adjunct to the Sunday Bible Classes. If any " B.O.P." readers in Surrey, or elsewhere, care to help forward this good work (and who will not ?) will they kindly forward Is. for a dozen of the pencils ? Applications, and all enquiries, should be addressed to Mr. Dudley, " Ranmore," Carshalton, Surrey, or Mr. Judd, " Meadow Bank," Carshalton, Surrey.

A LAUNCESTON C A D E T . — W e insert your note with regard to the drill of Australian Senior Cadets as a correction of the former statement, and are obliged to you for pointing out the slip : — " The Defence Act (1910) requires that all male persons between the ages of 14 and 18 shall undergo military training in the Senior Cadets until they reach the age of 18, when they are transferred to the Citizen forces till they are 25 years of age. The Cadets are requested to attend the following statutory drills every year : — 4 whole-day drills, 12 half-day drills. 24 night drills. The whole-day drills last 4 hours (not 24 hours), the half-day last 2 hours, and the night drills 1 hour. It will thus be seen that the total service required of an individual is 64 hours every year. When the Defence A c t was first brought into force the wholeday drills lasted 6 hours, the half-day 3 hours, and the night drills 1J hours, but this has since been altered." G . B . READE, R . W . CAMPBELL, AND OTHERS.—The competition of which particulars were given in the last volume has been closed some time. N o prizes are now offered in connection with it. J. PEARSON.—" The Confessions of Cobb Minor," b y Harold Avery, appeared in Vol. 23 (1901) of the " B . O . P . " I t is out of print, but might be obtained second-hand. H. BRABHAM.—Some papers, we believe, advertise sets of the cards in question, but we cannot give you particulars. Write to the manufacturers who pro­ duce them, no doubt they will sell sets direct.

Jf. J. P. CORIN (Paris).—You will find full particulars of what you want in the " ' B . O . P . ' Portable Wireless Telegraph Outfit" on p. 410 of our last volume.

The

M a d n e s s of M a r c h .

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