Chapter 18

Taking the two-shilling-piece, I walked on and entered the small shop, where a clean-looking woman stood behind the counter. Opening a bottle of ginger-beer, she poured the contents into a glass, counting out the change for the florin while I drank. In the meantime Mr. Parsons was waiting directly outside the door, and the moment I reached his side he again gripped my arm.

'Change!' he muttered, whereupon I put the one and elevenpence into his shaky hand.

When we had walked a little farther, he stopped at another shop--a tobacconist's this time.

'Just go in there and buy me a box of wax lights,' he said, giving me half-a-crown.

Accordingly I entered the shop, where a young man was smoking a cigarette just within the door.

'A box of wax lights,' I cried, placing the money on the counter. Having given what I asked for, the man began to examine the coin. He rang it on the counter, he tried it with his teeth, and then he looked curiously into my face.

'Haven't you got any smaller change?' he asked.

'No,' I answered, and, with another curious glance, he examined the half-crown again, and finally gave me the change.

(_Continued on page 158._)

INSECT WAYS AND MEANS.

IV.--HOW INSECTS SEE.

Of the five senses, sight is to mankind undoubtedly the most precious. The changes of the seasons, the beauty of scenery, sunset and sunrise, the wonders of nature, and the triumphs of art are only to be appreciated through the eyes, which have aptly been described as the 'windows of the soul.' Yet there are many who pass through life without even realising what we may call the 'gilding' of the world--the delights of colour. Quite a large number of people have no colour-sense, and are unable to tell red, for instance, from green. The writer knows an eminent botanist who is unable to tell the colours of the flowers he so loves to study!

How is it with the little people of the insect world in this matter? Their eyes are constructed on an entirely different plan from ours. What sort of a world is it that they look on? Taken as a whole, it would seem that the insect inhabitants of our world see but very little of it; they perceive it rather through the sense of smell. Only a very few insects, such as dragon-flies, for example, see well, and even their length of sight probably does not exceed six feet or so. They are a near-sighted race. Moreover, they see moving objects more easily than stationary ones.

That many recognise colours there can be no doubt, and many show preferences for certain colours. Bees show a great liking for blue, and ants for violet. White butterflies appear to prefer white flowers, and yellow butterflies yellow flowers. Orange and yellow are also attractive to bees, whilst other colours seem to have no charms for them.

There is no doubt that some insects, however, see much more of the world than others, for the eyes of the insects and their near relations, the spiders and scorpions, are of two different kinds, and both kinds differ greatly from ours in structure. Let us take the simple eye found in the spider or scorpion, for an example, and look at it. If you catch a spider, and carefully examine the front of his head, you will notice a number of bead-like bodies of different sizes, arranged sometimes in the form of a circle, sometimes on a prominent swelling or 'tubercle,' or it may be in some other fashion, according to the kind of spider. These are the eyes. A section cut through one of these eyes and placed under the microscope would show that the surface of the eye was formed by a transparent body like a lens, and that behind this lay a complicated arrangement of rods passing gradually into the nerves of sight. Only _ocelli_, as these eyes are called, are found in the spider and his kind. But in true insects, like the dragon-fly, or the butterfly, we meet with eyes of another kind, in addition to ocelli. These are known as compound eyes. Where compound eyes are found, the ocelli never exceed three in number, and are arranged in the form of a triangle, and placed in the middle of the head (figs. 2, 3, and 4).

The compound eyes vary greatly in their size. In some insects they are placed one in each side of the head (fig. 1); in others, as in the drone bee, they meet one another at the top of the head (fig. 3, spot marked O) and extend downwards to the mouth. In others, yet again, they may attain a huge size, and occupy even the whole front of the head, crowding over the ocelli to form a little group at the top, as in the head of a species of fly known as the Bibio (fig. 4).

The compound eye is so delicate and wonderful, that great knowledge of anatomy or the science of optics is necessary before it can be really appreciated. Briefly, it is made up of a cluster of simple eyes, in each of which there are several parts. Beginning at the surface we have what is known as the facet, or cornea, which roughly corresponds to the surface of our own eyes. Next we meet with a clear, glassy rod, and this passes downwards into the nerve of sight. Around these rods is a sheath of black colouring matter, so that each eye is cut off from its neighbour. Thus the whole eye may be likened roughly to a bundle of telescopes.

Of what use, it may be asked, are the three little eyes in the middle of the head of insects which have these wonderfully complex eyes? Well, the large compound eyes are used to watch the movements of other animals; thus they are enabled to escape their enemies. Many of you doubtless have tried to catch butterflies, and if so you will know how suddenly and quickly they avoid the master-stroke that is to land them in the net. But the use of the three little eyes seems to be to enable their possessor to see in the dark. By their means the bee (figs. 2 and 3) can distinguish objects even in the darkest parts of the hive; so too the ant can find his way about the galleries of his underground home. Night-flying moths all have these little eyes, whilst in butterflies, which fly in the daytime, they are wanting.

W. P. PYCRAFT, A.L.S., F.Z.S.

TWO WAYS OF READING A SENTENCE.

People in high stations of life often receive from authors presents of their works, and are expected to say something flattering about them in return. They do not like to hurt the author's feelings if the book is worthless, and so Benjamin Disraeli, when Prime Minister, used to answer those who approached him in this way: 'I have received your book, and shall _lose no time in reading it_.' This sentence, as you can see, is capable of being read in two ways, but the sender of the book was, of course, intended to understand the more flattering reading. It was a kind of deception, and was not very honest, but it was done out of kindness.

A musical composer found another way of answering the many applicants for his opinion: 'I have received your music,' he would write, '_and much like it_.'

S. CLARENDON.

RUDEL AND LISBETH.

By the Author of 'The Silver Flagon,' 'The Red Rose Knights,' &c.

Rudel and Lisbeth were a little girl and boy who lived many years ago in a beautiful gabled farmhouse on the edge of a forest in Germany. The forest was far from any town, and the children were dressed in the quaint and pretty costumes of German peasants at that time. Lisbeth looked like a tiny copy of her old grandmother, except that her own hair hung down in two long, tight flaxen plaits, while her grandmother's was completely hidden under a high cap.

The forest, which was many miles wide, lay on one side of the farmhouse; on the other it was open country, and from the top of a low hill in the neighbourhood you could see villages and churches for miles round. This hill was a favourite playground of the children, for it was full of caves and hiding-places; it was in fact the great 'show-place' of the neighbourhood, but the children only thought how delightful it was to play houses in.

Rudel and Lisbeth were very strictly brought up, and were punished for the slightest fault. They seldom spoke to their grandparents unless spoken to, and were never talked to about anything that was going on. Like other children, however, they had a good deal of curiosity about their elders, and it puzzled Rudel very much one day when he saw that as his grandmother went about her household work, the tears were running down her face.

About this time Rudel stopped playing at houses, and took to playing at soldiers. The new game absorbed him so much that he could think of nothing else. The neighbours also began to talk of soldiers, and at last the children came to know that there was a war going on in Germany, and that certain States speaking the same language were fighting with one another. This was very sad, but the children thought it very exciting and delightful.

One night Rudel said to Lisbeth, 'We must get up early to-morrow and go and storm the hill. I am going to play at having a siege. I heard grandfather say to-morrow is to be a holiday.'

Lisbeth joyfully agreed, and they went to bed full of plans for the siege.

In the middle of the night, as it seemed to Rudel, he woke and heard a loud noise in the living-room below. Two men were talking in loud, angry tones, and a woman was sobbing. Presently the crying ceased, and the two men seemed to leave the room. Rudel sprang up and looked out of his tiny window--yes! there were his grandfather and another man going towards the forest. But after taking a few steps they paused, spoke together for a little while, and then turned in the opposite direction.

'They are going to our hill,' thought Rudel, as he went back to bed. Hours afterward, as it seemed to him, a light flashed into his eyes, and he awoke again. His grandmother was standing over him with a candle. She was crying, and as she wept she bent down and kissed Rudel, which frightened him very much.

'Oh, Rudel,' said Grandmother, sobbing, 'will you always be a good boy? Promise me you will.'

Rudel promised, and, after kissing him again, Grandmother went away. Rudel wondered if she was going to see Lisbeth, and make her also promise to be a good girl. Rudel fully meant to keep his promise, but he was a forgetful little boy, and he broke it the very next day.

'Children,' said Grandfather, just as he and Grandmother were setting off on business, 'you are not to go to the hill to-day, nor anywhere near it--keep to the orchard and garden.'

And, without even stopping to make them promise, he went away, while Rudel stamped his foot in a rage, and Lisbeth began to cry.

'If Grandfather thinks,' said Rudel, after they had been wandering about for some time, 'that I am never to be a man, and do as I like--oh, Lisbeth, we didn't promise Grandfather--if we had promised it would be wrong to go; but we didn't! Let us go to the hill--no one will see us.'

Lisbeth stood out against her brother for a little while, but she was so accustomed to follow his lead in everything that she gave in at last, and the children went to the hill.

They played at the foot for some little time, and then mounted to the top, Rudel busy explaining the plan of his siege; but on reaching the top and looking round they uttered cries of amazement on seeing a party of soldiers--an army they thought it--riding rapidly towards the hill and surrounding it on every side. Rudel was fascinated by the horses and trappings, but Lisbeth was frightened and began to cry.

'Let's go and hide,' she said.

'You may,' said Rudel, 'but I shall go and speak to the soldiers, and ask them what they want. And mind, Lisbeth, don't come out or speak, but stay till they are gone.'

The children ran down the hill to a cave they knew of, which could hardly be found by any one who did not know where to look, and Lisbeth went in. But her terror may be imagined when she found it already occupied. A fierce-looking man rose up at her entrance, seized her, and pressed his hand over her mouth.

'Silence,' he whispered into her ear, 'or it will be the worse for you.'

Meantime, Rudel went to face the soldiers.

'Hallo!' cried a rough-looking soldier, who seemed in authority, 'is this the spy and deserter we are seeking?--truly a dangerous ruffian!'

The other men laughed loudly, and pressed round Rudel, who began to be frightened.

'Where's your father, boy?' asked the leader.

'He has gone away,' answered Rudel.

'You know where he is. I remember your face now; aren't you the grandson of old Peter Klinger, who holds yonder farm? Well, we are looking for his son, Rudolf Klinger, whose children we know live with the grandparents. We believe that he came here last night, and is hiding somewhere in the neighbourhood. Tell us where he is, and you shall have as many sugarplums as you can eat.'

'You are not looking for my father,' said Rudel boldly; 'he would not be a spy and deserter, and if he were I should not betray him.'

'We shall soon see that. If you don't tell us where he is you shall be shot as a deserter in his place. We have no time to waste.'

The soldiers laughed. They were accustomed to their leader's cruel jokes, but Rudel was not. He turned pale, and began to tremble a little.

'Now, then, tell us,' said the leader.

'You may kill me,' said Rudel, 'but I will not tell.'

Full well did Rudel guess now the cause of his grandmother's tears last night, and who the visitor had been.

'Fall in, men,' commanded the leader, winking at the next in command; 'form a shooting party.'

Soldiers were rough and cruel in those times, especially in time of war, and poor Rudel fully believed he was going to be shot. He watched the preparations with fascinated eyes, and allowed himself to be placed in position against a low stone wall. Then he burst into tears.

'Once more--will you tell?'

Rudel did not answer, but shut his eyes and began rapidly to repeat the Lord's Prayer. The leader glanced round with a grim smile, and the men clicked the locks of their muskets. Then fear overcame the poor little fellow, and he sank down in a heap on the ground.

Meanwhile, in the cave, which was quite close, Lisbeth had heard all. She began to struggle, and uttered a stifled scream. The man released her, and, to her surprise, gently touched her flaxen hair.

'Fear nothing, little one,' he said, and taking her hand, went with her out of the cave, and walked straight up to the soldiers.

'I may be a spy and a deserter,' he said loudly to the leader, 'but I am not a brute as you are.' And he struck the officer a violent blow in the face.

'Take that!' he said, 'and shoot me as soon as you like. I am worth something when I can call that brave boy my son.'

The soldiers surrounded and seized him, and when Rudel came to his senses he found them already gone, and his grandfather lifting him into his arms and preparing to carry him home.

The next morning both children were punished for disobedience. Rudel thought this very cruel, and years afterwards, when for the first time he dared to ask about his father, he asked his grandfather why he had done so.

'To make you forget all you had gone through,' answered the old man, smiling, 'and only remember the beating. Besides, you had disobeyed me!'

Rudel never saw his father again, for when the deserter had undergone a long imprisonment for his offence, and was free again, he was ordered to leave the country for ever; and Rudel and Lisbeth stayed on with their grandparents.

CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.

IV.--THE FIRST CATASTROPHE.

The Countess of Villeroy was a very old French lady who was strongly inclined to think that people were wrong in supposing they could cruise among the clouds in balloons. But when she saw Professor Charles and his companion rise into the blue sky, she was ready to agree with any one who said that men had conquered the upper air. Alas! only a few months later an event occurred which would have made her change her opinion.

Day by day the ballooning fever grew more intense, and when the King of Sweden visited Paris of course he had to be entertained with a grand display of the new discovery. Pilâtre de Rozier, a young physician who had, like Professor Charles, devoted much attention to the subject, ascended in a balloon bearing the French arms, with the flag of Queen Marie Antoinette floating from the car. The voyage was quite successful. Scarcely had the fanfare of trumpets which greeted its start died away when the aeronauts landed on the estate of the Prince of Condé, who welcomed them with more heartiness than his ancestors were wont to bestow on visitors from the King. Mingling with the buzz of delight which accompanied these experiments, was an ever-growing rumour that certain Englishmen had made up their minds to cross the Channel in a balloon. It would never do to let them be first in performing such a feat, so Pilâtre de Rozier lost no time in asking the French Court for forty thousand francs, to build a special balloon which would take him across the English Channel. 'It is a matter of national honour,' said a writer of the time; and as most people agreed with him, De Rozier's request was granted.

The balloon was different from any other yet made, being a combination of both the systems. The lower section was a large bag to be filled with hot air, after Montgolfier's plan, and round which the platform for the travellers was arranged. The upper part was a huge gas balloon. 'My idea is,' said De Rozier, 'that by this invention much gas will be saved, for when I wish to descend I shall simply cool the hot air in the Montgolfier instead of letting out the gas. Then, to rise again it would only be necessary to rekindle the fire. This also renders ballast unnecessary.'

It was very ingenious, but most people will agree with Professor Charles that 'it was like lighting a fire under a barrel of gunpowder.'

However, the balloon was built, and measured, when complete, seventy-two feet from platform to summit. The race for the honour of crossing the narrow sea had begun, and Pilâtre took his giant to Boulogne. But here on the very shore he was doomed to stay, for the winter winds blew shrill and strong from the west. Day after day he waited for more favourable weather, and day after day he heard with still greater concern that an Englishman named Blanchard was already at Dover, waiting only for the winds to subside a little before he set out in his balloon. Pilâtre's anxiety was increased every time he thought of the forty thousand francs he had begged from the Government, and, hoping that report had been exaggerated, he took ship to Dover to see if Mr. Blanchard was really as well prepared as people said. There had been no exaggeration, and he returned to Boulogne more disturbed than ever.

With the assistance of a young doctor, named Romain, he made a number of small balloons, and sent them into the air at frequent intervals to see if they would rise into some current which would waft them to England, and show a way that he might follow. But they all fell back on the French coast, and the hopes of success grew less and less. At last the rough weather died away and a lighter wind blew from the west. Letters came from Paris urging him to ascend, and reminding him of the money paid for the experiment. Contrary winds were not considered by the officials of Paris, and poor Pilâtre could only repeat that it was impossible to sail against them. With eager eyes he watched the sea in the direction of Dover, and one day (it was the 7th of December) he saw Blanchard's balloon come sailing majestically over the grey waters, and knew that the strange race was lost. France would not have the honour of having first crossed the Channel through the air. But Pilâtre de Rozier, being a brave man, hastened to Calais, and was among the first to congratulate his successful rival. He would now have been willing to abandon his project, but such a thing was not to be permitted. He was told that it was easier to sail from England to France, since the latter had a much longer coast-line, whereas it would be a great feat for him to accomplish the reverse journey. It was vain to point out that his balloon had become weather-worn in the long waiting, and how his materials had suffered from the attacks of rats. The forty thousand francs must not be spent for nothing; so Pilâtre patched his taffeta as best he could, and with the heroic assistance of his friend, Romain, had things fairly in order by June 13th, though he was so uncertain of success that he declined to endanger the life of a gentleman who asked to be allowed to accompany him.

On the morning of June 15th, the loud report of a cannon told the inhabitants of Boulogne that he intended to start. At seven o'clock he and Romain stepped into the gallery and the balloon was released. With majestic slowness they rose into the air and sailed out over the sea; but a moment later the wind, that had so long been his enemy, drove them back. The crowd watched with great anxiety. Twenty-seven minutes after starting, the balloon, at a height of one thousand seven hundred feet, was still only a short distance away. Then, to the horror of the spectators, Pilâtre de Rozier was seen to make a gesture of alarm, and the next moment a blue flame leapt from the summit of the balloon. With terrible speed the unfortunate aeronauts were dashed to the earth. A horseman, who tells the terrible story, galloped to the spot in the hope of finding them still alive. Pilâtre de Rozier lay in the gallery quite dead, with scarcely a bone in his body unbroken, and the young Romain lived only to mutter an incoherent word or two.

In memory of the sad event an obelisk was erected on the place where they fell, and in the cemetery at Wimille, their place of burial is marked by the stone carving of a flaming balloon.

JOHN LEA.

NO HURRY.

Here is a story which a missionary lately told his congregation.

Some evil spirits were consulting together as to the best way to lead men astray.

One said, 'Let us go and tell them there is no God.'

Another said, 'Let us tell them there is no Heaven.'

But the third said, 'Let us go and tell them there is no hurry!'

'No hurry' often leads to more harm than many deliberate wrong acts.

X.

THE LITTLE BUSH-BOY.

A fine leopard had just been killed by an English hunter in South Africa. The beautiful skin was speedily stripped off its back and reserved for home use. While this operation was going on the native beaters gathered eagerly round, assuring their master that the lair of the dead leopard was well known, and that its mate was there with probably a couple of young cubs; would he not like to have them? Not a doubt about it! the master would like to secure the little ones alive; but how? One leopard had doubtless been destroyed, but the other parent was still alive and would have to be dealt with; while to rob a mother leopard of her young was an act from which even the boldest of English sportsmen might well shrink.

But the natives knew what they were about, and while they had not the least intention of exposing themselves to danger, their plans were laid so as to secure the cubs, and, perhaps, themselves to share in the profits of the work. Therefore they gladly led the way to the rocky kloof, thickly studded with clumps of brush-wood, where the leopard's den, a dark cave, was situated, the entrance to it being covered with fine white sand. Upon inspecting this sand the foot-marks showed that the female leopard had lately gone forth, perhaps to fetch food for her little ones or to look for her mate. The cubs were therefore alone; but how could they be secured, as the mother leopard might return at any moment, while the cave was a long and low one, with three different entrances, each separated from the other?

How were the little cubs to be secured? We shall presently see. The native beaters had added to their party a small bush-boy, who though twelve years of age was scarcely four feet high. He was a very ugly little fellow, but affectionate towards those who treated him kindly. Like all his race, he well knew the habits of the wild animals of the country, and he had a wonderful power of tracking their footsteps. The beaters proposed that this little fellow should crawl into the den, and bring the cubs to the outer air. But eager as the Englishman was to secure the leopards, he called a halt when he understood the frightful danger to which the boy was to be exposed. But the little bush-boy was quite undaunted; he laughed in the sportsman's face, apparently looking forward to the task with as much pleasure as an English boy would feel at the prospect of catching a couple of young rabbits. They went to work silently but quickly, as no time was to be lost. The Englishman with his rifle kept watch at the principal entrance to stop the mother leopard, if she should return, while the natives watched the other two approaches to the cavern.

All being now ready, the boy disappeared into the cave. It was an anxious moment: the sun was sinking, and the Englishman, somewhat nervous at his novel position, could not help feeling uneasy about the poor little fellow, who would certainly have to fight for his life should the female leopard by any chance contrive to reach her family. Suddenly, though he heard no noise whatever, he saw, not twenty yards away from him on the ridge of the rocky glen, the head and shoulders of the mother leopard with a kid in her mouth.

The fierce creature had paused, wondering who was the intruder who had dared to place himself at the very door of her home. This pause of the leopard gave the hunter time to recover his coolness and to take good and sure aim; her head and shoulders being just over the rocky ridge were clearly marked out upon the sky-line. Slowly raising his rifle then, he fired, the leopard leaping into the air, while with the report of the weapon came the natives who had been stationed at the other entrances of the cave, all eager to see what had happened, and quite forgetting the little bush-boy, who must have heard the report of the weapon, too, and been in some anxiety as to the result. On the ground lay the body of the dead kid, but the leopard herself, only wounded, had disappeared, having got into the thick bush that clothed the sides of the kloof.

Feeling thankful that the fierce creature had not made a dash for her den, the Englishman hastily called to the boy, desiring him to come out immediately, whether successful or not in his search. This was absolutely necessary, as in the long run the wounded animal would certainly return to the cave, though in the first moment of alarm she had escaped in another direction.

But there was no reply from the boy. 'Come along, boy; come along; never mind the cubs,' repeated the Englishman, peering into the dark mouth of the cave, and desperately anxious to have done with this unpleasant adventure.

'All right, master,' was at length heard in hollow tones, yet with a dash of triumph in them; 'all right, I have got the young ones;' and in a few minutes first one brown leg appeared, then a second, for the brave little fellow had to travel backwards, the hole being too narrow and winding to admit of turning. At length he appeared, gasping for breath, but full of delight, and carrying two little growling and spitting cubs. Hastily securing the prey and reloading his rifle, the Englishman and his attendants made for home as fast as they could. They reached the camp in safety, while the female leopard was found dead the next day some distance up the kloof.

The little bush-boy was well rewarded for his pluck, and taken into the Englishman's service; but the reward he seemed to appreciate most was a hearty meal off the dead kid, for good food did not often come in his way.

B. M.

DISCONTENT BRINGS DULNESS.

As Johnny by the window stood And watched the cloudy sky, He seemed in discontented mood And soon was heard to sigh: 'I don't know what to do to-day; There seems no fun at all; At cricket there's no chance to play, For I have lost the ball.

'And tops are seldom spun in May, And if I had a kite There's not a breath of air to-day To help it in its flight.' With peevish frown he left the room And roamed the garden through, And murmured in a tone of gloom: 'I don't know what to do.'

And thus all day he idly went From dreary place to place, The saddest gloom of discontent For ever on his face; And when the stars began to peep, And night its shadows threw, He murmured in his restless sleep: 'I don't know what to do.'

J. L.

NATURE'S NOBLEMEN.

It was said of a man who rose to a high position in the State through his conscientiousness and high principles, that he was at one time a shoeblack.

One day, meeting the son of Lord ----, he was accosted in a tone of scorn: 'I remember when you blacked my father's boots.'

His answer came without anger, and as brave as true, '_Yes, and did I not do it well?_'

THE BOY TRAMP.

(_Continued from page 148._)

By this time Mr. Parsons' peculiar proceedings were beginning to arouse my suspicions. I could not fail to notice that he had twice told me to make trifling purchases, and that, although he had received some pennies in exchange for the first florin, he yet brought out a half-crown for the wax lights. My dawning suspicions grew stronger on the way home on a penny omnibus, when he offered the conductor another two-shilling piece.

The conductor was an amiable, talkative man, and Mr. Parsons had already begun a conversation with him.

'Haven't you got anything smaller?' he asked, 'because I have been doing nothing but giving change half the day.'

'Sorry I haven't,' said Mr. Parsons.

'Well, I shall have to give you a shilling's worth of coppers,' answered the conductor.

'All right--all right, it can't be helped,' said Mr. Parsons, and, of course, I knew that he had already several pennies in his pockets.

'There was the change out of the wax lights and the ginger-beer,' I suggested.

'So there was,' he cried, with a sharp glance over his shoulder, as if to make certain that the conductor had left the roof.

When the omnibus stopped at our turning, I rose quickly, always on the look-out for a chance to escape, but I felt a grip on my knee.

'Age before honour, Jacky,' said Mr. Parsons, who took the precaution to alight first and to help me down the last step.

'Once upon a time,' he remarked, as we walked towards the house, 'I knew a lad about your age who was just a leetle too clever, and perhaps you would like to hear what happened to him.'

'What?' I inquired with a shudder.

'That little lad, Jacky, was licked with a strap. The little lad, Jacky, was kept in one room without any food till he learnt how to behave and keep his thoughts to himself. See, Jacky?'

'Yes,' I answered, 'I see,' and I felt helpless.

We had not been in the house more than half an hour, when he went to a cupboard on one side of the front room and took out a coiled strap.

'That's what I was telling you about, my lad,' he said with a smile. 'Don't be afraid; take it in your hand and feel it. A good bit of leather--there's nothing like leather, you know. Just hold it in your right hand; now open your left. Try it, Jacky, try it,' he cried, with a strange glitter in his eyes, and I dared not think of disobedience, but raised the strap and brought it down lightly on my palm.

'Now, good obedient boys find me very kind to them,' he continued; 'very kind indeed, Jacky. And if there's anything you'd like to amuse yourself, why, you have only to say the word.'

Apart from worse evils, I found the hours drag terribly slowly, especially as I had nothing whatever to divert my thoughts. Moreover, I felt extremely anxious to fall in with his humour.

'I suppose there isn't a book I could have?' I suggested.

'Why not, my lad?' he answered. 'I didn't want particular to go out again to-day, but anything to encourage a good young chap. There is a nice shop in Edgware Road--hundreds of books for fourpence-halfpenny each. Come along, Jacky!'

I had not counted on being taken so quickly at my word, but Mr. Parsons at once put on his hat, and, giving me mine, led me out into the street, and so to the large bookshop, where I saw piles of cheap novels. Not daring to refuse to buy one even if I wished, I selected, after some hesitation, a copy of the _Three Musketeers_, which I paid for with another two-shilling piece. At least, it enabled me to forget some of my troubles for two hours that evening. I had never read the book before, and sitting in a corner of the ill-lighted room, I soon became lost in the exciting story.

When it was bed-time, Mr. Parsons himself accompanied me to my room, where the bed was exactly as I had left it that morning.

'Be careful of your collar, Jacky,' he said when we reached the top story. 'I set great value on a nice clean collar. Mind you don't crumple it.'

When I had entered the room I was not surprised to hear him put a key in the lock and turn it. Although it was not pleasant to feel that I was a prisoner, I had little fear of personal injury unless I openly rebelled. Perhaps this is what I ought actually to have done; if so, I can only say that I did not possess sufficient courage.

I understood now, beyond a doubt, that the people with whom I had become connected were neither more nor less than makers of false coin. While Mr. Loveridge, and the third man whom I had seen that day, conducted the manufacture in the basement, Mr. Parsons spent his time in getting rid of the result of their labours. I imagined that he had begun to meet with difficulties, and that he thought a decently dressed boy of honest appearance would prove an excellent tool for his purpose.

It was plain that having once permitted me to learn his occupation, Mr. Parsons could not, for the sake of his own safety, afford to let me go, lest I should give information to the police. At any cost he would keep me under observation, and as far as I could see I should find it extremely difficult to escape. Yet, on the other hand, I felt certain that as long as I obeyed, I should be free from actual ill-usage. That he could be cruel on occasion I had no doubt, and he had certainly managed to overawe my little stock of courage. But when I had said my prayers that night, I felt stronger and braver; before I fell asleep I determined to do my utmost to keep my spirits up; I would meet cunning with cunning, and above everything give him no cause for suspicion.

But the next day a slight difficulty arose. In the morning I lay on my bed reading the adventures of D'Artagnan and the rest, until Mr. Parsons was pleased to unlock my door and let me out of the bedroom, when I made no complaint of his conduct in turning the key. Having had breakfast, although every meal in that house was repulsive, and I felt as if the food would choke me, and almost wished it might, we set out as usual, and before we had gone far, Mr. Parsons stopped at a tobacconist's shop, and, giving me a half-crown, told me to buy a threepenny packet of cigarettes.

It was a shop of a better class than any he had sent me into before, and, placing the coin on the counter, I asked for what I had been ordered to buy. But the man behind the counter seized upon the half-crown at once.

'That looks to me like a bad one,' he cried, gazing into my face, and I suppose that my heightened colour, or some expression of guilty knowledge, told him that I knew that as well as he did. Placing the rim of the coin in a metal niche on the edge of the counter, he easily broke the false half-crown into two pieces, which he flung into my face. One of them hit my left cheek a little painfully.

'Now be off and never show your face here again,' he shouted, 'or I will have you locked up.'

Without a word, although my blood was boiling, and I had never been spoken to in this way before, I hung my head and walked out of the shop.

As soon as I reached the street, Mr. Parsons seized my arm as usual.

'Change!' he said.

'I have not got it,' I answered.

'How's that?' he sharply snapped out.

'The man said the half-crown was bad, and broke it in halves,' I exclaimed, and gripping me more tightly Mr. Parsons quickened his pace and turned aside down the first street on our right.

I felt that he was eyeing me significantly as we went, and my thoughts were busy in an attempt to determine the wisest line of action. Perhaps my circumstances were making me artful, and it is true that I felt convinced that my escape could only be accomplished by strategy.

It may appear that nothing would have been more simple than to free myself, especially as I spent some hours in the public streets every day. Now that I look back on those days from a position of safety, I even wonder whether a little more resolution, a little more courage, might have earlier put an end to my difficult position. Surely it must have been possible to have wrenched my arm from Parsons' grasp, and he would not have dared to raise the hue and cry after me, or do anything to attract attention to himself. Or I might have appealed to any policeman for protection, or to a passer-by, and so have shaken off my tormentor.

Perhaps some such attempt might have succeeded, but unfortunately a potent factor in my case was the terror with which in some way Mr. Parsons still succeeded in inspiring me. I have found myself since those days in positions of some peril, but never have I known such fear as of that old, smug-looking man. This dread had an almost paralysing effect, nor could I fail to forget the terrible penalty I should certainly have to pay if my bid for liberty were not to succeed. So that Mr. Parsons held me in a grip tighter than that of his hand on my arm; for after all I was scarcely more than fifteen years of age at the time, and it was no disgrace to be afraid.

As we hastened away from the neighbourhood of the tobacconist's shop, my fear was that Parsons might suspect that I was dissembling. He could scarcely believe I was sufficiently stupid not to have had my eyes opened by this time, and if I appeared to treat the affair as a matter of course his watchfulness might be redoubled.

His deliberate purpose was, indeed, to pollute my mind, to show me that my easiest course was to fall in with his wishes, and now as we hastened along the streets, I determined to try to lead him to believe that his efforts were already beginning to prove successful.

'I believe that other money was bad, too,' I said.

'Oh, you do, do you, Jacky?' he answered.

'Yes,' I cried, 'and you make it downstairs at your house.'

'Jacky, my lad, you haven't forgotten the story I told you about the boy who was too clever?'

'Still,' I replied, 'one needn't be a fool although one needn't be what you call _too_ clever.'

'True for you, my lad,' said Mr. Parsons.

'Only,' I continued, playing my part with as much skill as I possessed, and more than I could have believed myself capable of a few days ago, 'I don't want to get locked up.'

'No, no,' he answered, 'I don't want you to get locked up either, Jacky. I should miss you, you know, very much. But you act sensibly, and you will be all right. What's more, I will show you how to make your fortune before we have done.'

'I should like to make a fortune,' I said, with perfect truth. But, still, as we walked home by a round-about way, without attempting any further business that morning, I could not quite make up my mind whether I had succeeded in hoodwinking my companion or not.

(_Continued on page 162._)

THE BOY TRAMP.

(_Continued from page 159._)

At least Mr. Parsons could not fail to be aware that I now understood something of the truth about his occupation, while I had certainly done my utmost to make him believe that I regarded it without any deep dislike.

Had I succeeded or not? On the answer to that question my prospects of escape to a great degree depended. When we reached the house, his manner undergoing no change, I went to bed more hopefully than usual. During the morning we had walked round a large block of buildings forming one shop, with three doors in Oxford Street and two in another street behind. Now, if I could induce Mr. Parsons to let me enter by one of the front doors, it would be easy enough to pass through and make an escape from the rear, for he had never yet accompanied me into a shop.

During the next few days, however, we did not go near Oxford Street; the first day was wet, so that Mr. Parsons stayed at home, and when the weather changed, we took a train to Uxbridge, where I succeeded in exchanging five half-crowns--not without many self-reproaches.

The next day being Sunday, none of us left the house, and I think this was the most miserable time of all that I spent beneath Mr. Parsons' roof. I missed the Sunday service, and felt very lonely and helpless. At last, pretending to be overcome by drowsiness, I asked permission to go to bed at seven o'clock.

Whether or not it was due to the brightness of the morning, I awoke with a sense of unaccustomed exhilaration, and something seemed to assure me that I should find my longed-for opportunity to escape before night.