Chapter 22

'I want a North Sea fisherman's outfit.'

'Yes, sir,' the Grimsby shopkeeper answered cheerfully, suspecting that his young, gentlemanly-looking customer required the things for a fancy-dress entertainment or theatricals. In two or three minutes he had produced for inspection a jersey, thick trousers--commonly called 'fear-noughts'--heavy top-boots, and a set of oilskins.

'I will try them on,' the lad said, and, retiring behind a screen, changed his clothes. Then he looked round for a glass, anxious to satisfy himself that he had the appearance of a North Sea fisherman. The shopkeeper, unasked, assured him that he had, and, as there was no one else there who could be consulted, the youth purchased the outfit.

'Do my other things up in a parcel,' he said to the shopkeeper. 'I will keep these on.'

'But it's raining hard, sir,' the man exclaimed, not believing that his customer wanted the clothes for real use.

'I don't mind that at all. I want a little of the newness rubbed off. Now I come to think of it, I might just as well have had a second-hand outfit.'

The shopkeeper rustled the brown paper, and pretended that he had not heard what was said.

'May I send it home?' he asked when he had made a neat parcel of the suit, cap, and boots which the boy had taken off.

'Yes. I will write the address.'

When the bill had been paid, the lad stepped out into the dirty Grimsby street, and strode off in the direction of the docks.

The clothes _were_ meant for use after all. Charlie Page--for that was the lad's name--was not going to a fancy-dress ball, but had purchased his fisherman's outfit because, on the following morning, he was to begin work as a deck hand on board the steam trawler, _Sparrow-hawk_.

How it came about that he was bound for the Dogger Bank needs explanation. His father was a prosperous Lincolnshire man who had built up a large export business, which was now about to be converted into a limited liability company. Mr. Page was to become managing director of the new company, but, unfortunately, he could find no suitable position in the concern for his son Charlie. He determined, therefore, to purchase, with a portion of the money which he would receive from the company, a new business for his son.

He had heard that there were three Grimsby steam trawlers for sale, and entered into correspondence with the respective owners. The price which they asked for the trawlers was not high if they really earned what it was asserted they did, but Mr. Page had a strong suspicion that the amount of their profits was exaggerated.

'Shall I go to Grimsby and discover the truth?' Charlie said to his father one evening rather suddenly. 'I might get a job on one of those three trawlers and keep a sharp look-out all the while I was aboard her. I could count the boxes of fish, and get all the information that I could from the crew.'

'A good idea, my boy, but do you think that you could carry it out? A North Sea fisherman's life is a terribly rough one. It would not be a pleasure trip for you.'

There was a great deal of discussion before Charlie's daring plan was finally adopted. Mr. Page was struck by his son's grit and keenness, and knew, moreover, that the experience would do him good. In his own young days, before he returned to Lincolnshire and settled down to business, Mr. Page had spent three eventful years in South America, and although he had had many decidedly unpleasant adventures, he by no means regretted them. He was glad, too, to find that his son inherited some of his love of adventure, especially as it was to be used, in this case, for a good, sensible purpose. Charlie was only sixteen, but he was big and strong for his age, and the sea air and hard life would probably do him good physically as well as morally.

'I will give you ten pounds,' he said to Charlie on the following morning, 'and as you are not likely to be away much more than a week, it will, I think, be ample for your wants.'

Charlie thanked him heartily, and an hour or two later started for Grimsby. He knew the town well, and making his way to the docks, had little difficulty in finding where the _Sparrow-hawk_ lay. She was coaling when he discovered her, and knowing that all hands would be busy, he sat down on the black scaffold-like dock and watched from a distance as truck after truck was tilted over, sending its load of coal into the shoot, down which it ran with a rattle on to the ship's deck. The trawler's men, black as niggers, shovelled the coal quickly into the hold. Fortunately the greater portion of the load had been taken aboard before Charlie arrived, and after waiting for about half an hour, he saw the last truck-load shot down. He knew then that in about an hour's time some of the _Sparrow-hawk's_ men would be coming ashore. He watched them with interest as, having shovelled all the coal into the hold, they turned the hose on the deck, and with brooms and swabs worked hard to remove the coal-dust which coated everything. When this task was finished, the men gathered around two buckets and washed themselves. They needed washing badly.

The first two men who came ashore had friends waiting for them, so that Charlie had no opportunity of speaking to them. The third man to come ashore had no one waiting for him. He was a short, bow-legged little man, with a goatee beard and a small brass ring in the lobe of each ear. Charlie spoke to him.

'Thank you, sir,' the man answered, as he took the tobacco which Charlie offered. 'Smoking is not allowed here, so I will save it till I get outside the gates.'

'Are you a Grimsby man?' Charlie asked.

'No fear. I come from Gorleston. If this was Yarmouth I should be able to enjoy myself at home, but as it's Grimsby I don't expect to have much of an evening.'

Charlie felt that he had come across the very man he wanted.

'Come to my hotel and have a chat,' he suggested. 'I want some information about North Sea fishermen.'

'Certainly, sir. Are you a journalist?'

The bow-legged fisherman had a great respect for journalists, having on one occasion received from a newspaper representative a good big 'tip' for describing how a trawler worked.

Charlie could not, however, by the greatest stretch of imagination, call himself a journalist, and so he ignored the question put to him. The fisherman put his silence down to modesty.

The hotel at which Charlie had taken a room was close to the docks, and, therefore, the manager and waiters were not horrified, as they would have been at a London hotel, at seeing a rough fisherman brought into the building.

After Charlie had seen that the man had some food, they went to his sitting-room.

'I'm happy now, sir,' the fisherman declared, having lighted a pipe and thrown himself back into a roomy chair.

For a few minutes there was silence. Then Charlie said, 'I should very much like to make a trip to the North Sea on a steam trawler.'

'I should not advise you to do so, sir. A trawler is no place for a gentleman.'

'Nevertheless, I mean to go out in one.'

'Ah! I see your game, sir. You have heard what a rough time we fellows have in the North Sea, and you have come down here to get information, and then put it in a London newspaper. But it's no good, sir. There's no skipper in the North Sea who wouldn't guess what you were up to, and make some excuse for not taking you aboard his ship. You must give up the idea, sir.'

'I mean to get a job on a trawler, and go to sea as an ordinary fisherman. Then I shall be able to obtain, from personal observation, all the information I want.'

The bow-legged fisherman sat up in his chair deeply interested.

'That's a splendid idea, sir,' he declared, 'and I only wish you could get a job on the _Sparrow-hawk_, for you would see enough on that trawler to make you write till you wore out your pen. The skipper is an old villain, and that crafty too----'

The bow-legged fisherman did not finish his speech, but nodded his head, and raised his hands in horror, as if words were too weak to express the real character of the skipper. Naturally, Charlie became more anxious than ever to make a trip on the _Sparrow-hawk_.

'Can't I get a job on her?' he asked.

'No, sir. All the same hands are taken on for the next trip.'

'Couldn't I bribe one of them to stay away, and let me go aboard in his place?'

'Pretending that you are he?'

'Yes.'

''Course you could. Take my place, sir.'

'I am afraid that is not possible,' Charlie remarked, thinking of the fisherman's bow legs and goatee beard.

'Why not? It isn't hard to pretend you are bandy-legged. Lots of boys pretend they are bandy-legged when they see me coming.'

'It would be rather tiring to have to continue the pretence for two or three weeks. Moreover, I haven't a beard.'

'You could say you had shaved it off.'

'That would mean that I should have to shave nothing every morning, just to keep up the deception. If I didn't, the crew would wonder why my beard didn't grow. But, joking apart, I am very anxious to make a trip in the _Sparrow-hawk_, and if you, at the last moment, will pretend that you are too ill to go aboard, and will send me as a substitute, I will pay you your wages, and give you a present as well.'

'I agree, sir,' the fisherman declared, promptly.

'When does the _Sparrow-hawk_ sail?' Charlie asked.

'In two days' time.'

'Then I must buy my outfit to-morrow. Where shall I meet you to-morrow afternoon?'

'At the Fishermen's Home, sir.'

'Very well. I will be there at four o'clock, and here is half-a-sovereign for you, to show that I am in earnest.'

'Thank you, sir,' the fisherman exclaimed, and departed, more than ever convinced that journalists were the most generous fellows in the world.

(_Continued on page 198._)

CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.

V.--THE FIRST ASCENT IN ENGLAND.

Though the English people, on the whole, disbelieved the tales they heard of the French balloonists, they became very interested when a certain young Italian, named Vincent Lunardi (Secretary to the Naples Ambassador), gave out that he was willing to build a balloon and make a voyage in it. Those devoted to science contributed willingly to the expenses, and large crowds paid to be allowed to see the balloon while it was being made. When nearly complete, it was exhibited in the Lyceum, and the arrangements made with the proprietor of that building very nearly led to disaster. He proved to be a greedy, dishonest man, and when Lunardi wished to move the balloon to where the ascent was to be made, he refused to let it go unless he was paid half of all Lunardi secured by the venture, and a large share in any profits that might be made on future occasions. Here was a difficulty Lunardi had not expected, and it came with many others equally unlooked for. When Lunardi first made the proposal, he had got leave from the Governors of Chelsea Hospital to ascend from their spacious grounds; but, while the balloon was being made, a certain Frenchman had set up in opposition, and announced that he would give a display immediately. This promise he failed to keep, and the disappointed sightseers paid him back by breaking up his machinery. The idea of such a thing being repeated terrified the Governors of Chelsea Hospital, and they requested Lunardi to go elsewhere. He had just got over this trouble by being promised the ground of the Honourable Artillery Company, when the proprietor of the Lyceum refused to release the balloon. The Artillery Company, thinking themselves the victims of a fraud, ordered the apparatus, which had been sent to them, to to be thrown off the ground unless Lunardi found securities in five hundred pounds to cover any injuries their premises might suffer at the hands of the mob. But the proprietor of the Lyceum had overreached himself, and when the matter was explained he was compelled to give up the balloon, which was forthwith taken to the artillery grounds under a special guard.

Two days later the scene of action was thronged by a noisy crowd, and Lunardi has spoken of the dread he felt lest anything should happen to delay the ascent. While the balloon was being filled, he viewed the assembly from the upper storey of the Artillery House. Windows, roofs, and scaffoldings were crammed, while in the large square below, the people were so closely packed that it 'looked like a pavement of human heads.' And they were by no means orderly, for most had come with the idea that they were to be deceived. The arrival of the Prince of Wales, however, put them in a better humour, and in less than two hours after the appointed time, Vincent Lunardi carried out his promise. He would not risk a longer delay. Though the balloon was only two-thirds full of gas, and he had to disappoint a friend who had arranged to sail with him, he gave the signal and weighed anchor.

The grumblings of the fickle crowd turned to roars of applause, as the balloon rose slowly over the house-tops. The noisiest and the roughest there forgot the jests they had made at Lunardi's expense. And Vincent Lunardi forgot them, too, for his worry was over, and his long labour rewarded.

He had made his balloon without any valve at the top, and in order to descend, had fitted it with long oars, shaped like lacrosse sticks. These he now began to work in order that the vast crowds, who had not been near enough to see him embark, might know that he was in the car. But scarcely had he placed his hands upon them, when one of the oars snapped off, and returned to the earth. It was instantly broken into fragments by the crowd, the pieces being kept as relics by those who were fortunate enough to secure them.

Lunardi then gave himself up to the enjoyment of his voyage, and watched the great city spread beneath him till it became no more than a doll's town.

Over the common of North Mimms Lunardi again plied his oars, and landed, with the assistance of some country folk, in a field called Etna. Here he released a cat which he had brought from London. It had felt the coldness of the upper air considerably. A dog and some pigeons had also accompanied him, and with these he continued his journey, finally landing at Ware. A stone erected on the spot tells, to this day, the story of his adventure.

As regards his mention of the oars, it has been pointed out that, since Lunardi had to throw out ballast when rising the second time from Etna field, it is hardly likely that his descent was due alone to the working of the oars. It must have been through loss of gas, and he deceived himself in thinking otherwise.

London was delighted at the news of his voyage. George III., who had broken off an important state conference to peep through his telescope at the wonderful balloon, afterwards allowed the young Italian to kiss his hand at a brilliant levée. Military honours were bestowed upon him, and with fewer obstacles in his way he now made fresh flights.

But perhaps his greatest triumphs were in Spain, the king of which country gave him a residence in the royal palace at Madrid. Here, on January 8th, 1793, he made a grand ascent, taking with him a number of carrier pigeons. In the car of his balloon he wrote particulars of all he saw, with as much ease as he would have done in his study. Carefully folding the manuscript, he sent it on by one of the pigeons to the governor of Madrid. It was the first time that the world had ever known of a post-office in the sky, but, for all that, the letter was delivered as promptly as any one could wish.

Lunardi's cruises in the clouds were sometimes attended by great danger, particularly one he made in Portugal, on August 24th, 1794. It was a windy day, and when, on nearing the earth, he threw out the anchor, the rope snapped as it caught against a tree. The balloon rose to a height of three miles, and fearing that he would be blown out to sea, Lunardi pulled the valve-rope. Unfortunately this broke too, but enough gas escaped to cause the balloon to descend rapidly. A quarter of an hour later the car struck the ground with great violence, and a sack, weighing twenty pounds, was jolted out. Relieved of this weight it rose again, but less powerfully, and Lunardi found himself, a little later, being dragged and bumped along the ground at a great pace. Some ignorant peasants, terrified by the balloon, ran for their guns, and the poor aeronaut was treated to a shower of bullets. Fortunately, the speed soon carried him out of range; then, seizing an opportunity, he leapt from the car, among a tumbling mass of ballast and scientific instruments. When he found his feet, it was to see the balloon sailing at a great height towards the sea, and a few minutes later it disappeared from his sight for ever.

JOHN LEA.

THE BOY TRAMP.

(_Concluded from page 188._)

'There was nothing more to be done,' continued Captain Knowlton, 'till I reached England. Of course I had no idea that Mr. Turton had taken Mr. Windlesham's place at Ascot House. I reached Southampton yesterday, travelled direct from there to Castlemore without touching London, and saw Mr. Turton. It appears that he opened my telegram the day after you ran away, Everard. By-the-bye,' demanded Captain Knowlton, 'I should like to hear just why you did run away?'

'When they thought you were dead,' I answered, 'and that my school bill would not be paid, and I should be left on their hands, they began to treat me as if I were a servant. I did not believe I should ever see you again; I knew I wasn't wanted there; I--I couldn't stand it, and I ran away.'

'Well,' continued Captain Knowlton, 'Mr. Turton didn't seem to know exactly what to say for himself. He explained, however, that he had paid Mr. Windlesham a long price for the goodwill of the school, and that he reckoned you as one of the most profitable pupils. He could ill afford the loss of your account, to say nothing of your being left on his hands to lodge and feed. Yet he assured me he had no intention to turn you out, although he saw no harm, in all the circumstances, in making you useful.'

'Still,' I exclaimed, 'he need not have made me black Augustus's boots.'

'That,' said Mr. Westlake, 'was evidently the last straw.'

I noticed that Jacintha watched Captain Knowlton's face with some anxiety, thinking, perhaps, that he would show signs of displeasure at my flight.

'Mr. Turton admits,' he continued, 'that since you had taken the law into your own hands, he made no effort to overtake you until the arrival of my telegram. Then, imagining you had turned towards London, he took the train to various towns on the way, and no doubt did his utmost to find you.'

'Oh!' cried Jacintha, abruptly.

'Well,' asked Mr. Westlake, 'what is it?'

'If I had told Mr. Turton where Everard was hiding,' she said, 'he would have explained that Captain Knowlton was alive, and everything would have been all right!'

'All's well that ends well!' remarked Captain Knowlton.

'Everard did not think it would end well the day before yesterday,' cried Jacintha.

'The night is often the darkest just before dawn,' said her mother; but for my own part I kept silent, for, looking back only a few days, and recollecting what had been the outlook, I felt afraid of making an idiot of myself if I ventured to open my lips.

'I gave Mr. Turton a cheque,' said Captain Knowlton, 'and I am afraid I lost my temper. I saw the real state of affairs, and reckoned him up so candidly that we did not part very good friends.'

'You certainly made an impression on him,' cried Mr. Westlake. 'He began a long rigmarole when I explained my business this morning, but the main point of it was that you had turned up and addressed him in language which he really could not describe as polite.'

'No,' admitted Captain Knowlton, gazing at the tip of his cigar, 'I am afraid he really couldn't.'

'He gave me the name of your hotel,' Mr. Westlake continued, 'and, taking the next train to London, I was driven at once to Northumberland Avenue, where luckily I found you at home.'

'I had just come back from an interview with my lawyer,' said Captain Knowlton. 'Of course, I was very anxious to discover what had become of this youngster, and, in fact,' he added, 'a private detective is already looking for him, and to-morrow morning he will see himself advertised for in every London newspaper.'

'A day after the fair!' cried Mrs. Westlake.

'And that,' said her husband, 'is about the end of the tale.'

'Not quite,' answered Captain Knowlton, rising from his arm-chair. 'The most important thing remains to be done, and the most difficult.'

'That is all right, Knowlton,' said Mr. Westlake.

But Captain Knowlton paid no attention. 'I should very much like to know,' he said, 'how to thank you kind people for all you have done.'

'Remember,' suggested Mrs. Westlake, 'that if Jacintha had acted properly, the worst troubles would have been avoided.'

'In my opinion,' said Captain Knowlton, 'Jacintha is a brick. I understand,' he continued, 'that you would rather not be thanked. All the same I shall never forget your kindness, and I hope Everard will not either.'

'No--no fear,' I muttered as I rose, trying to smile, and failing in the most lamentable manner. But there seemed to be a general desire to treat the affair lightly; we shook hands all round, the butler whistled for a hansom, and appeared pleased with the tip which Captain Knowlton pressed into his hand. So we were driven away from that truly hospitable house, and that night I slept in a comfortable room at a great hotel in Northumberland Avenue; the next morning being given up to various visits to the tailor's, the hatter's, the hosier's, and so forth. After luncheon, Captain Knowlton took me to his room and insisted that I should once more relate my adventures from beginning to end; and, when this was reached, we set out for New Scotland Yard, where in a private room I was called upon to tell all I knew about Mr. Parsons and his companions in the presence of an officer in plain clothes.

When I had finished, Captain Knowlton begged the police officer, if possible, to dispense with my appearance as a witness. A few days later we heard that Parsons, Loveridge, and another man had been arrested, although I believe not at the house where I had passed so many miserable hours. On investigation, it proved that there was evidence to convict them without my aid, and although the trial did not take place for some time, the three men were eventually sentenced to terms of imprisonment which would prevent them from preying upon the public for many years to come.

Captain Knowlton consulted Mr. Westlake about the choice of my next school, with the result that a few weeks later found me settled at Richmond with the 'crammer' who was expected to do great things for Dick. Dick and I soon became the best of chums, and, later on, it happened that we entered Sandhurst together, and were in due course gazetted to our respective regiments the same month.

Shortly afterwards, we sailed for South Africa within a few days of each other, and there, at Paardeberg, I received an unwelcome Mauser bullet in my left thigh. While on sick leave at Capetown, waiting until it is possible to rejoin my regiment at the front, I have passed the time by writing this account of my adventures; and, now it is finished, it will shortly be on its way to England, whither, if all go well, I hope, before very many months have passed, to follow it.

THE END.

PUZZLERS FOR WISE HEADS.

9.--TRANSPOSITIONS.

These are the names of two famous soldiers, sailors, poets, novelists, and two queens.

1. EGLLINNOTW. 2. ABGHMLOORRU. 3. ELNNOS. 4. ABEKL. 5. AAEEEHKPRSS. 6. ENNNOSTY. 7. COSTT. 8. CDEIKNS. 9. ABEEHILTZ. 10. ACIIORTV.

[_Answers on page 230._]

* * * * *

ANSWER TO PUZZLE ON PAGE 167.

8.--1. Cake. 2. Lake. 3. Rake. 4. Sake. 5. Take. 6. Wake.

A CENTRAL AFRICAN CAKE.

'Hiplay! lu--lu--lu--lu!'[3] some coal-black natives shouted joyously as they stood by the shore of Lake Nyasa, and saw across the blue waters what a European would have taken for water-spouts, or pillars of smoke.

But the natives knew better! Those great pillars darkening the air were dense masses of that African delicacy, the Nkungu fly.

The men hurriedly seized the saucer-shaped baskets which they had with them, and waved them round their heads till they were full of flies.

The next thing to do was to crush the flies in their hands, roll them in leaves, and lay them to roast in the ashes of a wood fire.

When finished the mass looked rather like coffee-grounds, and tasted like liquorice.

This is the only cake a Central African ever makes for himself. English people would hardly want to rob him of it, but to him it is delicious.

FOOTNOTE:

[3] This is the Central African way of shouting 'Hurrah!'

THE WEATHER SPRITES.

LAST NIGHT.

The Weather Sprites in slumber lie, 'Tis plain as plain can be, For clouds have hidden all the sky-- A mist is on the sea, They laid the brooms of wind away Before the day was done, And left a curtain, dull and grey, To hide the setting sun.

'Wake, Weather Sprites! oh, wake again! You slumber all too soon, And, look you, drawn by imps of rain A ring is round the moon. With all your might rub out the ring, Mop all this rain away, For such a night can only bring An even duller day.'

THIS MORNING.

Then through the darkness, ere I slept, I heard them passing by; Across the roof their brushes swept, Then cleared the misty sky. They mopped away with all their might, And dried the garden soon; While busy dusters rubbed from sight The ring around the moon.

And as I throw the shutter wide, And look out at the dawn, The garden paths are neatly dried, And all the clouds are gone. But hark, where in the morning light Yon chestnut lifts its dome, I hear the last, last Weather Sprite Dragging her broomstick home.

WONDERFUL CAVERNS.

VI.--THE ROCK TEMPLES OF AJUNTA AND ELLORA.

On one of India's loneliest glens, called Ajunta, travellers come upon a perfect settlement of buildings and temples, cut in the face of a semicircle of cliffs about two hundred and fifty feet high. Over the cliff leaps a brawling river, making seven distinct falls before reaching the valley below.

From a distance only pillared fronts appear, but on a closer view the real grandeur and beauty of the temples come to light. The inside walls are covered with paintings, well drawn, and fairly well preserved. The pictures chiefly illustrate the life of Buddha, and the sacred tree beneath which he used to sit often appears in them, hung with rich gifts from his followers. The good works which he did for the poor and suffering are constantly painted. Other paintings show hunting scenes and battles, drawn with great vigour and of huge size; others have pictures of peacocks, elephants, apes, and other animals.

The architecture of these caves is very fine. We can hardly imagine the enormous labour of cutting out the deep ribs of the roof, the light twisted pillars, and elaborate framework for pictures which adorn the galleries. The marvel is how human hands could have done such work, especially when we remember that the natives of India, like those of Egypt, who did great feats in rock architecture, had the smallest and most delicately-shaped hands of all human races.

There are thirty-four distinct rock-temples at Ellora, near Aurangabad, in India. Most of them are of the usual pattern of cave-temples, some the work of Buddhists, others of a sect called Jains, who are famous for kindness to animals. The more modern ones are built by Brahmins, and these are the true marvels of Ellora, though they can hardly be accounted as cave-temples, being cut bodily out of the rock outside as well as inside. The way in which these monuments of industry were probably built was as follows:--The builders first marked off a large square of the cliff, and outside this square dug a wide deep trench, leaving an immense mass of stone standing in the centre. Out of this mass, which may or may not have contained natural caverns, they cut a magnificent temple, standing on a raised platform, and adorned with domes, galleries, colossal statues of animals and the richest forms of ornament. Fancy the patient toil, lasting year after year, even when the outside was finished, of scooping out the interior, with its great halls and passages!

The most wonderful of these temples is called 'Kailus,' and is dedicated to Siva the Destroyer. It has a great court, in which are ponds, obelisks, figures of the Sphinx, and other ornaments, whilst in the middle stands an immense group of elephants. Above these huge creatures, rows of stately columns, in four tiers, one above the other, support the actual temple, and the effect is so light that the building seems to be hung in the air.

Kailus is the sacred mountain in Thibet, from which flow the four great rivers of India, and every year thousands of pilgrims toil in solemn procession round its ice-covered rocks, to bathe in the waters of the sacred Lake Manseroeur, which lies below.

HELENA HEATH.

EASTERN JUGGLERS.

Some True Anecdotes of Wonderful Feats.

Eastern kings and princes are careful, like those of Western countries, that those visitors who come to them should have amusements. There is no difficulty, at any time, in obtaining performers with snakes, for serpent charmers and trainers are well-known and popular. The fearlessness these men show is amazing; it has been said, indeed, that they operate only with harmless snakes, or those deprived of their fangs, but there seems to be evidence they can manage poisonous reptiles in good condition for stinging. The charmers probably influence the snakes in three ways--by music, by fumes arising from substances they burn in a dish, and also by certain movements of their own bodies. Sometimes they practise a sort of fortune-telling by snakes, the motion of the reptile's head towards some object being supposed to give an answer to a question.

A show of wild animals, too, often furnishes an entertainment, and sometimes, after the animals have performed various tricks, or have had mock fights, there is a second part consisting of conjuring and feats of agility. A traveller in the East, describing one of these entertainments, tells us of one Hindoo whom he saw, with very stout arms but rather thin legs. He was bare to the waist, wearing white trousers and a smart skull-cap of blue and yellow silk. A slight yet firm ladder was placed upright; across the top was a strong pole, and at each end of the pole a stout cord hung down. The ends of the cords were staked to the ground, so that the apparatus could not give way. Having made a salaam to the spectators, the Hindoo began his operations.

Rubbing his hands together, the juggler went to the ladder, and grasping the first bar above his head, mounted with surprising activity, keeping his feet motionless about six inches from the frame. Having reached the top by the help of his hands only, he threw his feet upward, and was seen resting upon his head with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs closed. Thus he remained motionless for over a minute. Next, a cord being flung to him from below, he caught it and drew up an iron ball about six pounds in weight, enclosed in a netting of twine. Still remaining upon his head, the Hindoo raised the ball to about three yards from his hand, and then swung it circularly; after a few whirls he launched it through the air, sending it a long distance over the heads of the spectators. His next performance was even more startling. First, he dexterously laid himself upon his back along the pole on top of the ladder. Thus balanced, he had six native daggers, with broad, double-edged blades, thrown to him, and caught each one in turn. Having got them all, he threw them one by one several yards above his head, catching them as they fell, and having always four in the air at the same moment. After a few minutes he let all the daggers drop upon his body, with the blades uppermost.

His next feat was, if possible, still more remarkable. An iron rod about three feet long was stood upright on the pole; upon the top of it he rested a large, shallow, wooden bowl, holding the rod balanced so exactly that it kept quite perpendicular. With a sudden jump, the performer seated himself in this bowl and caught twelve brass balls thrown up to him. Projecting the whole lot into the air, he kept them constantly in motion for several minutes, then sprang to his feet and _stood_ in the bowl with the balls spinning round him. After a few minutes he jumped upon the pole, letting the balls, the rod, and the bowl drop to the ground. As a finish, the little man descended the ladder upon his hands, going head first, and amid shouts of applause bowed and retired.

J. R. S. C.

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(_Continued from page 190._)