Chapter 30
From the coper skipper's point of view the two following days were very unsatisfactory. Not an ounce of tobacco nor a drop of drink was sold, in spite of the fact that several fishing-boats were met. Growing reckless, the skipper determined to approach the English coast, so as to meet the boats coming out of the Humber.
'Now you will soon be able to transfer us to a Grimsby-bound boat,' Charlie said to the skipper, when they were about two miles from land.
'I have come here to look after outward-bound boats,' the skipper answered, sharply, 'and I can't bother about you. I have quite enough to think about.'
A few minutes later, Charlie understood what the skipper meant. He was in British waters, and to sell tobacco or drink there would render him liable to be seized by a cruiser or revenue cutter. Every sailing ship that came out of the Humber the captain watched closely through his marine glasses, and not until he had satisfied himself that she was harmless did he approach her.
The skipper was well pleased with his work at the end of the day, and when darkness came on he sailed out of British waters, with the intention of returning at daybreak. Charlie and Ping Wang, however, considered that the day had been a most unsatisfactory one.
'I can't stand another day of this,' Charlie said to Ping Wang, when the two were alone. 'I mean to get ashore to-morrow somehow or other. Shall we jump overboard, and swim to the nearest ship making for the Humber?'
'I have lost confidence in my swimming powers,' Ping Wang answered.
'But there will be no necessity for us to have such a long swim as our last one. Besides, there will be plenty of boats about, and some of them are sure to come to our help.'
'When do you mean to start?'
'As soon as we are again in British waters. That will be to-morrow morning. To-morrow night we shall be in Grimsby, or perhaps at my home. You agree, don't you?'
'Oh, yes. But now let us get to sleep. We ought to start as fresh as possible.'
They lay down almost immediately, and slept soundly until about six o'clock. Then they were awakened rather suddenly by hearing a gun fired.
'What's the meaning of that?' Charlie asked, as he sat up and listened.
Ping Wang shook his head, and in a few minutes was again asleep. Charlie, a little later, lay down and slept; but in about a quarter of an hour they were again awakened, this time by men descending into the saloon. Looking up over the saloon table, they saw two bluejackets, with cutlasses in their hands, at the foot of the ladder. An officer ran down the ladder and joined them.
As soon as Charlie and Ping Wang saw the sailors, they guessed that the coper had been captured in British waters, and in their delight they jumped off the seat on which they had been sleeping and stood up on the cushions. In a moment the officer covered Charlie with his revolver.
'All right,' Charlie exclaimed, 'we are not Dutchmen.'
'I didn't suspect your mate of being one,' the officer replied, smiling, but still covering Charlie. 'Come over here and surrender.'
'With pleasure,' Charlie said. 'We are jolly glad you have boarded this wretched coper.'
'The skipper denies that she is a coper. Possibly you can save us the trouble of hunting for his liquor and tobacco?'
'That is where it is kept,' Charlie declared, pointing to the cupboard. 'The skipper has the key.'
'Throw down the skipper's keys,' Lieutenant Williams sang out to his men on deck.
For two or three minutes the revenue officer sat on the saloon table, dangling his legs and whistling cheerfully.
'The skipper says he hasn't any keys, sir,' a sailor called down. 'We have searched him, and can't find any, sir.'
'Very well, then,' the officer said; 'we must do without them. Force open that cupboard.'
One of the two sailors pulled out his knife and forced the lock with little difficulty; then he slid back the shutter and displayed the coper's stock of spirits, wines, tobacco, and cigars.
'A very nice collection indeed,' the revenue officer declared. 'I am very much obliged to you for your assistance,' he continued, addressing Charlie; 'but I must ask you to explain why you are on board this boat. You are my prisoner, although you do not appear to be in league with the skipper.'
Charlie related all that had happened to him. The story of his and Ping Wang's adventures amused the revenue officer highly.
'Well,' he said, at the end of the story, 'I'm very glad to have met both of you. After I have had a peep in the hold, I will take you aboard my cutter.'
The hold, with its stock of nets and other stolen property, added to the revenue officer's satisfaction at the capture he had made. Leaving five men on the coper, to man it--three on deck and two in the saloon--he returned to his cutter, taking Charlie and Ping Wang with him. As soon as they were aboard, the cutter started, escorting the coper into Grimsby.
'How did you manage to catch the coper?' Charlie asked the lieutenant, as they were watching the land coming nearer and nearer.
'I discovered her yesterday, but could not get close to her while she was in British waters. I saw that the chances of catching her were against me, so did not make the attempt. At night I went out to sea with covered lights, and kept my eye on her. Just before daybreak she went back into British waters, and I followed her. When there was light enough for her to see me, she fancied, as I intended she should, that I was a fishing-boat returning to Grimsby. While she had two trawlers' boats alongside I made for her. Then she guessed who I was, and tried to escape, but when I sent a shot across her bows she lay to, and the skipper demanded to know what I meant. I soon told him.'
'I fancy,' Charlie said, 'that the coper skipper is an old hand at the game.'
'I am certain of it,' the revenue officer replied, 'and that makes me all the more pleased. Now, I must be off.'
With that he went on deck, and Charlie and Ping Wang followed him. They were now in the Humber, creating some excitement among the vessels in the river. All hands mustered on every ship to see the coper, and frequently, when the nature of the boat was known, loud cheers were given for the captor.
The news of the capture had reached Grimsby before the two boats arrived, and, consequently, there was a large crowd waiting to see the prisoners brought in. Among the people was the former cook of the _Sparrow-hawk_, whose astonishment at beholding Charlie and Ping Wang on a revenue cutter highly amused his two acquaintances. Charlie nodded to him, but there was no opportunity to settle up with him just then, as the prisoners were immediately marched off to the magistrate.
To the revenue officials' surprise, the coper skipper pleaded guilty to selling spirits and tobacco in British waters. He did so because, seeing Charlie and Ping Wang in court, he knew that they would give evidence against him. On his pleading guilty, the stock-in-trade, together with the stolen property which he had purchased, was confiscated. As Charlie and Ping Wang came out of the court they found the bow-legged cook waiting for them, anxious to get the balance of money due to him from Charlie, and also to hear how he had fared on the _Sparrow-hawk_. They went to the Fisherman's Home, and there the cook was paid.
Charlie then related, in as few words as possible, all that had happened to him from the time he went aboard the _Sparrow-hawk_, and concluded by asking the bow-legged cook not to mention to Skipper Drummond, if he met him during the next few days, that he had seen him and Ping Wang.
Charlie and Ping Wang shook hands with the cook and left him.
'Now,' Charlie said, 'we must go to a cheap tailor's. I think that I have enough money to buy a ready-made suit for each of us.'
'Perhaps the tailor will give us something for the coper's things,' Ping Wang remarked. 'You paid enough for them.'
'I did, and if I tell a tailor, or any one else, what I gave for them, I shall be thought a madman.'
Half-a-crown was the value which the Grimsby tailor placed upon the clothes which Charlie and Ping Wang were wearing. The new clothes which they purchased were rather loud in pattern, and by no means a good fit, but they were cheap, and a great improvement on the things which they had taken off.
After surveying themselves in the glass--and immediately wishing that they had not done so--they quitted the shop and made their way to the railway station, to start for Charlie's home.
(_Continued on page 266._)
JACK'S WISH.
'Oh, how I wish,' cried Jack, one day, 'That I was grown up quite, For then I should not go to school, Or have to keep some silly rule. I'm sure they're made in spite. Why should I go to bed at eight, If I desire to sit up late?'
'Oh, very well,' his father said; 'Go to the Bank for me, And sit, as I do, all day long-- I think you soon would change your song, And long at school to be. Just try to be content, my boy, And then your life you will enjoy.'
A TIMELY RESCUE.
'It looks just as if we were going to have a thunder-shower,' Mrs. Marston said. 'I wish, George, you would find Rose and Elsie, and tell them to come home.'
'But I don't know where to look for them,' George said.
'They are certain to be somewhere in the fields. And take an umbrella with you. Elsie has such a bad cold, I shall be vexed if she gets wet.'
'Oh, Mother, I don't believe it will rain, and I do want to finish painting this rabbit-hutch! It is such a nuisance to leave things half done.'
'My boy, it is not right to argue with your mother when she asks you to do something for her.'
'Bother those kids,' George muttered crossly, as he went off, grumbling, to hunt for an umbrella.
It was a hot, thundery day, and he was feeling still more cross after searching through three fields and finding no trace of the children.
'The clouds are clearing away, and blue sky is showing everywhere,' he said to himself. 'It is perfectly idiotic to go on with this wild-goose chase.'
Then he climbed a stile for a look into the next field, and what he saw almost made his heart stand still.
Rose and Elsie were sitting on the grass, busily arranging some flowers they had been gathering to make a nice bunch for their mother.
Behind them was a large freshly made gap in the hedge, and coming through it was a fierce bull belonging to a neighbouring farmer.
George was horror-struck. What should he do? If he shouted and alarmed the children, they would be too frightened to know what to do, and should the bull give chase, they might be overtaken before they could reach the stile.
In a moment his mind was made up. He jumped over into the field, and ran as fast as he could to try and get between the bull and the children.
He was only just in time. Rose and Elsie started up when they saw him, but when they realised their danger, they were almost too scared to move.
'Get to the stile as quickly as you can,' George called to them; and then he ran towards the bull, and opened his umbrella quickly before the astonished animal.
The fierce creature lowered his horns and seemed uncertain whether to charge his enemy or to flee before him.
Again George fired off his umbrella as if it were a gun, and this time the bull decided it would be better to retreat in a dignified way to his own domain. You may be sure George lost no time in getting out of the field.
'My brave boy!' his mother whispered when the breathless children had arrived home and had told their story. 'How thankful I am that I have an obedient son!'
'But, Mother, I nearly disobeyed,' George confessed, and he grew pale when he thought what it would have meant if he had not arrived in time.
M. H.
INSECT WAYS AND MEANS.
VIII.--HOW INSECTS MAKE MUSIC.
Though the sounds made by insects may not in themselves be musical, according to our standard of music, yet many insect performers give us great pleasure, perhaps because of the pleasant memories which they call up. Who among us does not love the hum of the bee? How delightful is the lazy drone of the great steely-blue dor-beetle, as he rambles along in the twilight of a summer night! The lively chirping of the cricket, too, has inspired more than one poet, and the great novelist, Charles Dickens, used it in a well-known story.
The simplest means of making a noise is that used by the beetle known by the grim name of the 'death-watch.' In our own houses this little beetle often causes great alarm by the ticking or tapping sound which it makes by striking its head against the wall. Ignorant people look upon this noise as a warning of approaching death; but, really, it is meant to charm and attract any other beetles of the kind which may be within hearing!
But many insects, like the crickets and grasshoppers, have a specially constructed instrument on which they play. Fig. 1 shows a part of the instrument used by an American grasshopper. It is formed by a row of tiny teeth, marked T, placed along the inner side of the thigh of the great leaping leg. When this creature feels very happy, or wants to charm his mate, he produces a shrill sound by rubbing these teeth across the hard 'nervures,' or wing 'veins.' What these teeth are really like can be seen in the lower part of the illustration, which shows eight little spear-heads set in sockets. These are 'teeth,' which act much as a comb would do if drawn lightly over a tightly stretched wire.
The 'stridulation,' as this form of musical production is called, in some locusts is so loud that it can be heard on a still night for a distance of a mile. Some South American locusts are such wonderful performers that the Indians keep them in wicker cages, in order that they may enjoy the playing. There is a North American locust which is quite famous as a musician. It is known as the Katydid, on account of its peculiar notes, which resemble the words _Katy-did-she-did_. This note is kept up throughout the night. Our field-cricket plays by rubbing a row of teeth, about one hundred and thirty in number, placed on the under side of one of the supporting rods, or 'veins,' of the wings, against another rod very like it, but without teeth, in the upper surface of the opposite wing. First one wing is rubbed over the other, and then the process is reversed.
A near relative of the grasshopper, the cicada of North America and of Southern Europe (fig. 2), has a really wonderful instrument, rather like a kettle-drum. But it is an unusual sort of kettle-drum, for it is played from within. The drum-heads are shown in fig. 3, marked D, one on each side of the creature, like the drums on a cavalry horse, except that they are underneath the animal in the case of the cicada. If the 'skin' of the drum be removed, a very complicated instrument is seen, and this, by causing vibrations, increased by the tightly stretched drum-head, gives rise to the sounds for which these insects have long been famous.
The great traveller-naturalist, Fritz Müller, tells us that musical contests between two or three rival cicadas--only the males play--often take place. As soon as one had finished his song, another immediately began, then another, and so on all through the night. Another naturalist, Bates, tells that when in the Amazons he used to listen to the cicadas, which began with sunset. The tune began with a jarring sound, and ended in a long loud note, like 'the steam-whistle of a locomotive engine!'
In insects which hum the sound mainly comes from the abdomen. In flies and humble-bees, for example, the 'voice' is caused by air rushing out from the mouths of the air or breathing-tubes. But these sounds are deepened by the vibration of the wings. Those who know something of music will understand what is meant when they are told that the note of the honey-bee on the wing is A; its ordinary 'voice,' however, is an octave higher, and often goes to B and C. From the note produced by the wing, the speed with which it is vibrated can be reckoned. Thus, the house-fly, which produces the sound F, vibrates its wings 21,120 times a minute, or 335 times a second; the bee, which makes the note A, 26,400 times a minute, or 440 times a second!
But, besides insects, there are many spiders and scorpions which may claim to be musical. The instrument of the spider is formed on the same principle as that of the grasshopper--that is to say, by a raised tooth-like edge, which can produce vibrations. Beneath the front of a spider's head there is, on each side, a stout jaw, ending in a long, movable fang, like a claw. Behind this jaw is a short leg, formed like a walking leg, and known as the 'palp.' It is never used, however, for walking, but is carried straight forwards, so that the inner surfaces of its joints are close to the outer surface of the jaw. Now, whenever the 'palp' is moved, it is rubbed against the 'teeth' in the jaw, and this consequently, in many spiders, produces a sound like the humming of a bee! In some spiders which have this apparatus, the sound produced cannot be heard by human ears.
It is to be noted that, whatever the sound produced, its purpose is to serve one of two very different ends. It may be used, as in some spiders, when it is found only in the males, to charm its mate in courting; for she has a very bad temper, and must be approached most cautiously. But in the case of the huge bird-eating spiders, this curious buzzing sound appears to be made for the purpose of frightening its enemies, which, connecting the buzzing sound with the power of stinging, give the spider a wide berth as soon as the buzzing begins! To make itself appear more terrible, the spider raises the fore part of the body and legs high in the air, and thus, partly by this threatening attitude, and partly by the sound, persuades those about to attack that 'discretion is the better part of valour!'
The scorpion hisses. Some describe the noise as like that produced by rubbing the finger-nail over the hairs of a stiff tooth-brush. The vibrating instruments are found in different places, according to the species of scorpion. But the plan of its construction is the same in all, and is like that of the spider. Thus, in some species (as in fig. 4) there are, at the outer side of the base of the great pair of pincers, a number of sharp spinelets, shaped like a tiger's 'fang.' These make up the 'scraper.' Against it the scorpion rubs a number of tubercles, or little rounded bodies, which are seated on the base of the first pair of walking-legs; these form the 'rasp.' The movement of the rasp on the scraper produces the hissing sound. Sometimes the hissing is produced by a similar rasp and scraper placed on the inner surface of the little pincers which project in front of the body, between the two great pincers. In other cases the rasp and scraper are found, the rasp on the top of the base of the little pincer, the scraper on the under surface of the overhanging shield of the body. But, however formed, the noise produced is similar, and appears to be meant to terrify enemies. This purpose is further aided by the habit the creature has, when angry, of turning the poisonous sting at the end of the tail over the back.
W. P. PYCRAFT, F.Z.S., A.L.S.
A TRIFLING OFFENCE.
Noucherivan, King of Persia, had a very violent temper. One day he condemned a page to death for having by accident spilled a little sauce over him while waiting at table. The page, knowing that he had no hope of pardon, proceeded to pour the whole contents of the plate over his master. Nouchirevan, almost forgetting his anger in his surprise, asked the reason of this outrageous act.
'Prince,' explained the page, 'I am desirous that my death should not injure your renown by being undeserved. All nations esteem you as the most just of sovereigns, but you would lose that glorious title were it to become known that you had condemned one of your slaves to die for so trifling a fault as the one which I first committed.'
This answer made such an impression upon the king that, ashamed of his passion, he pardoned the slave, and also tried by his bounty to atone for his contemplated cruelty and injustice.
PUZZLERS FOR WISE HEADS.
12.--CURTAILMENTS.
1. Curtail stiff and strict, and leave a Swiss mountain. 2. Curtail a large country in Asia, and leave the point of the under jaw. 3. Curtail a scooping instrument, and leave to push. 4. Curtail acute and discerning, and leave a kind of mouse. 5. Curtail a raised floor or platform, and leave a horned animal. 6. Curtail an island on the Kentish coast, and leave a Saxon nobleman.
C. J. B.
13.--CONICAL PUZZLE.
The middle letters of each word read downwards give the name of a well-known English poet.
1. A consonant. 2. A price fixed after all deductions have been made. 3. To gaze, to look with fixed eyes. 4. To disperse, to throw loosely about. 5. Kindnesses, good wishes, benefits, favours.
C. J. B.
[_Answers on page 290._]
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES ON PAGE 230.
10.--_Valparaiso._
1. V eneration. 2. A nimosity. 3. L inoleum. 4. P aragon. 5. A melia. 6. R azor. 7. A rch. 8. I ce. 9. S o. 10. O
11.--Tar-tar.
THE POTATO.
Amongst our English vegetables, the potato is the most abundant and useful. It is liked by nearly all, and it is indeed a chief article of food in some districts. Other vegetables are largely eaten--cabbages and turnips, for instance--but the potato is in the greatest demand.
We have in the potato an illustration of a plant which belongs to a poisonous family, but has roots (or tubers) very nourishing and agreeable to eat. But if anybody was to eat the berries which follow the showy flowers of the potato, they would most likely be made ill, nor are the leaves wholesome to us, though they furnish food to the big caterpillar of the Death's-head moth.
We have to thank the Romans for bringing into Britain many fruits and vegetables; others, later on, came from France and Germany, or some other part of Europe; but the potato we owe to America. The potato first known in these islands, however, was not the one familiar now; it was the sweet potato, or Batatus, cultivated by the Spanish and Portuguese; it is supposed to have been brought over from the Continent early in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. It was a vegetable much liked by those who could get it, and this is the potato of which one of Shakespeare's characters says, 'Let it rain potatoes and hail kissing comforts.'
No one can tell positively who, of the voyagers to America, towards the end of the sixteenth century, it was who came upon the true potato and brought it back to his own country, more as a curious plant than for any other reason. Some have given the credit to the great Sir Walter Raleigh, but it seems more likely that he himself was not the discoverer, but one of his followers, named Heriot. In a book Heriot wrote he exactly describes the potato amongst his finds, calling it 'open-awk,' a name he had heard in America. 'There are roundish roots,' he says, 'some the size of a walnut, some much bigger; these hang together on the other roots, and are good either boiled or roasted.' By roasting he no doubt meant putting them in the hot ashes of a fire. The question of how potatoes should be cooked seems to have been troublesome at first. People dipped them in hot water, and then complained that they were hard, or sticky like glue. Potatoes brought to the table of King James I. are said to have cost two shillings a pound, and for a long while the vegetable remained scarce, perhaps because people did not know the best way to raise a crop as we do now, by planting slices of the tubers. Several of the old books only refer to it as an ornamental garden plant.
Sir Walter Raleigh does appear to have introduced this vegetable into Ireland, at least. Going one spring to his estate at Youghal, Cork, he took some potatoes, and gave them to his gardener, who planted them. Fine specimens had grown up in August, but the gardener did not think the berries were of any good, and told Sir Walter he did not admire the wonderful American plant. 'Then pull it up and throw it away,' said Sir Walter; but when the man saw the potatoes on the roots, he thought differently.
The first place in England where the potato was grown in fields was North Meols, Lancashire, about 1694. For many years the Scotch only grew it as a curiosity, till Thomas Prentice, of Kilsyth, stocked his garden with potatoes in 1728, and distributed them amongst the villages near. Early in the reign of Queen Victoria, it had become abundant, especially in Ireland; but the potato disease or murrain caused great distress in 1845 and later, nor has it ever been got rid of entirely. The potato has been introduced to our Indian Empire, and though it was unpopular at first, the people have since become partial to it.
J. R. S. C.
DOCTOR ABERNETHY'S ADVICE.
Doctor Abernethy, the great surgeon, was famous for his short, pointed sayings and good advice, as well as for his skill as a doctor. One day a gentleman who was accustomed to live in great luxury, and who suffered from gout in consequence of this easy life, came to consult him. He told the great surgeon all his ailments, and how he usually lived, and asked what he ought to do.
'Live on sixpence a day--and earn it!' was the reply of Dr. Abernethy.
CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.
VIII.--THE HIGHEST FLIGHT--SEPTEMBER 5, 1862.
The frequent and successful voyages in balloons at last led scientific men to wonder if the ascents might not be used for solving some of nature's riddles, and so conferring benefits on mankind, instead of being undertaken only as pleasure trips. It was to help answer this question that, in 1862, Mr. James Glaisher began a series of balloon voyages. He was by no means the pioneer in this class of enterprise, for many others--both French and English--had been up with the same object some years before. But as Mr. James Glaisher, with his captain, Mr. Coxwell, went higher than any one before or after, his flight ought to be given special attention.
In order to make careful observations, it was necessary to take a large number of delicate instruments, and these were arranged on a board, which rested its ends on either side of the car. Seated before this narrow table, Mr. Glaisher meant to read the secret of the skies. When all was ready, Mr. Coxwell weighed anchor, and a few moments later the city of Wolverhampton, from which they rose, was almost lost in the vast tract of country upon which their eyes rested.
It was the third ascent these gentlemen had made together, and the wonders Mr. Glaisher had witnessed on the two previous occasions must have been more than enough to lead him to seek for more. He had pierced the densest rain-clouds, and had seen the shadow of the balloon on the white upper surface of the clouds surrounded by lovely circular rainbows. He had peeped through holes in these clouds on to the world beneath, which looked more like a misty picture than real meadows and towns and rivers. Such experiences were more beautiful than any tales of fairyland--because they were true.
But to-day he was to have a new and strange journey. At five thousand feet above ground the balloon entered a mass of rain-clouds, one thousand feet thick, and four minutes later they broke through into sunshine. Mr. Glaisher tried to take a photograph of these clouds from above, but the balloon rose too rapidly and kept turning round. At twenty-one thousand feet (or four miles high) Mr. Coxwell found it difficult to breathe, while it needed a great effort to tilt more sand over the edge of the car. Up and up they sailed--four and a half, five, five and a half miles--and the sky grew more and more intensely blue till it became, at last, almost black.
Even now, at a height of twenty-nine thousand feet, when hoar-frost was forming on the sides of the balloon, and the daring travellers were stung with a cold more severe than that of the coldest winter day, the instruments went on observing the wonders of the atmosphere without themselves being observed. Mr. Glaisher, who had for some minutes found a difficulty in seeing the small marks on his instruments, lay back quite insensible against the side of the car. He had not fainted suddenly. First, he tells us, his arms refused to move when he tried to reach the various instruments. Then, as his eyes fell on Mr. Coxwell, who had climbed into the ring to reach the valve-rope, he tried to speak; but the power of speech was gone, and a moment later he lost all consciousness.
The balloon was still ascending, and, to Mr. Coxwell's horror, he found that the terrible cold had turned his hands black, and robbed them of all muscular power. His position was one of great danger, seated as he was in that slender car miles above the earth, and so numbed by the cold that he could not hold the ropes. He reached the valve-cord at last, however, and, seizing it between his teeth, gave it two or three vigorous jerks. The balloon stopped ascending. Hooking his numbed arms over the ring, he dropped safely into the car. As he did so, he noticed that the blue hand of the barometer stood perpendicular. _The balloon had ceased to climb at seven miles high!_
His efforts to restore Mr. Glaisher were soon successful, and, by the time the earth was again reached, no ill effects from the wonderful adventure were to be felt.
We must mention six other passengers that took part in the journey: these were pigeons. One was liberated at three miles high, but dropped with wide-open wings like a sheet of paper until denser air was reached. A second, at four miles, was evidently a stronger bird, for it flew vigorously round and round, gradually descending. A third, dropped a little higher, fell like a stone; and another, thrown out at four miles, on the way down, took a comfortable perch on the top of the balloon.
This famous flight of Messrs. Coxwell and Glaisher is still a record. No other balloon has ever ascended to so great a height, and, when a similar attempt was made in France by three celebrated aeronauts, two of them lost their lives at a height of five miles, owing to the rarity of the atmosphere they had to breathe.
The illustration of the scene in the balloon, on page 265, is copied from Mr. Glaisher's _Travels in the Air_, published by Messrs. Macmillan & Co., Ltd., who have kindly given leave for its reproduction.
JOHN LEA.
AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(_Continued from page 259._)