Chatterbox, 1905.

V >> Various >> Chatterbox, 1905.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54

[Illustration: ON A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY.]

[Illustration: "She managed to drag her on shore."]

THE GIRL WHO DID NOT RUN AWAY.

A little French girl only seven years old, named Eudoxie, was playing
with tiny Philomene in a field, when the young child made two stains on
her pink pinafore.

'Mother will scold,' thought the little maid, and trotted off to the
river to wash them out.

A plank stretched out from the bank to make it easy for people to draw
water, and on this Philomene stepped, but she did not know how rotten it
was. Before she could touch the water there was a splash, and the little
girl was in the river.

Eudoxie heard her cry out, but did not run away as some children have
been known to do when a companion was in danger. She ran at once to the
bank, and caught her little friend by the foot, nearly losing her own
balance in doing so.

Though Philomene, all wet and breathless, was a heavy weight for
Eudoxie, still she managed to drag her on shore, kiss her, and try to
console her.

But poor little Philomene was frightened at the idea of facing 'Maman'
after her scrape; she must have been rather a scolding mother, as the
little girl was afraid to go home in her wet clothes.

So Eudoxie partly undressed in the sunshine, and wrapped her in her own
frock, while she ran to beg a change of clothes from the sharp-spoken
Madame.

The mother asked why they were wanted.

'Promise not to scold, and I will tell you,' said the child. The promise
was given, and Eudoxie told the adventure. 'It was not Philo's fault,'
she said.

'Oh, then! my wicked, naughty, precious, darling Philo! take me to her,'
said Madame.

Poor Philomene was sitting smiling in the sunshine when the two reached
her, Eudoxie with her garments, the mother with tears and kisses all
waiting to be showered on her tiny daughter.

Some one told the story in Paris, and many people were pleased with
Eudoxie's presence of mind, and the French Humane Society presented the
brave girl with a medal for saving the life of her friend.

THE HARDEST WORK.

A Fable.

A famous Persian king once called around him all the wisest men in his
kingdom, and put the following question to them: 'What is the hardest
work in the world?'

Some answered one thing and some another, but it was thought that still
harder work might exist.

At last a sage came forward and said, 'I have lived many years and seen
a great many things. I have come to the conclusion that the hardest work
in the world is to be forced to do nothing at all; and no one can spend
the whole day without doing something or other.'

The king, anxious to prove the truth of it, tried his best to find out
whether this were so or not, as did also his courtiers, but they were
obliged to own that what the sage had stated was the truth. Hence the
proverb: 'No work, the hardest work.'

PUZZLERS FOR WISE HEADS.

6.--DOUBLETS.

Changing one letter at a time, in as few steps as possible, make

1. Cat into Dog.
2. Yes " No.
3. Will " Won't.
4. Pony " Cart.
5. Dry " Wet.

7.--ARITHMOGRAPH.

_A Short Proverb._

1.--9, 10, 12, 11, 8. A French city.
2.--9, 7, 10, 12. A delicious fruit.
3.--12, 10, 8, 9. A kind of file.
4.--3, 2, 4, 5. To turn in different directions.
5.--12, 11, 9. To tear, to cut asunder.
6.--1, 2, 10, 5. Close at hand.
7.--1, 2, 5, 3, 4, 8. Organs of sensation.
8.--8, 9, 10, 11, 1. A country in the south of Europe.
9.--8, 9, 10, 1. A very short space.
10.--6, 5, 11, 9. To fall in drops.

C. J. B.

[_Answers on page 167._]

ANSWER TO PUZZLE ON PAGE 98.

5.--_Evangeline._

1. Nile.
2. Lean.
3. Liege.
4. Veal.
5. Vile.
6. Nail.
7. Geneva.
8. Nave.
9. Gain.

ANSWER TO PICTURE PUZZLE ON PAGE 28.

This picture contains the key to itself in the letters which are found
on the walls, the corner-stone, and the gateway--I, C, U, S, X. If these
letters are named in the order given, they form the sentence 'I see you,
Essex,' which Queen Elizabeth is said to have written on a wall or a
window of one of her palaces, as a warning, or perhaps an encouragement,
to Lord Essex.

THE CYPHER TELEGRAM.

(_Concluded from page 124._)

Though it was still only eleven o'clock, the boys were quite ready for
dinner when they reached the lake; and when it was finished and they had
hidden the rest of their provisions in some bushes, Herr Groos gave them
leave to amuse themselves as best they chose till he sounded his horn to
collect them for another meal at four o'clock. He himself was going to
take charge of a botanising party on the Hersch-felsen, and a junior
master was to superintend those who wished to fish in the lake; but
Franz decided to join neither party, as his one idea was to catch a
swallow-tailed butterfly for his friend. At last, finding no one with a
similar ambition, he started on his quest alone.

'I will try the Kuehberg first,' he said to himself. 'If we should meet
the strangers again, it would be fun to prove to them that Herr Groos
was right and they were wrong.'

It was very hot as Franz toiled up the mountain-side, and when at last
he reached the place where his search was to begin, he lay down panting
under some trees at the edge of the wood. On the opposite slope he
could see the yellow caps of his comrades, and the tall figure of Herr
Groos; but where he himself was all was solitude and silence. After a
few minutes' rest he rose, and having filled his cap with some delicious
berries, sat down, almost buried amongst the cool, green plants, to
enjoy them. They were soon finished, but he was still too lazy to move,
and rolling himself down till the cranberries nearly met above him, he
fell fast asleep.

He was awakened by the sound of voices, and, thinking it was some of his
schoolfellows, he lay still, meaning to surprise them. He was so well
hidden that he knew he could not be discovered unless he moved. Then he
realised that it was not his comrades, but the two strangers from the
train.

'Look at all those boys over there,' said the tall man. 'It was
fortunate that we put them off the scent. If they had chosen to spend
the day up here it would have upset our plans nicely.'

'Are you sure, though, that they are all there?' asked the other,
doubtfully. 'There were thirty-two in the train, and I can only count
twenty-five yellow caps now.'

'You are right, Schmidt,' answered the tall man, after a short pause.
'And who can tell where the others may be?'

'Not I! We must put off our digging till we are sure that they have all
gone away for the night.'

'We shall miss the American boat,' said his friend, angrily, 'and all
because of a pack of schoolboys!'

'Not necessarily. If we return to Freistadt by the nine o'clock train
instead of by the five o'clock, we ought still to catch the steamer at
Hamburg. That is the worst of taking things from a well-known man like
Rosenthal. He makes it unsafe to dispose of a single recognisable thing
in Germany. We were lucky to get rid of the coins, even.'

'And a mere nothing we got for them,' replied the grumbler. 'Are you
certain you remember where we buried the rest of the collection?'

'Under this stone here, by the big tree, and it has evidently never been
moved since we left it. See, the cranberries are already beginning to
grow round it.'

'Which shall we take this time? I wish we could get the stuff all sold
and done with!'

'So do I! but we cannot take too much to one country. If we make a good
haul in America, we will return, and try and see what we can do in
England with the rest.'

'If we cannot dig now, what are we to do?' asked the tall man,
disgustedly.

'We must go on to the Observatory, and pass the time there. There is
nothing else to be done.'

When they had quite gone, Franz raised himself slowly. There was the
great stone, just as the short man had said, and underneath it were
evidently most of the treasures stolen from Baron Rosenthal. What was
the best thing to do? If he dug the treasures up and hid them elsewhere,
they would be safe, but then the thieves would probably escape. If he
went straight back to Freistadt by train and warned the police, Herr
Groos would think he was lost, and there would be such a hue and cry in
the woods that the strangers would probably hear of it and have their
suspicions aroused.

Then an inspiration came to him. He would telegraph to Hugo in cypher,
and then, even if Baron Rosenthal himself were not there, Hugo would
have the sense to arrange matters. It took him some time to concoct his
telegram, and put it into cypher. It ran as follows:--

'A tall man in grey and a shorter man in brown, with butterfly nets and
big specimen cases, will reach Freistadt station at ten-thirty. Have
them arrested, as their cases contain some of your father's silver, and
the rest is hidden in the woods.--FRANZ.'

Visitors were always allowed to use the telegraph at the Observatory on
the top of the hill, and so he decided to go there at once and send off
his message. Then a fresh danger occurred to him. The two strangers were
going to the little inn by the Observatory. If they chanced to see his
telegram, or even asked to look at it, he would arouse their suspicions
if he declined to show it, and yet, if the short stranger were as clever
as he professed to be, he would probably decipher it and learn
everything. So he wrote a companion message, using some of the same
words and figures as in the cypher one, but arranging them so that they
could not possibly be translated to make sense.

When he arrived at the top of the hill, he found the two strangers, as
he had expected, sitting at a little table outside the building.

'Hallo, youngster, have you caught your swallow-tail yet?' inquired the
tall one.

'I have not even seen one,' replied Franz, truthfully. 'I am afraid they
have all left the Hirsch-felsen since you were there. I gave it up at
last and came on here to send a cypher telegram to my friend.'

'Ah! the cypher!' said the fat man. 'Show me what you are going to say,
and I will warrant myself to read it.'

'Very well, but be quick, for I want to send it off,' replied Franz,
seeing that this would disarm suspicion.

He gave the strangers the copy he had specially prepared for them, and,
to his surprise, the stout man _did_ manage to read it, though,
naturally, he thought nothing of its contents. Then Franz took the real
telegram to the clerk at the Observatory, who dispatched it carefully,
though he chaffed Franz a good deal about the enormous importance of a
message that required to be sent so secretly.

When he rejoined his companions by the lake, just in time for the
afternoon meal, he was well teased by them because he was the only boy
who had no important find to announce. Then followed a merry walk back
through the woods, then supper, and then bed, and through it all Franz
never had a chance of a private talk with Herr Groos.

The next morning the boys were still at breakfast when the early morning
train came creaking into the station, and the first person to come
towards the inn was Baron Rosenthal.

He shook Franz warmly by the hand. 'Thanks to you, my boy,' he said,
'the thieves are in prison. It only remains for you to show us where the
rest of the silver is hidden.'

The other boys gazed at Franz in surprise, but he was not long in
telling the whole story, and explaining how it was that he had been the
only boy who had had no time to collect specimens. Half an hour later
the whole party started for the Kuehberg, with Franz to guide them.

[Illustration: "'It was fortunate that we put them off the scent.'"]

Afterwards, when the winter came, and the boys of the class discussed
the great summer excursion, they always agreed that the most exciting
part of it had been the digging for Baron Rosenthal's treasures under
the pine tree. Not a few of them also, though without success, tried to
invent a cypher that should rival the famous one which had proved of
such real and unexpected value.

A. KATHARINE PARKES.

[Illustration: The Great Northern Diver.]

THE GREAT NORTHERN DIVER.

Amongst our water-loving birds there are few that can rival the great
Northern Diver. He is strong of wing, with remarkable legs and feet, and
a body so formed that it can take in a wonderful amount of air. He is a
beautiful bird, too, and a glance at him gives you the impression that
he is very knowing--as is, indeed, the fact. He has not a tuneful voice,
for he does not belong to the singing birds, but he utters a plaintive
and wild cry, which seems to suit the regions that are usually his home.
For, though the species does not keep entirely to the cold northern
regions, where summer is brief and winter is long, they are his chief
resorts, and their loneliness seems to suit him. He has often been seen
along British shores, in the Firth of Forth, for instance, and upon the
coast of Wales and Ireland. But if you wish to see the great northern
diver in abundance, you must go beyond the Hebrides, towards Labrador,
Iceland, and Spitzbergen. Nature has provided the bird with the means of
obtaining a great amount of animal heat, which enables him to bear
comfortably the intense cold of arctic regions.

A solitary specimen often attracts the notice of those on board passing
ships. They observe on a headland this tall, gaunt, white-breasted
sea-bird, motionless, it may be, yet looking round sharply with his keen
eyes. Is he thinking of the family cares of the last season, or
considering where the next meal is to come from? Suddenly he moves and
darts towards the sea, into which he plunges. Two or three minutes
after, he reappears many yards away. He has probably been fishing. He
seems to know before entering the water what the fish are doing, and the
formation of his body and limbs makes him a capital diver. It is the
habit of the Northern Diver to seek out especially the shoals of
herrings and sprats, of which both young and old birds consume great
quantities. There is only one brood yearly, the young birds hatching
during the brief summer of the far north.

The bird's head and neck are black, the bill being strong and pointed at
the tip. The breast is white, but the back, tail, and legs are black,
with scattered white spots; its feet are webbed. Though his wings are
short, and his body appears heavy, the Northern Diver can fly powerfully
and swiftly, owing to the strength of his muscles. The body, too, is
smooth and rounded, adapted either for swimming or flying. Another name
for it is the Immer, or Immer Diver.

J. R. S. C.

ENCOURAGEMENT.

Be as encouraging as you can. There is no end to the good sometimes done
by a few kindly words.

When Sydney Smith was a boy at school, a visitor found him one day, in
the play-hour, poring over a lesson-book. 'Clever boy!' said the
stranger, as he bestowed a shilling upon the young student, 'that is the
way to conquer the world.'

This bit of encouragement brightened the neglected boy's life like a
ray of sunshine. That kind man was not forgotten by Sydney Smith, who
was never weary of praising his deed. Little dreamed the stranger, as he
went his way, of the great good effected by his pleasant words. The lad
whom he had encouraged rose soon afterwards to be prefect of his school,
and, as we know, became in after years a very distinguished man, and
possibly the first real start he had in life was this little piece of
encouragement.

E. D.

TRAVELLERS' TALES.

They say there is a country where snowstorms never fall,
And sliding is a game they never knew:
They never saw a lake
Paved with ice that wouldn't break--
I would rather stay in England, wouldn't you?

They say there is a country where the bright sun never sets,
But still continues shining all night through;
And you needn't go to bed,
For there's always light o'er head--
That's a country I should like, wouldn't you?

They say there is a country where the people all talk French--
I can't imagine what they ever do!
For who amid their chatter
Could understand such patter?
I should answer 'Speak in English,' wouldn't you?

They say there is a country where the women cannot walk,
And everything is made out of bamboo,
And the people's eyes are wee,
And they live on rice and tea--
I should like to go and see them, wouldn't you?

They say there is a country where the elephants are wild,
And never even heard about our Zoo;
And through the woods they roam
Like gentlemen at home--
I should like to go and see them, wouldn't you?

F. W. H.

THE BOY TRAMP.

(_Continued from page 127._)

After a few minutes' useless waiting, and wishing that I might have
accompanied Jacintha and Dick into the house, I turned my back towards
Colebrook Park and set out in the direction of the town, which I entered
by a steep hill. The hill brought me into the middle of the High Street,
at about half-past four in the afternoon, and my attention was soon
absorbed by the fresh surroundings. In the street was a constant stream
of well-dressed persons, there were good shops, many carriages, and I
stood at the corner wondering which way to turn. Every now and then I
put my hand into my pocket to make certain the money was safe, and at
last I began to feel a certain sense of recklessness, as if I had now
the power to launch out into extravagance. To tell the truth it seemed
difficult to be in possession of such a sum without immediately looking
out for something to buy, and indeed there were several things I could
have added to my stock with advantage.

On the left I came to the railway station; the line passed over the
road, and beyond it the High Street sloped steeply upwards. At the top
of the hill I saw some public baths. Noticing on the opposite side of
the way a large shop with cheap clothing in the window, I entered and
made my first purchase, which consisted of a pair of stockings and some
shoes--of brown canvas, because these were the cheapest. Carrying my
parcel, I entered the baths, and came forth feeling much cleaner and
more presentable.

I next treated myself to an egg for tea, with ample bread and butter and
a cup of cocoa, and then I thought it high time to seek a place in which
to sleep. In speaking of an hotel, I had in my mind a Temperance Hotel,
although I had not entered into details before Dick; but, as I walked
away from the tea-shop, exploring small streets, I passed a tailor's,
where a man was seated cross-legged on a board, busily stitching. In the
window was a card bearing the inscription, 'Bedroom to let to a single
man,' and then a happy idea occurred to me.

My clothes were sadly in need of repair, my jacket being torn and
stained, and my knickerbockers requiring a patch on the right knee. Now,
I thought, if I engage a bed at the tailor's, he might consent to repair
my suit while I occupy it. So I opened the door and entered the warm,
moist air of the shop, with an inquiry about the bedroom, whereupon the
tailor gazed at me doubtfully a moment and shouted for 'Emma!'

She was a pleasant-looking woman with a baby in her arms, and a second
child clinging to her skirts, and she also seemed to regard me
suspiciously.

'I want a room for one night,' I explained, and then she glanced at her
husband.

'Got any money to pay for it?' he demanded.

'Rather,' I said. 'I can pay you first if you like.'

'Well, that is what I _should_ like,' he answered. 'Show the room,
Emma.'

She took me upstairs to a clean but poorly-furnished room, for which she
demanded a shilling, but after some conversation she agreed to supply me
with a good breakfast the next morning for one and ninepence. With this
offer I closed, and then, having given her one of my sovereigns, she
took me downstairs again to ask her husband for the change. When I had
counted this, I broached the subject of my clothes, suggesting that I
would go to bed at once if he would put them in good order by to-morrow
morning. We made a bargain for two and sixpence, and this sum I paid
also; then I turned into bed as soon as Emma had prepared the room. But
for some time I could not feel inclined to sleep, lying there thinking
of the time I had spent with Dick and Jacintha, and trying to decide
about the future.

Before closing my eyes I came to one determination. The first thing
to-morrow morning I would walk to the railway station and inquire the
cost of a third-class ticket to London. With so much money in my pocket,
it seemed folly to walk the rest of the distance, and the sooner I
reached my destination the sooner I should begin my real career.

My last waking thought that night was of Captain Knowlton, but in spite
of Dick's hopefulness it seemed impossible to believe that by any chance
my friend could be still living. For a few moments I exercised my
imagination, I built air castles, and pictured his reappearance on the
scene. I saw myself again at some other school, mixing once more with
the fellows on an equality: I saw myself going in due course to
Sandhurst, with Dick as my companion; I saw myself a guest at his house
during the holidays, discussing with Jacintha the experiences through
which I was at present passing. Whether or not I was awake when I
fancied these things, or my last thoughts melted into dreams, I have not
the remotest notion, but I knew nothing else until Emma knocked at my
door at eight the following morning, laying down my clothes outside, and
then all the pictures my imagination had painted appeared unreal and
extremely tantalising.

There was a small looking-glass on the bare wooden dressing-table, and
by its aid I saw that the tailor had given me good value for my money.
Feeling quite respectable with the new stockings and shoes and the
renovated suit, I determined to improve matters further by accepting
Jacintha's hint and having my hair cut.

During breakfast I realised that the day was Saturday, and that if I
travelled to London, it would not be practicable to take any steps
towards finding employment until Monday. As I was at present in cheap
and comfortable quarters, it seemed judicious to remain over Sunday,
especially as there would be a chance of seeing Dick and his sister once
more before I left Hazleton.

Having made a satisfactory arrangement with Emma, I went to the nearest
hairdresser's; and afterwards bought for two and fourpence a white
flannel shirt with a collar attached. Then, turning my steps to the
railway station, found that the price of a third-class ticket to London
was five shillings and threepence, and that there were several trains
during the morning.

When I had returned home to change my shirt, I wandered along the road
in the direction of Colebrook Park, but passed the lodge gates several
times without the satisfaction of seeing any sign of Jacintha or her
brother. Later in the day rain began to fall again, and continued until
bedtime, throughout the night, and through the whole of Sunday, so that
I only went out to church in the morning, and spent a far from
unpleasant afternoon listening to stories from Emma's husband. It
appeared that he had been a soldier, and passed through an Egyptian
campaign, to the success of which, according to his own account, he must
to no mean extent have contributed. In the evening I went again to the
church a few doors off. On Monday, seeing that the sun was shining, I
determined to make one more effort to see Dick or Jacintha before
setting out to London. The walk to Colebrook Park, where I hung about
for an hour or more, proved again entirely unavailing, however, and
turning towards the railway station, I changed another sovereign for a
ticket, and reached the platform ten minutes before the half-past eleven
train was due.

CHAPTER XVI.

While waiting for the train, I took the opportunity to count my money,
and finding how rapidly it had diminished, almost regretted the
determination to travel luxuriously by the railway, instead of walking
the rest of the distance to London. But, on the other hand, it appeared
highly desirable to present a respectable appearance when at last I
began to look for work in earnest. I had learned enough since leaving
Castlemore to understand that it would not do to be too particular as to
the nature of such employment, but that it could be possible to search
in vain scarcely seemed to me likely.

There being few passengers, I entered an empty third-class compartment,
and began to eat some meat patties which I had bought on the way from
Colebrook Park. At the first stoppage a middle-aged woman entered the
compartment, taking a seat by the farther window, but at Midbrook, about
three-quarters of the way to London, we were joined by a man, who
lowered himself gently into the seat facing my own, with his face
towards the engine.

He looked sixty years of age, or perhaps somewhat older, and had one of
the most benevolent-looking faces I had ever seen. He was clean shaven,
and he wore a tall black hat. His long frock coat was made of shiny
black cloth, with a waistcoat to match, and grey trousers. He exposed a
large amount of white shirt-front, and wore a neatly-tied narrow black
bow; indeed, he looked noticeably neat and well-brushed from top to toe.