Chatterbox, 1905.

V >> Various >> Chatterbox, 1905.

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'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.

[Illustration: "'I am worth something when I can call that brave boy my
son.'"]

[Illustration: "A horseman galloped to the spot in the hope of finding
them still alive."]

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. Pilatre 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 Conde, 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 Pilatre 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 Pilatre 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.
Pilatre'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 Pilatre 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 Pilatre 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 Pilatre 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, Pilatre 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. Pilatre 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.

[Illustration: "The little bush-boy appeared, carrying two growling
cubs."]

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.

[Illustration: "'I don't know what to do!'"]

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.