Chatterbox, 1905.

V >> Various >> Chatterbox, 1905.

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'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.

[Illustration: "He ran towards the bull and opened his umbrella
quickly."]

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.

[Illustration: Fig. 1.--Above, leg of American Grasshopper, magnified;
musical instrument at T. Below, musical instrument of American
Grasshopper, greatly magnified.]

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!

[Illustration: Fig. 2.--Cicada, as in life.]

[Illustration: Fig. 3.--Cicada, showing "drums" (marked D), magnified.]

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.

[Illustration: Fig. 4.--Scorpion, in act of "playing."]

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 Mueller, 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.

[Illustration: "'Live on sixpence a day--and earn it!'"]

[Illustration: "Seven miles high!"]

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._)

CHAPTER IX.

When Charlie arrived at his home, in an unmistakably ill-fitting suit of
clothes and accompanied by a Chinaman, equally badly dressed, he caused
great surprise to his family. If he had returned dressed in
'fear-noughts' and a jersey, or even in 'oilies,' they would not have
been surprised, but there was nothing nautical about his present
attire.

'Well, my boy,' Charlie's father said to him, after Ping Wang had been
introduced, 'have you had a good time?'

'Well, not exactly,' Charlie answered, 'but I have discovered that
Skipper Drummond is an old rascal, and that he believes he will have no
difficulty in swindling you.'

'He is not the first person who has thought that and has lived to find
that he has made a mistake. However, you can tell me all about it after
dinner. You had better run upstairs and change your clothes.'

After dinner, Charlie related all that had happened to him, from the
time he met the bow-legged cook until he came back to Grimsby.

'I suspected that you would have a rough time,' Mr. Page said, when
Charlie had finished his story, 'but I never thought that you would meet
with so many unpleasant adventures. However, as you have discovered that
Skipper Drummond is a dishonourable man, I am not sorry that you went to
sea. I don't suppose you will be in a hurry to go again.'

'I want to go very soon,' Charlie replied. 'I want to go to China with
Ping Wang.'

'To settle there?'

'Oh, no; simply to recover Ping Wang's family riches.'

Mr. Page and Fred, not knowing whether Charlie was serious or not, made
no remark.

'I'm quite sane,' Charlie declared, seeing that they were surprised;
'Ping Wang will tell you about it.'

Ping Wang, thus called upon, repeated the story of his father's death
and the seizure of all his property by Chin Choo.

'But how do you know that Chin Choo still possesses the idol with the
secret drawer?' Mr. Page inquired, when Ping Wang finished speaking. 'He
may have sold it?'

'That is not at all likely,' Ping Wang declared. 'I know that he has had
it fixed up in his chief room, and there it will remain as long as the
house stands, or until Chin Choo moves somewhere else.'

'And you think that Chin Choo cannot discover that the idol contains
precious stones?'

'I am certain of it. My father was a richer man than Chin Choo imagined,
and the wealth that the murderer found in our house was more than he had
expected. He is quite certain that he has found all my father's wealth.
If he were not, he would never think of looking for it in the image.'

'But do you think it possible to get into Chin Choo's house and remove
the idol without being discovered?'

'I am certain of it; of course, I shall watch for a favourable
opportunity.'

'Well,' Mr. Page said, after a few moments' thought, 'I must think over
the matter for a few days before deciding whether I can permit Charlie
to accompany you.'

'I wish I could go with them,' Fred joined in. 'I don't desire a share
of the treasure. I simply want to go for the experience.'

'But how about your studies?' Mr. Page asked.