Boys Own Paper August 9, 1913

8/8/2019 Boys Own Paper August 9, 1913

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NO . 45, V O L U M E X X X V . ] S A T U R D A Y , A U G U S T 9, 1913. Price One Penny.

[ALL R I G H T S R E S E R V E D . 1

R U N T O E A R T H !

The above photograph shows a Cheetah, or Hunting Leopard, o£ South Africa, which had been caught in a trap, had subseq uently escaped, and had been

followed and wounded. As will be seen, the animal's left hind leg is still partly encased in the canvas bag which formed part of the trap. This Cheetah

was captured by Air. Paul Jiainey, an American sportsman, who recently headed a large expedition in South Africa for the purpose of capturing and

photographifig wild animals. The Cheetah is stated to be the fastest animal on four legs, for a short distance. He is employed in hunting the

gazelle and other deer.



The "Boy's Oban Taper.

S U M M E R F I S H I N G .

yyovv that the longvacation is at

hand every boy willhave a chance forsome fishing; for

if he has no opportunityfor trout iishing he can nowtry his hand a t any kindof fish, for they are all inseason.

There is one sort of fishthat he is almost sure tofind inhabiting streams orponds near him, and that

is the all-pervading roach. This fish is thecommonest we have in England, and is notunknown in Scotland, some largo onesfrequenting some of the border rivers,notably the Annan.

I think that all the English rivers (if we except rapid trout streams) containroach. The methods of capturing thisfish are vario us, the be st' know n beingbottom fishing ; for this a long light rod isused and a fine line and porcupine-quill float.Epr this plan to be fully successful one mustwjait till August or September, becauseduring the early summer the roach frequentshallow water chiefly, and this is a methodadapt ed more to the deeps. If tried at

all in summer, very fine tackle should beused, and the bait (a gentle or pellet of paste) allowed to run through a shoal of roach that you can see. To do this is noteasy without scaring the fish, but it can bedone, and in the daytime is the only waylikely to be successful.

As evening comes on you may fish deeperand in a different wa3% sitting quietly downand Iishing a certain " s w i m " or likelyspot over and over again. To do this it isdesirable to throw in some ground bait(bread and bran mixed) occasionally. Thisis the meth od moro fully described under"Autumn Fishing" last September; andI mention it again as being useful in Augustevenings.

The plan p reviously described may bevaried in lots of ways. If fish are visiblebut very shy, take off your float and shots,and put a house fly on the end of the hook (kill it first, it will do just as well) and tryto cast it so that a roach may see it. Thisagain is far from easy, but if done deftlyit will somet imes secure very large fish, notonly roach but chub, which take all sortsof flies very readily and don't object toa beetle. Dace also may be taken thus,and I have known perch to take a fly in thisway, though their natural food consistsof small fish and worms.

If there are chub about you will probablysee them, and must then be careful that yourcast ia strong, for they are very violentin their first rushes. As to roach, even a two-

pound fish may be killed, with proper care,on the finest of ta ck le ; and the usualsize falls very far short of this. In somerivers the shoals of roaeh which may beseen on the surface will also take the artificialfly with some freedom, but usually daceand rudd are the chief among coarse fishto afford sport in this way.

By J. PAUL TAYLOR.

The tackle we have described as suited fortrout fishing will answer for roach, dace andchub, and the method differs but little,chiefly in the necessity for some little patiencein waiting till roach or chub get the ilyinto their mouths—a roach will follow itfor yards before taking—and for greatquickness in striking when dace are about,as they take quickly and reject promptly,when they find the fly to consist of hook and feathers.

Generally speaking, you have to searchfor these coarse fish. It is of little usecasting on chanc e, unless it is wind y. Inthat case fish ma y be on the surface andyet not visible to you , and they will sometimes take pretty freely, especially chuband roach. I have not know n daceto take well in a wind. It is theshallow and sharp side-streams, runningover gravel, in which dace lie, and the fishcan be seen in shoals; if approached withcare and a long line thrown, a good manyof them may sometimes be taken in a shorttime , in sunny weather.

If you want large fish (other than chub)in summer you had better go to one of theNorfolk rivers or broads, and try for bream.They are not so plentiful as they were whenI used to get them by the stone, or the

half-hundredweight, but big they are, andno very special tackle is required for theircapture. Just a strong rod and some running tackle, and fairly stout gut.

What is required isearly rising and patience,for they feed best at dawn and that meansgetting up at 2 or 3 A .M . Some groundbait should be put in over night, clay andbran does very well, and you use eitherworms or gentles for bait. They will takepaste, but in the rivers this washes off -veryquickly, more especially in the Yare, whereit is usual to use a boat and to fish in deepand swift tidal-water. It is no child' splay to fix the boat in such circumstances.'" Ry e pec ks, " 12 or 15 feet lon g, are used,and fastened by little chains to the rowlocks ; the boats are heavy tubs fit for sea-work. Cantley used to be one of the bestplaces, but now that beet-root works havebeen started there it is much changed.

When you have caught some bream(which will very likely be 3 or 4 lbs. each)give them away; only a very good Jewishcook can make them eatable to you. Theyare in fact almost as bad as chub, the fleshof which, as you may have heard, consistsof cotton wool and darning needles.

Wit h regard to other fish, roach are tolerable if from rivers, dace are good, and perchare very good, and gudgeon the same.This last fish deserves more special mentionas it is common, in gravelly shallows,on the Thames and is easily caught with asmall worm when on the feed. Its small

size is its only fault. A small gudgeo nis an excellent bait for perch and a largeone for jack.

Tench is another fish very good to eat,but like the carp (which is nasty) it is scarce.Rudd are more common, especially insome of the broads and Devonshire Leys,but are of little use to eat. It gives capital

sport with fly in hot weather, and grows toa la rge size (2 to 3 lbs ). Great numbersof them may be' taken in Slapton andTorcross Leys, and they are mostly decent-sized fish, running from J- lb. to f lb. Thereare lots of perch and jack in these Leysalso, and the perch, which are rather small,are easily caught. These Leys are on thecoast near Dartmouth and leave can only

be had from the hotels on their banks.If cheap fishing is wanted, with somechance to use a fly, the string of villagescalled " Deepings " close to St. James'Deeping station, near Peterborough, will befound good spots as the roach there takefly well. There are many other places(on the Ouse, etc .) along the Great Easternrailway also, where fair sport can be hadon the river, and also on the water coursescalled " fen dra in s" which intersect thefields in every direction.

Hilgay fen is one of the best spot s. Thereare also some fairly good places nearYarmouth and Lowestoft, Somersfieldbeing one of the best. Here roach run verylarge, and used to take the fly fairly well.There are also daee, and even an occasional

trout. To get this latter fish in summersome considerable outlay is very necessary ;so I will not further enlarge upon it thanto say that some sport may still be had nearWinchester, in a little bit of the River Itchcncalled " The Weirs," which is free.

Near Bristol, in the Water Company'sreservoir at Blagdon, big trout are caughtwith fly. The charge here is lO . a day,or 20s. if you have a seat in a boat!

O L D SAWS IN RHYME.

ACTIONS speak louder than words ever do ;

Yo u can't ea t your cake and hold on to it, too-.

When the cat is away then the little mice play ;

When there is a will there is always a way.

One's deep in the mud as the other in mire ;

Don't jump from the frying-pan into the fire.

There's no use crying over milk that is spilt;

X o accuser is needed by conscience of guilt.

There must be some fire wherever is smoke ;

Th e pitcher goes oft to the well till it's broke.

By rogues falling ou t honest men get their due >

Whoever it fits he must put on the shoe.

All work and no play will make Jack a dull boy ;

A thing of much beauty is ever a joy,

A half loaf is better than no bread at all ;

An d pride always goeth before a sad fall.



7 0 7

S E L A - T R AIMING F O R B O Y S

O r , L i f e on an Indus-trial

T r a i n i n g S h i p .

Written and Illustrated with Drawines and Photographs by

A. NORMAN WALLING,

' M o u n t E d g c u m b e " Boy

in Full Dress.

rnHOSE who have had occasion to journeyJ_ into Cornwall over Brunei's masterpiece, the Saltash railway bridge, canhardly have failed to notice the Mount Edgcumbe Industrial Training Ship.

Lying at her moorings in the riverTamar, just above the bridge, ehe is by farthe most conspicuous object on that sideof the railway, from which one gets acapital view of her. Her glistening black-and-white painted hull, dotted withsquare portholes, her quaint figure-headand square-rigged masts, are all reminiscent of the days of England's woodenwalls, and it requires little stretch of theimagination to picture her as in the dayswhen, under a cloud of snow-whitecanvas, with rows of glistening cannonat her ports, and her decks alive with men,she proudly put to sea as H.M. frigateWinchester. Down below on her maindeck the transition is equally as easy, for

here are still the old capstan, bollards,riding bitts, stanchions, rails, and hugecable chain which did duty in her days of action.

But, like many another good ship, shewas rendered obsolete as a naval vesselwith the advent of steam, and in 1859became the Conway, a training ship foryouths wishing to enter the mercantilemarine as officers. Later, a more commodious vessel being required by the promoters of the school, she was supersededby H.M.S. Nile (the present Conway inthe Mersey), and we next find the Win-chester transferred to Plymouth, wherein 1877 she was handed over by theAdmiralty to a local committee, and was

henceforth known as the Industrial Training Ship, Mount Edgcumbe, for Homelessand Destitute Boys.

As such she is one of a small group of vessels stationed round our coast,* which,although in no way connected with each

* Th e Clio, at Bangor, North Wales; the Exmoulh,in the Thames; the Wdlesley. North Shields; theSouthampton, at Hu l l ; the Mars, off Dundee; andthe Empress, in the Clyde.

T h e " M o u n t E d g c u m b e . "

other, are yet united in a noble work—the work ot rescuing boys from the baneful influences of sordid homes and immoralsurroundings, and sending them forth intothe world imbued with a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong, andfitted to take their place in some usefuloccupation. What more praiseworthy, •and at the same time more difficult task could be engaged in ? Yet it is seldomthat failure has to be recorded.

These vessels are certified industrialschools, and as such are assisted by grantsfrom the Home Office, and local andcounty authorities. Th ey must not, however, be confused with reformatoryschools. One often hears the lads of the Mount Edgcumbe referred to as "lit t lecriminals," but this is a most unfair wayof speaking of them. Whilst there maybe found on board a few boys who havebeen sent there by magistrates for minoroffences, the great majority are boys whowill not go to school, boys whose parentshave failed to keep them in control, destitute and neglected boys, Poor Lawincorrigibles, and others who are sent tobe trained for the sea by their guardians(voluntary cases). Furthermore, no boysare admitted who have previously servedin prison.

However, whatever the reason of a boy'spresence there, once on board the Mount.

Edgcumbe he is well fed and clothed, andeducated with a view to a seafaring life,and it ma y be safely said in the majorityof cases that in leaving their homes forthe training ship, the lads are making achange for the better. It only needs avisit to the ship to convince one thatthe boys are happy in their surroundings,and. if questioned on the matter, fewwould confess to a desire to return totheir homes.

The Mount Edgcumbe is certified to

M o u n t E d g c u m b e " B o y

in Storm Dress .

accommodate 250 boys. Their ages varyfrom between eleven and twelve to sixteen,which is the limit, but in special casesyounger lads are admitted.

No bo y is taken over the age of four

teen, so that never less than two years arespent on board, the average period beingfrom three to four years. The boys arelooked after, and well looked after too,by a staff composed of the Captain-Superintendent (who with his family isaccommodated in the after part of theship), a chief officer, a second officer, whois also gunnery instructor, two seameninstructors, a schoolmaster and twoassistants, a cook, a tailor, a shoemaker,a carpenter, and a bandmaster.

Naturally, the object of the ship beingto obtain berths for the lads in some seafaring line , the greater part of the instruction given on board is devoted to seamanship. The boy on entering the ship is inmost cases a raw little landlubber, and.as might be expected, a pretty self-willedone at that, so that the period of hisinitiation is doubtless the most trying.He is first fitted out in the ship's uniform,which is man-o'-war rig—navy blue full-dress and white undress—receives hisnumber, and is allotted his place in aparticular mess. He very soon learns thatnot only is the dress on man-o'-war lines,but the discipline as well, and, being atolerably shrewd boy, finds that by obeying orders with alacrity he avoids a lot of trouble, and if he be of a bright disposition, gets a lot of fun out of the life aewell.

For, after all, it is an ideal life for

a bo y of this class. So much work andexercise in the open air, if it does notmake a giant of him, hardens him wonderfully. In time he takes a wetting with alaugh—sleeping in hammocks close to openports makes him proof against draughts;he learns to hold his own among boys of his own age, gets plenty of recreationashore and afloat, and all the while isgaining knowledg e which will ultimatel yenable him to earn a decent living, know-



7 0 8 The Boy's Obvn Paper.

ledge imparted to him by instructors whohave the welfare of the lads at heart.

In company with other boys in theembryo stage, the new arrival is periodically conducted over the ship, and learnsthe correct terms to be applied to theconstruction and parts of the vessel, andthe names and uses of the various paraphernalia on board necessary for the

working of a ship. These instructionsare extended over a more or less prolongedperiod according to the boy's aptitude andwillingness to acquire the knowledge, andin the meantime he attends school withthe other boys, goes through physical exercises and learns to do his share of thecleaning of the ship. If he is unable toswim, he is taught, and is then able totake an oar in one of the boats, and learnsto row, to " feather " and " toss " his oar,and to steer.

But the new boy's greatest trouble comeswhen he is made to go aloft. To a

grown-up, unless he be a sailor, to swarmup the r igging even as far as the main-topis an ordeal requiring considerable nerve,

and few would care to make their way outto the yard-arm, suspended in mid-airwith nothing more substantial than a ropebetween themselves and the water below.Ye t this is what the boy has to do, and itis small wonder if, as is often the case ata first attempt, he loses his nerve andremains clinging to the yard like grimdeath, the tears chasing each other downhis cheeks. But he quickly learns, andbefore long will swarm out to the end of the yard, or climb to the mast-head as if there were no such things as nerves.

The initial stages over; the boygradually takes his place with the moreexperienced lads in the regular routine.It is of the utmost importance that a

seaman should know the name and use of every spar and rope composing the riggingof a ship, in order that he may be ableto act the moment a command is given,and for the purpose of imparting thisknowledge to the boys a fully rigged modelis kept on board the Mount Edgcumbe.

With this the instructor demonstratesto his charges in batches, or classes, thetheory of the working of a sailing vessel,teaching them the names of the differentmasts, spars, and sails—explaining theuses of running and standing rigging,setting and furling sail, the method of trimming sail for sailing into a wind, or ona wind, for going about, wearing ship,backing and filling, etc. And with the

help of this same model his knowledge of the various parte and construction of thehull is strengthened.

At the same time that this form of instruction is proceeding the boy is putthrough sail drill, when he learns to acertain extent to apply theory to practice.Although a stationary ship, the foremastand rigging of the Mount Edgcumbe arefitted with yards and sails for the purpose" f exercising the lads in sail drill, whichconsists of raising and lowering yards andsett ing, reefing, and furling sail. Inreefing and furling sail the youngstershave to go aloft and lay out on the yardsor climb out on the long bowsprit, projecting far out over the water, and to prevent

injury in the case of a fall, nets arespread out round the foot of the mast atsome height from the deck, and alsoextended below and on each side of thebowsprit.

From sail drill we may pass to boatdrill. The ship is provided with eightboats (four on each beam), a dinghy, anda skiff. To each boat there is a separatecrew and coxswain in each watch—as in

regular sea life, the boys are divided intotwo watches—and the dril l consists of manning, lowering, and hoisting boats inthe'davits , and, of course, rowing, steering,feathering and tossing oars, picking upmoorings, and coming alongside inapproved fashion. The lads of the Mount

Edgcumbe handle their boats in athoroughly seamanlike manner, and by

their successes at the local regattas haveproved the soundness of their training.On one occasion, indeed (at SuttonHarbour in 1908), they had the satisfactionof emerging triumphant from a tussle withthe boys of the United States training ship

Newport, winning the InternationalSilver Cup, and this notwithstanding thefact that the average age of the Yankeecrew was much above that of the victors.

Then in order that they may know howto act in moments of danger the lads areinstructed in life-saving and fire drill.Immediately the warning cry " Man overboard " is raised, a life-belt is thrown, aboat is manned and lowered, and puts off to the rescue, guided by the signals of the

bo y who has already taken up his stationin the top. The need for this signallingmay not be at once apparent, but whenit is remembered that a man droppingoverboard from a vessel in motion in anything like a sea would be lost to sightbefore the rescuing boat could be gotunder way, the object of the boy in thetop is plain. From his elevated positionhe is able to keep the " man " overboardin sight, and by motioning with his armsdirects the boat to the other's whereabouts.

The lads are also taught the useof the rocket and life-line, for whichpurpose is kept on board a miniature apparatus with which they learnto fire a rocket, with its life-line attached,

over a model ship, and to rescue a dummyin a breeches buoy. Similarly, at an alarmof " fire " the boys run to their variousstations, some to " stand b y " and " clearaway" the boats, 6ome to man the pumpsand run out hose, others to form a line tohand buckets of water along to the workersat the scene of the supposed outbreak.

Signalling instruction is anotherimportant branch of their education,signalling by hand with flags, codesignalling, Morse and semaphore beingtaught to all, an up-to-date electricapparatus having been provided for theMorse system.

Then the lads are taught to "box thecompass," and in order that they may

gain some knowledge of steering by thecompass, an ingenious little device hasbeen fitted up on the main deck. It consists of a platform shaped like a deck of a ship, and having a steering-wheelconnected by a belt with a shaft underneath the platform. The turning of thewheel causes the platform to revolve, andthus the boy standing at the wheel is ableto point his " sh ip 's " bow in the direction ordered by the instructor, the compass-box standing before him on the frontof the platform.

But the finishing touches to the lad's" sea" training are received on boardthe Goshawk, the sea-going tender to the Mount Edgcumbe Here he not only

gains practical experience in seamanship,but receives mono advanced instructionin navigation. Every year about thebeginning of May, a number of boys aredrafted from the training ship to theGoshawk, and she becomes their homefor the whole of the summer months.

An d what a home ! It is impossible tospeak too highly of the Goshawk and hermanagement. One would imagine on step

ping on board that he had come to visit agentleman's yacht, so scrupulously neatis everything. And, incidentally, hewould not be very wide of the mark, forwhen the Goshawk left the builders' handsin 1865, it was as a schooner yacht forMr. Thomas Broadwood, of piano fame.Since then she has had a varied career,among other things has twice made the

trip round the world, was the headquarters of a scientific expedition to theMauritius, and just previous to her acquisition by the committee of the Mount

Edgcumbe, had seen service as a missionship in the North Sea.

(To be concluded.)

OUR GARDENERS.

By W . J. H A W K E S .

fVHE house which we dwelt in was pleasant enough,

-L The garden abounded in all sorts of stuff.

An d all that we wanted to keep the place right

Wa s a gardener and handy man clever and bright.

So we put an advertisement into the Press,

Th e contents of which you will easily guess;

It was :— " Wan ted a Gardener ; married ; no child ;

Must be steady and sober and not a bit wild ;

Th e wife is required to be useful indoors,

To act as cook-general and scrub all the floors."

Some two thousand gardeners answered the call;

'Twas a source of regret we could not engage all !

For, though they all seemed to be men of first grade,

Y et all had at some time had some other trade.

A man who'd been a draper was the first one that we

chose,

W e found lie wasted too much time in toying with

the hose.

A cycle-maker was the trade of the next one that we

hired,

But we found, as we expected, that he very soon g ot tyred.

Whilst the man who'd been a soldier and had taken

the King's shilling,

Wa s splendid with the cabbages—he was so fond of

drilling!

A railway-porter followed. When he'd tidied up the

front,

Said he, " I've had enough of this. It's time for m e

to shunt."

Came after him a bank-clerk, accustomed to short

hours,

Wh o though he did no work at all, took interest in

the flowers.

Th e last but one—he wrote a book which dealt with

insect life;

No doubt he knew, for he was quite a worm beside

his wife.

Iasked the last how

treesto plan t; he answered briefly,

**Bile 'em."

Y o u see, poor chap, he'd only just come out of an

asylum !

W e haven't got a gardener now—we found the strain

too great;

But we keep a maid-of-all -work just to polish up the

plate.

But if any time you feel that you would like to live in

style,

We've still those nineteen hundred odd who haven't

had a trial.

A thoughtful writer has the following tosay on the subject of conversation.—"Keepclear of personalities. Talk of things, objects,thoughts. The smallest minds occupythemselves with persons. Do not needlesslyreport ill of others ; as far as possible, dwellon the good side of human bangs. It isnot the mission of every young man andwoman to detail and report all that theyhear. Keep the atmosphere as pure aspossible, and fragrant with gentleness andcharity."



7 1 0 The Boy's Obvn Taper.

T h r o u g h A f g h a nS n o w s ;

O r , La r i Kha n o f th e D ia m o n d S t a r .

By J. CLAVERDON WOOD,

Author of " Sinclair of the Scouts," " Jeffrey of the White Wolf Trail," etc.

CHAPTER X X X I I . - — T H E M U R D E R OF S E K U N D E R B U R N E S.

. w a s i n jf charge of

the escort,when Bo b had toldhim the result of hisinterview with SirA l e x a n d e r Bur ne s ." I wonder if England

has sent her weak-minded men to playwith the men of Afghanistan. T o - d a y

three Glnze cs stabbed t Native Infantiy manin the Cantonment Bazaar, and no oneinterfered with them because GeneralKfstone" (this was how Amran managedtne long name of Elphinstone) " had givenorders that the Afghans must not be irritated.The Ghazees will kill two men to-morrow,and half a dozen the next day. Yo u cannotplay with men such as we are, my lord, andonly a fool would try to. That man Burnesis dreaming of peace while all around himknives are being sharpened, and men havesworn to take his life. While I was waiting

outside I saw a spy taking note of everything about the house, and putting it down•on a paper for future use. I followed himround to the garden and stables. Heslipped over the wall and I lost sight of him.but you may be certain that he was notdoing his work for the sake of SeknnderBurnes. He was one of Afzul's men. Donot look round, my lord, he is watching usno w from the corner of the wood- yard . Ican see him distinctly. No w he has divedunder some firewood piled up near the stables.If we hurry to our house I may obtain somedisguise which will enable me to keep watchupon him."

As they passed the Treasury they sawseveral men lurking about the passages

of the adjacent houses, and here again itwas obvious that the spies were makingplans of the buildings. It was now drawingnear the end of October and the nightswere beginning to be very cold. Amranprophesied a very severe winter, and shook his head when he spoke of the Britishsoldiers exposed to the fierceness of theclimate in the fragile huts and tents of theencampment.

" You rememberthescorching plainsof India, LariKhan," he said," and the kind of men who live there.The cold of Afghanistan will bite intotheir bones, andmake them as helpless as infants.You can see themout there in thousands, and evennow they arecough-

ing and shivering.What will it bewhen winter is atits worst ? No tone man in fifty

will be worth anything, and if they areattacked by the Ghazees they will be frozenwith fright as well as with frost. Wood willbe scarce as winter comes on, and, if mischief is intended, there will not be a lot of firewoodto be bought by Feringhees. We shall seea sad business before long, my lord ; I wish,for your sake, that you were safe in the towerby the lake."

Next day, Amran, Talib, and severalof the men were sent out in disguise inorder to gather information. They got

away before daybreak and mingled withthe retainers of the Kuzzilbash chiefs, andAmran watched the house of Afzul Ali. Inthe evening he saw an Afreedee ride out of the cour tyard . He was placing a numberof letters in a wallet, which he wore slungover his shoulders. Amra n followed himas quickly as possible. The horsemanwent at a leisurely pace, and, calling at thehouses of several chiefs, evidently deliveredletters. At length he turned his horsetoward the Lahore Gate and seemed to begoing outside the city.

Amran ran to the stables and saddledhis own horse and galloped after theman. He over took him abou t two milesfrom the Seeah Sung hills. Riding along

side, after a few word s of friendly greeting,Amran suddenly bent from his saddle, andlaid hold of the man's left foot. Exertingall his strength he tipped him over,sideways, and he fell heavily upon thehard road. He was stunned by the fall,and lay senseless, while Amran examined hiswallet. In it were six letters. Amran took two and, leaving the prostrate man on theground, galloped back to the city.

An hour afterwards the Afreedee sat upand rubbed his head. It was dark, buthe saw his horse cropping the grass by theroadside, and the lights of the camp andcity were glittering in the frosty air. Heopened his wallet and glanced at the letters,counted them, and looked puzzled.

"I thought there were six," he muttered." I wonder what made me fall out of the

saddl e; m y head is sore, and there is bloodupon it. Did I fall or was I flung outof the saddle ? I know not, b ut it willbe best to say nothing about it. AfzulAli will accept no explanations, and itwill be safer to make none."

Meanwhile, Bo b was busily reading theletters captured by Amran. The writing

was on a large sheet which bore the officialseal of Shah Shujah, and was to the effectthat the monarch now ordered a generalattack upon the infidels, to begin withthe British in the city, and then theencampment outside. In the event of thechief, to whom the letter was addressed,refusing to aid in the movement, the Shahthreatened to despoil him of all hispossessions, and send him a prisoner acrossthe black waters to London.

The letters were addressed to the leadingchiefs of the Populzye and Achckzyoelans. Bo b read the letters with amazement,for such treachery on the part of Shah

Shujah surpassed belief. To think thatthe monarch, for whom Britain had spent,and was ready to spend, millions of pounds,and for whose support upon the thronethe services of thousands of British subjectswere being given ; that such a man, heedlessof the claims of gratitude, was calmlyordering the massacre of his allies, seemedto Bob the most glaring instance of Afghanperfidy anyone could be guilty of.

As he sat, astonished and dismayed, acertain smoothness of its surface made himexamine the official document more closely.It seemed to him, on careful scrutiny,that it had been washed with somepreparation. He could not fathom themystery, but he made up his mind to consult

Sir Alexander Burnes without delay. Heknew that Burnes was an expert in all thewiles of Oriental diplomacy, and expectedthat he would be able to explain the smoothness of surface. His first inquiry wasto this effect.

"Can you tell me, Sir Alexander, if itis possible to get some chemical wash,which, passed over an official documentlike this, would erase any writing whichhad been made upon it, so as to enablea plo tter to write upon a clean surfacewhich would all the while bear the signatureand seal of the original letter ? "

Burnes smiled and replied, " It is theeasiest thing in the world, especially withAfghan documents. Mohun Lai the Moon-

shee can do it in two or three minutes,and I myself could have it done withoutmuch troubl e. You are not thinking of forging a letter, are y ou , Lari Khan '! "

" N o , sir, but I think it has been doneby Afzul Ali and his friends. Wha t do3'ou think of this ? "

He laid the document beforeSirAlcxander,who passed his fingers over it, and thenraised his hand to his nose and sniffed.There was a faint smell upon his fingers.As he read the letter his expression changed,and he looked at B ob with grave questioningin his eyes.

"This document has been tamperedwith. It is the ordinary official writingmaterial used by Shah Shujah, and this

is his signature and official seal. Theoriginal message has been erased by achemical, and a new communication writtenby some one. This is serious ; tell me howit came into your possession."

" You see, sir," said Bob, " these lettersare addressed to prominent chiefs. AmranAli, my servant, has been watching anofficer of Afzul Ali's all day. The man wasdelfrering letters like these to chiefs in



Through Afghan Snoicets. 7 1 1

"Kabul. Probably more than twenty havereached their destinations in safety. Nodate is given for the rising, the moreimpetuous may think that an immediatemassacre is called for. To-morrow is thesecond of November. In a week the frostwill be severe, and the army on the plainwill be in difficulties on account of forage

and wood. Many men will be away, inscattered villages, trying to obtain a supplyof what is needed. That will be a favourabletime for an attack. If there is a rising inKabul, the Treasury will be the first pointat which the rebels will aim. This houseis opposite it, and as a man of rank who isnext to Sir William Macnaghten, your lifeis of the greatest importance. I imploreyou, sir, to come at once to my house. Letno one know of your departure. I can keepyou securely hidden until help can be sentto us. In any case I can beat off any attack which is likely to be made, and Akbar Khanwill soon come to my help."

"Nonsense!" said Burnes; " i f wo havea week I can make my preparations. I shall

write at once to General Elphinstone, andask him to send a regiment in to guard thishouse and the Treasury. Shah Shujahwill also send down his men. The letter isprobably the futile plotting of some of theschemers who are always doing somethingafter this fashion."

At that moment a servant tapped atthe door. " Naib Shereef, my lord, desiresto speak with thee," he said. Sir Alexanderleft the room and did not return for aboutthirty minutes.

" Naib Shereef tells me that a plot isafoot to assassinate mo," he said, when hereturned, "and wants me to get awayto-night. He says that to-morrow will beto o late. I told him that I knew that I

had been a marked man ever since I enteredKabul, but that I had my duty to attend to.I have sent a man to acquaint the Generaland the Envoy with the matter of the forgedletters, but I shall not stir from my house.Shelton is in the lower Bala Hissar, and atthe first sound of trouble he will rattle downwith his horse artillery and sweep the streets.You had better get to your house, Lari Khan,everything is quiet all around, and if youwill come in to-morrow, you may ride withme to the camp."

Bob had a presentiment that the dangerwas nearer than Sir Alexander supposed,but he saw that nothing would move himfrom his resolution. He said farewellwith considerable misgiving, and was gladto find Amran and ten men waiting toescort him back to his house. Spies werelurking in the recesses of porches andpassages, and to Bob it appeared that acordon had been drawn around the Treasuryand the house of Sir Alexander Burnes.

He ordered both the outer gateway andthe inner barricade to be securely fastened,and assembled all his men. The gun,loaded with grape, was run into positionfacing the gateway. The men were dividedinto watches, as at sea, with directions toalarm the entire garrison if anything outof the ordinary was noticed. Taking alantern Bob made a thorough examinationof the courtyard and stables, in order tosatisfy himself that no spy had succeededin secreting himself about the place.

At midnight he retired to his room andtried, vainly, to get some sleep. A lowmurmur came from the crowded city. Inthe Bala Hissar lights were gleaming, andin many fortified houses also lights wereto be seen. Quiet, cautious footsteps weremore than once heard in the street outsideBob's residence. He tossed about for sometime, and then made up his mind that itwas useless trying to sleep in his present

nervous and excited condition. He lefthis room and went round to visit the menwho were keeping watch. They reportedthat many Afghans had passed along thestreet, and that some two or three hundredpeople were congregated within sight of theTreasury.

From the roof of the house it was possible

to see the residence of Sir Alexander Burnes.Presently a crowd of armed men camehurrying from the Kuzzilbash quarter.It was about an hour before daybreak.Suddenly there was a commotion in thestreet below the window where Bob waslooking out, and two men could be discernedfighting desperately with the mob. Onewas hurled to the ground, and cut to pieces;the other, covered with wounds, managedto break away, and ran swiftly towards theTreasury. They w_ere both in the uniformof the servants of Burnes' household.

As day was breaking, shouting was

heard from the street. It grew into a

confused clamour, mingled with the clashingof weapons and the firing of pistols. Thecrowds poured down to the Treasury, andthe streets were blocked with infuriatedAfghans, who shrieked aloud for the bloodof the accursed Feringhees. Sir AlexanderBurnes, with his brother, and Lieutenant

Broadfoot, who had only recently arrivedin Kabul to take up the duties of militarysecretary, appeared on the upper balcony of his house, and Bob saw that Sir Alexanderwas trying to pacify the crowd with gentlewords.

Burnes shouted to the Afghans andpromised that any grievances they hadshould be redressed. He called on them toremember that he had always been a staunchfriend to the people of Kabul. Their onlyreply was cursing. They howled and yelledout menaces, threatening to tear the infideldogs limb from limb. Broadfoot leanedover the gallery and also tried to calm them,but a pistol shot was heard, and the gallantlieutenant tumbled into the crowd beneath

and was instantly hacked to pieces. Burnesshrank back, and at this moment a densevolume of smoke arosefrom the pile of brushwood near the stables.Some lurking spy had setfire to it.

C a p t a i nBurnes hadgathered thes e r v a n t s a-

round him,and now

" Bo b jum ped in front of

him, shielding him from the

keen edge of an Afg han sabre, and

beat back the Afghans with his

clubbe d rifle." (Seep. 712.)



7 1 2 The *Boy's Otatn Taper.

opened fire upon the mob. Their aim was

deadly, and many of the ruffians were struck

with the bullets. The sight of blood infuriated the Afghans, and they rushed at the

house, battering at the doors and windows

and firing indiscriminately at anyone who

appeared.

Bo b had ordered his men to the windows

and was now prepared to open fire on thecrowd near his house, but the sight of Sir

Alexander standing on the gallery seemed

for a moment to quiet the mob . But the

calm was only a deception. A Mullah had

led a number of fanatics into the garden at

the back of the house, and the murderous

crowd was hiding among the shrubs, untila traitor had carried out the plot whichhad been conceived.

This man had climbed in at a back

window, calling out that ho had come to

save the Englishmen. He promised on theKoran that if the firing from the house

ceased, he would guide the officers in safety

to the Bala Hissar, but that they must

first assume some disguise. They hastily

Hung off their outer garments, and slippedinto Afghan attire. Then opening the doorthey glided into the garden. Immediately

the Mullah saw that his chance had come.Th e traitor called out "This is SekunderBurnes," and, in an instant, the mob flung

themselves upon the two officers.

It was the work of a moment. The

Englishmen fought with heroic bravery,

but nothing could withstand the ferocious

attack, and the sharp Afghan knives did

their deadly work. Then the mob burstinto the house, massacred the servants, and

looted the place.

CHAPTER X X X I I I .

A T TH E G A T E S OF K A B U L .

Y tliis time an

o v e n l a r g e r

c r o w d was

attacking the

T r e a s u r y .

W i t h i n i t

w e r e t h e

h o u s e h o l dservants of

Captain John

son (though he

himself was

f ortun at ely

spending the

night at the

Cantonments),

and the guard,consisting of some thirty-five Sepoys with

their officers. Brushwood was heaped

against the outer gate and set on fire, whileanother party with pickaxes battered at the

back wall.

Despite the resistance of the gallant

Sepoys, the Afghans undermined the walland broke in. The gateway gave way,

and when the brushwood was dragged

aside, the frantic mob rushed into the house.

They looted the Treasury and stole nearly

twenty thousand pounds, and then set fire

to the house. All the interior fittings were

wrecked, and nothing but the mud-walls

were left.

Yelling with excitement and whetted

with the blood which had been spilt, themo b then turned to the house which had

been pointed out by Afzul Ali himself.

Sitting on his horse, he directed attentionto the residence where Bob was waiting,and like a furious torrent the crowds hurled

themselves against it. But they got an

unwelcome surprise. Fire flashed from the

loopholed gateway, and from the windows

and roofs, and every bullet found its mark.

Th e Ghilzais knew that no mercy would

be shown to them, and so they fought

with a cooler ferocity than that of the mob.

Bo b could not restrain them in their desire

to slay. The front of the house blazed with

the fift; of the muskets, and men fell in all

directions. Somo of the crowd rushed

into the houses on the opposite side of the

street and began to fire at the Ghilzais

on the roof.Bo b called in his men and set them at

the loopholes. For three hours the conflictraged with unabated fury. Then a field-gun was wheeled into position and a heavy

shot splintered the gates. Bob and Amran

set to work to pick off the gunners, and the

English rifle soon told a tale. It required

a brave man to take his place anywhere

near the gun. There was a general clearance

of that part of the street, but the houses

facing the stronghold were being packed with

sharpshooters, and bullets began to rain upon

the defenders.

Fo r a short time the attack was so fierce

and determined that the attention of Amran

and Bob was diverted from the field-gun. An

Afghan carrying a large iron hook, which hehad dragged from a neighbouring shop,

crawled like a serpent along the ground.

Around his waist he had tied a stout rope

which trailed behind him. Sheltering himself behind the carriage of the gun, he fastened

the hook to the rope, and fixed it round the

iron bar at the end of the truck. Then

before Bob could get a shot at hin? he had

crawled back to the corner of the street.Presently a crowd of Afghans hauled on the

rope, and the gun was dragged backwards

out of sight.

Under the directions of Afzul Ali it wasrun around the back of the ruined house

of Sir Alexander Burnes, and through the

garden of the house opposite to that which

Bo b was defending. The mud-walls were

broken, and the gun dragged through intoa front room. A large hole was then made

in the front wall, and presently, to the

dismay of the garrison, a ball was sent

crashing into their gateway. After ten

minutes' pounding at close quarters themassive barrier was splintered and shattered.so much so that a vigorous charge would

probably give the mob possession of the

stables and courtyard.

Bo b was forced to call his men from the

loopholes above, in order to repulse any

charge which might be made upon the

gateway. He made them lie down in the

lower rooms on each side of the passage,and told them to take careful aim and to

fire at the unseen gunners through the hole

which had been made for the enemy's gun.After a while their success began to be

shown in a diminution in the dischargesof the formidable weapon, and Bob thought

that the time had now come when he might

attempt to turn the tables upon them.

His own brass field-gun was charged with

grape-shot. Talib took the first shot, andaimed for the hole. A chorus of shrieks

showed that considerable execution had been

done, and the enemy ceased firing.

" Load with ball, Talib," said Bob,

' ' and keep it up. Batter the house to

pieces and make the front fall in. We will

aid you with the muskets."

It was a task after Talib's own heart,and he and his men poured in shot after

shot until the whole front of the house hadcrumbled into ruin, and the abandoned

gun, knocked off its carriage, was seen lying

on its side.

" Load with grape again, Talib," Bob

shouted ; " we have finished the field-gun,

but the villains will charge if the Ghazees

can screw them up to the point. Keep

the gate with your ten men, and the restwill man the upper rooms once more. The

mo b will be scattered before long. The

firing has now alarmed the troops in the>

Bala Hissar, and they will be sent down to

our relief."

He was turning away, when a fierce volleycame from the enemy and the next instanta crowd of Afghans dashed at the gateway.

Their gun was upset, and Talib staggered

back with the blood streaming down his

face from a wound on the forehead. Bob jumped in front of him, shielding him from

the keen edge of an Afghan sabre, and

beat back the Afghans with his clubbed rifle.

Fo r a few minutes the defenders held theirground, but the pressure of the mob became;

too great for further resistance, and they

fell back. One by one Bob saw his men cut

down. Talib could discern nothing on

account of the blood which poured down

his face, and thus fought aimlessly. -Bob

took him by the shoulders and hurled him

into the passage which led to the upstairrooms, and dashed in himself. He tried to

close the door but could not, and the two

barely escaped up the stairs with their lives.

Here Amran and the remainder of the

men had raised a barricade behind whichthey commanded the approach with theirmuskets. Meanwhile the mob dashed into

the stables, and led the horses out into the

street, and then looted the place of all the

provisions and store of ammunition. In the

short respite thus given, Bob dragged Talib

intoa room and hastily bound up his forehead.

Amran and several of tho men were

bleeding from wounds caused by glancing:shots, but so far no one in the upper rooms,

was killed. The outlook was a black one

for the defenders. At the utmost the

barricade could not be defended for more

than an hour, even if the mob did not setfire to the house, and Bob knew that with

tho large amount of dry fodder in the stables,

the burning of tho place would be the first,

plan the Afghans would adopt.

Amran ran to the front loopholes, and

peered through the narrow window in the-

vain hope that Brigadier Shelton and his

men had arrived from the Bala Hissar. He

saw a group of richly dressed chiefs on

horseback, among whom was Afzul Ali.

Amran ground his teeth, and made a snatch

at his musket. Bob joined him as he was

taking a careful aim at the chief. The

musket cracked, and Afzul Ali's turbanwas struck off his head. The chief clapped

his hand to his head and took it awav

covered with blood.

" Curse on him ! " growled Amran, " itis but a flesh wound. Canst thou takehim, my lord V" He turned to Bob and

pointed to the chief.

" I'll try to, Amran, but his friends arc

closing round him."

The chiefs were wheeling their horses in

order to shelter Afzul, and Bob could only

catch an occasional glimpse of the Afreedee.

But at length his rifle snapped out, and

Afzul started in the saddle and slowly fellbackwards. He was caught in the hands,

of his followers, and lowered gently to the

ground.

" Give them some more, Amran! "

shouted Bob . " I fear that the wound is

but a slight one. I only caught sight of his.

shoulder. Fire into the men standing about

him."As Amran fired a dense smoke rolled up

the staircase, making the men cough andhalf suffocating them. A crackling sound

told the story. The mob had set fire to a

large quantity of fodder, damping it in order

to increase the volume of smoke, which

rolled in blinding clouds up the staircase.

" D a m p your turbans, men, and wrap them

about your faces," shouted Bob; "getready to climb on to the roof. We must

make our last stand there."

His men obeyed, but Amran stood by the



Through A fghan Snobvs. 7 1 3

window. Suddenly he gave a triumphantyell and Bob rushed to his side. Downthe street, past the ruins of the Treasury,he saw Akbar Khan at the head of a strongforce of Afghan cavalry. They werehurling themselves upon the mob, andhacking fiercely with their sabres. Akbar'sface was white with rage, and he rode atthe crowd like a fiend, cursing them andslashing at them with his sword.

Like a flock of sheep, the Afghans gaveway before the onset of his men. Beachingthe gateway, Akbar ordered his troopersto dismount. They did so and rushed intothe courtyard, charging the men who werebusy with the forage, and scattering thepile of combustibles on every side. Inless than ten minutes the place was cleared,and the survivors of the attackers wererushing madly from the street.

Bob and his little force were relievedand in a few minutes Akbar Khan wasgreeting him. The Barukzye leader couldhardly speak for excitement and passion.

" That accursed fool Afzul Ali has ruined

everything!

" he said. " In less than anhour the British will be in the Bala Hissar,and the city will be given over to massacre.General Elphinstone has ordered the troopsto advance. Brigadier Shelton has drawnup his men, and is prepared to attack. Ihave no time to spare, Lari Khan; gatheryour men together and ride off to theCantonments. I must take to the hills.Where are your horses ? "

" I do not know, my lord ; the mob lootedthe stables, and have driven the horsesoff."

" Mount your men upon my horses.Take what you need, but, for Allah's sake,get away to the British camp. You arenot likely to be interfered with. The chiefsare in a panic, and Kabul will be desertedby them as soon as Elphinstone reachesthe gates of the city."

As Bob rode towards the Lahore Gatehe saw that tho vengeance of the Britisharmy was dreaded by all, and that thoSirdars were preparing to bolt to themountains behind Kabul. He led his troopthrough the Gate and galloped to theCantonments. He saw tha troops, withbayonets fixed and cannon prepared foran immediate advance. As ho rode pastMahmood Khan's fort near the canal hewas challenged by a British officer.

" Hey! command your troop to halt !who are you ? " shouted the cavalryman.

" A refugee from Kabul ," said Bob inEnglish. " I have barely escaped withmy life. Sir Alexander Burnes has beenmurdered, and the Treasury looted."

" We know all that already. Whereare you going ? "

" To claim the protection of the flag,sir," replied Bob.

" Come along then, the General is conferring with Brigadier Shelton. We arewaiting the order to advance upon Kabul."

Bo b led his troop towards the MissionBuildings and dismounted not far fromGeneral Elphinstone's quarters. He askedto be led at once to the General.

" An Afghan Sirdar desires to make animportant communication, sir," said theofficer who escorted Bob.

" Not an Afghan, sir, but an Englishman,"said Bob . " I have just escaped fromKabul. I saw the Treasury attackedthis morning, when Sir Alexander Burneswas killed by the mob. They attacked

my house afterwards, and I have lost tenmen, and all my household stores and horses.Akbar Khan relieved me. The city isterrified on account of the prematureoutbreak, and the Sirdars are escaping tothe hills. The immediate advance of yourforces will mean the subjection of the city.I ask, sir, that you will allow me to takepart in the advance."

" His Majesty Shah Shujah objects toour advance, " replied the General, " andwe shall probably alienate all the Afghansby such an action."

" They are alienated already, sir, andhate the British with a ferocity and strengthwhich nothing but force will hold in check.At the present moment they are panic-stricken and an advance of the army willsecure Kabul and the Bala Hissar."

" I am not inclined to argue with you,young sir. A premature ad\'ance might

jeopardise the safety of Shah Shujah, andcause him to regard us with suspicion. Wemust wait until to-morrow, when the situation will have cleared itself, and then wecan decide what must be done."

"To-morrow, sir? " replied Bob, withconsiderable heat, and careless of the frownsof the General. "To-morrow is always aday too late in Afghanistan. To-morrowis what the murdered Alexander Burnessaid to me, when I warned him of his dangerlast night. That which is possible to-day willbe hopeless to-morrow. When the AfghanSirdars have recovered from their presentpanic, their opinion of tho courage of British soldiers will have undergone achange which will be fatal to you. "

" You are impertinent, young sir! Ihave the honour to wish you good-day."With a scornful wave of the hand the Generalclosed the interview, and Bob was compelledto turn away.

WTith a sad heart he rejoined his littletroop, and they rode into a garden near theBeymaroo village, and the wearied menthrew themselves under the shelter of thetrees and tried to get a little repose. Acamp was formed, and Bob purchased asufficient amount of provisions from thobazaar, and the rest of the day passedquietly.

But all night the marching of men alongthe hills was heard, horsemen poured intothe city through all its gates, and theSirdars sent messages to every villageround Kabul ordering the fighting men toflock to the defence of the city. By daybreak a formidable force had concentrated,and an army of ten times the strength of General Elphinstone's would have foundthe task of taking Kabul an almostimpossible one.

Thus " to-morrow " found the British ina position of the utmost danger. Sharp

eyes had watched the vacillation of theleaders, and the force which had been aterror now became a laughing-stock to thefighting Afghans. Akbar Khan had kepthimself in touch with the city, and wasquick to note that the time for action,precipitated by the murder of Burnes,had arrived. He led his veteran Barukzyesinto Kabul, and prepared to follow out theplot for the utter annihilation of the Britisharmy which had threatened his country.From this time he seemed to have flung,away all hesitation and became, as he hadnever been before, the supreme leader inthe strife against the British Government.The leading chiefs of the tribes in and aroundKabul fully accepted him and agreed tofollow his lead so long as the destructionof the hated Feringhee was the objectaimed at.

During the night the gates of Kabul werestrongly reinforced by crowds of Afghan

jezailmen and artillerymen, and the walls-were defended at every point. In themorning a stir was seen among the British,and three companies of infantry, and twoguns of the horse artillery, were seento be marching towards the KohistanGate of the city. They passed the King'sGarden and came along the Kohistanroad.

Akbar Khan saw tho movement and calledout to the keepers of the Gate to openthem in order to let the detachment intothe city.

" Let the dogs get safely into the streets,and then close the gates," he shouted." We can deal with them, not a man shallsurvive to tell his comrades the numberof tho men who attacked them."

But before his orders had been transmitted,fire was opened upon the British from thewalls and Gate, and Major Swayne, whowas in command, ordered the detachmentto return. It was fortunate that he didso, for if the men had once entered Kabulthey would have been massacred to tholast man.

The luckless officer who had been sentwith Akbar's orders slunk quietly away,when he saw the face of the disappointed,angry prince. It was not the officer'sfault that the command to open the Gatecame too late, but Akbar Khan would nothave stopped to consider this in tho furiousrage which shook him, when he saw thatthe detachment had escaped the fate he haddestined for it. The Barukzye chief nowmade preparations for an immediate moveagainst the British.

About five hundred yards from theKohistan Gate there was a densely wooded,walled garden. Beyond this was theKing's Garden, at he extreme corner of which was a fort known as Shereef Khan'sFort. Between this fort and the gatewayof the King's Garden, on the opposite sideof the Kohistan road, were the Commissariatstores of the British force. Here all theprovisions and forage were stored, andupon them the subsistence of the Armydepended.

(To he continued.)

A Slow Process.



714 The Boy's Oban Taper.

A S I M P L E H A N D *

C A M E R A , A N D

H o w T O M A K E I T .

By E. H. BINNEY.

DE S C R I P T I O N S have appeared from time to

time of methods for making cameras of various kinds. Most of these imply the

existence of more or less skill in the personwho is to carry them out, and a good manyrequire such workmanship as is only to befound in a few amateur carpenters.

One must expect a stand-camera—with itsnecessity for folding and focussing adjustments—to be somewhat complicated anddifficult to make ; but a hand-camera need,in its elements, be no more than a box, light-

tight, or made so, with a place to hold theplate, a place for the lens, and a shutter.

Of course other things are desirable—aview-finder, means for carrying several plates,etc.—but these are the elements, and theother requirements are not so very difficult

to secure after all.The following description, for which no

novelty is claimed, may be useful to those

who want to make a serviceable andpresentable quarter-plate hand-camera, of fixed focus, at a far smaller cost than itcould be bought, and who have not the skillto make light-tight joins in the professionalway. No tools are wanted that are not to befound in any household, and no specialappliances are required. The cost will

depend largely upon the lens used; anyquarter-plate lens can be used, and as wewill assume cheapness to be an object it mayas well be a single one. A single lens can behad, in a mount, for five shillings, more orless, of the cheaper quality ; but very often agood one, such as Lancaster 's " Instantaneous," can be picked up secondhand forvery little more, and the chance should be

taken if it arises.For the sake of clearness it will be assumedthat the camera is being made to fit thelatter, as was the case in the one from whichthis description is taken. Its focus is 5§in., and it covers a quarter-plate well at

//10, an aperture considerably larger thanmost of the cheap lenses, and has, moreover,

an iris diaphragm, which is especially usefulin a hand-camera. The other materialsrequired are:

(i.) A quarter-plate dark slide. Almostany kind could be used. Edwards' metalslides (price 3s. dd. quarter-plate) answer

admirably, being cheap, small, and reallylight-tight—which is more than can be saidfor some cheap slides. It will be assumedthat one of these is to be used.

(ii.) Two or three old cigar boxes, preferably large ones. Of course other wood can

be used, but the cigar boxes have manyadvantages: they cost next to nothing (if not otherwise obtainable a tobacconist isgenerally glad to get rid of them at a pennyapiece); the wood is thin and light; it lookswell, and is easily worked, especially in themanner to be described.

(iii.) Sundries—viz., glue or seccotine.

Some ever ready preparation like the latteris to be strongly recommended rather than

glue, as it avoids mess and the necessity forkeeping anything hot, or for heating a gluepotevery time the work proceeds. Also a fewsmall (say J-in.) wire nails will be wanted—

those that come out of the cigar boxes themselves will do; some half-dozen f-in. brassscrews; a small quantity of black or orangecloth or paper ; a foot or so of narrow velvet

ribbon (^ in. wide) ; and a bit of leather strapfor a handle.

(iv.) These are all the essentials ; but thecamera will probably be considered incom-

FlG. 1 (scale about Iialf actual size).—SECTION'

THROUGH BACK FRAME,

A, bottom of camera ; BE. sides of camera; c, top of

camera ; 1, 2, 3, 4, slips forming the back frame,

against which the slide rests. N.B.—The slips

should be rather thicker than represented.

plete without a finder. No doubt one couldbe made with a little ingenuity, but they canbe had very cheaply. The shilling view-finders sold for the " Brownie Kodak " can be

fitted very easily.The first thing to do is to settle the dimen

sions of the camera. These will depend

upon the length and breadth of the dark

slide and the focal length of the lens. The

breadth of the slide and its length from theend to the shoulder (i.e. to the projectingridge which fits into a corresponding groovein the top of the camera to exclude light)must be carefully measured. If the slidehas no projecting ridge, the measurement

should be very nearly to the top (drawing

end) of the slide. In the case of an Edwards'slide, in which the ridge is about \ in. wide

and rather shallow, the width of theridge may be left out of the measurement, sothat in the camera the ridge will come just

outside the top of the camera, withoutdisadvantage, and the description followingwill assume this to be so; if it is preferred to

keep it inside, add $ in. to the height of thecamera as given from top to bottom.

Also the focal length of the lens must befound approximately. To do this, mount thelens temporarily in a bit of cardboard, andfocus through an open window the image of

some distant object on a piece of whitepaper, holding the lens in the hand andpinning the paper up in some convenient way.When the image is sharp, measure thedistance from the paper to the lens (to the

glass if a single lens, to the diaphragm if adouble): this will be the focal length roughly.

If desired, the measurement may bechecked by focussing on a small object,

such as a candle, moving both lens andpaper until the image is of the same size as

the original. The distance from the paperto the object divided by four will then be thefocal length. The length of the camera willthen be found as follows. Add together thefocal length of the lens, and the thickness of the slide, and allow 2-| in., more or less,

besides (i.e. -J in. to spare behind the slide,and, say, 2 in. in front of the lens panel,for the lens mount, shutter, and front). Thebreadth will be the breadth of the dark slideadded to twice the thickness of the woodforming the sides, for the slide will be a closefit between the two sides. The depth will bethe length of the slide, as already defined,added to thickness of the bottom.

The dimensions then will probably vary inevery case according to the lens and slide

used ; the thickness of the wood also variesconsiderably ; and for the sake of clearness itis almost necessary to have something moredefinite to go upon in the way of measurements. It seems best, therefore, henceforward

to give the actual measurements of a camera

made by the writer. In this case the lensused was a secondhand Lancaster's " Instantaneous," and the slide was Edwards' quarter-plate metal. The focal length of this lens is

5f in., and its mount projects 1J in. in front

of the flange. The slide measures 3j7

a in.

in width and 4f in. from the end up to theshoulder (which is left outside the camera);the thickness of the slide is ~ in. Thethickness of cigar-box wood may be assumed

to be about fa in.: the ends of the box aregenerally thicker than the top, bottom, andsides, and the top and bottom are sometimesvery thin, though this need not be a drawback to their use. The actual externalmeasurements of the camera in question,

apart from projections, are : length 8J in.,

depth il in., breadth 3 | in.

The cigar boxes should therefore be big



A Simple Hand-Camera, and Hobu fo MaKe It. 7 1 5

enough to cut the sides of the camera from.They should be carefully taken to pieces andJill paper labels removed, by soaking if necessary, taking care to dry the wood thoroughlyafterwards. Pieces with the maker's name,etc., branded on can be used with the brandon the inside. Cut out for the sides two pieces,8J in. by 4f in. (i.e. allowing ^ in. for thethickness of the bottom to complete the depth

of 4 | in. ); for the bottom a piece 8£ in. by3f in.; for the top a piece 7 ^ in. by 3J in.This latter will fit in flush between the sides(see fig. 1) .

A method of cutting out the wood whichensures perfect accuracy and perfectly smoothand straight edges, which require no planing,is as follows. A carpenter's set square fa plainflat ruler would do, but it is not so easy tosecure accuracy with it) and a very sharppocket-knife are all that is required. Theknife must be really sharp, and an oil-stoneshould be at hand to keep a fine edge on it.La y the square along the l ine to be cut (so asto be square with the side you start from),and with the point of the knife draw a lightcut along the edge of the square. You can

• then remove the latter, and make deeper cutsalong the line until it is through, which willhappen after three or four cuts unless thewood is thick.

When cutting with the grain do not takedeep cuts all at once or the wood may split.The whole secret of the process is in havingthe knife really sharp, and, if this conditionds secured, it is surprisingly easy to cut thin

board like the wood of a cigar box—far easierthan cutting millboard—and this is one of the reasons why this particular wood is to berecommended for making a hand-camera.This method is better than sawing: it cuts anaccurate and perfectly clean edge, even acrossthe grain, without any risk of splitting, andwith far less skill in the operator than isrequired to saw and plane such thin wood

accurately to size.The sides are now glued to the bottom in

the position shown in fig. 1, the top put inloosely but not stuck, and a piece of string tiedround to keep all in position while setting.For the sake of simplicity " glueing " will bespoken of throughout. As already stated, oneof the ready-made preparations is more convenient to use, especially for continuing thework at odd times. Meanwhile cut fourstrips of the thicker wood (forming the endsof the cigar box) \ in. wide, and in length asfollows : the first one equal to the internalwidth of the bot tom ; the second and third,of equal length, viz. to fit (inside) betweenthe top when in its place, and the first stripwhen placed on the bot tom ; the fourth long

enough to reach across the top between thesecond and third strips, immediately underneath the top of the camera. A reference tofig. 1 will make this plain better than anyverbal description.

The glue of the first operation being set,you can now glue in the four strips at adistance of J in. from the bac k; they mustall, top-piece included, be put at exactly the

(To be concluded.)

same d istance from the back, so as to make aflat and true surface for the slide to bearagainst. This is easily effected by shiftingthem slightly, if necessary, while the glue remains soft. W hen the glue has set (notbefore, for fear of moving them), carefullyput fj-in. brass screws through the sides andbottom into the strips, and at top andbottom wire tacks into the ends of the top

and bottom strips. Eemember not to fastenin the top piece yet; that must be left untilafter the adjustment of the focus. The fixingin of this back frame will have given the unfinished body of the camera strength enoughto be handled without fear of its coming topieces again, and the slide can be fitted to itby first covering the back surface of the framewith a facing of narrow black-velvet ribbon.

Cut two more narrow strips of wood, sayJ in. wide, and, putting the dark slide inposition, glue them up and down the sides justbehind it, pushing them up close to the slide,so that a close fitting pair of grooves is formedfor the slide to work in. Withdraw the slide,and, while the glue sets, cut out the lenspanel, a piece about 4| in. by 3A in., i.e. to

fit, not too loosely, inside the camera whenthe top is in position. There is no need fora light-tight fit. Cut a hole of sufficient sizeaccurately in the centre of this, with thepoint of a knife or otherwise, and screw thelens-flange over it. In doing so, see that itis fixed so that when the lens is screwedhome the diaphragm numbers will be uppermost.

A Story in

Two Chapters.

IGHT AMD LEFT

A Story o f C entra l India . By H. HERVEY.

H ' is the smokec l e a r e d wecould see thewood - gatherersprinting back as hard as hecould leg, whilethe others atthe camp weregazing up atus, for we had

uisen to our feet, and stood silhouettedagainst the sky-line.

" Halloa ! " hailed " Toby," waving hisliand at us, " did you fire ? "

" Yes ! " I shouted in reply." What for ? ""•Guess your mato'll tell you that when

lie gets back to you, stranger! " bawledRiley.

" Do you think you hit anything ? " Idemanded in a low voice of the loafer.

" I ain't one to waste powder, sir ; let himas is taking tho back-track yonder say if I have—to-night."

The wood-gatherer now rejoined hisfriends; they pounced on him, and musthave immediately indicated our figures onthe cliff, for he also stared up at us. Beforehe could speak, the Texan again hailedthem. " Colonel! " cried he, " weren'tthere a catamount nosing after you outthere ? "

" There was some large animal; a tiger,I think. It could not have been more thana pace or two behind me when a bulletcame whizzing, and must have struck it,for I was just able to see the beast kickingabout in the sand as I bolted. You fired,J suppose ? "

CHAPTER II.

" That's so, sir."" Then I'm eternally grateful to you,

whoever you are. Can you come across tous ? "

" Not without you pole one of your dugouts over ; or we might swim for it ; but thenI reckon you've caymans in this part of theworld as might chaw us up."

" Tell you what," I put in, " I' m in abungalow about half a mile up stream ; if you will reload your boats and come alongI shall be glad to lot you have a part of thehouse. You'll be more comfortable undera roof than in tents."

They consulted a little, then accepted myinvitation, and within the hour we had allassembled at Hathighaut bungalow.

Briefly told, they were globe-trotters fromEngland, and apparently ignorant of allthings Indian, otherwise they would nothave been touring at that season of the year.The party consisted of Mr. Hump hrey, thefathe r; Miss Kate Humphrey, a pretty girlof eighteen or so ; Toby Humphrey, the son,a stout young fellow a year or two older ;several native servants, and half a dozenboatmen. Like me, the Humphreys wereardent photographers, and the guide bookstelling them of Boodhdeyv ul, they determined to visit i t ; and again, like me, hadtaken boat from Bungipore. They alsoknew of Hathighaut and its bungalow, butwere not aware how close they were whendeciding to camp out on the river-side.

Riley shifted into an outhouse ; some of the travellers' kit was brought up from theboats, and they soon shook down. Myservants managed to improvise a decentsupper, during the discussion of which wearranged to go to Boodhdeyvul next morn

ing in one of the Humphreys' boats, andreturn to Hathighaut the same eveningbefore dark. After supper, the young ladyretired, while I and the two men sat outunder the stars, talking.

" An American vagrant, is he ? " remarkedMr. Humphrey, on my accounting forRiley's presence. " Well, there is littledoubt, Mr. Stewart, that he saved my lifeand deserves reward ; but in the first placeI should like to see the animal he shot, socould you have it fetched over ? "

I gave tho necessary orders to the villageheadman, who was still in attendance, and inabout an hour's time a crowd of nativesdeposited the carcass of a big tiger in frontof the bungalow. I sent for Riley, and.taking lanterns, we proceeded to overhaulthe " bag," which, from its mangy condition,I at once recognised to be a man-eater.Truly had Humphrey had a narrow escape !

" The bullet has gone clean through thelungs ! " I exclaimed, after a brief examination. " A splendid shot, and from theleft shoulder too ! "

" From the left shoulder ? " echoedHumphrey admiringly ; " well, I suppose heis loft-handed, so it was natural. Butcome," he added, approaching the tramp,who lingered modestly in the background," let us talk. I want to make a suitablereturn for the service you have renderedme. Name you r wish, and if in my powerI will gladly grant it."

" Well, Colonel, as you give me the choice,guess I'd like you to send me back toGalveston; my native clearing ain't farfrom it, up the Trinity River. I've hadenough of chawing shoe-leather in theseparts, and once home again I reckon I'd be



716 The "Boy's Ocvn Taper.

happy. Mr. Stewart, maybe, has told yousome about me ? "

" He has, and apart from the fact of yoursaving my life I believe you're a decentfellow. We are on our way to Bombaynow, and if you will accompany us thereI'll get you a passage to the States, if notto Galveston itself."

"Hooray for you, ColoneL and thank you ! " cried the tramp , his face lighting

up. " I'll t ry and m ake myself useful t oyou, sir." '

" Mr. Stewart informs me that yo u standalone in the world and have no trade ? "

" That's so, sir ; but if I can only get homeI can rub on in the same old rut as before.I had a sort of ambition of buying a bit of a ranche with the pile I calculated on raisingout here in a year or two ; but that prettylittle dream has vamoosed, as I suppose youcan understand."

" Yes, and I'm sorry for y o u ; but luck may turn ; you may buv that ranche afterall."

We made an early start of it next morning, undeterred by the ominous aspect of theriver, which had swollen during the ni gh t;the current ran faster, and the water's surface was speckled with foam, a sure signthat rain had been falling farther up theSundhari's course.

Taking the handier of the two boats we

emptied her out, and rigged an awning overthe fore-deck for us to sit under ; we dividedthe covered interior into tw o, the fore-partfor the men, the after for Miss Humphrey'suse ; the stern deck was occupied by ourfollowers, while as for meals we purposedlanding at shady spots and partaking of them al fresco. An ancient villager, whoaccompanied us as guide and pilot combined, on seeing the " new water " in theriver strongly advised us not to go , as thecurrent in the gorge higher up, he said,would be too strong to tow against; and onour deciding to make the attempt the oldfellow took himself off.

For the first mile we met with no particular difficulty ; all six boatmen were on

the Sundhari narrowed, and the lofty,frowning banks closed in to about twohundred yards of each other. Here ourtroubles began ; there was no sand or levelground on either side ; water occupied theentire channel, and the tow-men had topick their way along a natural boulder-strewn ledge, high above the river surface,

whereby their purchase on the rope wasconsiderably lessened, and the task of dragging the uncouth craft became proportionately heavier. At last the six boatmencould haul no further ; it was beyond theirpower, so, at B iley 's suggestion, we put ourfour servants ashore to help. They buckledto, and every man jack did his best, but wemade no progress !

" Mr. Stewart, sir ! " sang out Rileyfrom his post at the rudder, " if the Colonelcan take the steering, guess you , I, and theyoung feller had better hop out and claw-on to the rope, if we want to get clear of thishere crevasse."

We had been travelling to the same conclusion, and it only required someone tomake the proposal for us to adopt it. Mr.Humphrey said he did not know much of steering; Miss Kitty, however, owned tosome knowledge of the art, and volunteered to assist her father. The two accordingly shifted from bow to stern of the boat,Riley guided her in-shore, and we three

jumping off, scrambled up on to theledge.

There were now thirteen draggers; wefell in behind the natives, Riley being lastman. The boat slowly yielded to our addedweight, and we began to hope that bypatience and hard work we would conquerthe current. But the exertion was killinggrowing in severity at each step ; however,we bent to it, and had reached what appeared to be the narrowest part, where the

swirl was swiftest, when, quite unexpectedly,the wretched fibre rope gave way betweenme and Riley, and the whole bunch of uswere thrown to the ground by the suddenrelease.

I picked myself up as quickly as possible tosee Wha t ? The boat being sucked downstream by the racing water, Mr. Humphreyand his daughter standing helpless on thostern deck, and Riley, who clung gamely tothe rope-end, leaping and bounding, as itregularly twitc hed him after it ! A desperate situation indeed !

Riley alone could not arrest the boat;all he could do was to keep her nose on to therush ; the strain would ultimately jerk t herope out of his hand, and when this took

place the flat-bottomed craft would turnbroadside to the cu rre nt; she would capsize,and our friends be drowned to a dead certainty ! All these terrib le probabilities-flashed through my brain in a moment of time. Shouting to young Humphrey a ndthe natives to follow, I tore after Riley,but my speed was not equal to the rateat which he was being scurried along; 1could not catch him up, while, as for theothers, they were yards behind.

Full of dire apprehension I kept my eyeon the Texan, hoping for something tohappen that would allow of my joining him,and adding my strength to his; but no, thegap between us continued undiminished.I was beginning to despair, for, mind you,the vagrant clutched the tow-rope with hisleft or working hand, so what could hedo with the other ? Besides , I felt sure thathe would not attempt to let go so as toeffect the transfer.

While thus thinking, I came in sight of anupright boulder standing in the narrow path,and round which I remembered the tow-rope had been passed as we were ascendingthe stream. Oh, if Riley only had sufficientlength of that rope now, he could have be-

" Whirl ing the lassoround hi s head, flyin g along as he wa s.he launched th e coilat the boat ." (See

p. 717.)

the tow-rope, and Rileymanaged the big sternsweep that did duty fora rudder. Miss Humphreyand her father sat in chairson the awninged fore-deck,while I and Toby perchedon the matted roof.

As we neared the gorgethe scenery became wilder,



"Right and heft. Ill

layed it to that stone ! But what was hegoing to do ? How was he going to negotiate that stone, to avoid being dashedagainst it, unless he relinquished hold onthe rop e ? Did he let go ? No ! He took something off his Bhoulder—his lasso ! Idivined his intention ; he was going to flingit at the bo at ! But to do this he wouldrequire his left hand, which held the drag-rope ; could he transfer the latter to his righthand without the cord being snatched fromhis grip and the boat getting whisked away inconsequence ? Imp ossibl e! The rope-endwould be plucked from him in the bare act,then heaven help the boat and those onher!

I watched him in silent agony ; I sawhim get his lasso in his right hand. Now camethe crucial moment, to transfer th e tow-rope ! B ut did he make the transfer ?

Serial

Story.

A no t her Recruit !

F

OB a short time after the sudden andconvulsive turn in events Dennis

Hutton clung hysterically to the mast of thedancing raft, his only refuge in the wide,tumbling mass of triumphant waters.Gradually his dazed and scattered sensescame creeping back to him, and he realisedwith the final burst of the poor old Condor'sair-exploded decks how utterly he was cu toff from even the small world he had sorecently known.

The raft lifted and dropped upon therestless sea, and once he saw the head of some swimmer making towards it. Helooked anxiously at each uplifting, but hesaw nothing more. They were all gone !Chi Ling, who a few hours earlier had savedhis life ; the mate, with whom for the lastfew active hours he had been so willing a

worker; and the three wretched hands,whose thoughts had centred only on themselves. Of them all only he was saved,and tho crippled man beside him. Remem bering him, he choked back an involuntarysob, brought to the surface by the awfulstrain, and the subsequent sense of abandonment , and turned to see what he could dofor the captain.

No: for, whirling the lasso roun d his head,flying along as he was, he launched the coilat the boat; the spirals flew out; I saw thenoose settle on the projecting prow; thenext moment he released his hold on thefragment of tow-r ope ; he was almost o nthe boulder now, and leaping to the inner side of the stone he belayed the lasso roundit, and held on like grim death ! The nextthing I expected to see was the slender lasso

snap under the tremendous strain ; but no,it held ! I join ed Riley, then the crowdcame up, and in another few minutes wehad the blessed satisfaction of pulling theboat to the bank and so rescuing our friendsfrom a watery grave !

Needless to say that the gallant Texanwas the hero of the hour, and that we postponed our visit to Boodh deyv ul to the nextday, when we procured carts and went there

[THE E N D . ]

CHAPTER X X . — " A S W E FORGIVE ! "

It was well the poor fellow had beensecurely fixed, or undoubtedly his end hadcome in the swirl of that engulfing wave.As it was, dripping, with hair washed allover his eyes, his cap gone, he lay fightingsavagely with his hands, too short of breathfor words. Hutt on, an arm round the mast,helped him after much effort to a half

sitting posture against the spar, looseninghis cord s a little . It meant pain, fearfulpain, as he could see by the wounded man'stwisted face ; but it also meant a betterchance of breath, and, therefore, of life.

His next move was to uncord the rugswhich had been bound about the captainand, wringing them as best he could, toroll one up for ease into a rough kind of cushion. The other he tied to the mastto dry. He repeated the process with hisown clothing, but feared to increase thediscomfort of his comp anion by at temptingto remove more than the short pea-jackethe was wearing, for the same purpose of drying. By this time the man was able todraw deeper breaths, and seemed to be

recovering somewhat. Hutto n, therefore,set himself to take stock of his position.

The canvas sail had washed overboard,but happily a loose rope end had caughtin between two of the roughly connectedtimbers, and he was able to drag it bac k.When, howe ver, he tried t o lift it from thewater he found he had to be content withraising a small area at a time, and allowingthat to run dry in a measure upon the raftedge before attem pting to draw out any more.It took a considerable time, and severalheavy efforts, before the whole of the sailwas finally hoisted on to the timbers. Butthe work kept him busy and warm, and inintervals of lighter occupation he took further stock.

Some of the things were gone ; that, of course, was inevitable. There had been asmall basket, containing pieces of rope, ahammer, a pair of pincers, a tin-opener,a po cket compass, and other odds and endsof value at a time like this; but it was nolonger on board. He remembered to haveplaced it there himself; remembered alsothat he had omitted to take the precaution

by land ; we did not care to trust ourselvesto the Sundhari again !

Riley is now farming his own land somewhere near Madisonville. Humphrey, in thefulness of his gratitude, furnished the pluckyfellow with the necessary funds to purchasohis ranche, in addition to the free passage toGalveston; and right nobly had the poorchap earned the reward.

Riley told us that from his childhood hehad been trained to use both his hands." But what I can do with one, " explained he," I can't do with t'other. I shoot, stitch,and write my name with my left; I throwthe lasso, cut my vittles, hold the reins withthe right; but if you was to ask me to doone or other of these things with the oppositeflipper, why, you'd flummox me, youwould ! "

which the more far-seeing mate had alwaystaken in his own case, of properly roping thething in place. There were two large tinsof biscuit—little enou gh, had all the menleft aboard the Condor been saved, butample now.

One of the fresh-water kegs had shifted,and was now rolling loosely between its

cords ; but luckily it had not broken entirelyaway. He tested the cont ents of each.In the loose one they were the veriest triflebra ckis h; but in the other and larger,quite pure. Ther e was also a large coalingbasket filled with unopened tins of cornedbeef, and he was thankful to see that thatwas safe. They would not starve, thoughfare might be frug al; and he hoped, lookingat the kegs, and tryin g to take in theirmeasurement with his untrained eye, thatthey would not lack for water before rescuecame.

Before rescue came ! He looked round theuplifting waste, as the great raft rose andfell beneath him, and his heart grew cold ;so wide a world it seemed of desolation,

and no hope of help. As he stood besidethe mast he poured out a prayer to the unseen God for tho help they so sorely needed :then turned again to the sick man.

" Feeling easier ? " he asked anxiously.The other nodded." Ay , a bit," he replied, in a husky whisper,

" but I'm main bad. You're doing weel,lad ; you' re a good plucked 'un ! "

He looked as if he would have said more,but something kept him silent. It mig hthave been shame—it might well have beenshame !

From the mate during their last few hourstogether Dennis had learnt the ship's intended destination, and that the storm hadcarried her some hundre ds o f miles out of

her course, in a south-westerly direction.Ha d learnt, too, that even to the mate hewas the captain's nephew, though the formerhad expressed his guarded surprise at theclose confinement of the b oy . Dennis hadnot disillusioned him, thinking it well towait events for a time. There would, heconjectured, be equal chance of freedomfor him with the rest of them, and he had

*&*

U n d e r t h e E d g e of t h e E a r t h :A S t o r y o f T h r e e C h u m s a n d a S t a r t l i n g Q u e s t .

B y F . H . B O L T O N ,

Autltor of " In tlie Heart of the SUcnt Sea" etc.



7 1 8 The "Boy's Oban Taper.

no mind to raise complicati ons within thenarrow comp ass of their prospective ark, tillhelp might pome.

If the mate had had his suspicions hedid not air them. And so the shamefulsecret was divided only between the cap tainand himself, the sole two saved alive fromthe decks of the unfortunate Condor.

For long days those two, so strangelybrought together, and in such strangeconditions, were wafted upon that tossingraft. The wind, fallen to a steady breeze,still bore them south, with a trend in awesterly direction also. The captain knewthat from the heavens, and in hoarsewhispers gave the fruit of his know ledge tothe boy. Under his tuition the sail hadbeen hoisted after much labou r, andtautened by the help of its own rope-lengthsand a thin plank which had been tied tothe raft by the mate to serve as sweep or oar,should occasion require.

After the loss of the ship they had passednow and again some floating piece of wreck -a ge. and once Hutton had managed to securea couple of loose planks, which he hauled

inboard, in case of their being needed.The weather was not unpleasant now , norto o cold ; th ey were passing through thelatter end of spring in those latitudes. Theclothes and coverings which had beensoaked by the water of that awful wavewere soon dried, and Hutton himself feltsmall physical discomfort.

Indeed, his body gained in health; buthis mental suffering grew. Tender-hear ted,generous lad that he was, ho felt keenly theevident agony of his companion, thoughthe man had worked him so cruel a wrong.He knew the anguish of that unset, burning leg must be hard to bear ; and day afterday he cast keen eagle glances over thetrackless wastes for the sight of a sail, or tho

trail of a steamer's funnel smoke; but dayafter day he looked in vain.

There came at last a day which stoodout from all the rest. Hutton had noted,with uneasy conc ern, how with each darkening night and reappear ing dawn the siek man grew weaker. It might have beenthe seventh or eighth day of their wearyplight—he had lost exact count—when hewas awakened from a light dose, lyingstretched ou t upon the upper portion of theraft. He had been called in a low, huskywhisper.

" Lad ! A sup o' water ! "He rose and poured a little water into a

small tin cup from one of the kegs, and putit to the lips of the thirsty man. The poor

fellow looked weaker and more flushed thanever. Hardly a mouthful of food had hotouched since they had been on the raft;his constan t call had been for water. An dnow Hutton was beginning to feel anxietyas to the supply lasting out. They hadhad no rain ; clear skies had been abo vethem all the time. Wha t would they havedone in this plight, had there been moreof them to eat and drink from the scantyBtores ?

Th e man took a few sips : then with aneffort put the cup away from him.

" I munna tak' too much," he said." Theer's you as well, lad ! "

He smiled a thin, uneasy smile." Go on ! " said Hutton, generously.

" I'm all right."

The captain looked into the boy's sun-browned, salt-stained face—an open', pureface, in contrast to his own scarred andcoarse features.

" Well, well," he whispered, " I'll not betaking much mor e from ye, lad. My lights'11 be ou t afore long. "

Hutton shivered. Things were hardenough to bear now; this weary watching

on the few roped-in timbers over the tossingseas. But alone !

" Oh, no ! " he made quic k answer, withwhat cheerfulness he could. " Oh, no, no !We'll sight some passing vessel soon, andyou'll be pulled round before you've timeto think about it."

Th e sick man shook his head and wassilent, staring up into the blue sky. Rou ndthem wheeled screaming gulls, about themthe waters tumbled with clumsy roughness

He slid down again, and sat for a longtime wrapt in thought, his body upon the>slowly moving raft, his mind far away inthe dear North Country of fair Eng land.Wha t were they doing '! Had they givenhim up as lost for ever ? Had they missedhim much ? Phyl lis had, he knew ; and—what a fool he was ! Of course they badmissed him, as he missed them ; missedthem every long-drawn hour—his loved onesand his loya l friends. He kept back by an

' H e sat for a long t ime wrapt in thought , his body upon th e slowly moving raft, his mindfar a w a y in . . . fair E n g l a n d . "

that now and again endangered their chancesof keeping dry, as Hutton had sometimesfound to his cost when he slept at nights,lashed for safety to the mast. He pulled

himself now up the spar, as high as he couldwithout endangering its stability, his feetsupported by pieces of rope ringed roundthe pole. In this position the waters weresmooth enough for him to see to the horizon,but naturally at so short a height the horizonwas restricted.

No sign of sail or smoke ; clear seas anda cloud-flecked sky.

effort the rising moisture in his eyes; theman at his side, to whom his present miserieswere due, should not see him suffer.

His reverie was interrupted by anotherwhisper. For some time the sick man hadbeen gasping more heavily than usual ;and he suddenly realised this, when broughtfrom his dreams by the weak voice.

*' Yes ? " he said, rising. " Want anything ? "

" How 's th' water going, lad ? "" We're just getting to the end of the first

keg. Thirsty again ? "



Under the Edge of the Earth. 7 1 9

The man nodded." A y , main thirsty; but let be."" N o , no," said the bo y; "I 'l l draw a

drop. I believe we'll have rain. I saw just the faintest haze "

The sick man turned. " Much ? " bewhispered, in evident excitement.

" Seemed all along the horizon in thatdirection."

Hutton pointed, and the other nodded." Ay, ay, 'twould likely be land, lad."" Land ! I hope it is ; oh, I hope it is ! "The hunger to be upon the firm ground

was fierce within him. The sick mantouched his hand.

" If it's land, lad," he gasped, " it med be—th' Falklands or—it med be—th ' ma inland .—Keep ye by th' water, lad—if ye can,wheerover ye get to—don't "

He paused, drew a hard breath, andcontinued:

"D on ' t ye—leave th' water, if—th'land's—none inhab—ited."

" I'll have to stop where we strike it, Iexpect. You can't move, you know."

" An d shan't want, lad—Th' light's—running—low."

There was another long silence. ThenHutton was roused by a gentle touch.

" L a d ! " hesitati ngly—"L ad! It's my—doing—as ye're—here."

The boy's brow clouded." Yes," he said shortly. " Yes , you've

done me a queer sort of a turn. 1 neverhurt you."

" Ay, I were tempted heavy—My brother—on yon barge—owed your old man—agrudge—and they was—hot on your track—Yo u couldn't—a' been kep' much longer—on th ' Pretty Poll. And theer was—a bigreward "

Hutton flushed. " A big reward ? "" Ay ! First, 'twere—five hundred—then

—'twere a thousand—afore I'd left port—and it'll be—more now—likely ."

He stopped. The boy's head was bowed.In spite of his efforts to keep them back thehot tears welled up. A big reward for him—for him !

The voice continued to gasp out its tardyconfession.

" It were a accident me and—my brother—met, yon neet,—at Kernbank.—But we soon—put our heads—to th' job.— He didn'tcare—s'long 's he got—level with your—oldman. / could—have—th' mon ey. It werea big—temptation—to a poor man. I sentth' o ld man—a letter—nonnymous like—as it—would tak—moro'n five—hundred—to—to get you."

" A n d what about me ? " cried Hutton."J hadn't hurt either of you. What 's more "—his anger was rising— " what's more, I'mdead sure my father never did your brotherany wrong. He' s the fairest and truestgentleman on the bench, or off it, either ! "

He turned his head away ; the tearswould come, and his voice would break.

There was a longer pause. The sick man'sbreathing got more and more laboured.Once or twice he looked in a shamed sortof way at the bowed head of the boy; andat last by an effort broke the silence again.

" Lad, th' light is running—very low—I'd go easier—may be—if—if " hestopped, then finished with a choking rush :" if ye could say ye'd forgi'en me."

The boy was silent. It seemed too muchto ask. How could he forgive this coldblooded outrage—this—he looked up ; thesick man's face had hardened, and his voicehad grown for the moment stronger as hespoke again.

" No ! " he muttered between his teeth." 0 ' course yo won't ! Wh y should ye ?I were a fool to think it ! I tak' it a' back ;I'll dee as I've lived ! "

Under his breath he groaned a curse. Inthose tragic circumstances it sounded tooawful to Hutto n to be believable, had henot seen the fierce, hard look on the dyingman's face. He shuddered, but his soulasserted its strength.

" You shan't! " he cried. " Yo u shan't,if I can help it ! I won 't let you go likethat! Listen ! Before God, who hears usboth, before God, I say to you that I forgive.And—and—may He forgive you too."

The man's hand groped for his, as thoughthe darkness veiled his dimming eyes. Theboy bent over to catch the sound of scarcewhispered words.

" Thanky, lad !—And God—ha' mercy—God "

And so the light went out.But behind all light and shadow sits God,

Himself.

Slowly fell night, and dazed and motionlessthe bo y sat silent as the darkness grew.Tired out at length he fell into uneasysleep. Well was it for him that the sea wasfairly quiet that night, for he had sat unheeding of his customary precaution of tying himself to the spar. He awoke withthe early dayligh t to an overwhelming senseof loneliness. The haze on the horizon hadgrown more pronounced, but as yet he coulddistinguish nothing in it. Still, no doubt,

the captain had been ri gh t; they werenearing land.

He turned to the cold, stiff form at hisside.

" It is more fitting at sea," he muttered,with a slight shiver. " Besides, I could notstay beside it long."

Trembling a little, he bowed his headover the quiet figure, and closing his eyesand folding his hands, repeated softly in alow voice the words of the Lord's Prayer.

But he paused at the petition for forgiveness, " as we forgive."

" Oh ! " he cried pitifully, " I'm glad I did ! I'm glad I did ! "

Th e prayer ended, he took his courage intofirm hands and, bending over, loosened thecord that held the form in safety near themast.

Then, reveren tly, he turned the stark body-over, and gently pushed it into the deep.

And then the dread loneliness came morefiercely than ever upon him.

With straining eyes upon the distant shadeof land, and holding with one arm to thecentral spar, he cried aloud in his agony.

" 0 God ! " he called, and paused." 0 G o d ! " he called again, more

brokenly than before.Then for very lack of speech his prayer

was stoppe d. But our deepest wants arenot measured by our words.

[To be continued.)

C U R I O U S C R I C K E T B A T S .

FROM time to time inventors and other

ingenious folk have turned theirattention to the game of cricket with a view-to making improvements in the bat. Some

of the notions evolved have been decidedlycurious ; we illustrate above certain " fancy "bats that were intended to supersedethe ordinary " willow."

Early in 1887 a patent was granted formaking a three-sided bat as per end sectionin Fig. 1. In order to reduce the weight of this implement the middle was hollowed out,

and to preserve the wood tho

• aperture was filled with oil.In February, 1884, the fees

were paid in respect of a bathaving an india-rubber edgingon a wooden framework, thestriking surface being a network of stretched gut, similarto Fig. 2. This bat wasintended to be of specialservice to children.

At the finish of the season1888 there was patented amethod of altering the balanceby means of a movableweight in a cavi ty formedlengthways in the handle,Fig. 3. A knob at the end

was used for regulating theposition of the weight upontho screw-bar.

About the middle of September, 1895, the idea shownby Fig. 4 was made public.To prevent splitting, a groovewas formed round the edgeand up tho handle for theinsertion of a border of caneor whalebone.

Fig. 5 gives the interiorstructure of a queer notionpatented in August, 1893.Lightness rather than strengthwas aimed at b y the inventor,as an india-rubber tubing was

folded as shown, then coveredwith canvas and fixed on awooden support. To inflatethe tubing, air was injectedthrough the stoppered end of the handle.

After considering these highly ingeniousdevices we think that, after all, the common,ordinary bat will hold its own againstall comers. J. N.



7 2 0 The "Boy's Ote/n Paper.

J. V.—There must be some delay in answering your

query. W e have submitted it to an expert on the

question. Watch these columns.

TOWN BOY.—The slow-worm is not a snake, but a

lizard. It is quite true that, on being seized, it will

become rigid and suffer the loss of a portion of its

tail should it be roughly handled. To some exte nt

the missing part will grow again.

;S. L. B .—Ther e are many cyclists' and motorists'

'* Boute Maps " of England and Wales. See those

published by Bacon, Iliffe, and "Upcott Gill.

M. HARRISON.—1. Australia is certainly to be recom

mended of the two places, if a warm climate enters

into considera tion. Queensland , however , is likely

to be too tropical for you. Wh y not try Western

Australia ? This province offers many advantages

to the would-be settler. 2. T he Northern Territory,

rece itly separ ated from South Australia , will be

under ite own administr ation, of course. It is

hoped to encourage tobacco-planting there, among

other industries. Th e northern natives are un

doubtedly in a wild state, but the province is being

well policed.

T. L . PUGH (Notting ham).— Drop smoking cigarettes

at once, and run no further risk. The habi t is a

dangerous one in which to indulge. W e have said

BO over and over again. Yo u cannot have been

smoking long enough for it to have got a very strong

hold upon you.

ARCHIE M.—In our old-time coinage a "tes te r" wasa sixpence, a '* gr oa t" fourpence, and an " angel "

ten shillings.

'WANT-TO-KNOW.—The " Sherwoo d Foresters " are

the Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire Begiment.

The depdo is at Derby.

J. W I L S O N . — " Canada's Famous Long-Distance

Trains " were described in an illustrated article in

our last vo lume (s e p. 379). W e cannot give

all the details required in this space. Look up the

article referred to and you will find what you want.

•HARVEY WHITER—Directions how to build a fishing-

punt were given in our last volu me (s ee p. 12 4). It

is quite possible for you to make a craft of this des

cription. Let us know if you are successful.

R. M. P . — 1 . Think twice before going any further.

You would be doing a foolish thing, in our opinion.

2. The price asked by your correspondent is far in

excess of the actual value.

PHOTOG.—It is all a question of time. Yo u can get

a picture in almost any light when you are working

with the stand and can give a time exposure. If

you have no time or exposure meter to work by,

you must rely on your own experiments.

-SCEPTICAL.—There is often a great deal of sense in the

old " weather rhyme s." Birds and beasts are all

peculiarly sensitive to coming changes in the weather,

and one may obtain warning by observation of their

movements. For instance, as stormy weather comes

on, sea birds fly inland in search of food ; wild

fowl leave the marshy grounds for higher localities.

It is a sign of bad weather when both swallows and

.rooks fly low.

P. A . B. —Th e island of Jersey has a Boya l Militia ;

there are similar corps in Guernsey and Alderney.

W . A B B E Y . — 1 . No such story has appeared in the

" B.O.P." You must be confusing this magazine

with some other. 2. Yes , the late G. A. Hent y

wrote more than one serial for us.

INQUIRER (Hals tead) .—Yo u have been over-exercising

evidently. After a rest start again, without dumb

bells, and go to work more slowly and carefully.

N. G. HOLT.—The dimensions of a glider suitable to

carry a person weighing from ten to eleven stone

must be greatly increased, making the machine

rather an unwieldy affair. The spar across the

winga from tip top should be fifteen feet, and the

covering between the frames should be three feetwide. The framework must also be considerably

stouter; for this use wood 1J" X 1" and bevel

off all corners to save weight wherever possible.

Fine steel piano-wire would also be more satisfactory

to use in place of string for the various stays as it

would stand the great strain better with out stretching

or snapping, and it can be tightened up by means

of small screw strainers. A machine of this size

requires to be very well stayed to keep it rigid ly

in shape. Don't spare sta ys; wherever you see a

necessity for an extra one put it in.

H. Y . SMITH.—The crowns of Geor ge the Thir d and

George the Fourth are worth seven shill ings ; the

half-crowns are worth four shillings ; the shillings

are worth eighteenpence and the sixpence of George

the Third sells at a shilling.

A " D u c k ' s E g g " D r e a m .

ANGRY BA T : "You've disgraced me, my lad ;

now we'll see what I can do with you 1"

C . H. W. BARRON.—The " Can oe" articles in the

" B.O .P ." are : " Canoes, and How to Bui ld

Them " (V ol. VI I) ; " How to make a CanvasCanoe "

(Vol. V I I I ) ; " A Po rtable Home, or How to Make

a Travelling Canoe " (Vol. X V I I I ) ; " The Building

of a Canvas Canoe made Easy " (V ol. X X I I I ) ; " How

to Build a Cheap though Efficient Canvas Canoe "

(Vol. X X V I ) ; " How to make a Sectional Canoe "

(Vol. X X X LT) . The first three are the best from

your point of view. All the canoes described are

safe, anda large number have been built by "B.O.I ' ."readers from the instructions given.

J. H. B. STEWART.—You have our full sympathy, buta momen t's thought will show you that yo u cannot

possibly obtain a Government appointment forwhich a medical examination has to be passed.

BOB I X Hoon.—1. The light is thrown from the clock-

tower at Westminster that members of Parliament

may know the house is sitting. 2. Narcissuses in

the sense you mention. The Latin plural is narcissi.

3. The rain does not cease before every flash of

lightning. Watch the next thunderstorm and see

for yourself.

K. HiLLHOUSE.—1. " Outdoor Games " is out of print,

but a new edition is in preparation. 2. Several

stories by Dr. Stables wliich appeared first in our

columns have been reprinted. W rite to our publisher

for the L ist of Bo oks issued by the Beligious Tract

Societ}'. 3. No.

J. F. L. ALLDRETT.—Write for the pamphlet to the

Commanding Officer, llecruit ing Head-quarter s.

Scotland Yard, S.W.

NOTICE TO CONTRIBUTORS.— All manuscripts intended

/or the Bov's OWN PAPER should be adaressed to the

Editor, 4 Bouverie Street, E.C., and must have the name aim auuress u/ lut seuuer utarty written thereon,

and in any accompanying letter THE TITLE OF THEMS .

must be given. Miscellaneous voluntary contr ibutions

are submitted in too great numbers to be returned unless

stamps are sent to cover postage, and the Editor cannot

correspond regarding them, or hold himself in any way

responsible for length of detention or accidental loss,

though every care is taken. The number of AISS. sent to

tfte Office is so great that a considerable time must neces

sarily elapse before their turn for consideration arrives.

Payment for accepted manuscripts is made onpublication

of the monthly part containing them. The receipt

conveys the copyriglit of manuscripts to the Religious

Tract Society, with liberty for them, at their discretion,

to publish such works separately. Republication by

aidfiors on their own account must always be the

' subject of special arrangement before submitting their

AltiS. ; and whenever any special va lue is put upon

JJS. by the author this fact must be clearly stated when

sending in, or it cannot afterwards be recognised.

To CORRESPONDENTS.— Replies to correspondents are

not sent by post, and to this rule there can be no excep

tion—the sending of stamped and addressed envelopes

notwithstanding. Replies on all questions of any

general interest are given in these columns in due

course.

Letters must be addressed to the Editor, "B.O.P.,"

4 Bouverie Street, E.C. Letters sent to private aaaresses of memoers o] t/te staff! are not answered.

Boys Own Paper August 9, 1913

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Transcript of Boys Own Paper August 9, 1913