The Strand 1911-9 Vol-XLII № 249

342 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. ) &c^ A SCHEME FOR A MUSICAL COMEDY. Stuart, Mr. Paul Rubens, or some other native composer, there is the difficulty of getting a fit company together which will attract the public. The outside manager cannot secure the services of Miss Lily Elsie, or Miss Constance Drever, or Miss Gertie Millar, or Miss Vincent, or Miss Dare. He may have some rare unknown prima donna up his sleeve, or he has to find one, as Mr. George Edwardes and others have done. And then there are the low comedians, Mr. George Graves, Mr. Wilkie Bard, Mr. Gros- smith, Mr. Edmund Payne, and Mr. Alfred Lester. There is doubtless a supply of these in the provinces, if he knew exactly where to find it; only it has passed into an axiom amongst managers and theatrical speculators that a piece has to be intrinsically mag- nificent if it is to be presented by people unknown to London play- goers. If it is really a first- rate piece, with tunefu music, on its merits, then it may ultimatel y catch on, if it first pleases the critics. But there are ex- ceptions even to this, as, for example, \"The Waltz Dream,\" which, when it was first put on, somehow failed to draw, although it seemed to have everything in its f a v o u r— good book, good music, good cast, and wasbeautifully staged. Perhaps, on the whole, if he be wise, the prospective manager will follow the taste of the moment and endea- vour to get hold of a Continental success. Only here he requires great enterprise and keen judgment. Take the work of two German composers, Franz Lehar and Oscar Strauss. Live years ago he could have bought the English rights of a piece by the first-named for a hundred pounds.

WHAT IT COSTS TO RUN A THEATRE. 343 costumes and incidental effects. The former has grown to be a very heavy item since the days of the Amazon chorus, when the stage was filled with figuranli clad simply in tights. You can carry illusions on the stage to great lengths, but you can't make a cheap gown look the real thing, even on the boards. Fashionable frocks are expensive. In the case of \" The Dollar Princess,\" in the first act there are thirty-five chorus-girls attired in dresses which cost from fifteen to thirty- five pounds apiece. There are thirty-five in Act II. and sixty-five in Act III. Some have two changes in a single act, and alto- gether one hundred and sixty dresses are worn, at a total cost of over three thousand pounds. This for the female chorus alone, although even masculine raiment is not to be had for nothing. Then there is the little matter of hats. In \" The Dollar Princess \" one hundred and five of these are worn, and they are the most expensive kind. When it comes to the principals, one lady's dress cost eighty pounds, and there are sixteen principal performers. Altogether some six thousand pounds was spent in clothes; another thousand pounds w.nt in scenery, besides the bill for properties, furniture, and other details. In \" The Earl and the Girl \" there was a swing scene, during which eight pretty girls sat in swings lowered from the flies, being swung out by the male choristers into the auditorium. The swings were pro- fusely ornamented by multi-coloured electric lights. It is said that this \" effect \" cost the management nearly a thousand pounds. One projected feature was a dance performed by a group of girls on the tops of a set of tables. The idea was that when the dancers' heels touched the tables, an electrical connection would be made and the whole would produce an astonishing effect of light. After twelve hundred pounds had been spent on the experiment, it was found unreliable and was withdrawn. Excessive prices are paid for properties, and in many cases unnecessarily expensive materials used for curtains, etc. An unbusiness-like manager often wastes a lot of money in unnecessary rehearsals with orchestra and supers. Yet the craving is perpetually for novelty, and managers spend their lives on the look- I .ester. out for some new attraction. One never quite knows what the public will take up ; sometimes it is a Pavlova who will be the rage, at other times it may be a Greek comedy or a discussion by Mr. Bernard Shaw. Some- times the manager cannot follow the fickle changes fast enough ; and, if he is a manager of musical comedy, all he discovers immutable are a row of chorus girls, as like each other as peas in a pod. As to the profits, the average takings for a full house are between two and three hundred pounds for one performance. Daly's Theatre produces about two hundred and eighty pounds, and is nearly always filled. In this respect it is exceptional,

344 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. ;' NO WONDER THE BLASE MANAGER SEES A LOT OF CHORUS GIRLS AS LIKE AS I'EAS FROM WHOM HE TRIES IN VAIN TO 1'ICK A WINNER.\" At one performance at a West-end theatre the sum of half a crown was taken, the only audience being holders of comp1' nentary tickets. Quite recently seven shillings and sixpence was the sole taking at one perform- ance at a West-end theatre. So far we have only been dealing with one form of entertainment. There are many who hold that profusion characterizes them all, particularly Shakespeare, grand opera, and spectacle. \" The sums,\" writes Sir Charles Wyndham, \" spent by managers of dramatic entertainment are far beyond what they ought to be. Such expenditure now no longer leaves theatrical management on the basis of business, but makes it, on the contrary, simply a gambling operation. Indeed, we shall soon arrive, if we go on as we do, at a point when expenditure cannot possibly meet with anything but a loss.\" Similarly, Mr. Martin Harvey writes :— \" What we think pleasure is a question of individual taste. The taste of the audience has been educated to the love of costly display. Much more refined pleasure could be gratified at probably half the cost. The question is, therefore, ' Is the taste of the public sufficiently educated to be gratified by a more highly refined and artistic pleasure ? ' I think it is.\" We will assume the manager turns his attention to the production of a drama, comedy, or farce. It is safe to say that, save in the case of Shakespeare, there is no more money to be made out of tragedy or melo- drama, and if he embarks his capital in Shake- speare, it must be done on such a Fcale of magnificence as has of recent years been exemplified at the Lyceum and His Majesty's Theatres. And even then the expenses will be found to do scarcely more than balance the receipts. The best investment is a good modern comedy of manners, like \" The Walls of Jericho,\" \" The Liars,\" \" Lady Frederick/' or \" The Admirable Crichton.\" But even here, although he commission a first-rate dramatic writer, the chances of getting ten per cent, on his outlay are only one in ten. Here again critics and public are most exacting, and a comedy has to be excellent indeed to run a hundred nights. When it is very good, and runs a year or two, there is a lot of money made by the manager, in spite of the big salaries he has to pay to the per- formers, and a great deal more made by the author, who is collecting his five, eight, or ten per cent, on the gross takings, not merely of one company, but of several, in this kingdom, in America, and in the Colonies. It is, for example, computed that Mr. Barrie's income from his plays—chiefly, of course, from \" Peter Pan \"—is not less than fifty thousand pounds per annum. At one time Mr. Somerset Maugham had four plays run- ning simultaneously in London, and all play- ing to good houses—a circumstance probably

WHAT IT COSTS TO RUN A THEATRE. 345 without parallel in the history of the theatre. Therefore it is that the average manager may think he may be excused for spending money on scenic effects and dresses, in order to hide the artistic nakedness of his production. \" I venture to suggest,\" says Mr. Arthur Bourchier, \" that no sum of money is ever spent amiss by the experienced manager on the right play. Some plays demand expen- sive mounting, other plays do not. There is no manager to-day who can accurately gauge whether a play possesses that subtle something which will ultimately attract the great mass of the public. Most managers of experience can generally tell whether a play has no chance whatever, and in my humble experience this has been a very consistent express my belief in the Pope-like infallibility of the intelligent actor-manager as against the purely speculative manager, who is not an actor. And oh, my dear sir, do we not sometimes err on the side of the artistic conscience ? We have been known to refuse a play because it grated against every artistic corpuscle in our blood ! \" Farce still remains to our aspiring manager. A farce with only one or two scenes will cost but seven or eight hundred pounds to produce. But how few really good farces there are! And it is possible to spend a good deal of money in salaries and theatre-rent before one gets hold of such a one as \" Charley's Aunt \" or \" Baby Mine.\" In fact, it is said that there is only one good farce produced every ten years. Yet the stage is strewn with the bodies of farces which were Still- Sir Edward Moss. Mr. George Ed ward es. Mr. Arthur Collins. Mr. Charles Fri-hman. 'MANAGERS ARE CONSTANTLY DISCUSSING THE ADVANTAGE AND THE EXPENSE OF A NOVELTY.\" rule. Many a play is refused in the first instance by one or more managers, and is ultimately produced with great success ; but the reasons for the refusal by the several aforesaid managers are not, when probed, refusals directed against the money-making chances of a play, but on the suitability of the play in question to the theatres which they happen to control. For instance, a man may be under contract, rightly or wrongly, to several expensive artistes, for whom there happen to be no parts in the play in question ; or, again, the size of the theatre may be too large or too small to give the play its proper chance. Of course, there is always an exception to every rule ; but I venture to Vol. xlii.- 38. born, but which the managers went on presenting night after night for weeks, or even months, in the hope that they would somehow or other ultimately \" catch on.\" As to those gorgeous emporiums of pleasure which go by the name of music-halls, the money that is expended by their managers is

346 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 'ROUND THE WORLD —AN ENORMOUSLY EXPENSIVE SCENE FROM THE EMPIRE BALLET. week, one asks, how can it possibly pay ? To this Sir Edward Moss replies :— \" I certainly cannot say that in my opinion anyone is expending sums of money large enough to prevent a profit being made on a production. It is inconsistent with even an elementary financial education. It depends entirely on the prospects in view and on the value of the production.whether a large or a small sum of money should be utilized. No doubt each individual has his own ideas, but in connection with the London Hippodrome it has not been our plan to stint expenses in any way where we have had an oppor- tunity to produce a spectacle which should warrant an elaborate mise en scene. Things are different to-day to what they were half a century ago. Music-halls are now not looked at askance as they were. The class of entertainment submitted to the public is higher than it has hitherto been, and more people are going in for this class of amusement than at any time before. Competition is much keener, and it goes without saying that more money has to be expended to cope with the said competition.\" Mr. Dundas Slater, the manager of the Coliseum, is of opinion that the present- day expensive productions are required by the public, which has been educated up to a higher standard, and are better for all concerned. After the initial cost of producing such a ballet as \" Round the World \" (which might be at least five thousand pounds), the weekly expenses at the Empire Theatre run as follows :— {. Ballet, chorus, etc. .. .. .. 366 Salaries in front ol house .. .. 246 Wages, gas and electricity men .. 54 Wages, stage hands .. .. .. 310 Salaries, variety artistes Orchestra Wages, programme and < attendants General incidentals cloak-rcor.i 925 '63 3° £104.000 £ 44,000 Expenses j>cr annum—wages . Rent, rates, and expenses The variation of music-hall artistes' wages is interesting. Some time ago a new per- former, who is now well known, signed a contract at eight pounds per week, and re- newed it at twelve pounds per week. Very shortly after, while still fulfilling this contract, he was also giving the same performance at other music-halls, at which he was paid forty and sixty pounds a week. Can it be that not only is the whole system wrong, but that our managers are unbusiness- like ?

WHAT IT COSTS TO RUN A THEATRE. 347 into accoi'nt. Where any one of four managers whom'I could name would spend, say, eight thousand pounds on the production of a musical comedy or spectacular drama, either one of two others would do it equally well for six thousand pounds. And this applies proportionately to all plays. In the running of a play there is also a wide margin between the expenses of one manager and another. London theatres are seldom con- ducted on the business lines which would regulate an ordinary commercial undertaking. Actors and actresses are engaged in a hurry, and have to be paid what they ask. Scenery and dresses are often ordered without proper deliberation, or negotiation as to cost. Orders are frequently given verbally and not confirmed in writing. The \" producer \" or manager has a knack of changing his mind, and expensive alterations have to be made. The cost of the managerial staff in some houses would astound any man of business. I have no hesitation in saying that in the West-end theatres of London at least forty thousand pounds a year are frittered away, apart from what is lost by putting on plays with a four- to-one chance against their success. I could give instances of details—some astounding, others humorous —a s to how money is spent recklessly. In some cases there is 'leakage' as well as waste. I have often been told that ordinary busi- ness methods cannot be ap- plied to theatres. Those who main- tain this (and I disagree with them entirely) are invariably among the most wasteful.\" \" Personally,\" writes Mr. Robert Court- neidge, whose musical ' comedy, \" The Arcadians,\" has brought him in a small fortune, \" I don't think the public I strive to cater for are likely to be attracted by mere profusion. Anyhow, I start out on a production with very vague ideas of what it may cost. I spend as I go along what is necessary, be it more or less. I never hesitate to spend lavishly if it is re- quired, but I do not attempt to ' paint the lily,' etc. In fact, I think all one requires is common-sense and the desire to do all things well, and to steer clear of vulgar extravagance on one side and meanness on the other.\" The great outstanding fact would seem to be that if less money were spent by the managers, if matters were put on a sounder business footing, theatres would be cheaper— less of a luxury to the masses than they are

PERPLEXITIES. Puzzles and Solutions. By Henry E. Dudeney. 54.—A NEW MATCH PUZZLE. In the illustration eighteen matches are shown arranged so that they enclose two spaces, one just twice as large as the other. Can you rearrange them (1) so as to enclose two four-sided spaces, one exactly three times as large as the other, and (2) so as to enclose two five-sided spaces, one exactly three times as large as the other ? All the eighteen matches must be fairly used in each case ; the two spaces must be quite detached, and there must be no loose ends or duplicated matches. 55.—A TENNIS TOURNAMENT. Four married couples played a \" mixed double \" tennis tournament, a man and a lady always playing against a man and a lady. But no person ever played with or against any other person more than once. Can you show how they could have all played together in the two courts on three successive days ? This is a little puzzle of a quite practical kind, and it is just perplexing enough to be interesting. 56—THE TWICKENHAM PUZZLE. In the illustration we have eleven discs in a circle. On five of the discs we place white counters with counters into order so that they spell the word \" Twickenham \" in a clock-wise direction, leaving the vacant disc in the original position. The black counters move in the direction that a clock-hand revolves, and the white counters go the opposite way. A counter may jump over one of the opposite colour if the vacant disc is next beyond. Thus, if your first move is with K, then C can jump over K. If then K moves towards E, you may next jump W over C, and so on. The puzzle may be solved in twenty-six moves. Remember a counter cannot jump over one of its own colour. 57.—CASTING THE DIE. What are the odds against throwing one ace exactly in four throws with a single die ? In other words, if I throw that single die four times in succession, what are the chances against the ace coming to the top once—and not more than once —in the four throws ? It is curious how a simple question like this will set many people blundering. Solutions to Last Month's Puzzles. 51.—A NEW COUNTER PUZZLE. Play as follows : 2—3, 9—4, 10—7, 3—8, 4—2> 7—5. 8—6, 5—10, 6—9, 2—s, 1—6, 6—4, 5—3, 10—8, 4—7, 3—2, 8—1, 7—10. The white counters have now changed places with the red ones, in eighteen moves, without breaking the conditions. 3 8 5 1 6 7 2 black letters—as shown—and on five other discs the black counters with white letters. The bottom di e is left vacant. Starting thus, it is required to get the 52.—A VENEER PUZZLE. The eight pieces of veneer may be fitted together, as in the illustration,

CHAPTER XIII. THE LE-O-PARD. | E simply must write to Aunt Emmeline,\" said Caroline, earnestly. \" I've got three new pens and some scented violet ink. I got it at the shop yesterday; it's lovely.\" You write, too, Rupert,\" said Charles, kindlv. \" Put some Latin in; they'll love that.\" But Rupert said he couldn't be bothered, and took down a book. Caroline, looking up in an agony of ignor- ance as to the way you spelt asafcetida, saw that Rupert's eyes were fixed in a dismal stare on the portrait above the mantelpiece— the portrait of Dame Eleanour. He was looking at it as though he did not see it, and yet Charlotte could not help say- ing, \" Isn't she splendid ? She knew all about spells and things. It's her books we do it out of—at least, most of it.\" A STORY FOR CHILDREN. By E. NESBIT. Illustrated by H. R, Millar. \" If she knew all about them, she knew what rotten rot they were,\" said Rupert. \" You never try to do anything with your spells except the things that would happen just the same without your spelling.\" \" What's that about my spelling ? \" asked Caroline. \" I say your magic isn't real.\" \" We saw you when you were invisible,\" Caroline began, laying down her pen. \" Yes, I know,\" said Rupert ; \" but if it's really real, why don't you do something wilh it that can't really happen in puris natural- itatibus ?—that means just naturally. Why don't you bring back .Mrs. Wilmington's cat that's lost ? Or find my Koh-i-noor pencil. Then there's a thing in that book Mr. Penfold's got. He told me about it. You make a wax image of your enemy and stick pins into it, and every time you stick in a pin your enemy feels a pain in the part you stick the pin into.\" \" How awfully wicked ! \" said Caroline, in an awestruck voice.

35° THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" Rupert wouldn't do it, of course,\" said Charles. \" He's only talking.\" \" How do you know I wouldn't ? \" said Rupert, savagely. \" Next time you have a pain in your leg, Caroline, you'll think it's growing-pains, but really it'll be me, sticking a long hat-pin into the wax image I've secretly made of you.\" got Caroline up. \" Come, Char.\" she said ; \" we'll go and sit in the drawing - room if Rupert's going on like this.\" \" He doesn't mean it,\" said Charles again. \" Of course I don't,\" said Rupert, and sud- denly smiled. \" I don't know why I said it. Don't be silly. There's lots of things you could try, though, and not hurt any- one. Why don't you \" He looked vaguely round the\" room, and his eyes lighted once more on the portrait. \" Why don't you make that come to life ? If she was a witch her picture ought to be good for that, any- how.\" \" I wish we could,\" said all the children together, with deep earnestness. \" Well, do it, then,\" said Rupert. \" That's the sort of thing to make me believe, not the duffing things you've kept on doing ever since I've been here.\" There was a silence. But Charlotte's mind busied itself then and later, in and between other thoughts, with the question of what was the matter with Rupert and whether some- thing couldn't be done to help him. For there was no doubt of it. RuDert THE ONLY THING RUPERT SEEMED TO CARE FOR WAS SWIMMING. wasn't at all what they had first thought him. Sometimes, it is true, he would be as jolly as you need wish a boy to be. He would start new games and play them in the most amusing and satisfactory way. But always, sooner or later, and generally sooner, the light of life seemed to go out of him, and he would seem

THE WONDERFUL GARDEN. 35* performing elephants, and educated seals. All free. The children looked forward longingly to the day. Lord Andor had sent them cards with his mother's name and his on them in print, and the name of each child in writing, requesting the pleasure of their company on the occasion of Lord Andor's twenty-first birthday. And then, the very day before the day, when the roundabouts had arrived and been set up, and the menagerie was howling invitingly in its appointed field, the cup of joy was dashed, as Charlotte said, into little bits. Lady Andor slipped on an orange- pip and broke her ankle, and the festivities were postponed until September. \" There's many a pip twixt the cup and the lip,\" said Charlotte ; and Caroline said, \" Oh, bother ! \" Rupert said nothing. He had been invited too, of course, and had, at moments, seemed pleased. Now he just took his cap and went out and came home late for tea. The three C.'s learned with feelings of distress, mingled with anger, that Rupert had been to the menagerie by himself, and had seen all the beasts ; and that he had also witnessed a performance of the circus people which they had thought it worth while to give to such of the villagers as cared to pay for their amusements. \" You might have told us you were going,\" said Charles. \" You could have gone if you'd wanted to,\" said Rupert. \" Never mind, Charles,\" said Caroline; \" we'll ask the uncle to take us to-morrow.\" \" They're off to-morrow,\" said Rupert; \" that's why I went to-day.\" But the circus, as it turned out, was not off next day. An accident had happened. Something was missing, and the circus could not go on its travels till that something was found. \" I don't know what it is,\" said Harriet, when she told them about it at breakfast; \" but they've lost something they set store by. Some says it's an improving seal, and others says it's a boar-conjector-snake, and Poad told my gentleman friend it was the white-eyed Kaffir made a bolt for freedom and India's coral strand, where he was stole from when a babe ; but I don't know the rights of it. They sent for Poad. My gentleman friend'll know all about it next time I see him.\" \" When shall you see him again ? \" Charles asked. \" I can see him whenever I've a mind,\" said Harriet, proudly. \" I'm not one of those as has to run after their gentleman friends.\" \" I do wonder what it is,\" Charlotte said. \" Do see your friend as soon as you can and ask him, won't you, Harriet ? I do hope it's not snakes or bears. You'll be sure to tell us directly you know, won't you ? \" It was from William, however, that they

352 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. alone, and get along into the garden. The gates 'as been locked since eight this morning, and you're to go through the secret way to-day, and not to go outside the garden, because of that old speckled le-o-pard.\" The three C.'s went; but Rupert lingered beside William, fingering the bright buckles of the harness, and passing the smooth reins slowly through his fingers. For some time the three C.'s were very busy in the garden, gathering heart-shaped green leaves and golden, fragile, daisy-like flowers. \" I never thought,\" said Caroline, earnestly, opening the brown book, and sitting down on the terrace-steps with a sheaf of green and yellow beside her, \" that we should need it when I read about it in the ' Language of ,' and in the Medicine Book. Look here, it says : ' It is under Apollo, and the flowers and leaves thereof all leopards and their kind do fear and abhor. Wherefore, if it be ftrewn in the paths thefe fearful beafts do frequent, they may not pafs, but fhall turn again and go each to his own place in all meeknefs and fubmifsion. Indeed, it hath been held by the ancients—aye, and by philofophers of our own times—that in this herb lieth a charm to turn to water the hearts of thefe furious fpotted great cats, and to loofe the ftrings of their tongues, fo that they fpeak in the fpeech of men, uttering ftrange things and very wondrous. But of this the author cannot fpeak certainly, fince the leopard is not native to this land, unlets it be in Northumberland and Wales, where all wild things might well be hidden.' \" So you see,\" said Caroline. But Charlotte said it was all very well; only how were they to get the bane to the leopard ? \" It isn't as if we were allowed free,\" she pointed out. \" I wish they hadn't been so careful. The leopard would never have hurt us as long as we carried the bane ; and we could have surrounded it, like snakes with ash-leaves, and it would have had to sur- render.\" \" And perhaps it would have talked to us and followed us like tame fawns,\" suggested Charlotte, \" or Una. Only hers was a lion.\" \" Nonsense,\" said Charles ; \" you know you'd have been afraid.\" \" I shouldn't,\" said Charlotte. \" You would,\" insisted Charles. \" And now you're both.exactly like Rupert,\" said Caroline. \" And the leopard wandering about unbantd while you're wrangling. You're like Nero and Rome.\" Twenty minutes had passed before peace was restored, and the leopard's-bane lay drooping in the sun, the delicate gold and green heaps of it growing flatter and flatter. \" Well, then,\" said Charles, suddenly, \" if you're not afraid, let's go. No one's forbidden us to, except William.\" \" I will if you will,\" said Charlotte, turning red.

THE WONDERFUL GARDEN. 353 moving in the darkness that lay thick beyond the little wavering light of their candle. They stopped and listened. They heard the sound of breathing, and the next moment they saw, vaguely, in the almost darkness, something four-footed, spotted, furry, creep- ing along the passage towards them. It uttered a low, fierce, snarling growl. \" Throw it down,\" said Caroline, casting her flowers from her. \" It can't pass it. It can't.\" A heap of tangled, crushed leaves and \" Don't, oh, don't ! \" said Caroline. And to the leopard, who had not moved, she said, with wild courage, \" Down, sir ! Lie down ! \" The leopard lay down, flat—flatter than you would think a leopard could lie. \" It understands,\" said Charlotte. \" Oh, yes.\" Caroline's voice trembled as much as the hand that held the candlestick. \" It does. Poor pussy ! Poor leopard, then.\" A faint rumbling sound came from the crouching heap of spotted fur. \" I believe it's trying to purr,\" whispered 'THE NEXT MOMENT THEY SAW SOMETHING FOUR-FOOTED, SPOTTED, FURRY, CREEPING ALONG THE PASSAGE TOWARDS THEM.\" flowers was all that there was now between the children and the leopard. \" It can't pass it. It can't,\" said Caroline again, in an agonized whisper. Yet none of the children dared to turn and fly. Charlotte had remembered what she had heard of quell- ing wild animals by the power of the human eye, and was trying, almost without knowing that she tried, to meet the eye of this one. But she could not. It held its head down close to the ground and kept quite still. Everyone felt it was impossible to turn their backs on the creature. Better to face it. If they turned and ran—well, the door at the end of the passage was bolted ; and if the flower- spell should fail, then, the moment their backs were turned, the leopard might—with one spring \" Oh, I wish we hadn't,\" said Charles, and burst into tears. Caroline. \" Of course, leopard's purrs would be different.\" \" Give a paw, then,\" she said, very shakily. And the leopard lifted a ragged-looking fore- foot. But even Caroline had not the courage to reach out a hand towards it. \" Go to sleep, good dog, then,\" she said, in a distracted whisper. \" Go to sleep, go by-by, good little leopard, then.\" The leopard curled up and lay quite still. \" It's all right, I tell you,\" said Caroline. \" Stop snivelling, Charles; I knew the leopard's-bane would do it. Now let's go back backwards, very slowly, and if it moves I'll speak to it again.\" Very slowly, still striving to keep their eyes on the leopard, they retreated. They had not gone three steps before they heard it move. They stopped. \" Lie down ! \" said Caroline. And then,

354 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. to their mingled horror, wonder, delight, sur- prise, dismay, and satisfaction, a voice answered them—a curious, choked, husky voice. \" Leopard stay still,\" it answered ; \" little lady not be frightened. Leopard like flowers. Leopard quite good.\" \" Is it ? \" said Caroline, speaking as well as she could through the beating of her heart. \" Is it the leopard speaking ? \" \" Ess, little missy,\" said the choked voice. \" Pretty flowers loose leopard's tonguey, make him talky. Leopard tell a secret. Little ladies sow seeds, pinky seeds, hearty seeds, the right day, the right way, and see what come up. Run away now. Leopard done talky. lie go sleepy by-by. So long ! \" None of them ever knew how they got to the end of the tunnel, got the bolts undone, got the door shut and bolted again, and stood in the dusky arbour looking in each other's paper-white faces. Charlotte made two steps into the sun- light and threw herself face downwards on the path. Her shoulders heaved. Charles was still weeping without moderation or con- cealment. Caroline stood shivering in the sunshine. \" But we've got to get back,\" she said. \" It's all right this side, because of the leopard's-bane. But if somebody came behind the leopard's-bane, from the house, you know ? We must climb the wall and get to the house and warn them. Get up, Char. Charles, if you're ever going to be a man, be one now. There'll be plenty of time to howl when it's all over. We must climb the wall somehow.\" One leaves the children in the garden, a locked door between them and the leopard, trying to find a way of climbing a ten-foot wall. No gardener was to be found and the gates were locked. \" We must get over,\" Caroline kept saying. \" Oh, we must, we must ! The charm worked perfectly. If we can only get to the other end of the tunnel and throw in some more bane we shall have done the great deed. Try again, Charles. I'll give you a leg up. We must get over. Try again.\" One leaves Charles trying. Now, although the three C.'s firmly believed that the magic of the green and yellow flowers subdued the leopard and caused it to speak— in a sort of language that somehow recalled the far-off speech of their ayah in India— I cannot quite expect you to believe this. And I feei that I must delay no longer to tell you what it is you can believe. To do this we must go back to Rupert, whom we left with William in the harness-room, fingering the bright buckles and drawing the long, smooth reins through his fingers. \" I say, William,\" he said, \" couldn't we play a little trick on that Poad ? There's a leopard-skin in the drawing-room. If I got a couple of pillows, and a needle and thread ? \" \" Eh ? \" said William, staring at him. Then suddenly he smacked his leg and laughed

THE WONDERFUL GARDEN. 355 rattled dryly in his hand, and when he opened it there were no strings, only a number of odd flat, pinkish, heart-shaped seeds. On the box was written, \" Seed of the F of H D. Sow only in the way and on the day.\" He put its lid on and thought, then, no more of the box. But afterwards he remem- bered it. And now, with the leopard - skin in his arms and the wires in his pockets, Rupert went cautiously to the window. Yes, all was safe, so William's signal told him. He dropped the bright skin into William's hands, and himself dropped to the ground. \" I've thought of something better than straw,\" he said, when he and William and the leopard-skin were alone together in the harness-room. And William, when the new thought was explained to him, slapped his leg harder and laughed more thoroughly than before. Rupert had only just entered the secret passage, his first match had just gone out, when he heard the children at the other end. He went towards them, fully meaning to explain what sort of leopard he was, and what sort of joke—he called it a joke to himself— he and William had arranged to play upon Poad. But when he heard them speak and saw the showers of leopard's-bane fall on the flags of the passage, he, as he put it later, \" played up.\" And when the children had gone he laughed softly to himself and began to think what would be the best spot in the tunnel to wait for Poad in. He had noticed by the light of that first match an arched recess, the one, you remember, where the children stored their sacks of wet rose-leaves the night they played at Rosicurians and cured Rupert. He would hide in this, and then, when Poad came along, he would jump out at him with that snarl which had sounded so well when he met the children. He waited till the garden-door was locked, and then felt for his matches. He could not find them. He must have dropped them when he was pretending to the children. He felt along the floor, but there were no matches to be found. Never mind, he could feel his way in the dark. He knew exactly where the arch was. To the left, about three-quarters of the way down the passage. He stood up and laid his hand upon the wall, walked forward till he felt the corner of the recess, and stooped to curl himself up in it and wait for Poad. He put his hand out to steady himself as he sat down, and his hand touched not the stone floor, but soft, warm fur. And not dry, hard fur like that which he himself wore, sewn tightly round him with harp- strings, but living fur, on a living creature. He drew back his hand, and a cold sweat of horror broke out en his forehead, and the little hairs on the back of his neck seemed to move by themselves. His hand still felt the dread- ful warm softness of that fur. It almost seemed to him that he had felt the spots on it. \" Oh, I wish I hadn't ! \" said Rupert to

356 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. could only have been a human being dressed up. Most likely they knew already who it was. So they would come back without fear, come back to find him, Rupert, and would find that. Then Rupert did what was really an heroic thing. He stood up, and, as quickly as he could, began to feel his way back along the side of the passage farthest from the arched recess. He would go to the garden-door, and when the children opened it he could prevent their coming in. To do this he must pass the leopard. A warm, delicious glow stole through him. This was worth it. Better than crouching like a coward at the far side, and letting those children come laughing and talking down the passage to meet that, savage from a sudden awakening. He crept quietly along. No sound broke the black silence. He reached the flight of steps, gained the other door, sat down on the top step, and waited. Nothing had stirred in the silence. \" Anyhow,\" said Rupert, \" I feel safer at the top of the stair than at the bottom.\" Rupert will never know how long he sat there in the darkness. The cracks in the door which showed as pale vertical streaks were his only comfort. He tried to get off the leopard's skin, but the harp-strings were too strong. It seemed to him that he had been there a week. There were voices, many voices, Charlotte's voice high above the others. Rupert hoped the leopard was too far away to hear; but how could he know where the leopard was ? It might have crept quite close to him on its padded, noiseless feet, and he would never have known. It might be within a yard of him now. Rupert understood in that hour what sort of practical joke it was that he had prepared for the policeman. \" Because, of course,\" said Rupert, \" I should have been just as dreadful for Poad as that is for me. He'd have thought I was It.\" The voices and footsteps came nearer. They were talking outside. \" Best shoot it when it rushes out at us. I've got a revolver,\" said Poad. And a cold shiver ran down Rupert's back. Suppose he had met Poad alone in that dark passage as he had planned ! \" Let me get at him with the garden-fork,\" said another voice, the gardener's. Then another, a strange voice this time :— \" Don't hurt the beast. It's valuable. An' it's tame, don't I tell you ? You leave be. Stand back ; I'll tackle him.\" Rupert wretchedly wondered how he was to be tackled. Also how near the real leopard really was. He decided that a little noise more or less couldn't matter now. He tapped at the door and cried :— \" Let me out. It's Rupert.\" But his words were drowned in the chorus of alarm that arose when he knocked at the door. And the leopard ? In the midst of the

THE WONDERFUL GARDEN. 357 unconcernedly. And Rupert said, \" Yes. to the right.\" William and three other men followed warily, but to most of the party it seemed best to remain by the door. Five people and a net were surely enough to catch one leopard. But everyone crowded round the door, and some even went down a few steps, bending over to catch the first sounds of any- thing that might be happening. All of a sudden a sound came from the dark passage below, and the listeners started back — a strange sound, the sound of long, loud laughter. It echoed and re - echoed through the vaulted passage, coming nearer and nearer. The crowd drew back. Out came the leopard- - keeper, laughing, with his net ; out came William, laughing, with his pitchfork ; out came Poad, half laughing and half angry. \" What is it ? What is it ? \" said everyone outside. And for a moment none of those from inside could get breath to answer. \" What is it ? \" they asked again, and at last William answered :— \"Mrs. Wilming- ton's old cat ! Gone in there to have her kittens in peace away from the children. They've caught your little bit all right,\" he said to the leopard-keeper. '* Look I \" He pointed to something white among the trees beyond the wall. \" I told Hill to run up a signal if they found the rest of him where Poad said he'd seen his spotted •ail.\" \" Did you know that before we went in ? \" Poad asked, sternly. \" Course I did,\" said William, his hands on his knees and his ruddy face deeply creased with the joke. \" You wouldn't have catched me going in there without I'd known where my lord was, him and his spotted tail. I thought it was Master Rupert up to some ••OH, GUT ME OUT OF THIS BEASTLY SKIN, SOMEBOHY.\" more of his larks, 1 did. I wasn't a-going to spoil sport.\" \" You 'aven't 'card the last of this.\" \" No more ain't you,\" said William ; \" so

CURIOSITIES. [We shall be glad to receive Contributions to this section, and to pay lor such as are accepted.] A CANINE POSTMAN. AT the little town of Brighton, on the Baltimore and Ohio South-Western Railway, a few miles from the busy city of Cincinnati, there is a clever dog- postman. Jack, as he is called, belongs to Mrs. John Pollock, the postmistress at Brighton. Once a day the mail train, as it thunders by, drops a bag of letters for distribution in the locality. For many years the postmistress trudged to the railway to catch the letters as they were tossed from the train, always accompanied CRICKET CURIOSITY. CRICKET curiosities are by no means rare, but the one shown in the accompanying photograph is worthy of record. It shows the extraordinary way in which a stump, when hit by a ball during net practice, stuck in the net immediately behind. The stump turned a complete somersault, and remained fixed firmly in the net until taken down. CARVED FROM .MEAT BONES. THE history of this crucifixion, which was bought by my great-grandmother from French prisoners detained at Portsmouth during the Napoleonic wars, is very interesting. These prisoners carved this and similar images from the bones obtained in their meat rations. The cock, the spear, the dice with which \"lots were cast.\" and several other things are all represented. Considering the rough tools at their disposal — clasp-knives at best — the ingenuity shown is remarkable. The two figures at the sides are cut from long bones, and when seen from behind show the spongy sub- stance from the centre of the shaft. — Mr. F. R. VValshe, 10, Thayer Street, Manchester Square, W. by her dog Jack. One day she sprained her ankle and was unable to leave her home. She was in a dilemma, when Jack, by his barking and actions, made it clear that he was anxious to go off and bring home the letters. He was accordingly sent. He waited there patiently until the train came along, and as soon as the mail-bag was thrown out he grabbed it in his mouth and carried it home. Since that day he has always fetched the letters, never failing to arrive at the line a few minutes before the train. Neither has he ever lost his valuable burden. Photograph by Mr. J. R. Schmidt, Cincinnati, Ohio.—Mr. H. J. Shepstone, 35, Amner Road, Clapham Common, S.W. FISHING WITH CORMORANTS. OF the many strange methods of fish-catching prac- tised in various parts of the world, one of the most curious is the manner in which cormorants are used for this purpose in China. Each bird has a ring put round its throat, which prevents it swallowing any fish it may pursue, while a long fishing-rod arrange- ment is used to catch hold of the string attached to the bird's leg, thus enabling all fish caught to be quickly secured.—Mr. Gordon Birchenall, Athenaeum, Princess Street, Manchester.

CURIOSITIES. 359 SCULPTURING EXTRAORDINARY F'ROM time to time there have been published in these Curio- sity columns specimens of the extraordinarily clever work of un- tutored sculptors, and if a further addition to this \" born, not made \" category is permissible, this should hold its own with exceptional ease. A close scrutiny of this wonderful stone creation, with its subtle lines and varied testimony to deli- cate workmanship and handling, would _ scarcely assist one to the belief that it was all accomplished by an ordinary working black- smith. Such a truth, however, stands to be re- corded. The \" chiscller \" in question was one William Gemmell, who resided in Eaglesham, Lan- arkshire,Scotland, and during the progress of his sculpturing labours he actu- ally received sittings from the original. The latter was a well- n Glasgow mendicant, who was, some forty ago, popularly known as \" Auld Hawkie.\" . James A. King, 18, Muir Street, Mother- Scotland. know years —Mr well, A REMARKABLE PIECE OF CARPENTRY. A DANISH carpenter living in Ginneken, f\\ near Breda, who has converted a portion of the trunk of a fir tree into the mammoth fan here shown, has accomplished a piece of work on which he is heartily to be congratulated. The portion of trunk from which the fan was made was two yards seven inches in length, and, as will be seen, the laths into which it has been divided are so thin that they appear but little thicker than paper. The laths arc kept apart and formed into the shape of a fan by means of little wooden wedges. This fan attracted a deal

36° THE STRAND MAGAZINE. England in 1820, the year when matches really became the serious rival to tinder-boxes.— Mr. Percy R. Salmon, 115, Minard Road, Catford, S.E. HEAT1NC IN the Grand Valley of Colorado, a famous fruit section, the growers have undertaken the gigantic task of heating their orchards in order to save their fruit from Jack Frost. The accompanying photograph shows the orchard heaters, or smudge-pots as they are known, burning at full blast. When the mercury showed thirteen degrees of frost this spring, these heaters, to the number of seventy-five thousand, were lighted all over the valley, and it resulted in the raising of the temperature ten degrees and the saving of a two- million-dollar fruit crop. Recently the Royal gardener at Dublin, Ireland, ordered fifty of these heaters for the purpose of making tests with them in saving potatoes.—Mr. Louis Mever, Grand Junction, Colorado, U.S.A. PUZZLES AND SOLUTIONS. HERE are two more puzzles which may serve to while away a few idle moments. The solutions will be given next month. t. Two ot the discs shown below are turned so th.it the letters they bear are not visible. By arranging those two letters correctly with the five vowels we may form a well- known English word, the shortest one that contains all the vowels What are the concealed letters T CURIOUS MATCHES IN USE TO-DAY. THESE matches, which I purchased recently from an Arab dealer, south of Hebron, in Palestine, are of the type now used by the desert wanderers in the Near East. The matches themselves (see top illustration) are made of a kind of touch or slow- burning paper, are in long strips, and perforated like stamps, each perforated piece containing a little heap of explosive compound at one end. When a light is wanted one of the strips is torn off and the explosive mixture rubbed on the box. The strip then smoulders, but it can, if desired, be blown into a flame. One side of the box has a crude Punch-like figure pictured upon it in gaudy colours—yellow and red—while the other side has upon it Arabic and Greek inscriptions, which I am told are the names of the maker, who lives in Damascus, and instructions for use. The matches are, I believe, similar to those which were in use in 2. In the vacant circles place one letter three times so that a correct English word can be read in regular rotation around the triangle.—Mr. Harold M. Haskell, 67, Appleton Street, Manchester, New Hampshire, U.S.A. A BRIDGE PROBLEM. Hearts are trumps. A has the lead. Hearts—Ace, knave. Diamonds—Queen, 7, 6, 5, 2. Clubs—Ace. Spades—Ace, king. Hearts—Queen, 8, 7, 3. Diamonds—S. Clubs—King, 7, 3.