The Strand 1913-6 Vol_XLV №270 June mich

694 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" Thank you so much/' continued Mrs. Hamlyn, blandly. \" I do so regret having awakened you. Do you always come to bed so early ? I did not see you at dinner.\" \" No, I had a quiet tray down here. It's the best thing for a headache. You won't mind my not talking to-night, will you ? Good night/' and with a wicked grimace in and quite forgot to take into account the amazing force of two opposing temperaments. The lady awoke at the opening of the door and turned to see what was happening, and the sight of the steaming cup of tea instantly aroused the strong selfishness which is so noticeable a trait in all old travellers of her type. \"MRS. HAMLYN LEANED PONDEROUSLY OVER THE SIDE, TRYING TO SEE THE SPEAKER.\" the direction of the discomfited woman Molly settled herself cosily among her pillows and was soon in the land of dreams. At seven the next morning the stewardess brought Miss March her early cup of tea. Now, Molly had been awake for some time, and, on reviewing the events of the night before, had come to the conclusion that as the cabin was so small and Mrs. Hamlyn was so large, it would be wiser to live in peace than in strife for the remainder of the voyage, so she resolved with magnanimity to bury the hatchet and make the best of a bad bargain for the next fortnight. But Molly was young. \" An early cup of tea ; now that's very thoughtful of you, stewardess.\" \" It's for Miss March, madam. She has one every morning,\" came dryly from the woman. \" Ah, of course \"—with oily blandness. \" Young people know how to take care of themselves.\" Molly giggled at the stewardess at the remembrance of last night's checkmate. \" But it looks very hot,\" continued Mrs. Hamlyn, \" and Miss March mayn't care for such hot tea. Very few people do. You might get her another cup while I am drinking that, stewardess.\"

TWO IN A CABIN AND AN EBONY STICK. 695 \" Pecksniff! \" \" What did you say?\" came with ominous frigidity from above. \" I said Pecksniff,\" said Molly, sweetly. '' The stewardess's name is Mrs. Pecksniff. I thought you'd like to know.\" The stewardess, her face scarlet with sup- pressed laughter, stooped to give Miss March her cup. She knew her Dickens. \" Lor', miss, how can you ? \" she whispered. \" I'll take this cup,\" continued their tor- mentor, \" and Mrs. Pecksniff shall get you another.\" The stewardess retreated in haste, cannon- ing into a cabin steward carrying a can of hot water. '' Hold hard, there!\" cried the man. \" Why, you might have scalded my foot. Whatever is the matter ? \" \" That Miss March'll be the death o' me. Do you remember the day she locked all the bathrooms on the outside, and we waited like fools for 'em to come out, and there wasn't anyone in ? She's always up to her tricks, but I guess we're going to have some fun in that cabin before we've done.\" She hurried off for the tea. Inside the cabin conversation was pro- gressing under difficulties. Mrs. Hamlyn's bland pomposity drove the girl nearly wild with rebellious aggravation, while the elder woman, all finer instincts of tact or sense of mental atmosphere dulled by fatty degenera- tion, rambled heavily on :— \" A curious name for a stewardess,\" she was tolling forth, \" and rather typical of the race. I knew a doctor once who was exceed- ingly fond of operations, and he was called Cutdeep, and there was a Dr. Coffin in Simla. There are two theories to account for these surnames. Either the names influence the choice of the profession, or the persons are foundlings, and the names are chosen in after life to suit their calling.\" \" Where are my big-headed pins ? \" came imperiously from Molly, who had just noticed their absence. \" Ah, h'm, pins—I believe I did take one or two last night for my skirt. When you have gained my experience in travelling, Miss March, you will learn that anything exposed to open view in a tent or cabin shared by two or more persons is common property and liable to be used by one or sundry, as the saying is. But, if you attach any importance to the pins I will willingly \" '' Oh, no, not at all!\" cried Molly, inter- rupting with the cheerful air her long-suffering brothers at home had learnt to call the \" danger flag.\" \" I am glad to learn. I always envy the cool assurance and savoir faire of old travellers.\" \" It will come in time,\" returned Mrs. Hamlyn, placidly. She was a kind-hearted woman when it cost her nothing, and her fat made her easy-going. The stewardess here made her entrance with the second cup of tea.

696 THE STRAXD MAGAZINE. or would have proved so had Molly been of a crushable nature ; but she was absolutely irrepressible, and directly she caught the drift of the other's tactics she plunged into the struggle with the irresponsible glee of a mischievous child, and enjoyed herself tho- roughly. The elder woman hadn't a chance against her. Mrs. Hamlyn found that all her toilet appurtenances had a mysterious knack of disappearing, and the poor lady spent all her mornings trying to dress. It generally ended in the stewardess being summoned to assist in the search for the missing object, which would be found behind a trunk or under the lower berth. \" I expect it fell when the boat rolled,\" Molly would say, with innocent eyes, if any remark were made. Mrs. Hamlyn, in sheer self-defence, locked up all her small paraphernalia, and life be- came a burden in unlocking trunks to find a hatpin. Molly on her side had, the first morning, packed up the pretty brush-bag and the inviting pincushion; and now that her companion had done the same the cabin, when cleaned up for the day by the steward, the trunks out of sight under the lower berth, and the beds made, had the appearance of an untenanted apart- ment. \" I don't exactly see,\" said Miss March one day, when they were both changing their frocks for dinner and Mrs. Hamlyn was bemoaning the lack of pins, \" how one and sundry are to make common property of everything visible in a cabin or tent, if there is nothing visible. Do you ? \" \" It is most annoying,\" was the tart rejoinder, \" that there is not a pin in the place.\" \" Why don't you put out your pincushion ? \" said Molly, fastening her brooch before the glass. \" It's such a pretty one'.\" \" The last time I did you took all the pins,\" returned Mrs. Hamlyn, sourly. \" Ah, they were only plain ones. Not nice large-headed ones at a s\" tilling a card ; and I never brushed my hair with your brush. The one and siyidry must have a limit, you know.\" The brushing episode rankled badly with Molly, and was, indeed, unpardonable : it had occurred three days ago, when, on return- ing from her bath to finish dressing, she had found Mrs. Hamlyn hastily giving the last touch to her toilet for the bathroom lev It, where a weird procession of ladies, in varied deshabille, patiently awaited their turn for the vacant bathrooms. Mrs. Hamlyn had the grace to blush at the mention of what she had called at the time her \" shocking absent-mindedness.\" She had no ally in the stewardess, for her bland pom- posity and knack of giving unnecessary trouble with the air of conferring a favour had turned that long-suffering woman into a morose tyrant, and the situation had not improved since Mrs. Hamlyn, forgetting her

TWO IN A CABIN AND AN EBONY STICK. 697 mattress. Fancy the stewardess never find- ing it! \" \" Ah ! \" cried Mrs. Hamlyn, \" I knew she never made the bed properly. These crea- tures never do. All they think of is their fees.\" \" It's a most beautiful walking-stick,\" con- tinued the girl, full of the treasure-trove, \" all carved with animals. Some poor man had this cabin last, I suppose.\" would never have known it was there if I hadn't been idiot enough to call out. I found it, and I take it. It will make a lovely present for my brother Tom.\" \" Edgar has always longed for an ebony stick.\" \" So has Tom, and he shall have it.\" The absurd quarrel went on until both dis- putants were thoroughly heated, and Molly turned to the wall in high dudgeon, refusing \" MRS. HAMLYN SCOWLED.\" \" Men are such careless creatures,\" said her companion, complacently. \" It is fortu- nate you saw it. It will do excellently for my nephew Edgar.\" \" But it is not yours,\" cried Miss March, indignantly. \" I found it, if it comes to that, and I shall certainly stick to it.\" \" It's in my bed, you see, so of course it's mine,\" returned Mrs. Hamlyn, with aggra- vating calm. \" Not at all,\" cried Molly, hotly. \" You Vol. xlv.-73. to speak any more.- She fell asleep while racking her brains how to circumvent her annoying companion. The next day, coming down to the cabin in the afternoon, Molly went straight to the upper berth, determined to confiscate the bone of contention. But the stick was gone. \" Mean old cat! \" cried Miss March, in wrath. \" I will find it. Ah ! \" Her eye had fallen on Mrs. Hamlyn's roll of umbrellas and

698 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. parasols strapped together in the corner. There was the ebony stick in the middle, and a large piece of coarse string had been em- ployed to tie it firmly in its place. Molly March deliberately cut the string and tied it into her roll of umbrellas and parasols in the opposite corner. '' Now,\" she said, with a determined nod, \" we will see who will win ! \" She left the roll where it stood, scorning further pre- caution. That night, when she came down to bed, the ebony stick was once more firmly tied into Mrs. Hamlyn's umbrellas. By lunch next day it was Miss March's property. Once more at night Mrs. Hamlyn could call it her own. Neither spoke a word on the subject. The struggle was ludicrous, but intense. Regularly day and night the ebony stick changed hands. For an hour one day Miss March tried in vain to pack it in her trunk, cross-wise, length-wise, any-wise, but the stick was a little too long, and she had to give it up in despair. There was no other mode of concealing it. The next day she went off into an involuntary peal of laughter on enter- ing the cabin and finding Mrs. Hamlyn on her knees, purple and suffocating, carrying out the same manoeuvres with her cabin trunk. Mrs. Hamlyn scowled. Miss March fled in hysterics, and fell into the arms of the stewardess coming round the corner, to whom she confided her woes. The next day they would arrive at Plymouth, where both were to disembark. Miss March had made up her mind. \" I shall wait,\" she said to herself, with stern determination, \" till we actually get there, and then I shall run down to the cabin at the last moment, take it out of her umbrellas, even under her eyes if need be, and walk off with it in my hand.\" Curiously enough, Mrs. Hamlyn had deter- mined on the same stratagem. \" I am quite determined poor Edgar shall have his present,\" she said to herself, \" and as that disagreeable girl is sure to stick to it to the last, I shall wait till the last moment, and then walk off with it in my hand.\" Early the next morning, about three hours before their arrival, the two found themselves in the cabin making final preparations. The ebony stick shone blackly among Mrs. Hamlyn's umbrellas. That lady was count- ing money in her purse. \" I shall settle the fees now,\" she announced. \" That leaves one free at the last moment in case of a rush.\" Molly pricked up her little ears. \" Free ? \" Could it be possible ? \" So shall I,\" she said, \" and then there will be nothing to think about but getting off.\" Mrs. Hamlyn looked at her with suspicion as she pressed the button for the stewardess.

rv- e LifeStory Lunar HomeilMotfl By JOHN J. WARD, F.E.S. Author of \" Some Nature Biographies,\" \" Peeps Into Nature's Ways,\" \" Life Histories of Familiar Plants,\" elc. Illustrated with Original Photographs by the Author. HE woodman had been busy for several weeks past in the copse-wood, and the young trees and saplings which the previous autumn had occupied all the available space between the older trees were now so much short-cut underwood, the new wood of their cut ends standing out conspicuously above the sheets of nodding blue-bells and fresh green of the spring herbage. Here and there the cut boles of some of the older tree tenants of the wood showed that the gleaming axes had carried out the bailiff's decree. Now, however, the great tree-trunks and brushwood had been carried away, and Nature was tidying'- up things and rapidly repairing the damage done; and, in spite of the havoc wrought, everything looked bright and hope- ful in the morning sun- light. Sitting on a tree-base listening to the music of the birds, and endeavour- ing to picture in the mind's eye how the damaged branches will shortly be clothed and hidden from view by the fresh green leaves of the now con- spicuous new shoots, the Fig. I.—The hole in the Hump. eye is suddenly attracted by a neatly-cut round hole in the lopped stump of a branch of the sallow or goat-willow tree. The hole is just about large enough to receive the end of a blacklead pencil or the tip of one's little finger, and apparently it has been cut by means of an auger (Fig. i). One naturally wonders what purpose the woodman had in boring that hole, especially as other willow stumps similarly bored may be found here and there throughout the coppice. It was indeed a strange \" woodman \" that drilled those holes, but how they were formed need not trouble us for the moment, for just at present there is a more important matter for consideration. The sun's rays are fall- ing directly into the hole under observation, partly illuminating its interior, and while we are wonder- ing what function the hole could serve, we sud- denly become aware of the

700 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. Fig. 2.—What came out of the hole. by little bunts as if pushed from behind, until at last it is distinctly protruding from the hole (Fig. 2). Still it continues to advance, and just when we expect to see the curious object fall to the ground a most extraordinary transformation scene takes place. The brown skin suddenly breaks open, and from it a wasp-like insect with a black-and- yellow-banded body crawls on to the bark (Fig. 3). Its wings at first look soiled and crumpled, but in a few minutes they unfold from their creases, and the insect at once com- mences to travel up the branch, continuing until it reaches the cut end left by the wood- man (Fig. 4). There the hornet-like creature suns itself for an hour or more, looking de- cidedly dangerous even as it rests. When the sun is at its brightest the insect's feelers suddenly commence to quiver excitedly, and then, with a bee-like buzz, it takes to its wings, rising in the air and before departing flying about twice around our heads with all the characteristic movements of a dangerous stinging in- sect, causing us instinc- tively to duck, even though we may know the insect to be perfectly harmless. Such an i nc i d ent anyone may be fortunate Fig. 4.—The black-and-yellow-banded insect, PnOU£?h tO when matured, looked decidedly dangerous as it rested in the sunlight. witness of course, Fig. 3.—A transformation scene. The brown skin bunt open. and a curious wasp-like insect quickly crawled on to the bark and developed its wings. should he wander amongst willow and poplar trees (but perhaps more often in the case of the former) during June and July, and, very naturally, a surprised eye-witness will desire to understand a little more of what has really taken place, and it is a curious story indeed. The wasp-like insect is a quite harmless creature, and is known to the entomologist as the lunar hornet-moth, so named from its remarkable superficial resemblance to the dangerous stinging hornet. It does not really resemble a hornet, for if the two insects are examined together their difference is quite obvious; but the arrangement of black, yellow, and brown colouring, combined with the wasp- like form (for a hornet is only a large species of wasp), together with its similar habits of movement and flight, and the still more extraordinary transparent wings, give a distinct hornet impression (Fig. 5); and when that dangerous insect is under observation one does not stop to quibble over details. This re- markable

THE LIFE STORY OF THE LUNAR HORNET-MOTH. 701 obvious enough, for the poisonous stings so characteristic of the wasp family render them immune from the attacks of many would-be foes. The extent to which this mimicry has been carried is striking in many respects, for not only have the movements of these stinging insects been faithfully followed, but the moth is also able to make a buzzing sound when it approaches very like that of a wasp or bee —a most unusual characteristic for a moth. Even their external anatomy is likewise largely reproduced. The antenna, or feelers, are considerably more like those of a wasp than a moth (Fig. 4), while again the colours of the moth heighten the imposture ; but the most extraordinary feature of all is the acquire- ment of transparent wings. A moth in the ordinary way has its other- wise transparent wings clothed on both sides with innumerable minute opaque scales, all placed like the tiles on the roof of a house, and according to the manner in which these scales are arranged in groups and lines of various colours, so the markings and colouring of the wings are varied. Consequently, when handling the wings of a moth, we find our fingers covered with \" dust,\" but which really consists of these microscopic scales rubbed from the insect's wings, and the more \" dust\" removed by the fingers the more trans parent become the wings. The wings of the hornet-moth, however, in acquiring a simi- larity to those of its protected model, have almost entirely lost their scales, only their margins now being so clothed, which gives them a dark edging, quite different from those of a wasp or hornet. In this connection it is an interesting fact that when the moth is enclosed in its chrysalis skin its wings are then clothed with scales, which disappear as it completes its development—a feature which shows that its transparent wings were derived from those of the ordinary type common to moths. There are some fourteen species of these clear-wing moths found in the British Isles, but the whole family of them, excepting the species under consideration and one other Fig. 6.—The egg> as placed on the bark by the parent moth. nearly-related insect, are much smaller than a wasp ; they nevertheless all bear the charac- teristics of stinging insects, and probably derive protective advantages from their resemblance. Now, in the ordinary way a moth is of nocturnal habits, flying at dusk or in the

702 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. Fig. 7.—An internal view of the stump. Here the stump is seen split length- wise and opened out. The moth caterpillar is seen on the left in the passage it has bored in the wood. Below it some wood-scrapings are seen, which close the hole leading to the outside. Immediately behind it is also another barrier of the same material. emerged from the round hole in the willow stump. When we examine the neatly-drilled hole from which the moth appeared, it seems incredible that the insect itself could have cut that hole in the solid wood ; nevertheless, such was the fact. When the female moth takes to her wings and flies in the sunlight, she soon finds a mate, and afterwards her business in life is to seek for stumps of the goat- willow similar in size to that from which she herself emerged. Having selected a suitable branch, she de- posits some of her eggs upon it (Fig. 6). The eggs are brown in colour, and are therefore not at all conspicuous when resting on the bark; occasionally, too, they are placed on the leaves of shoots near the ground. In due course the little caterpillar emerges from the egg and crawls to suitable parts of the bark, and there commences to burrow into the wood, continuing until it reaches the cen- tral area of the branch, where it eats out a tunnel extending upwards for several inches, widening it as it grows. Eventually it develops into a fairly large white maggot-like grub, which not infrequently spends two years feeding within the branch ; but it never forgets to pay due attention to the diameter of the entrance hole, for this has to be kept sufficiently large to allow of its emergence when it has completed its development. Also, it always takes careful pre caution to lock and bolt the door against intruders to its dwelling; for there are many dangerous foes outside that make it their business to enter any open holes that they may find. Sometimes these visitors are themselves in search of a meal. or it may be that they have young to feed; while still other uninvited guests make a practice of depositing their eggs in such situations, and then, when their offspring hatch out, they find a well-fed grub on which to prey. To properly understand how the hornet-moth larva guards its citadel against attacks of such kinds we require to carefully split down the branch in which it lives, and so get an internal view of the stump, as shown in Fig. 7. The external hole is at the bottom of the left-hand division, and it is seen to be barri- caded on the inside by means of wood scrap-

THE LIFE STORY OF THE LUNAR HORNET-MOTH. 7°3 which at least does not encourage it. Thus protected, the larva tunnels its way along the heart of the branch with its head directed upwards. Then comes the time when it is full-fed, when a most curious instinct comes into play. The larva which has hitherto worked up the branch head- forwards reverses its position and directs its head towards the place of egress. It then moults its skin and becomes a brown chrysalis as shown in Fig. 8. The object of its change of position then immediately becomes obvious, for while the flexible body of the caterpillar could readily reverse its position in the tunnel, yet with the stubborn body of the chrysalis this would have been quite impossible. The chrysalis lies by for some three or four weeks, during which time the moth matures, until some morning when the sun has well warmed the external area of the branch, the moth enclosed in the chrysalis skin is encouraged into active life. Should the moth emerge into the cavity bored by the larva, its wings and soft body would get sadly damaged ; but such does not happen. The chrysalis steadily bores its way through the first barrier, and then works its way down until the closing defence at the entrance is reached, which it likewise pene- trates, and so emerges through the open hole as shown in Figs. 2 and 3. Since the chrysalis is not provided with legs or other limbs, it is somewhat astonishing how it can travel for several inches through the boring. The movement, however, is ex- plained if we examine the empty chrysalis skin which it leaves behind (Fig. 9), for each segment is provided with a row of strong spines, which act as \" climbing irons.\" Fig. 9.—An enlarged view of the empty chrysalis skin, showing that each segment is edged with spines, which serve as \" climbing irons \" to the pupa. Such, then, are a few of the marvellous details revealed by consideration of a simple round hole in a willow stump. Even around the hole we have studied another curious insect life story commences, for each of the raised dots seen on the bark in Figs, i, 2, and 3 was once a living insect, but one which lost its limbs and became sedentary as it sucked away at the juices of the tree. Mean- while, as it in- creased in size, scales of wax oozed from its body and encased it, finally fixing it to the spot, and under which it perished—f irst, however, leaving its batch of eggs, from which its six-legged off- spring will even- tually appear and crawl from

BITS OF LIFE, By O. HENRY. Illustrated by A. K. MacDonald. III. itself a time N a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called \" places.\" These \" places \" make strange angles and curves. One street crosses or two. A certain artist once ~~. • 'THE ART PEOPLE SOOH CAME PKOWLING.\" discovered a valuable possibility in this picturesque street. So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing- dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a \" colony.\" At the top of a squatty, three-storey brick house Sue and Johnsy had their studio. \"Johnsy\" was familiar for Joanna. One was from .Maine, the other from Cali- fornia. They had met at the table d'hote of an Eighth Street \" Delmonico's,\" and found their tastes in Art, chicory, salad, and bishop- sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted. That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy finger. Over on the East Side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims r.

BITS OF LIFE, 7°5 CHAK1MJ-UISH OR TWO FROM SIXTH AVENUE. by scores; but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown \" places.\" Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman, with blood thinned by Cali- fornia zephyrs, was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, look- ing through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house. One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hall with a shaggy grey eyebrow. \" She has one chance in—let us say—ten,\" he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. \" And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of taking the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind ? \" \" She—she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day,\" said Sue. \" Paint ? Bosh ! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking about twice—a man, for instance ? \" \" A man ? \" said Sue, with a jews'-harp twang in her voice. \" Is a man worth— but, no, doctor—there is nothing of the kind.\" \" Well, it is the weakness, then,\" said the doctor. \" I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract fifty per cent, from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak- sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten.\" After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workshop and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered into Johnsy's room with her drawing - board, whistling ragtime. Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bed - clothes, with her face towards the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep. She arranged her board and began a pen- and-ink drawing to illustrate a magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pic- tures for maga-

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \"CRIED A JAPANESK. NAPKIN TO A PULP. \" Twelve,\" she said, and a little later '' eleven \" ; and then \" ten \" and \" nine \" ; and then \" eight \" and \" seven \" almost together. Sue looked solicitously out of the window. What was there to count ? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank \"SHE ARRANGED HER BOARD AND BEGAN A PEN-AND-INK DRAWING.\" side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half-way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crum- bling bricks. \" What is it, dear ? \" asked Sue. \" Six,\" said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. \" They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But' now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.\" \" Five what, dear ? Tell your Sudie.\" \" Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you ? \" \" Oh, I never heard of such nonsense,\" complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. \" What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well ? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl! Don't be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morn- ing that your chances for getting well real soon were—let's see exactly what he said— he said the chances were ten to one ! Why, that's almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so that she can sell it and buy port wine for her sick child and pork-chops for her greedy self.\" \" You needn't get any more wine,\" said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. \" There goes another. No, I don't want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too.\" \" Johnsy, dear,\" said Sue, bending over her, \" will you promise me to keep your eyes closed and not look out of the window until I have done working ? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the blind down.\" \" Couldn't you draw in the other room ? \" asked Johnsy, coldly. \" I'd rather be here by you,\" said Sue.

BITS OF LIFE. 707 \" Besides, I don't want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves.\" \" Tell me as soon as you have finished/' said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying white and still as a fallen statue, \" because I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on every- thing and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves.\" \" Try to sleep,\" said Sue. \" I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit-miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move till I come back.\" Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michel Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in Art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his mistress's robe. He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any- one, and who regarded him- self as especial mastiff-in- waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above. Sue found Behrman smell- ing strongly of juniper ber- ries in his dimly-lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel TELL YOUR SUUIE. that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the master- piece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and OLD BEHKMAN SHOUTKD HIS CONTEMPT AND DERISION FOR SUCH IDIOTIC IMAGININGS.\"

7o8 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker. Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings. \" Is dere people in de world,\" he cried, \" mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine ? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I vill not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der prain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy!\" \"She is very ill and weak,\" said Sue, \" and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behr- man, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn't. But I think you are a horrid old — old flibbertigibbet.\" \" You are just like a woman ! \" yelled Behrman. \" Who said I vill not bose? Goon. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf been trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so good as Miss Yohnsy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece and ve shall all go avay. Gott! Yes.\" Johnsy was sleeping when they went up- stairs. Sue pulled the blind down to the window-sill and motioned Tkhrman into the other room. In there they peered out of the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit-miner on an upturned kettle for a rock. When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes, staring at the drawn green blind. \" Pull it up; I want to see,\" she ordered, in a whisper. Wearily Sue obeyed. But, lo ! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against

BITS OF LIFE. 709 The ivy leaf was still there. Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken-broth over the gas stove. \" I've been a bad girl, Sudie,\" said Johnsy. \" Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and — no; bring me a hand - mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook.\" An hour later .s.he said :— \" Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples.\" The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue made an excuse to go into the hall as he left. \" Even chances,\" said the doctor, taking Sue's thin, shaking hand in his. \" With good nursing you'll win. And now I must see another case I have downstairs. Behrman, his name is—some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital to - day to be made more com- fortable.\" SUE WAS STIRRING HER CHICKEN- BROTH OVER THE GAS STOVE.\" The next day the doctor said to Sue: \" She's out of danger. You've won. Nutri- tion and care now—that's all.\" And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, con- tentedly knitting a very blue and very useless woollen shoulder scarf, and put one arm around her, pillows and all. \" I have something to tell you, white mouse,\" she said. \" Mr. Behr- man died of pneumonia to-day in the hospital. He was only ill two days. The caretaker found him on the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes

PERPLEXITIES. Some Easy Puzzles for Beginners. By Henry E. Dudeney. 140.—THE FORTY-NINE STARS. THE puzzle in this case is simply to take your pencil and, starting from one black star, strike out all the stars in twelve straight strokes, ending at the other black star. It will be seen that the attempt shown in the illustration requires fif- teen strokes. Can you do it in twelve ? Every turning must be made on a star, and the lines must be parallel to the sides and diagonals of the square, as shown. 141.—NEW MEASURING PUZZLE. HERE is a new poser in measuring liquids that will be found interesting. A man has two ten-quart vessels full of wine, and a five-quart and a four-quart measure. He wants to put exactly three quarts into each of the two measures. How is he to do it ? And how many manipulations (pourings from one vessel to another) do you require ? Of course, waste of wine, tilting, and other tricks are not allowed. 142.—THE NEST OF RECTANGLES. Flow many rectangles are contained within this square ? It will be seen that squares of various sizes may be picked out, and rect- angles i by 2, 2 by 3, i by 4, 3 by 5, and so on. How many are there altogether ? There is a very simple rule that will give you the answer for a square of any number of cells. Can you find it ? 143.—CURIOUS NUMBERS. THE number 48 has this peculiarity, that if you add i to it the result is a square number (49, the square of 7), and if you add I to its half, you also get a square number (25, the square of 5). Now, there is no limit to the numbers that have this peculiarity, and it is an interesting puzzle to find three more of them— the smallest possible numbers. What are they ? 144-—A WORD SQUARE. SHE, like some nymph or fi/lh upon the shore, Notes, as she sixths, her footprints in the sand. He sings the song to fourth, and asks her hand. \" First not,\" he says, \" your promise, I implore.\" Her hand she places in the third of his, And all the world seems full of joy and bliss. The rough path of his life is second made. To tell the tale this word-square is essayed. 145.—THE' MINERS' HOLIDAY. SEVEN coal-miners took a holiday at the seaside during the big strike. Six of the party spent exactly half a sovereign each, but Bill Harris was more extrava- gant. Bill spent three shillings more than the average of the party. What was the actual amount of Bill's expenditure ? Solutions to Last Month's Puzzles. 134—ROUND THE COAST. IN order to place words round the circle under the conditions it is necessary to select words in which

A STORY FOR CHILDREN. By E. NESBIT. Illustrated by H. R. Millar. CHAPTER X. THE BOOK PEOPLE. VEN in the midst of war there are intervals for refreshments. Our own soldiers, no matter how fierce, must eat to live, and the same is the case with the submarine regiments. The Crustacean Brigade took ad- vantage of the lull in hostilities which followed the defeat of the Sea Horses to march back to the Palace and have a meal. A very plain meal it was, too, and very different from the \" Banquet of Ovations,\" as Cathy pointed out afterwards. There were no prettily- spread tables decorated with bunches of seaweed, no plates or knives or forks. The food was passed round by hand, and there was one drinking-horn (a sea-cow's horn) to every six soldiers. They all sat on the ground as you do at a picnic, and the Queen came and spoke a few hurried words to them when on her way to strengthen the defences of the golden gate. And, as I said, the food was plain. However, everyone had enough to eat, which was the main thing. Baskets of provisions were sent down to the Lobsters' guardroom.

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" It is important,\" said Princess Maia, \" that our men should be on the spot in case they are needed, and the same with the dinner. I shall go down with the pro- visions and keep their hearts up.\" \" Yes, dear, do,\" said the Princess Freia ; \" but don't do anything rash. No sorties now. You Lobsters are so terribly brave. But you know mother said you weren't to.\" \" I know,\" said Maia. \" Ah, me—war is a terrible thing ! What a state the rivers will get into with all this water going on, and the winds all loose and doing as they like. It's horrible to think about. It will take ages to get things straight again.\" (Her fears were only too well founded. All this happened last year—and you know what a wet summer that was.) \" I know, dear,\" said Freia ; \" but I know now who broke the sky, and it is very, very sorry—so we won't rub it in, will we ? \" \" I didn't mean to,\" said Maia, smiling kindly at the children, and went off to en- courage her Lobsters. \" And now,\" said Francis, when the meal was over, \" what are we going to do next ? \" \" We can't do anything but wait for news,\" said the Princess. \" Our Scouts will let us know soon enough. I only hope the Book People won't attack us at the same time as the Underfolk. That's always the danger.\" \" How could they get in ? \" Mavis asked. \" Through the golden door,\" said the Princess. \" Of course they couldn't do any- thing if we hadn't read the books they're in. That's the worst of Education. We've all read such an awful lot, and that unlocks the books and they can come out if anyone calls them. Even our fish are intolerably well read—except the Porpoises, dear things, who never could read anything. That's why the golden door is guarded by them,of course.\" \" If not having read things is useful,\" said Mavis, \" we've read almost nothing. Couldn't we help guard the door ? \" \" The very thing,\" said the Princess, joyously ; \" for you possess the only weapon that can be used against these people or against the authors who created them. If you can truthfully say to them, ' I never heard of you,' your words become a deadly sword that strikes at their most sensitive spot.\" \" What spot ? \" asked Bernard. And the Princess answered, \" Their vanity.\" So the little party went towards the golden door and found it behind a thick wall of Por- poises. Incessant cries came from beyond the gates, and to every cry they answered like one Porpoise, \" We never heard of you. You can't come in. You can't come in. We never heard of you.\" \" We sha'n't be any good here.\" said Bernard, among the thick, rich voices of the Porpoises. \" They can keep anyone back.\" \" Yes,\" said the Princess; \" but if the Book Folk look through the gate and see that they're only Porpoises their wounded vanity

WET MAGIC. \"lamMontdidier.\" \" I am King John.\" \" I am Caliban.\" \" I am the Giant Blunderbore.\" \" I am the Dragon of Wantley.\" And they all cried, again and again : \" Let us in ! Let me in ! Let me in ! \" The strain of listening for the names and calling out \" I don't know you ! \" when they didn't and saying nothing when they did became almost unbearable. It was like that horrid game with the corners of the hand- kerchief, \"Hold fast\" and \"Let loose,\" and you have to remember to do the opposite. Sooner or later an accident is bound to happen, and the children felt a growing conviction that it would be sooner. \" What will happen if they do get in ? \" Cathy asked a neighbouring Porpoise. \" Can't say, miss, I'm sure,\" it answered. \" But what will you do ? \" \" Obstruct them in the execution of our duty,\" it answered. \" You see, miss, they can't kill; they can only stupefy, and they can't stupefy us,\" 'cause why ? We're that stupid already we can't hold no more. That's why they trust us to defend the golden gate,\" it added, proudly. The babel of voices outside grew louder and thicker, and the task of knowing when to say \" I don't know you,\" and so wound the vanity of the invaders, grew more and more difficult. At last the disaster, fore- seen for some time, with a growing plainness, came upon them. \" I am the Great Seal,\" said a thick, funny voice. \" I don't know you,\" cried Cathy. \" You do—he's in history. James the Second dropped him in the Thames,\" said Francis. \" Yes, you've done it again.\" \" Shut up,\" said Bernard. The last two remarks were made in a deep silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of the Porpoises. The voices behind the golden gate had died down and ceased. The Por- poises massed their heavy bulk close to the door. \" Remember the Porpoises,\" said Francis. \" Don't forget to hold on to a Porpoise.\" Four of these amiable if unintellectual creatures drew away from their companions, and one came to the side of each child. Every eye was fixed on the golden door, and then slowly—very slowly, the door began to open. As it opened it revealed the crowd that stood without—cruel faces, stupid faces, crafty faces, sullen faces, angry faces, not a single face that you ever could Vol. xlv.— 74. wish to see again, except poor Marcus Aurelius's, and his was not a cheerful face at the best. Then slowly, terribly, without words, the close ranks of the Book People advanced. Mrs. Fairchild, Mrs. Markham, and Mrs. Barbauld led the van. Closely following came the Dragon of Wantley, the Minotaur, and the Little Man that Smitham knew. Then

714 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \"THEN SLOWLY, TERRIBLY, WITHOUT WORDS, THK CLOSR RANKS OF THE BOOK PEOPLE ADVANCED.\" his black face eagerly towards them. \" The stu- pidest people can't help knowing some- thing. The Under- folk get in and open the books— at least, they send the Bookworms in to open them. And. of course, they only open the pages where the enemies are quartered.\" -Then 'j said Bernard, look ing at the golden gate, which swung open, its lock hanging broken and useless. \"Yes,\" said Mavis, \" we could, couldn't we ? Open the other books, we mean !\" She appealed to her Porpoise. \" Yes,\" it said, \"perhaps you could. Human children can open books, I believe. Porpoises can't. And Mer people can't open the books in the cave of learning, they have to get them from the public Mer- libraries. I can't help know- i n g t h a t.\" i t added. The Por- poises seemed really ashamed of not being tho- roughly stupid. \"Come on,\" said Francis, \" we'll raise an army to fight these Book people. Here's something we can do that isn't mischief.\" \" You shut up,\"

WET MAGIC. 7*5 said Bernard, and thumping Cathy on the back told her to never mind. They went towards the golden gate. \" I suppose all the nasty people are out of the books by now ? \" Mavis asked her Porpoise, who followed her with the close fidelity of an affectionate dog. \" / don't know,\" it said, with some pride. \" I'm stupid, I am. But I can't help know- ing that no one can come out of books unless they're called. You've just got to tap on the back of the book and call the name and then you open it, and the person comes out. At least, that's what the Bookworms do, and I don't see why you should be different.\" What was different, it soon appeared, was the water in the stream in the cave of learning, which was quite plainly still water in some other sense than that in which what they were in was water. That is, they could not walk in it; they had to swim. The cave seemed dark, but enough light came from the golden gate to enable them to read the titles of the books when they had pulled away the seaweed which covered many of them. They had to hold on to the rocks—which were books—with one hand, and clear away the seaweed with the other. You can guess the sort of books at which they knocked—Kingsley and Shakespeare and Marryat and Dickens, Miss Alcott and Mrs. Ewing, Hans Andersen and Stevenson, and Mayne Reid—and when they had knocked they called the name of the hero whose help they desired, and \" Will you help us,\" they asked, \" to conquer the horrid Book People, and drive them back to cover ? \" And not a hero but said, \" Yes, indeed we will with all our hearts.\" And they climbed down out of the books, and swam up to the golden gate and waited, talking with courage and dignity among themselves, while the children went on knock- ing at the backs of books—which arc books' front doors—and calling out more and more heroes to help in the fight. Quentin Durward and Laurie were the first to come out, then Hereward and Amyas and Will Gary, David Copperfield, Rob Roy, Ivanhoe. Caesar and Anthony, Coriolanus and Othello ; but you can make the list for yourselves. They came forth, all alive and splendid, with valour and the longing to strike once more a blow for the good cause as they had been used to do in their old lives. \" These are enough.\" said Francis, at last. \" We ought to leave some in case we want more help later.\" You see for yourselves what a splendid company it was that swam to the golden gate —there was no other way than swimming, except for Perseus—and awaited the children. And when the children joined them—rather nervous at the thought of the speeches they would have to make to their newly-recruited

7i6 THE STRASD MAGAZINE. a Roman—\" will you do just as you think best ? I would not presume,\" she added. with a kind of proud humility, \" to teach the game of war to Caesar.\" \" O Queen.\" he answered, \" these brave gentlemen and I will drive bark the intruders. but, having driven them back, we must our- selves return through those dark doors which we passed when your young defenders called our names. We will drive back the men—: and by the look of them 'twill be an easy task. But Caesar wars not with women, and the women on our side are few, though each, I doubt not. has the heart of a lioness.\" He turned towards Joan of Arc with a smile, and she gave him back a smile as bright as the sword she carried. \" How many women are there among you ? \" the Queen asked, and Joan answered :— \" Queen Boadicea and Torfrida and I are but three.\" \" But we three,\" cried Torfrida, \" are a match for three hundred of such women as those. Give us but whips instead of swords, and we will drive them like dogs to their cloth-bound kennels.\" \" I'm afraid,\" said the Queen. \" they'd overcome you .by sheer weight. You've no idea how heavy they are.\" And then Kath- leen covered herself with glory by saying, \" Well, but what about Amazons ? \" \" The very thing,\" said Caesar, kindly. \" Would you mind running back ? You'll find them in the third book from the corner where the large purple starfish is ; you can't mistake it.\" The children tore off to the golden gate, rushed through it, and swam to the spot where unmistakably the purple starfish spread its violet rays. They knocked on the book, and Cathy, by previous arrangement, called out:— \" Come out, please, Queen of the Amazons, and bring all your fighting ladies.\" Then out came a very splendid lady in glorious golden armour. \" You'd better get some boats for us,\" she said, standing straight and splendid on a ledge of rock, \" enough to reach from here to the gate, or a bridge. There are all these things in Caesar's books. I'm sure he wouldn't mind your calling them out.\" So Francis called out a bridge, and when it was not long enough to reach the golden gate he called another. And then the Queen called her ladies, and out came a procession, which seemed as though it would never end, of tall and beautiful women armed and equipped for war. They carried bows, and the children noticed that one side of their chests was flatter than the other. And the procession went on and on. passing along the bridge and through the golden gate, till Cathy grew quite dizzy ; and at last Mavis said, \" Oh. your Majesty, do stop them. I'm sure there are heaps, and we shall be too late if we wait for any more.\" So the Queen stopped the procession and

WET MAGIC. 717 1 KACH AMAZON CAUGHT UP ONE OF THE FOE. Aunt Fortune, and the Queen of the Amazons made nothing of picking up Miss Murdstone, heads and all, and carrying her in her arms like a baby. Torfrida's was the hardest task. She had, from the beginning, singled out Alftruda, her old and bitter enemy, and the fight between them was a fierce one, though it was but a battle of looks. Yet before long the fire in Torfrida's great dark eyes seemed to scorch her adversary ; she shrank before it, and shrank and shrank till at last she turned and crept back to her book and went in of her own accord, and Torfrida shut the door. \" But,\" said Mavis, who had followed her, \" don't you live in the same book ? \"

THE STRAND MAGAZINE^ Torfrida smiled. \" Not quite,\" she said. \" That would be impossible. I live in a different edition, vhere only the nice people are alive. In hers it is the nasty ones.\" \" And where is Hereward ? \" Cathy asked, before Mavis could stop her. \" I do love him, don't you ? \" \"Yes,\" said Torfrida, \"I love him. But he is not alive in the book where I live. But he will be—he will be.\" And smiling and sighing, she opened her book and went into it, and the children went slowly back to the Palace. The fight was over, the Book People had gone back into their books, and it was almost as though they had never left them—not quite, for they had seen the faces of the heroes, and the books where these lived could never again now be the same to them. All books, indeed, would now have an interest far above any they had ever held before—for any of these people might be found in any book. You never know. The Princess Freia met them in the Palace courtyard, and clasped their hands and called them the preservers of the country, which was extremely pleasant. She also told them that a slight skirmish had been fought on the Mussel-beds south of the city, and the foe had retreated. \" But Reuben tells me,\" she added—\" that boy is really worth his weight in pearls— that the main body are to attack at mid- night. We must sleep now, to be ready for the call of duty when it comes. Sure you understand your duties ? And the power of your buttons and your antidotes ? I might have time to remind you later. You can sleep in the armoury—you must be awfully tired. You'll- be asleep before you can say John Dory.\" So they lay down on the.seaweed, heaped along one end of the Oysters' armoury, and were instantly asleep. It may have been their natures, or it may have been the influence of the magic coats. But, whatever the cause, it is certain that they lay down without fear, slept without dreams, and awoke without alarm when an Oyster corporal touched their arms and whispered, \" Now ! \" They were wideawake on the instant, and started up, picking their oyster shields from the ground beside them. \" I feel just like a Roman soldier,\" Cathy said. \" Don't you ? \" And the others owned that so far as they knew the feelings of a Roman soldier, those feelings were their own. The shadows of the guardroom were changed and shifted and flung here and there by -the torches carried by the busy Oysters. Phosphorescent fish these were, and gave out a mooney light like that of the pillars in the cave of learning. Outside the Lobster- guarded arch the water showed darkly clear. Large phosphorescent fish were twined round pillars of stone, rather like the fish

PICTURES OF THE YEAR A Word to Business Men. 17 STORIES and ARTICLES The Sort of Woman A Man Likes The Opinions of Well - known Novelists. Can Putting Be Improved By Practice? What Leading Golfers Say. JUNE, 1913. Published monthly by OBOROB NEWNRS. Ltd.. i to ix. Southampton Street, Strand. London, En