The Strand 1912-6 Vol-XLIII № 258 June mich

THE BOY WHO READ K1PL1XG. 653 wield mace. How to do this he didn't know —he only knew that he was face to face with odds innumerable, which he knew that he must overcome. He had heard once that a man could get anything—anything in life—if only he wanted it enough. So he set about assuring himself that he wanted promotion, fixed heart and soul and brain on it, leaned forward, like Rodin's Pcnseur, hugging the single thought. \" I want it—I must get it. By Heaven ! I must, I will ! \" And as he sat there in that frenzy of aspiration which, at certain moments, is the common lot of the normal—which drives the Philistine to deeds and impels the craftsman to create—two men, themselves healthy Philistines, were talking about him in a room close by. \" Then this is the Murcester Bassett, Mr. Hopetown ? The boy you suggested as being suitable for Budley—and who I said was too young ? \" \" Yes, sir,\" the chief inspector nodded. \" I'm getting out Laverock's papers, since you think he's the most—the least unsuitable man. Here is Bassett's record.\" The chief inspector put down a dossier on the table. \" You see he has passed that Institute of Bankers' examination. He is really \"—the chief inspector ventured to air an already much-expressed conviction—:\" he is really a highly capable \" officer—an extremely fine young man. And cricket—a great asset for a place so given over to sport as Budley. Still, since you think \" The general manager swung round upon the chief inspector, whom he was used to call the \" eyes and ears \" of the Bank ; who, with himself, had pulled a feeble corporation—a hotch-potch of little private corporations— into a sound and composite whole. \" He's too young, Hopetown,\" he said, decisively ; \" ever so much too young. And cricket isn't everything—and I can't give it to him, in spite of the dearth of good men. But I'll see him—oh, yes, I'll see him. I'd like to make his acquaintance. His turn will come by and by.\" \" Very good, sir ; I'll call him in to you.\" The chief inspector walked out. The general manager rang the bell. \" Bring in the gentleman who is waiting to see me,\" he said to the porter. And Harry Bassett was ushered in. \" Mr. Bassett, sir.\" \" How do you do ? \" Harry Bassett. coming forward, saw a long, lean, florid, clean-shaven man extend a courteous hand. He took it, shook it; then each looked at the other with long and measuring looks. And Harry Bassett could have sworn that he felt the general manager start. \" Sit down, Mr. Bassett.\" Harry Bassett sat down ; waited for the general manager to begin. But there was silence—uncomfortable, interminable, made endurable only by what Harry Bassett beheld. For the general manager looked less like a

654 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. only half consciously, fell into a Kiplingism in his reply. \" I can offer you the ' Common Touch,' Mr. Gordon. And the ' Common Touch' doesn't grow on trees. If one plays cricket one meets people—all sorts of people, in all sorts of ranks of life. And the ' Common Touch ' brings business, sir ; it's a thing that a branch manager wants. If it's no use to the bank, sir—well, there are other businesses, and I'll take my wares outside.\" It was the mace, full-swung, fierce-falling ;* do—resist favouritism, set merit first, scorn to \" graft \" or \" job.\" But no man—an Englishman least of all men—-can resist advantaging that type which most resembles himself, that type which he understands most thoroughly, which is builded after his own heart. And Harry Bassett and Gordon were built on the self-same model. Mrs. Hussingtree, who had loved Gordon and, tricked by her mothering instinct, had married the consumptive whom she nursed till that consumptive's death—Mrs. Hussing- 1 I WANT A MANAGERSHIP,' HE SAID, BO1.DI.Y—AND LOOKED HIS CHIEF FULL IN THE EYES.\" it was an ultimatum—Harry Bassett meant what he said. And the man who heard him knew it, and looked at him long and hard. He himself had once delivered such an ultimatum ; he had once wanted something high out of reach of him, and had got it because he wanted it enough. And men who delivered such cartels were growing rarer. This challenge pleased, not angered, him ; made him see that Harry Bassett could want things, too. This boy—this man of thirty— was like himself; he compelled sympathy. His cause was good, though Gordon did not know it. He turned the stars in their courses to his aid. A man may—most Englishmen tree had fashioned Harry Bassett after Gordon's mental and moral image; had, having Gordon for ideal, made her prottgt all that which the Gordon she had known had been. So now the sympathy was all-con quering, unconquerable ; Gordon was drawn, won over, to Harry because he understood. He knew only that this boy, as he himself formerly, had the true dynamic force ; that if he, Gordon, did not make use of it others quickly would. And, pulled from his first decision by Harry's personality, by Harry's \" wanting enough,\" he felt now as Richelieu felt towards d'Artagnan—\" I must positively make this fellow mine,\" And he sat staring

THE BOY WHO READ KIPLING. 655 —silent and staring—at this boy who so made him mindful of his own struggle, of his own, and chequered, youth, when he, too, by hard, clean fighting, had burst the barriers, had got what he sought from age. Then at last, still silent, he rang his bell. \" I'm done,\" thought Harry Bassett, and set his teeth and pressed together his lips. \" He's going to have me shown out of the building. By Heaven, that coal business shall succeed !\" And his hands found the sides of his chair, and he half rose from it—to go out. But, even as he hesitated, the chief inspec tor entered, bearded, spectacled, active, all wires. Gordon turned to him, and; speaking, smiled. \" This is Mr. Bassett, of Murcester, Mr. Hopetown. You know each other, I think.\" 1 \" How d'you do ?\" said the chief inspector. \" How d'you do, sir ? \" Harry Bassett rose, shook hands. Gordon—the smile was wider—spoke again. \" You were recommending Mr. Bassett to me, Mr. Hopetown, only a day or two ago.\" \" That is so, Mr. Gordon.\" The chief inspector looked a little surprised. '' And I thought that you over-estimated the importance of his—er—connection, and that he was rather junior—in fact, a trifle young.\" \" Yes, sir. That is, in effect, the rase.\" \" Well, I've changed my views, Mr. Hope- town, as a result of meeting him, and—well, you can carry your original suggestion through.\" \" Certainly, sir.\" The chief inspector looked as if he would speak to Harry Bassett, then deemed it wise to leave the words unsaid. His chief was a strong man, strong enough to own to his mistakes and to revise his decisions ; but the strongest men are always the most human, and it was not well, by congratulating the man about whom Gordon had been mistaken, to underline the fact that the general manager had, in the initial instance, erred. So he turned and went to his room again—just threw at Harry a nod, a kindly smile. Harry Bassett sat still, opposite Gordon, his lips firm-pressed no longer, but quivering like any neurotic. girl's. He had won, he was to be given something—so much at least he knew. But was the something worth having, or was the victory Pyrrhic, and would it be well to accept or to forego ? Then Gordon set his mind at rest. \" Mr. Bassett,\" he said, slowly—and his voice showed the pleasure which he felt so strongly, yet which stayed to him so strange and incomprehensible—\" Mr. Bassett, I am sending you to Budley as manager \" \" As manager ! \" gasped Harry Bassett. \" As manager ! \" he repeated to himself. A wave, a wave of triumph, surged in him, sent his brow and cheeks aflame. Gordon gave him grace a second, then went on with his

65 b THE STRAND MAGAZINE. And then, quoting softly, almost to himself, he began:— \" ' If you can dream and not make dreams your master.' \" He paused, and looked at Harry as who should say, \" Go on ! \" And Harry was not slow to take him up. \" ' If you can think and not make thoughts your aim.' \" \" ' If'\" — it was Gordon's turn again — \" ' If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster.' \" '\"And,\" said Harry, smiling at him. \" ' And treat those two im postors just the same.' \" The general manager looked at Harry Bas- sett for a full half minute, felt himself nearer, closer to this boy than he had been close or near to anyone these ten years. And then, carried away by his liking, he clap ped his new centurion on the shoulder, and picked up his hat. \" We must talk,\" he cried, cheerily. \" We must talk Kip ling together. Come and lunch at my club!\" the hour of battle and in the first great flush of triumph he thinks of himself alone. \"Mary!\" said the general manager, staring at Mrs. Hussingtree. \" Mary—it is— it is I \" \" Yes, 'it's I, Douglas,\" said Mrs. Hussing tree. And she blushed, as only a fair woman can. But she smiled, too—for she saw that •'MARY! SAID THE GENERAL MANAGER, STAKING AT MRS. HUSSINGTREE.'' A minute later two men, in a world of men, went down the corridor and out past the counter towards the teeming street. And they ran full tilt into two other people in the portico over the steps. \" Joyce—Mrs. Hussingtree ! \" cried Harry Bassett. He had forgotten, this half hour,

Hairdressmg as a Fine Art. That the mode of wearing the hair should suit the wearer's type of face-—that is. in brief, the art of hair- dressing. In order to throw light on this subject, we arranged that two ladies of different types should give sittings to some of the best-known London hairdressers, who carried out their own ideas as to what style was best suited to the respective sitters, and gave their reasons for so doing. The results were then photographed, and the photographs, which are reproduced in the following pages, were submitted to a number of well- known artists, who have been good enough to give us their opinions as to which form of hairdressing has proved the most successful. The result cannot fail to be of the greatest personal interest to every woman. M. CALLE, Manager of the Hairdressing Department, Messrs. H. P. Truefitt, Lid., 16, Old BondSlreel, W. I will not go so far as to say that \" artistic hairdressers are born, not made,\" but let me hasten to say at once, therefore, that the arrangement of the hair is a study— not an accident, as it would seem to be regarded by those who have not studied the art of the coiffeur. For example, if a woman is endowed by Nature with a long face—that is to say, a face longer than that of the average woman—there is one golden rule that she must always bear in mind when arranging her hair—namely, to do it as artistically full at the side as possible—always, of course, taking care not to overdo the fullness. Again, the woman with what I think may best be described as \" a round face \" will be wise to keep the fullness of her hair at the side within bounds, and to dress her hair in front as high as she reason ably can, thereby 'add ing that length to her face which she lacks. One more golden rule. The woman with a suggestion of an oval face should, as far as possible, endeavour to preserve that sugges tion of \" ovalness \" by dressing her hair \" ovally.\" You ask me why I selected the particular style coiffure for the illustration (i) on this page. My reply is that, after studying my sub ject's face for some considerable time, I was convinced that the style of coiffure best suited 44' of to her would be a mixture of Grecian, Empire, and Calot \" arrangement,\" for her face is oval—and to the oval face this style of dressing is particularly well suited. Many years' experience has proved to me that, beyond all manner of doubt, a woman may make or mar herself by the manner in which she has her hair dressed. To the average Frenchwoman this remark will surely come more or less as a truism, for your modern Frenchwoman pos

658 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. a broad face. With a countenance of this kind, fullness of the dressing of the hair over the ears, as there depicted, is absolutely essen tial, for the sole and simple reason that the said fullness tones down the broadness of the face, thereby accentuating its suggestion of artistic \" ovalness.\" I would mention, by NOS. 2 AND 3. — TWO CHARMING COIFFURES, BY M. ANDRB HUGO, DESIGNED TO SUIT THE TWO RESPECTIVE TYPES OF BEAUTY. the by, that this particular style of coiffure is equally suitable for either day or evening cos tume. On the other hand, the second subject, No. 5, I remarked, when about to dress her hair, possessed a face somewhat more narrow in proportion than that of my previous client, for which reason I saw at once that her par ticular style of beauty would be rendered all the more beautiful were that narrowness minimized in suggestion. This suggestion I think I may say I succeeded in emphasizing by making the parting of the hair occur slightly on one side, and at the same time dressing it in rather a loose and fluffy manner at the sides. In the dressing of the hair there is no more unpardonable error than to imagine that one given style of coiffure is suited to each and every subject. No; to make the most of her hair a woman should at all times study the contour of her face, and to a smaller extent the length of her neck, for, while it is obviously true that a suggestion of length is advisable in the case of a woman possessed of rather a short neck, it is also equally wise for the woman possessed of a perfect neck—that is to say, a neck erring rather on the side of excessive length than of shortness—to allow NO. 3. that neck to be shown to the best advantage —in other words, not to permit it to be hidden by having her hair dressed too low. My reason for selecting the particular style of head-dress shown in No. 6 lies in the fact that it is peculiarly well suited to the individual features and classic profile of the subject's face. Let me try to explain exactly why this is so. If you take a line from the chin to the extreme tip of the aigrette, you must surely see at once how even is the balance of the effect. Again, take a line to the nape of the neck and you will find still another graceful line from the chin and face, making the whole effect of the shape of the dressing extremely artistic. The negligl wave of the hair is also extremely well suited to the subject's face, in that it gives it a soft undulating instead of a hard line, thus combining to lend to the whole face an ex pression of graceful softness which I think I am justified in considering is \" what every woman wants.\" The Chief Hairdresser, Messrs. Unwin and Albert, Regent Street, W.

HAIRDRESSING AS A FINE ART. 659 not possibly hope to wear this particular style of head-dress and still look their best. Ladies with NOS. 4 AND 5.— THESE ARE THE STYLES EXECUTED BY THE MAISON NICOL AS THEIR IDEAL. thin, classical features can, however, wear a semi-parting effect, and will be wise to do so, for the result of the semi-parting effect will be found thoroughly well suited to the -A CHAKMIM; DKIIUN uv MESSRS. UNWIN A-NP ALBERT. \"geographic nature\" of their features. May I suggest to lady readers of THE STRAND MAGAZINE that if, at all times, they care fully study the contour of their face and - features before finally deciding to select any particular style, they will certainly greatly add to their personal appearance ? M. ROBERT, Proprietor of the Maison Robert, 225, Recent Street, W. You ask me why I selected the particular style of head-dressing shown in photographs Nos. 7 and 8. I rejoice to think that the ques tions are easy to answer—that is to say, from NO. 5. the point of view of one who has ever been taught to regard the dressing of the hair as an art, the acquirement of which calls for a special and thoughtful training. First, let me turn my attention to photograph No. 7. This \" Grseco-Roman \" style I have found is par ticularly becoming to a lady with a \" larger \" type of face than the subject to be described in photograph No. 8. The style, too, serves to show off to the greatest advantage such a subject's well-shaped neck. As far as \" the subject \" of No. 8 is concerned, I selected this style of dressing because my train ing has taught me that it is invariably becoming to a lady with rather a small face, which also suggests \" roundness \" rather than \" thinness.\" The centre parting and the waved bandeau, flat round the face, never {ail to show to advantage the features of such

66o THE STRAND MAGAZINE. a wearer, and, better still, are in artistic keeping with the present style of gown, while, when this style is followed in evening wear, the osprey mount most assuredly adds a pic turesque setting tothis particular style,making it at once distinctive and distinguished. M. HENRI COP1E, William Street, Albert Gate, S.W. The lady's type of feature and colouring shown in No. 9, together with the nature of her hair, indicate a light, loose, and somewhat \" fluffy \" treatment. Any suggestion of hard ness or severity seems inappropriate here. The face calls for softness and simplicity—the fair hair framing, or rather enveloping, it like a cloud, a float- i n g mist. No consciously - ordered decorative scheme is called for; no towering, ela borate com position by the artist - coiffeur; but rather such a treatment as the lady her self would be prompted to adopt natu rally in con- tern plating her charms in the looking - glass. The second type of head (No. 10), more classical in feature and more regular in the pro portions of its facial architecture accord ing to the Greek canons, would demand, if not a repetition, a continuation of these elements in the more severe and care fully-balanced poise of wave and curl and in the closer relation of the outlines of the mass to the harmonious proportions of the face. NO. 7.—A the most artistic and suitable styles of hair- dressing for the two \" sitters \" selected for this interesting experiment by THE STRAND MAGAZINE. If I were bound to reduce my selection to one, my vote would go to No. i, the sitter's wealth of hair at the back striking me as being quite perfectly arranged, although—I do not wish to be hypercritical— there is a hard line over the forehead that strikes me might have been avoided with advantage. Mr. JOHN HASSALL, R.I. In selecting from the various styles of hairdrcssing shown in this article, I find it exceedingly difficult to decide between No. 2 and No. 3. In

SAIRDRESS1NG AS A FINE ART. 661 which it strikes me artificial aid has been employed, and afterwards making my selec tion from others that rely on the dressing of the hair alone for the effect produced. In doing this I am left to decide between Nos. i, 2, and 3, and I find it exceedingly difficult to choose between the second and third of these. On the whole, however, I think that No. 2 is the most effective, showing as it does the natural growth of the hair below the temples, and altogether providing a charming head-dress for the style of face upon which it rests. process of elimination, leaving out all those in to me to illustrate the most suitable style of '• ' .-, .t', .,..\\ ni*$ V\\r\\L~ V\\fir\\n \\\\tinr\\ _*4i-Qct' (f\\f tKo ** cifi«i-Tc ** r»o r t ir-i 11 r» r- 4-in-na SIR JAMES LIN TON, P.R.I. Of the methcds of h a i rdressing shown in this interesting article, I must say at once that the styles tthich make the greatest appeal to me are No. 8. No. 5, No. 2, and No. i. My reason for selectinglhese particular styles lies in the fact that they strike me as being the most artistic and the most generally effective for the contour of the face and features of the \" sitters.\" I have often been struck by head-dress for the \" sitter's \" particular type of face and head. The contour and balance in this style are to be greatly admired. And yet, while selecting No. 5 as what strikes me as the most artistic style of hairdressing shown in these illustrations, I feel bound to say that No. 3 strikes me as being also most artistic on account of its appealing simplicity. The coiffeur would appear to have gained his effect quite naturally and without the ultra-free use of curling-tongs, for which reason the result appeals tJ me strongly, for NO. 8. — M. ROBERT'S COUFURE FOR A LADY OF THE TYPE OF THE SITTER. the difference in a woman's appearance made by really artistic arrangement of the hair from that which is somewhat careless. Badly or unsuitably-dressed hair may easily help to spoil the prettiest face. On the other hand, careful and artistic arrangement of the hair must inevitably serve to add additional charm to the appearance of even \" an ugly duckling \" among women. Mr. HARRINGTON MANN, the distin guished portrait-painter.

66z THE STRAND MAGAZINE. it, it appears to me that the real art of making the most of the hair and \" setting it out \" to the \" best advantage \" is to so arrange it that it suits the general contour of the face. In this respect photographs No. 2, No. 5, and No. 3 strike me as being particularly good. Mr. F. H. TOWNSEND, the well-known black-and-white artist and Art Editor of \"Punch.\" The various styles of dressing the hair NO. 9 shown in this exceedingly interesting article strike me as being of such all-round excellence that I find it a most unenviable duty to have to select one style in particular as making the greatest appeal to me. In the circumstances, how ever, I feel that I must give my vote to photograph No. 2, which strikes me as being particularly well suited in every respect to the type of beauty it has the good fortune to rest upon. As far as the art of dressing the hair is concerned, as a humble admirer of artistic efforts in this respect, it always seems to me that it must be practically impossible to lay down any hard and fast rule, such as, \" Here is a pretty style of head-dress which cannot fail to suit women.\" However pretty and artistic a style may be, there is nothing quite so certain as that it will not suit all women. In fine, a woman's hair, as I understand the art from the standpoint of an outside critic, must at all times be arranged to suit the style of face under consideration. For the sake of example—a fair-haired girl with tip-tilted nose can afford to have her hair arranged in a manner suggesting \" looseness.\" On the other hand, a dark, almost Hebraic type of woman, with hair dark, coarse, and greasy— I, of course, use the words \" coarse \" and \" greasy \" in their best sense—must inevi tably arrange her locks carefully and severely —low down at the back for choice, and drawn in tightly at the sides. As far as \" the average woman\" is concerned, photograph No. 5 strikes me as providing an excellent method for dressing the hair in almost every respect. SIR LUKE FILDES, R.A. Of the pretty illustrations shown in this article, Nos. 2 and 3 make the greatest appeal to me, largely on account of their simplicity. In neither of these illustrations of the art of NOS. 9 AND IO. — M. HENRI COPIE'S COI1'- FURKS FOR THESE TWO TYPES OP BEAUTY. NO. 10. the coiffeur is what can perhaps best be called \" the touch of the hairdresser \" too apparent, and this, so it seems to me, is exactly as it should be, for, although untidiness in any form is abhorrent to me, I must say that I certainly prefer to see hair dressed naturally in preference to in a style which suggests over- elaboration. If it be true that \" a woman's crowning glory is her hair,\" surely it is obvious

Sports of Mugby By ARTHUR MORRISON. Illustrated by Emile Verpilleux. I. R. SAMUEL POTTER, cheese monger and provision mer chant, looked out from his shop-door and surveyed High Street, Mugby, on the morning of the day of Mugby Races with a pleasurable internal thrill, not unqualified by a certain flutter of trepidation ; it was the thrill, in fact, of the unaccustomed plotter, the flutter of the beginner in secret adventure. Mugby Races were a nuisance—that every respectable tradesman in Mugby agreed. True, they were at Mugby Heath, three miles off, with a separate railway-station ; but Mugby itself and all its tradesmen were so very respectable that they felt a contamina tion of rowdiness even three miles off, and, as a matter of fact, the three miles precluded any benefit t» Mughy trade. It was a fool of a distance altogether. Mugby High Street was the picture of tradesmanlikc respectability, and in all Mugby there was no milder pattern of respectability, in appearance, than Mr. Samuel Potter himself; which is as much as to say that there was no milder pattern in the world. For the world contained no duller place than Mugby, where, if dullness were not always respect ability, at any rate respectability was always dullness. Such a pattern was Mr. Potter—in appearance ; and his visible ambitions went not a yard beyond the border of Mugby. But if you could have read the ambitions that were not visible, if you could have plumbed the imaginings of his inmost soul —why, then you would have been surprised, as no doubt you would be if you could similarly penetrate anybody else. Mugby Races always fell on early-closing day, and the Mugby shops closed on that day even a little earlier than usual, to emphasize the general disapproval of the anniversary. This morning Mr. Potter surveyed successively the shop-fronts of Cripps the greengrocer, Hopkins the undertaker, Tubbs the chemist, and Dodson the draper, and wondered vaguely which would be most horrified could he have guessed at the desperate project slumbering in the brain of himself, Potter, the cheesemonger. Mr. Potter's visible ambition spread not a yard beyond High Street, Mugby, as I have said ; but if you could have pierced below the respectable surface and read his inmost mind, you would have found him a terrible fellow—a sportsman, no less. But this secret, interior sportsmanship was wholly platonic—the mere private habit of an imaginative lifetime. From boyhood up, in his secret self-communings, Mr. Potter had pictured himself engaged in phantasmagorial feats of sport : bringing down a brace of grouse on one side and a pheasant and a rabbit on the other, with a clean right-and-left from the same trusty rifle with which he had

664 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. eyes of his fellow-townsmen, but deviously across meadows, with all the horrid joy of a stealthy adventure. Moreover, he was going to bet on a horse. It arose through Bigsby. Bigsby was a commercial traveller in lard, and he looked in on Mr. Potter once a fortnight. Bigsby Potter—when it was certain that neither Mrs. Potter nor the shopman was listening— what was a certainty for the Derby, a dead snip for the Cesarewitch, and a perfect ankle-biter for the City and Suburban. And when, a year ago, he had prophesied a positively inevitable for the Mugby Stakes \"BIGSBY TOI.D MR. TOTTK.R WHAT WAS A CERTAINTV FOR THE HURRY.\" was no sculler or gunner, but a far more desperate character, whose darkling fascina tion grew on Mr. Potter every fortnight. Bigsby knew all about races and the horses running in them ; and, more, he freely com municated his information. He told Mr. itself, and the horse had won, Mr. Potter had become strangely excited. After that he paid special attention to Bigsby's vaticinations. Mostly he found he had forgotten the name of the horse—they were such odd names—as soon as Bigsby had

SPORTS OF MUGBY. 665 left; but two or three times he remembered, and on these rare occasions, stealthily con sulting the sporting column of his daily paper after the race, he ascertained that the traveller had really picked the right horse each time out of any number from a dozen to a score. Mr. Potter began to think the matter over very seriously. He took a stump of pencil, a bill-head, and some rules of arithmetic. A bet of a sovereign on each of the horses whose performances he had verified would have produced a total profit of seventeen pounds ten. Conse quently, one of five pounds on each horse would have brought in eighty-seven pounds ten, and by the same process he perceived that a bet of fifty pounds would have made eight hundred and seventy-five, and one of — but you could go on multiplying to any extent, and the prospect was dazzling. The cheesemongery was all right, in a hum drum sort of way, but nothing like this. Of course there were serious arguments against betting ; all sorts of ruin followed when you lost, and nothing could be less respectable than ruin. But if you only made bets when winning was certain (and Bigsby was astonishing)—why, then, eh ? What could be more profitable and, for that reason, proper ? This was the state of Mr. Potter's cogitations when the time of Mugby Races was coming round again. This time .Bigsby was more positive than ever. In fact, he was rather sorry that the result was so wholly foregone and indisputable ; he would much have pre ferred the credit of picking out the winner from a doubtful field. But as things stood there was only one in it—Magpie, of course. Nothing but a loaded gun, fired straight at the quadruped's head, could prevent Magpie winning the Mugby Stakes by the length of a street. \" It will be simply a sinful throwing away of money,\" said Bigsby, \" not to back Magpie —if you can get on. The nuisance is that everybody knows it, and the price is so short. Evens Magpie, as early as this, in a field of very near twenty—well, you know what that means.\" Mr. Potter didn't know in the least, but he nodded sagaciously, and then glanced nervously along the counter, lest he were overheard. \"I've never laid a bet,\" he said; \"but of course it would be all right when it's quite certain.\" The word \" bet \" left Mr. Potter's lips with Vol. xliii.-45. a strange shock. It seemed not quite a proper word. It had a bold, raffish flavour, and even from the days of his upbringing he had formed the habit of dodging it conversa tionally with the milder substitute \" lay \"— \" I lay we won't come, after all \" ; \" It's upstairs, I'll lay anything,\" and so on. \" Of course it would be all right when it's quite certain,\" said Mr. Potter.

666 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. Uncle Wilkins promised to \" drop down on .them \" unexpectedly at some odd time. But Uncle Wilkins had never come, and even Maria's hope had waned, while to the ardent soul of Mr. Pot ter the indefinite prospect of a surprise visit from his wife's uncle was all too inadequate a supply of excite ment to outlast the years. And so, by revulsion of spirit, Uncle VVilkins's neglect made Samuel Potter a sports man. Thus, in the state of mind produced by all this internal dis- turbance, Mr. Potter looked out on Mugby High Street on the morning of race day. Such was the disgust of the Mugby trades men at the races t'..at the shutters always went up For the place was a footpath over a field between Mugby and the heath. \" Got stuck up at Hockwood and missed the train ; the one I got in only came to \"THERE WAS AN ANIMATED COMPETITION BETWKKN THE SHUTTERS OF CRIPPS THE GREENGROCER AND HOPKINS THE UNDERTAKER, WHICH CRIPPS'S BOY WON BY A BARE SHUTTER.\" a litlle before the regular time on race- day, and somehow to - day they went up sooner than ever. There was an animated competition between the shutters of Cripps the greengrocer and Hopkins the under taker, which Cripps's boy won by a bare shutter. Mr. Potter's shopman got permission to go early to visit his grand mother's grave. Mrs. Potter was already gone to Aunt Hannah's, and nothing remained to hinder the sportsman's departure. II. A QUICK step behind, a cry of \" Ha ! caught you ! \" and a hand fell on Mr. Potter's shoul der. He turned with something like a gasp of horror, but it was only Bigsby. \"Ha!\" cried Bigsby, heartily. \"The Mugby contingent goes a-footback to Mugby Races'. All alone ? \" \" Why, yes,\" answered Potter; \"I should hope so. There's sure not to be anybody else from Mugby.\" He felt shocked, indeed, at the suggestion. \" Why are you here ? \" Mugby, and not a thing on wheels

SPORTS OF MUGBY. 667 We needn't hurry now ; there's half an hour before the Stakes.\" They strolled on easily, and presently reached the open part of the course. Mr. Potter threaded the struggling crowd at the heels of Bigsby, who rescued him twice from betting on a certainty in a game of three cards played on the top of an opened umbrella. Presently they arrived at a row of strikingly- dressed and rather noisy gentlemen, each with his satchel hanging before him. \" Fiver one—there y'are, elevener two Bluestar ! \" shouted the first, aggressively, at Bigsby. \" Magpie,\" answered Bigsby. \" What price ? \" \" Full Magpie,\" replied the shouter, hastily turning to Mr. Potter. \" 'Ere, 'levener two Bluestar or Chadwick ! \" chance. 'Levener two ! 'Levener two, bai one ! \" From number two in the row they went to number three, thence to number four, and so all down the line, with the same result each time. It was no good. There was no betting on this certainty, and the bottom had fallen out of Mr. Potter's new world. The Turf was a disappointment—a gigantic engine of national demoralization. Bigsby stood for a moment at the end of the line and considered. Then he said :— \" You stay just here while I run over to the enclosure ; perhaps I can do it there.\" Mr. Potter took his stand at the end of the line of bookmakers and began to look about him. Presently a man in the crowd, taking a look at him and another at his satchel, came up and said :— //'I ^ \"BIGSBY RESCUED HIM TWICE FROM BETTING ON A CERTAINTY IN A GAME OF THREE CARDS PLAYED ON THE TOP OF AN OPENED UMBRELLA.\" They moved on to the next of the row—a very hoarse man with a Union Jack round his hat. \" 'Leven to two,\" bayed this patriot; \" 'leven to two bar one ! \" \" Bar Magpie ; 'leven to two Chadwick or Bluestar, tenner one anything else.\" -r* \" Evens Magpie ? \" queried Bigsby. \" Odds on Magpie ? \" perseven.-d Bigsrjj \" No Magpie—'ere, give someone else\" \" Do you want to lay ? \" \" Yes.\" said Mr. Potter, eagerly. \" I do— very much.\" \" Magpie ? \" \" Certainly.\" \" Make it evens ? \" \" Yes, evens.\" \" Right—a quid.\" said the man, promptly producing a sovereign and thrusting it into Mr. Potter's hand.

668 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. All Mr. Potter's disgust at the state of the Turf vanished on the spot. This was extraordinary—this touching confidence of a perfect stranger. He hadn't expected it. Not only was this sterling sportsman ready to bet against a certainty, but he recognized the certainty and paid the money over before hand. Never again would Mr. Potter suffer a word against the frequenters of race- meetings. \" Got a ticket ? \" asked the man. \" A ticket ? \" repeated Potter. \" No.\" \" Well, you ain't put it down.\" \" Oh, I sha'n't forget,\" protested Potter ; and then bethought him that some acknow ledgment of this gentleman's confiding faith was only proper. So he dived into his pocket and produced a large card headed \" S. POTTER, CHEESEMONGER AND PROVISION MERCHANT,\" with his address below, and little ornamental remarks, about supplying families and respectfully soliciting orders, scattered round. \" All right.\" said the sportsman, making a note on the back of the card and holding it up. \" Magpie a quid.\" But now Mr. Potter was confronted bv a large, staring man wearing horse-cloth tweeds and waving enormous grey Dundreary whiskers. He had overheard the transaction, and now thrust forward a sovereign of his own with an aggressive drive of an enormous hand. \" Magpie, evens,\" said the apparition ; and at that moment two other bystanders took up the cry and pushed before him with money extended in their hands. Mr. Potter found himself the centre of a small but very eager crowd, who thrust money on him from every side. Bigsby would seem to be a duffer, after all. If he had stayed he might have shared this overwhelming tide of luck. In the midst of it Mr. Potter received a shock ; for he looked in the face of one of his eager customers and saw Cripps the green grocer. Cripps was startled, too; but he handed over his money, a little shamefacedly, and was succeeded, of all marvels, by Dodson the draper ! Dodson stopped, coughed, stuffed his hand back into his pocket, and nodded uneasily ; then he mumbled vaguely about the fine afternoon and turned away. He was trying to look as though he had come that way by accident. 'MR. POTTER FOUND HIMSELF THE CI-NTRE OF A SMALL CROWD,

SPORTS OF MUGBY. 669 Mr. Potter was surprised at the behaviour of his fellow-townsman, and more when he perceived Hopkins, the undertaker, hovering undecidedly at the edge of the crowd. And then there burst through the press, with two half-crowns extended in his hand—his own shopman ! There was a horrid gasp of mutual recogni tion, and the wretched hireling turned tail and ran—no doubt in the direction of his grandmother's grave. And then appeared through the press the amazed face of Bigsby ; and with that there was a shout of \" They're off ! \" and everybody scrambled for a place to see the race. Bigsby shouldered the triumphing Potter aside and demanded, \" What's all this ? What have you been up to ? \" \" Laying,\" replied his friend, jubilantly. \" Quite a lot of people wanted to bet against Magpie, after all.\" \" Laying ! G'law ! Do you know what you've done ? D'you know what laying means 1 \" \" Yes, betting, of course. I've been laying Magpie with all this lot, and they've paid their money in advance.\" WHO THRUST MONEY ON HIM FROM EVBRY SIDE.\" \" My wig, you've done it ! \" gasped Bigsby, his eyes protruding like those of a lobster. \" Laying is betting against, you blithering chump ! Those bookies are layers ! All this crowd have been backing Magpie, and you'll have to pay 'em ! \" Everything inside Mr. Potter from his chin downwards seemed to turn over and fall into bottomless space. He gasped and stammered incoherently, and Bigsby heard what he said better than he heard himself. \" Explain ! \" cried Bigsby, in reply. \" I think I see you explaining to this crowd when they want their money ! Can you pay 'em ? Because you're in the soup if you can't, my hearty ! Halloa ! Now they're off ! \" And he took what space he could get on the side of a hillock to watch. There had been a false start, but now the race was really begun. There was a roar of shouting, and then a clamour of cries. \" Mag pie ! Magpie all the way! He's coming out a'ready ! Magpie ! \" Mr. Potter stared wildly about him. The situation was terrible—desperate ; and he had about two minutes to decide how to meet it. Of course, he would have to pay—but

670 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. how ? The money he had brought with him would be short by forty—fifty—sixty pounds or more. And his nearest resource was the bank at Mugby ! There was nothing else for it. Either he must be torn lo pieces by the infuriated populace or they must wait till he could fetch the money. Now was the only chance; and in fifteen seconds from the start of the race for the Mugby Stakes Mr. Potter was legging it away from the course at the uttermost pace he could tear. For a moment he was unnoticed, for the race drew every eye. Then somebody turned with a shout, and in an instant there was a cry of \" Welsher ! \" from a score of throats. Bigsby turned too, and gasped with horror to see one of his best customers eloping with the money of confiding strangers. The confiding strangers went after Mr. Potter in a crowd. Cripps the greengrocer, gazing on the scene, was surprised and scan dalized, but resolved to call on Potter in the morning rather than interfere. As for Hop kins the undertaker and Dodson the draper, they experienced a virtuous satisfaction. They had not been betting; and they were able to contemplate the utter downfall of their erring townsman with self-approval and no pecuniary loss. Even Mr. Potter's shopman, had the scene been visible from his grandmother's grave, might have found occasion for a little self-righteousness on his own account. But the hunted cheesemonger guessed nothing of this, having urgent business of his own. He scampered madly ahead, with the angry yells of his pursuers ringing in his ears, and saw nothing of the last and only service Bigsby was able to render him. For the man of tallow followed with the crowd, and, selecting what seemed to be the speediest among the pursuers, contrived to blunder against him so that they both came down in a sprawl together. The heavy yellow coat and the flopping satchel sadly incommoded the flying Potter. The coat was buttoned, and he could hardly drop it without stopping ; but the satchel was different. He snatched at the strap and flung it over his head, and the act saved him. For the hungry pursuers, seeing him thus apparently abandon his plunder, flung them selves on the satchel in a struggling heap. In a tornado of snatching, grabbing, and scrambling, the scrummage failed at first to realize that the tumbling sandwiches came from the satchel, and they tore and dragged it this way and that, while the innocent welsher pegged away breathlessly a field and a half off.

SPORTS OF MUGBY. 671 But he did not get wholly clear. He was making his best for a path behind a hedge when he was suddenly aware of a fearful apparition approaching from another part of the course—the staring man in the horse- blanket clothes, who came bounding with appalling strides, and whiskers flickering in the breeze like the wings of an avenging angel, to cut him off. Mr. Potter was leaving the rest, but this ogre was inevitable. His arms swung like sails on a windmill and his legs seemed to take a field in two leaps. \" Two pun'—two pun' ! \" he roared, as he came nearer, shaking a fist like a loaf and spreading a palm like a malt-shovel. Mr. Potter steadied his run and plunged his hand into the mass of coins in his pocket. This debt, at any rate, he could pay on the spot—and he'd got to. \" Two pun'! \" repeated the apparition, seizing Mr. Potter's collar. \" Two pun', yo' gallus thief! \" Mr. Potter never hesitated, but popped the two sovereigns into the malt-shovel as though they were red-hot. And the next instant the loaf hit him in the ear and something else —perhaps it was a foot—lifted him from the rear and dropped him in the ditch by the hedge. fields, with his whiskers flying over his shoul ders. But the misunderstood sportsman wasted no time and took no chances. He put the hedge between himself and the race course, and he started for Mugby at a forlorn trot, the money in heavy lumps jingling in his pockets and mocking him as he went. It seemed clear that this racing and betting was a villainous and unprincipled business, after all. Even a man whose strict morals would only permit of his betting on a certainty was liable to be tripped up by some shameful technicality like this. It was all scandalous. As to Cripps and Hopkins and Dodson, he was grieved and surprised to find them taking part in it; and in regard to that shopman—but there ! It was a weary way to Mugby now, and he hurried and worried every yard of it; for his address was known, and he had a horrid apprehension that the mob would besiege him in his house as soon as the races were over. He emerged at last in the familiar High Street, and then remembered what he should have remembered before. Mugby market-day being Saturday, the little branch bank shut on early-closing afternoon instead. f 'VS^;^, _ -•'. '-A-P-. .',.. ' \"••;'.--. '.•' • ' • \"•:'•' •.'': :,> It was the worst shock he had had since the whisker-man had caught him. But it must not stop him—he would knock up the manager and appeal for help. If he couldn't get at the money he might do something—lend 'HE SNATCHED AT THE STRAP AND FLUNG THE SATCHEL OVER HIS HEAD, AND THE ACT SAVED HIM.\" Mr. Potter uprose breathless and dusted his

672 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. aroused from a nap as to 'be resentful of the disturbance. No, Mr. Kenrick wasn't in. Nor Mrs. Kenrick. Nor not nobody else wasn't in nohow. And no saying when they would be in. Mr. Potter was insistent, desperate. Where was Mr. Kenrick ? Where should he go for him ? The handmaid was unsympathetic. Couldn't say. \" I dunno,\" she said at last, \" but it's my belief he's gone to the races ! \" Mr. Potter's world was crumbling about him. Here was Kenrick, the bank-manager, type of all solid respectability—gone to the world was a worse place than Mr. Potter had ever supposed it—this part, at any rate. He sat down in the shop and gasped his astonishment. The young man sniggered. \" There's lots of 'em gone this year that don't go usually,\" he said. \" It seems there was a certainty for the Mugby Stakes, and that fetched 'em. Haven't you been ? \" he added, pointing suddenly to the field-glasses. Mr. Potter leftTubbs's sad and apprehensive. These things had all taken time, and the after noon was waning. What else could he do ? He would go to his Aunt Hannah's, make a clean breast of the whole business—it would certainly come out to-morrow, anyhow— \"SOMETHING LIFTED HIM FROM THE REAR AND DROPPED HIM IN THE DITCH.\" races ! Cripps, and Hopkins, and Dodson, and now Kenrick ! He turned and made for Tubbs's—the chemist. The only chance now was to get some friend to cash a cheque, or to get several to advance as much as possible till the morning. Tubbs was the most likely. Tubbs's young man. a short youth with a large head, left in charge in case of emergency, looked up from a game of spillikins played with a boxful of matches, and was surprised to be asked for his master. \" He's out/' he said. \" Didn't you know ? \" \" No,\" replied Potter; \" where has he gone ? \" \" Well, he told me not to say, but it won't matter to you. He's gone to the races—in a wagonette.\" Tubbs, too ! And in a wagonette ! The and borrow any money she and Mrs. Potter might have between them. He trudged wearily and reluctantly round to the little villa in the lane by the end of the High Street, and was met at the door by a very- bright and shiny small servant. \" Missis ? \" said the small servant. \" No, she's gone out. Didn't you know ? Her and Mrs. Potter went in a wagonette with Mr. Tubbs and some friends ! \" There was not another illusion left in the world for Mr. Potter—not one. His own wife and—Aunt Hannah ! He turned out into the lane to meditate on the depravity of the age. And behold—the wagonette itself coming down the lane ! He advanced to meet the vehicle as it pulled

SPORTS OF MUGBY. 673 And then suddenly, from the depths of the wagonette, there sprang up like a jack-in- the-box, even to the whiskers, the ogre in horse-blanket tweeds! He sprang up and out, and he made for Mr. Potter with a bounce. Mr. Potter ran round by the horses' heads. What else could he do ? The ogre doubled back, and Mr. Potter dodged the other way. The ogre came with a rush up one side of the equipage, shouting, \" Eh ! Eh ! Coom here ! I'll pay yo!\" And Mr. Potter went with another rush down the opposite side. This was terrible. Everybody stood up in the wagonette and called and chattered unintelligibly. Mr. Potter, on the off-side of the vehicle, saw his aunt's front door open, and made a wild dive toward it under the carriage. The ogre, about to chase him round behind, saw the plunge, and dived to meet it, from the opposite side. Their heads met with a crash, and they sat together in the road-way, locked in each other's arms. Mr. Potter's impulse was to scream for help, but the malt-shovel hand was thrust across his mouth, and the ogre said, whisper ing and thrusting something into his hand, \" Shut oop! shut oop! Here's tha money, and you say nowt o' me bettin', see ? \" And truly the two sove reigns were back in Mr. Potter's hand. He spluttered wildly, and made for the kerb, but found himself gripped by the arm. \" Shut oop, see ? \" re peated the ogre. \" Magpie crossed his legs and was beat. Shut oop about me bettin', now ! \" \" Why, Uncle Wilkins, what are you doing ?\" asked Mrs. Potter, by this time safely on the ground, with Aunt Hannah beside her. \" And you, too, Samuel; what sort of game is this ? \" \" Tooch,\" replied the divine figure from the north, scrambling out'and lifting once more his whiskers to the breeze. \" Tooch. I were always fond o' playing tooch, from a lad. Wasn't we playing tooch ? \" he added fiercely, turning to Mr. Potter as he rose. \" Yes, of course.\" assented Mr. Potter, hastily. \" Capital exercise, touch. I—I felt it would do me good.\" \" But you didn't know Uncle Wilkins, did you ?\" persisted Mrs. Potter. \" He was coming to give us that surprise visit, and went to the Heat(i station by mistake. We met him there, at. the—on the Heath. 'I'd have known him anywhere; but how did you recognize him ? \" \" Oh, I'd know him anywhere, too,\" replied the cheesemonger, his mind being chiefly occupied with the blessed realization that the certainty was a failure and all the money in his pockets was really his own after

Sun, Wind, and Wave. How They May Provide the Power ox tne Future. By ARTHUR T. DOLLING. HE four elements are four mighty giants who are, as yet, but imperfectly tamed and harnessed to do man's bidding. When one reflects upon these stupendous forces of Nature, it seems ridiculous that, after all these centuries, puny flesh and blood, whether of man or beast, should be put to any muscular effort at all in the cause of commerce and industry. The combustion of coal, laboriously drawn from the bowels of the earth by manual labour in order to produce the dynamic force of steam, seems a clumsy ex pedient when billions upon billions of units of power, inherent in the wind and the waves, lie idle upon the surface of the earth, at our very doors. Why are these forces not utilized for the service of industry ? The recent coal strike has set the wits of the world's inventors at work harder than ever to solve this question. Sir William Ramsay declares there is no necessity to mine coal at all. Use the caloric power it furnishes, but leave it in the bosom of the earth, instead of dragging it piecemeal to the surface. In that way earth, the first of the elements, would join hands with fire in producing power, and a million coal - miners would be free for the purposes of agriculture, which, although becoming more and more mechanical, will always require human supervision. By this plan thirty per cent, of the coal energy can be converted into useful work, instead of a meagre fifteen per cent., which, by present methods of coal consumption, is the best efficiency obtain able. I. Sir William Ramsay's scheme of burning coal underground, air or steam being blown down one pipe and gas drawn up the other.

SUN, WIND, AND WAVE. 675 \" There is absolutely nothing,\" says Sir William, \" so far as I can see, to prevent a bore-hole from being put down until the coal stratum is reached, and concentric tubes being used to set the coal on fire (by electricity), and to blow air down to enable the coal to burn as a preliminary operation. When sufficient heat has been engendered, the amount of air sent down might be restricted. Coal with plenty of air gives off carbon di-oxide CO,. When half-burned it gives CO, or what is called Dowson's gas, which is used for gas-engines. If steam were blown in it would give a mixture of hydrogen and carbonic oxide, or water-gas, which also is frequently used for gas-engines. Bring your gas-engines to the mouth of your pit or . bore-hole, and produce your power there.\" ^ The foregoing illustration (i) will make their attention to that wondrous reservoir of heat from which we, in these islands, derive a diluted and strictly limited quantity, but, even as it is, possibly capable of supplying all our wants. Several inventors have devised ingenious solar engines which will boil an egg on a winter's day. But from the cooking of an egg to the running of a factory is a great gulf fixed. Will that gulf ever be bridged ? Yes, if conditions imperatively demand it. If necessary, lenses and instruments of leviathan size could be constructed which would so focus the sun's rays as to produce a hundred times more heat than any solar engine hitherto in use in this country. Some years ago, in the garden of the Tuileries, in Paris, there was witnessed a remarkable experiment with M. Pifri's latest improvements in the solar generator (2). There 2. Pitri's Solar Generator — The tun's rays are concentrated on a central boiler, which drives an ordinary steam-engine. the details of this striking scheme quite easy to understand. This power is to be used to generate elec tricity, and in this form the coal energy can be distributed over hundreds of miles with a further waste that is almost negligible. Thus we may double the life of our coal mines, and, in addition, the smoke problem will have become a thing of the past. But the power yielded by coal is finite— science can already look afield and discern the limits of Britain's coal supply. Earth's oil supply is vaster, but here the problems of production and transportation are very great. Inventors from an early period have turned was set up on this occasion, in the garden near the large reservoir at the foot of the Jeu de Paume stairs, an insolator that measured 3-5 metres in diameter at the opening of the reflector. The steam obtained in the boiler carried by the reflector at its focus was utilized by a small vertical motor of thirty kilogrammetres power, which actuated a Marinoni printing press working off an average of five hundred copies of a newspaper per hour. Solar heat is the basis of the new Funke apparatus (3). It is used to create a current of

676 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. in a broad channel, or flue, situated on the south side of a hill and terminating in a tunnel and chimney. The motor is placed at the entrance to the tunnel, and the channel may be roofed by an absorbent of heat which will give out energy even after sunset. Several new solar engines have lately been patented, and one—that invented by Mr. Shepherd— is now working in Philadelphia. A solar stove seems like going back to barbarism and sun-baked viands, but to The wedge under the apparatus is to keep it inclined, so that the rays of the sun may fall perpendicularly on the boiler, glass being diathermanous to the direct or reflected rays of the sun and non-diathermanous to obscure heat. The rays penetrate the glass and, striking on the vessel, become transformed into obscure heat, when they are retained by the glass. The glass cover over the boiler is made octagonal because, in that form, common window-glass can be used. Of 3. The Funke Apparatus—The sun's heat creates a strong draught up the long flue, which drives a gigantic (an. grill a chop or stew a partridge by the heat of the sun is quite a different matter. The Adams apparatus now in use in India and Egypt consists of a conical reflector made of wood and lined with common silvered sheet glass (4). Inside there is placed a coffin- cylinder-wise vessel enclosed by a glass cover. The cooking vessel is raised about four inches from the bottom, and the glass cover is five inches longer than the vessel and two inches wider, which leaves an interval of four inches of hot air under the boiler, and one inch all round and at the top. course, a glass dome such as is used for covering clocks and statuettes would be better, and equally of course a copper reflector electro-plated with silver would be better than any reflector. Both of these articles are made octagonal in order that cheap material may be employed. The position of the apparatus requires to be changed about every half-hour, to face the sun in its apparent course from east to west. The rations of seven soldiers, consisting of meat and vegetables, were thoroughly cooked by it in two hours in January, the coldest

SUN, WIND, AND WAVE. 077 month of the year in Bombay, and the men declared the food to becooked much better than in the ordinary manner. Several people in Deccan have tried it, and always with success. If the steam be retained the dish is a stew or a boil; if it be allowed to escape the food is baked. It now only remains for Lord Haldane to adapt this contrivance for summer home use amongst the Territo rials. 4. Adams's sun-cooking apparatus, now in active use in India and Egypt. Mr. Frank Shuman, of Philadelphia, has recently completed and tested one of his sun-engines, which is to be used in Egypt for pumping up water. It can lift three thousand gallons of water every minute to a height of thirty-three • feet, when work ing in favour able weather at Philadelphia. In the hotter cli mate of Egypt it will naturally do much more work in the same time. The most im portant feature of a sun-engine is the steam - generator. In the engine which Mr. Shuman has built for Egypt the water- \" boxes \" which catch the rays of the sun to generate steam have each a space of six feet between the tops of their two mirrors, and they are massed together over a space of five thousand square feet. When the mirrors are included the total heat-catching area is about ten thou sand three hundred square feet. least a hundred of the same class — an apparatus for com pressing and ex hausting air by the action of the waves (5). It consists of a tank open at the

678 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. on a very similar principle above a\" pumping device, and actuated by the rise and fall of the waves. The piston-rod of the pump is rigidly and directly secured to the br.ttom of the float, which is guided by framework. Another apparatus, patented by Messrs. Reynolds, utilizes the forward and receding motion of the waves (5). As will be seen from the illustration, the large suspended shutters are set in motion by the action of the tide, and are attached to air-pumps which supply compressed air for use in driving .engines on the land. Most tidal engines are, however, based on the principal of a floating mass, slowly rising and falling with irresistible force and actuating complicated machinery multiplying the velo city of the central axis. The force of the tide is terrific, and there is no doubt that some way of harnessing it for the benefit of man will shortly be found. As to wind-engines, their name is legion, most of them being, of course, variations and amplifications of the familiar windmill, not, however, so familiar in England as it deserves to be. With a surface sufficiently exposed great power is obtainable for operating a dynamo. One cannot help marvelling at electric accumulators. A single windmill at Faversham, of fifteen horse-power, raised, in ten months, twenty-one million gallons of water from a depth of one hundred and nine feet; but American windmills have far exceeded this record of usefulness. These latter have the sails arranged in an annulus or disc, the sails consisting of narrow slats arranged radially, each board inclined at a constant angle of weather. In what are called centrifugal governor mills the slats are set in a bar; by rotating the bar the slats are brought end on to the wind, the action resembling the shutting of an umbrella. The slats are held up to the wind by a weight, and are also connected to a centrifugal governor. If the speed of the governor increases the balls fly out and lift the weight, and at the same time the sails are partially furled. There are five hundred windmill patents in America alone. If a single horse power wind-engine were affixed to the roof of every London house, think of the enormous saving to the hands, the legs, and the backs of half a million housewives and domestic servants. Every family could then keep its horse or at least its horse-power; every householder could afford a motor; and, 6. The Reynolds Tidal Engine—The force of the tides sets in motion the huge shutters, which are attached to air'pumps. the general neglect of this source of industrial energy. They are used for draining purposes in Holland and Norfolk and for mining in several countries. It was Lord Kelvin who first proposed, to utilize them in charging from an artistic standpoint, what a great gain to the eye it would be to see London a city of windmills. Our last example (7) is yet another instance of an invention, due to a writer of fiction,

SUN, WIND, AND WAVE. 679 which may very well in time take its place in practice. It appears, indeed, to be quite as likely as many of the inventions which have actually been tried and found feasible. The writer and inventor is a Frenchman, Octave Beliard, and a translation of his story appeared in our last Christmas Number, but without largest steamer afloat, and heavily laden. The long arm of the lever, more than six hundred feet in length, supported at its extremity an immense tank, of a sufficient capacity to hold some three hundred tons of water. \"•' You see,' said our guide, ' the incoming ••~~T P '\" 7. Bciiur J > scheme lot raising water—As the huge raft sinks of rises with the tide, the receiver on Ine long arm is filled, lifted, and emptied into a lofty reservoir. an illustration such as that which we now give, and which makes its ingenuity very much easier to understand. The following is the description :— \" We were just then rounding a spur of the mountain, and suddenly there appeared before me the most colossal object I have ever beheld. On that side the waves broke on the very flank of the mountain. On the shore, two Cyclopean pillars supported a steel axle twenty feet in diameter, on which turned a gigantic angular lever. This lever, the con struction of which recalled to some extent the framework of the Eiffel Tower, was made up of great steel beams, united by an intricate network of cross-beams and ties. Its smaller arm, relatively rather short, was bolted at its extremity to a great raft floating in the sea—a raft that was ten times larger than the tide, while it causes the raft to rise, raises at the same time the smaller arm of the lever and, consequently, lowers the extremity of the longer arm to sea-level. The tank at once, of course, fills with water. As the tide ebbs again the raft descends, dragging down the smaller arm after it, while the long arm, little by little, rises, until the extremity is at the height of the crater, where the tank tilts and empties its contents. Six hours are occupied in the ascent, six in the descent. As you are aware, there are two tides in the twenty-four hours, so that every day six hundred tons of water, more or less, are raised to the boiler. To set up the machine necessitated an enormous amount of labour, but ever since its erection it has gone on working by itself, and will continue to do so indefinitely, without any attention whatever.' \"

JUDITH LEE. The Experiences of a Lip-Reader. By RICHARD MARSH. Illustrated by J. R. Skelton. X.—The Restaurant Napolitain. NE of my most thrilling adven tures was the result of my desire to look out of as many of life's windows as one may. My friend, Dr. Rodaccini, an Italian physician, practising among his compatriots in London, being aware of my insatiable curi osity, suggested to me that I might find something of interest in a function to which he had been invited. It was a ball given by the restaurant-keepers and waiters who had come from a certain district in Italy, and who associated themselves into a sort of club. Dr. Rodaccini invited me to go with him, and I went. The ball was held in a street off Leicester Square, in a series of good-sized rooms, which I understood were, in the ordinary way, used by theatrical companies for pur poses of rehearsal. The rooms were filled by as cheerful, light-hearted, well-dressed an assembly as one might wish to see. Not long before I had been to Italy on one of those errands which sometimes did take me abroad ; an institute had been established for the oral instruction of the deaf and dumb, and my services had been retained to assist the staff in putting the work on a sound foot ing. I have, as I may have remarked before, what is called the gift of tongues, and I had come back to London knowing Italian almost as well as my mother tongue. The band was playing a waltz. I had noticed all the evening an extremely pretty, fakrhaired girl who had been an object of much attention from the men. When an Italian girl has fair hair she is nearly always worth looking at—this one was lovely. Her partner of the moment was, in his way, almost as good-looking as she was. As I watched them a short, broad, stout man, with a round, bald head and no neck, took the girl's partner by the arm and drew him away from Copyright, 1913, her. The girl's face had been all smiles and gaiety, but at sight of this man she changed countenance, shrank away from her partner, and slunk off towards the other end of the room. Her act was eloquent. The big man drew the younger towards the wall and, going close up to him, whispered in his ear. No doubt his intention was that his words should be private and confidential, but as I had my eyes upon his face, and he had one of the most easily-read mouths I ever saw, what he whispered was plain enough to me. \"It is not enough to warn you ? Good ! You have been warned for the last time. I do not waste words on such as you.\" The big man gave the youngster a con temptuous push which sent him cannoning against an advancing couple, and came, with the little, rapid steps of a short-legged, fat man, towards where I was standing. Just

THE RESTAURANT NAPOLITAIN. 681 He might be ; but somehow I felt that he never would be esteemed by me. I disliked him still more when, a short time afterwards, I saw him walking off with the fair - haired girl, her arm through his, as if she were an unwilling captive. She was not looking very gay then. Her cheeks were white ; fear was in her eyes. The good-look ing youngster with whom she had been dancing stood against the wall as she went past. She never glanred at him—I felt she dare not—but the big man whispered— I saw his words quite distinctly:— \" I will settle with you to-night.\" The young man made as if he would have rushed after the vanishing pair, but he was stopped by some one who touched him on the arm—it was the lady with whom Gaspare had been dancing. She w h i s- pered in her turn, and I saw her words. She spoke the broadest Neapolitan:— \" Are you, then, in such a hurry for the finish ? \" She just whispered her question and went on; and that young man seemed to cling to the wall as if it were a friend. My instinct told me there was more to come, but I did not know that there would be so short an interval between the first and second acts. \"'DOCTOR,' i CRIED, 'WHATS THE MATTER WITH HIM?'\" When I had had enough of the dance I left. Dr. Rodaccini suggested that we should stroll a little before he put me into a cab. I was Vol. xliii.-46. willing. He took me along a street whose name I do not know. Presently we came to a house with an archway which led, it seemed, into some sort of yard. In this archway someone was lying. I saw him first; I

682 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. stooped to see what was wrong. It was the youngster who had danced with the fair- haired girl. He lay on his face, quite still. \" Doctor,\" I cried, \" what's the matter with him ? \" But somehow I knew before I was told—a knife had been driven into his back, and he was dead. The thing made me hot with rage ; it seemed so hideous, so monstrous, so cruel, so out of harmony with all that had gone before—that he should have been struck down and killed almost on the threshold of the ballroom by a. coward who had not even dared to attack him from the front. When others came to render what assistance they might I stole away. The sight of that dead young man recalled Signer Alessandro, of the Restaurant Napolitain ; how he had whis pered that he would settle with him that night. He had ke.pt his promise within a few minutes of its being given—this was the settlement. Now I would settle with him. I had no evidence to take to the police. They would want more evidence than a whisper that I had not heard, but seen. I meant to get that evidence in my own way. I had some idea of the whereabouts of Greek Street—I would find the Restaurant Napoli tain. I had to be directed twice—by a policeman and the driver of a taxicab. At last I came to it. There was the name on the wall at the corner. As I stood there I became conscious that a man was on th2 pavement on the other side of the road. A window opened in the house in front of which he was standing. A woman put her head out. I knew her—she was the woman who had been dancing with Gaspare. Then I knew that the man on the pavement was Gaspare. The electric light shone on the woman's face, so that I saw it as clearly as if it had been the brightest day. She began with a question :— \" Well, is it done—the little business with Emilio ? \" He said something which I could not see, since his back was towards me ; but I could guess what it was from her rejoinder. \" That is fifty pounds in your pocket—and also mine—eh, Gaspare ? \" Then, diverting her attention for a moment from her friend, she saw me. \" Hush ! \" she said. \" There is someone opposite. I will see you to-morrow, at the usual time.\" She withdrew her head, then instantly put it out again. \" Bring the money —my share ! \" Grimly she laughed, and again withdrew. This time the window shut and the blind came down, and the man on the pavement turned and stood and looked at me. Then, with his hands in his coat-pockets, he strolled off down Greek Street. I turned and watched him as he went. He paused under a lamp which, attached to a building, projected over the pavement. He rapped at the door with his knuckles, and was almost instantly admitted.

THE RESTAURANT NAPOLITAIN. 683 pull me along. I was powerless to offer any effectual resistance. I caught at a marble table as we passed. He snatched me away without pausing in his stride. We came to a door, which he opened. We were in a passage with stairs and a light somewhere above. \" I advise you to release me,\" I told him, \" and to be careful what you do. However it may be in Naples, you can't commit murder with impunity here.\" He said nothing, but he caught me in some way by the shoulders, and began to run me up those stairs as if it had been level ground. I am agile, but his agility was amazing. We came to a landing; he swung me round a corner and along a passage. At the end there was a door, through which he thrust me ; having done so, he shut it, and I heard him turn the key. He himself remained outside. It would be futile to attempt to describe my feelings—they were chaotic. For some seconds I stood shaking with rage and gasping for breath. I realized what an idiot I had been in saying nothing to Dr. Rodaccini, to the police, to anyone, before turning out on this mad adventure. No one had a notion where I was. When I again became, in some degree, mistress of myself I tried to think what was the best thing I could do. If I had been a man I should have had matches about me somewhere, and thus have been able to see in what sort of place I was. Being a matchless woman I had to feel. First along the wall. I was in a good-sized room ; I took twelve fairly long steps before I came to a corner which showed I was at the end of it. When I came to the table something caused me to put up my hand. I touched something overhead ; it was the bulb of an electric light. I pursued my investigations, and found what I sought. In an instant the room was lit in a fashion which, after the previous darkness, was almost dazzling. It was a sitting-room. There were two doors ; one which I took to be that through which I had been propelled, and a second, by the fireplace, which perhaps led to an adjoin ing apartment. What 1 took to be the window was guarded by iron shutters, painted white. I sat down on a chair feeling rather bewildered. Soon my courage, which had gone a little at the knees, stood up straight again. Probably, if I stayed there, sooner or later Signer Alessandro would return, and I ought to be prepared to meet him. There was a poker standing up against the fireplace, but I did not fancy that a poker would be of much service against him. I examined the doors—first the one through which I had come. It was as solidly con structed a door as I have met; it would need a great deal of breaking down. Then I went to the other door. There was a small brass bolt on my side. I drew it back —nothing resulted. I got that poker, gripped

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" How do you know that ? The report has only just come in.\" \" A young man named Emilio has been murdered by a man named Gaspare, at the instigation of the Alessandro who owns this restaurant. I can't stop to tell you how I know it, but perhaps you can guess. I was idiot enough to think I could tackle Alessandro single-handed. He has locked me in a room on the first floor of his restaurant.\" A cheery voice came back. \" That's all right. We've had an eye on Signor Alessandro and his Restaurant Napoli- tainforagood long time. I'm obliged to you for putting the game into our hands. We shall probably be with you inside ten minutes.\" They seemed to me to be a pretty long ten minutes. I had no means of knowing how the time was passing. Suddenly I caught the sound of a footstep in the passage without. It was not a very audible footstep, but my ears were wide open. Then I heard someone turning the key in the lock. I had still that poker in my hand, and some thing in the feel of it not only set my courage up but gave me an idea. First of all I switched off the light, then I stood by the side of the door at which it opened, and I held that poker tight; and the moment the door began to open, and I dimly saw the figure of a man with out, I raised that poker above my head and brought it down with all my might. Something had happened to someone— someone who went down on to the floor with quite a thud. I leaped right over him. There, in the passage beyond, was Signor Alessandro ; I knew him—and that time I was on to him before he knew that I was coming. I struck him with the point of that poker in the chest, and I think I hurt him, because he made a curious sound, staggering back without making any effort to seize me as I passed. Seeing a staircase beyond, I made for that. There was a light on the landing at the top ; a passage to the left, one to the right. I chose the one to the'right. There was a door at the end. I did not stop to consider what might be beyond, but I caught hold of the handle and turned it. The door yielded. I found myself in a room with the fair-haired girl whom I had seen dancing with the youngster who was dead. That did startle me. I had been occupied with so many other things that, at least for the time being, I had forgotten her existence. It was a bedroom. A ball dress was thrown over a chair—the dress in which she had been dancing. Her hair was hanging loose over her shoulders; even then I thought what beau tiful hair it was. She was standing in a stoop ing position, with her arms held out as if to ward off a blow. Apparently she had taken me for quite another person, from whom she had reason to fear the worst. Having realized on whom I had intruded, I paid attention first not to the occupant of the room, but to the door. There was no key. \" Where's the key to this door ? \" I asked.

THE RESTAURANT NAPOLITA1N. \" I am the cashier. I have been here nearly a year. I wish I had never come at all. Until lately Emilio was a waiter. He is from the same village from which I come ; we have known each other all our lives. How can I help being fond of him, since he is so kind, so said that I must come home with him. I did not dare to disobey. He threw Emilio out of the restaurant, not yet a fortnight ago, because of something he thought he had discovered—I don't know what. Since then he has been scolding me all the time. Gaspare \" ' WHERE'S TIIK. KEY TO THIS DOOR?' i generous, so tender, and so thoughtful ? And also he is so handsome.\" \" Are you the only woman in the house ? \" \" In general there are two others. We had, all three of us, a holiday until the morning. I was to sleep with my sister, whose husband has a restaurant at Brixton. But when Alessandro saw me dancing with Emilio he told me only the other 'day that if I was not more attentive to Alessandro's wishes, more careful to keep him in a good temper—I know what he meant—he was afraid that something might happen to Emilio.\" \" Who is this man Gaspare ? It is he who is the actual murderer.\" \" Oh, yes, I know ; it is always like that.\"

686 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" Always like that ? What do you mean ? Who is this man ? \" The girl dropped her voice still lower; she glanced round as if fearful that a listener might be hidden in the corner. Clearly the girl, with her susceptible Sicilian temperament, was half out of her mind with fear and grief, and other troubles besides. \" I don't know who you are, or why I tell you; but I feel you may be a friend, and I am so much in need of a friend. I have not one friend in all the world, for even my mother is against me. And now that you say Emilio is dead, it is still worse. I will be revenged on them—I will be revenged ! You ask me who Gaspare is. I will tell you. I care not what they do to me ; since it is he who has killed Emilio, I will tell you. He is of the Mafia—Alessandro is of the Mafia ; all of them are of the Mafia. This house, this Restaurant Napolitain, this is where they meet; I will show you the room in which they have their meetings. Gaspare is just back from America. It is not the first time he has been there, not the first time he has been chased by the police. I know ! They think I don't, but I do. As for Ales sandro, with him it has come to this—he scarcely dares to show his face in the street for fear of the police. They are after him all over Europe, and if they once catch him—rich or poor—ah ! it is all over with him. I know, and he knows I know. It is partly because he knows that he so wishes to make me his wife. He thinks to shut my mouth ; but now that they have killed Emilio I will open it to its widest. I care not what they do to me ! No, no, I care not ! \" I do not remember to .have ever before seen anyone in such a whirlwind of passion. None the less, she had her wits about her. Suddenly, with a gesture, she requested silence. \" There are footsteps on the stairs. Who is it coming ? \" \" There are two of them. Alessandro is .one; I think Gaspare is the other, but I am not sure. Whoever it is, I hit him with this poker.\" \" That is good. I hope you hit him hard. I will hit him hard when I have a chance, I promise you. I also have a knife.\" To my amazement she stooped and whipped a gleaming blade out of her stocking. I fore saw lively times ahead. I did not wish Inspector Ellis to come and find me engaged in a fight to death with understudies for carving-knives. I deemed it desirable to get that knife from the fair-haired damsel. \" Do not use that. Let me have it.\" \" Why should I let you have it ? No, no ; I will keep it for myself. I can use it better than you.\" \" Lucrezia, what have you against the door ? Don't fool ; open at once.\" As she spoke someone without tried the handle. When it was found that the door would not yield a soft voice demanded, in the broadest argot of Naples :—

THE RESTAURANT NAPOLITAIN. 687 There, sure enough, was a door, and it was not locked—it yielded to a turn of the handle. I could not see her, but I felt her arm. Her voice seemed less confident. \" This is the restaurant. I do not know what we can do now. The door into the street is certainly locked and shuttered. I promise you I will use my knife. Have you a knife ? \" \" I want no knife,'' 1 told her, \" nor must you use yours. We shall not improve matters by making bad worse. Besides, the police are coming.\" She stopped suddenly. \" What do you mean by the police are coming ? Who has told them ? \" \" I sent a message to a friend of mine at Scotland Yard—through the telephone.\" \" The telephone ! Then—you have been in that room ? \" \" I don't know what you mean by that room. I have been in a room—a bedroom. Alessandro locked me in a sitting-room. I broke down the door which divided it from the next room, which is a bedroom ; and there was the telephone.\" \" There is only one apartment in the house in which there is a telephone, and that is the one which belongs to the chief of the Mafia. He is there sometimes for days without any one knowing he is in the house—or, I fancy, even in England. There has been history- made in those two rooms. I know it, although I am only a girl. Here's a knife for you.\" She thrust something into my hand, which I refused to take. \" Thank you, I would rather do without it. Inspector Ellis promised that the police should be here within ten minutes. They will be here before any harm can be done to us.\" \" You think so ? We shall see. Gaspare and Alessandro move quickly—they will hide us where the police will never find us. For my part, I have no faith in the police ; they always come a little too late—I know. I have a knife, and I will use it. If you are wise you will take this one and use it also.\" I still refused to take the knife, though there was that, both in her tone and in her words, which grated on my nerves. When, presently, a door at the back opened, I was more than ever disposed to wish that my adventurous spirit had not lured me into the Restaurant Xapolitain. I did not need the girl to tell me what the opening of that door portended ; I knew it for myself; but she did tell me. \" You see now they are coming; we shall soon know which it is to be—us or them. Down behind my desk.\" We were standing behind the sort of counter which served as buffet and caisse combined. She drew me down as the door opened, but I peeped round the corner. Alessandro came in, and behind him Gaspare. I fancied the latter held himself as if he were in pain ; that poker, which I still retained, had not come down for nothing. Alessandro held an electric torch above his head. It

688 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" Be careful how you come.\" This was the girl, who was standing by me, even more excited than I was. She was flourishing a knife in either hand. \" For each of you I have a knife. I will pay you with them for Emilio.\" Acting on Alessandro's advice, they came at us from either side. As Alessandro passed, leaning over the counter, I knocked the torch out of his hand, and in the same instant, turning towards Gaspare, I struck him with the poker a blow which was more than own brother to the first. He staggered back with curses which were deep but not loud. I was past him in a flash. I hesitated whether to make towards the door which I knew led to the staircase ; but he made a grab at me and almost caught my skirt. I rushed across the restaurant among the marble tables. \"Gaspare! Gaspare!\" It was Signer Alessandro's voice, considerably raised. Apparently he was having a little argument with Lucrezia, of which, in the darkness, he was not getting the best. There was a crash —what had happened I did not know; it sounded as if more bottles had fallen to the floor. Then I knew that Lucrezia, following my example, had got past Alessandro and was seeking refuge among the marble tables. Then there was silence, broken by Alessandro's voice :— \" Gaspare, I believe that cat has knifed me in half-a-dozen places ; my fingers are wet with my own blood.\" Then came Gaspare's voice; he seemed angry. I should not like to report his exact language ; your true Sicilian can be vigorous ; but in effect he said :— \" That black-faced friend of yours has struck me for a second time with that poker. I swear to you by all the saints that she shall not strike me again. Give us some light, we can do nothing in this darkness. Where are your switches ? \" Alessandro said something which I could not catch; but I could hear him moving, and presently the whole place was flooded with electric light. \" Can they see these lights outside ? \" asked Gaspare \" Not a glimmer. The door and windows are so constructed that from the street nothing can be seen.\" \" Then to business!\" And Gaspare started to carry out what I presume was his idea of business. There ensued a scene as remarkable, I take it, as any which was ever enacted in a London restaurant. They chased us. those two men. __ In the hand of each was a knife. I daresay Gaspare's was still stained with Emilio's blood. I knew quite well what would happen if he got that knife within reach of me. I also knew that at any moment the police might be knocking at the door. If Inspector Ellis had carried out his undertaking literally they would have been there before. I scouted Lucrezia's idea that they were ahvavs

THE RESTAURANT NAPOL1TA1N. 689 46* I LIFTED THE POKER AND STRUCK HIM AGAIN AND AGAIN.

690 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. the door. The force of their blows shook the building. That door was not easy to break down. In my agony—because Gas pare's knife hurt—I wondered how long they again, but he never had a chance to get home with a good, straight blow. Somehow I managed to break the force of each one before it reached me. But he had cut me all about the neck and shoulders. I was a reek of blood ; I saw it falling on his face and on his hands. If they did not get that door down in a second or two, it would be too late. Then I reeled, and Gaspare got up—I thought it was too late. \" HE SAW A MAN ON HIS KNEES, WITH A KNIFE HELD ABOVE HIS HEAD, AND A WOMAN IMMEDIATELY IN FRONT OF HIM UPON THE FLOOR.\" would take to do it. Those men were like two wild beasts ; if they could kill us first they would care nothing for what might happen to themselves afterwards. That I am still alive to tell the tale is sufficient proof that it was not too late—I have been told by the merest fraction of a second. Inspec tor Ellis informed me that when he and his men suc ceeded in forcing an entrance he saw a man on his knees, with a knife held above his head, and a woman immedi ately in front of him upon the floor; that he rushed forward and caught Gas pare's wTist just as it was in the act of descend ing. When Gas pare turned and saw him, some how he slipped from his hold, stood up straight, buried the knife in his own bosom, and fell down across me—dead. Lucrezia had even a worse time than I had—and I was nearly three weeks in the ward of a hospital. They took Signer Alessandro alive; all the world knows that he expiated his crimes upon the gallows. There are still three marks upon my chest in front which I am told will never pass away, so I am not likely to be without re minders — if any were needed — of my

The Best Dog I Ever Saw. By WELL-KNOWN AUTHORITIES. 0-DAY, according to a well- known member of the Kennel Club, the most popular breeds of dogs are wire-haired terriers, bull-terriers, Scottish terriers. Pekingese, Pomeranians, and Dandie Dinmont terriers, the value of various specimens of which may vary from a few shillings to well over four figures. In order, therefore, to give readers of THE STRAND MAGAZINE an idea of the best possible types of the most fashionable breeds of the day, we have collected the views of various experts on \" The Best Dog I Ever Saw.\" From this standard owners of the various types of dogs mentioned in the article will be able to see at once how near to, or far from, perfection are their own four-legged friends. Mrs. WE AVER, one of the best - known present-day authori ties on the Pekingese. I have frequently noted, by the way, that even with many really enthusiastic dog- lovers the origin of the Pekingese would seem to be more or less unknown, and as the annals of dog-lovers yield nothing more astonishing than the fame that has been achieved during the last ten years by the Pekingese, it may be of interest if I touch briefly on a subject which I have studied deeply for many years past. Pekingese dogs are the product of that palace life in Peking which would seem now to be passing for ever into the limbo of for gotten things, so that the present is surely an appropriate time for touching briefly on the history and character of the dog which has leapt into favour in the past few years in an extra ordinarily meteoric manner. CHAMPION CHU-F.RH OF ALDERBOURNE. The two most perfect specimens of Pekingese dogs that I have ever seen, and of which photographs are given in this article, are Champion Chu-erh of Alderbourne, who has won a list of championships far too] numerous to mention, and who has been since his puppy- hood the property of Mrs. Ashton Cross, and his contemporary—in other words, his litter- brother—Sutherland Ouen ten Tang, both of whom, I am proud to say, I had the good fortune to breed. AN IDEAL PEKINGESE. Selected by Mrs. Weaver. From a Pkotoyraiili by T. tttlt.

692 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. Hay. Admiral Oliver Jones (then Captain) brought home one further dog, and a pair were secured by another officer, from which was bred a puppy that lived in England for nearly seventeen years. From these eight priceless creatures were bred all the Pekingese that England could boast of for another generation, and, re maining in few hands, they continued com paratively unknown. At length, however, a few were obtained from the palace by methods into which it would be impertinent to inquire, but it seems clear that they had begun life as the personal pets of the late Dowager - Em press, known as \"Old Buddha.\" How jealously watched they were is shown by the fact that at the later siege of Peking, when the foreign Embassies were in such great danger and were believed even to have fallen, the palace dogs were removed in the first palankeen which departed for Sin-gan-fu as the foreigners entered the Forbidden City. Those who only know the Pekingese from a \" hearsay point of view \" are apt to imagine him as a lapdog of no character, and as a yapping little beast to be scorned of masculine mind. This \" character study \" is, however, very inaccurate. The Pekingese is at all times a person of dignity, albeit he is small, and even centuries of luxurious upbringing in palace precincts have not destroyed the sporting instincts or warped an affec tionate nature; for, in his own way, the Pekingese is quite \" a mighty hunter,\" and, in a game country, is apt to give his owner no small anxiety. SUTHERLAND OUEN TEN T'ANG. ANOTHER IDEAL PEKINGESE. Selected by Mrs. Weaver. from a Photograph. What are the characteristics of a breed which took so lofty a place in the affec tions of the Imperial family of China ? They cannot be described better than in the words of the redoubtable old Empress herself :— \" Let the Lion Dog be small ; let it wear the swelling cape of dignity round its neck; let its face be black; let the forehead be straight and low, like unto the brow of an Imperial

\"THE BEST DOG I EVER SAW.\" 693 \" Scottie \" is as good a terrier as can be bred, and, as he is a remarkably healthy and hardy fellow, those who extend to him their patron age are saved a deal of anxiety. As a pet, in my humble opinion there is no dog to equal the Scottish terrier. He is as sensible as many human beings—and probably more sensible than most—he is also intensely companion able, and an excellent house-dog. As a sportsman, too, he is a fine all-round chap. A reliable dog with the gun, he is a first-rate performer in driving rabbits out of the hedge, and will \" bolt \" a fox as well as any dog in the world. Indeed, the grandam of Laindon Locket was frequently used by the Essex Union Hunt for this purpose. Now to come down to his personal qualities. My own experience proves to me that the Scottish terrier, although rather \" terse \" in manner with strangers, is, never theless, on the whole, a particu larly good-tempered dog, who possesses one quality of in estimable value as a friend. When once he has given his friendship to his master or mistress he will remain faith ful for life, for all the cajoling in the world will not help in the least to per suade him to trans fer his affections elsewhere. of good looks to boast of, and with not a friend in the world to sympathize with his \" ugly-duckliness,\" down to the — I say \" down \" advisedly, because the other fellow is always \" up,\" and, therefore, needs no idle praise — most valuable show-dog that ever carried off a championship, I may, perhaps, be allowed to include a note of pathos into these few lines by telling a little story of an old favourite of mine. Once I lost two of my Scotties for three days, when, by chance, walking along the bank of an old sunk lane, filled with bushes and used as a rabbit-warren, I heard a faint bark under my feet. After a vigorous dig both terriers were unearthed, rather weak, of course, but otherwise none the worse for their imprisonment. They had gone to ground in a rabbit burrow, and scratched so much earth behind them that CHAMPION LAl.NDON LOCKET. AN IDEAL SCOTCH TERRIER. Selected by Mr. H. R. B. Tweed. Those readers of THE STRAND MAGAZINE who may be thinking of \" taking up \" Scottish terriers either for show, sport, or sale may, perhaps, here be interested to learn what should be the general appearance of a member



\"THE BEST DOG 1 EVER SAW.\" 695 However, although I have devoted a good deal of time to the breeding of Pomera nians for show purposes, I feel bound to say that the Pom is equally interesting when judged from a purely \"pet dog\" standpoint. Some people, I am well aware, are prone to declare that he is apt tobe uncertain in temper. My own view on this question is certainly not in accord with this criticism, for although to strangers the Pomeranian may be a trifle uncertain at times, this fault —if fault it can be described — is merely the outcome fidelity he feels towards mistress. In other words, I am convinced that any irregularity in temper is merely the result of loyalty on his part, and not an example of offensive ill-humour. CHAMPION SABI.E ATOM. AN IDEAL POMERANIAN. Selected by Mr. Stanley Mappin. From a Photograph by T. Fall. of the intense his master or Still another unjust stigma under which Pomeranians are clouded by those who have had little experience of the breed is that they are extremely delicate. This, however, my own experience has taught me is certainly not the case so long as they are not unnecessarily pampered. On the whole, the Pomeranian is a thoroughly healthy dog, always providing he is treated on sound, common-sense lines ; but, as with human beings so with dogs, the result of foolish mollycoddling is almost bound to be injurious to the health. In conclusion, I should like to say that, as a friend, the Pome ranian has cer tainly more than his fair share of good qualities to recommend him. Very obedient, teachable, and very tractable, he will be found an excellent guard to property, for he is very watch ful and jealous of the personal pro perty of those to whom he belongs, and thus, although he can not fight — or perhaps I should say if he attempts to

696 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. perfect dog as regards his body, but, to me, it always seems that he has not sufficient length and strength of face. Before reverting to the personal qualities of the bull-terrier I feel, in honour bound, that I must make mention of Hampstead Heathen, owned by Mr. Gannoway, for there is very little doubt that this terrier would have swept the board had it not been for a mark on his back, which,*according to ruling, dis qualifies a dog. A dog can be marked on the head but not on the body, and many famous dogs have, in consequence, been disqualified for this reason. To touch on the \" human \" qualities of the bull-terrier is to me a very pleasant task, for, in my own humble opinion, a well - trained bull-terrier is one of the most poli shed gentlemen in the world. Like his coat, he is thoroughly \" white,\" and it is only fit that the games t, bravest, most loyal, and one of the most intelli gent dogs of the whole animal world should be from stem to stern a true-born Britisher. Bill Sikes and the fighting fraternity, however, have not helped him to popularity, and thus, so far as the bull- terrier is concerned, he affords a striking and unfortunate example of the truth of the old adage, \" Give a dog a bad name,\" etc. AN against the bull-terrier is his pluck. And, after all, is not this only what one should expect from the British gentleman of the dog world with a certain amount of dignity and with his honour at stake ? And now let me try to summarize some of the sterling qualities of the bull-terrier. As a guard and personal companion he is second to none. He is an ideal house-dog, on account of his short coat and perfect manners in the house — when well trained •— and he is, moreover, of a particularly quiet and affectionate disposition. He is CHAMPION WHITE NOEL. IDEAL BULL-TERRIER'S BODY. Selected by Count llollender. >Vom a But let anybody take up any book on the dog, and, although all the competent autho rities are agreed that the bull-terrier will fight

\"THE BEST DOG I EVER SAW\" 697 a particularly lovable companion. To all outward appearances they are quiet, docile, and even \" soft,\" for they will run away to avoid other dogs, while seldom or never will they leave the heel. They seem, too, to possess all the wonderful instinct of a good mother, where guarding or protecting their mistress is concerned. Head : The head should be long, flat, and wide between the ears, tapering to the nose, without cheek muscles. There should lie a slight indentation down the face, without a \"stop\" bet ween ihe eyes. The jaws should lie long and very powerful, with a large black nose and open nostrils. Eyes small and very black, almond shape preferred The lips should meet as lightly as possible, without a fold. The leeth should be regular in shape, and should meet exactly ; any deviation, such as \" pig-jaw\" or being \" under hung,'' is a great fault. I have known three so-called \" soft \" females who never had a fight in their lives and who would run away from dogs to avoid a quarrel, and yet, in their own humble way, each was as game as the proverbial pebble when necessity arose. Thus, one, as Mr. Ralph Hodgson, the well-known poel and expert on bull-terriers, will tell you, saved her master's life by clinging to a. bear's throat, and afterwards, on escaping, came back unscathed. Another was the famous Delphinium, who saved a child's life from the water and. on bringing her charge safely to dry land, at once trotted back to fetch the nurse. The third I have in my memory killed a tramp dog because his master was burgling a house, and, despite being terribly beaten about by the tramp, pinned him and held on to him until the police came up, when she literally fainted from her efforts. All these females, I would mention, had the reputation of being cowards, or, rather, \" soft,\" and for the benefit of those of a sceptical turn of mind I would also lay stress on the fact that every one of these stones is unimpeachahly authentic. Touching on the bravery of female bull- terriers reminds me that I once had one who. although at ordinary times extremely nervous of entering the water, nevertheless, when only eight months old, dived off a six- foot plank to save my life—as she thought— when 1 was swimming one day. Yes, in every respect the bull-terrier is a great fellow, and in his courage and devotion there is something almost heroic. Those who b.ise their opinions on hearsay are apt to regard him as a dog so quarrelsome as to be almost a bully. As a matter of actual fact, however, such is not the case at all, and as one who has had no better friends in life than various bull-terriers, several of whom are still with me, and others of whom, un fortunately, have been knocked out by Time. I have always tried to fight for the rights of the bull - terrier as a veritable \"Colonel Newcome\" among gentlemen as I would fight for my own if necessary. In giving the following description of the

698 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. govern, or ought to govern, the decisions of a quarrel, then he is implacable, and nothing judges to-day. It should be added that, in framing those definitions, the originators had the benefit of all the highest expert advice available at that time as to the working and ether qualities of this business little terrier. Nor was this important duty done hurriedly, for it took the committee who dealt with the matter the greater part of eleven months of almost continuous labour to lick the standard of points into its final shape. but the death of his enemy—or his own—will' terminate the feud. His sense of right and wrong is of the nicest; he is never guilty of anything petty or mean ; and—he never forgets. He is a splendid house-dog, one of the understanding kind, who can readily dis criminate between the friend of the family and the vender of cyclopaedias or sewing- machines, and on a word or sign will enjoy Champion Alpin Slitrig is a mustard, putting undesirables to flight. His master's exceptionally low to ground yet sound, with a good length of body, well arched and evenly wanted, whilst his weight — an ounce within twenty - two pounds—stamps him as the ideal Dandie. Further, he is full of Dandie character and idiosyncrasies so essential and yet so difficult to define or describe. thought he reads like a book ; he anticipates his every wish ; he shares his joys and sorrows. balanced on correct legs; his head is perfect, There is no other dog so easily house-trained, his carriage and deportment just what is most and he is a most particular little gentleman, His appearance is quaint and taking, different quite from that of any other kind of breed. His short legs, long body, mas sive head, gay tail- carriage, and jaunty air make up a most fascinating, com manding personality. In colour he may be either mustard or pep per, and in either case the hair on the top of his head, or topknot as it is called, should be profuse, white, and silky. He is a first- rate water-dog, can kill with the best, The Dandie is in deed a dog of long descent; his traditions go back far beyond the days when Sir Walter Scott, in \" Guy Man- nering,\" made him famous a hundred years ago. Then he

TheM esmeric Lad By FLORENCE WARDEN. Illustrated by T. Peddie. \\LLOA, Broughton, you are a swell ! \" cried Dr. Webley, one Sunday afternoon at Scarborough, in the middle of August, as he came fac-e to face with an old fellow- student of his at one of the big London hospitals. \" A change for the better, eh ? \" chuckled Dr. Broughton, a good-looking young fellow of two or three and thirty, as he stepped out of a smart motor-car which was standing in front of one of the best hotels and shook hands with his old friend. When they last met, three years before, Broughton, unable to afford to buy a practice, had been practically starving in London. \" Awfully glad, old chap. How did it come about ? \" asked Webley. \" I—married,\" explained Broughton, with a satisfied smile. \" Oh, I see. Married money ? \" Broughton smiled still more and nodded. \" And what are you doing ? \" \" Oh,\" replied Dr. Webley, \" I'm taking a practice up in Lancashire. Big population. It ought to be all right.\" Dr. Broughton shook his head. \" 1 don't know about that,\" said he. \" Those teeming millions are no good to a doctor. They go to quacks, to whom they pay sixpence for a bo.tie of coloured water and a bread pill. Come and dine with us this evening. I want to introduce you to my wife.\" But Dr. Webley excused himself, knowing that \" money,\" when you have married it, has a habit of growing exceedingly unattrac tive. This meeting and this warning went right out of his mind until, having taken up the Lancashire practice and found it very dis appointing, he was suddenly reminded of Broughton's words when, as he crossed the market-place one autumn evening, he- found himself wedged in the middle of an excited crowd, all pushing and squeezing to get to a Lirge tent rigged up in a corner, in front of which a brass band was playing. He had already had thrust into his hand a flaring handbill which informed him that the MESMERIC LADY (in large capitals and followed by six notes of exclamation) was in the town for that night only, and would give advice to all sufferers \" while under the influ ence of a mesmeric trance.1' Advice only, half a crown ; advice and medicine, five shillings. Dr. Webley was indignant. Out of curi osity he went inside the tent with the rest of the struggling crowd, and found that the stream waiting for treatment, and all ready with their crowns and half-crowns, vastly exceeded in number the patients that a whole month brought to avail themselves of his own

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. silk veil, and describe his or her \" symptoms \" in a low voice, which was supposed to reach the Mesmeric Lady by means of a brass- mounted bell at the other end of the tube, conspicuously bound to her right ear by gold cords passed round her head and chin. wrote a number on the paper, which he then gave to the \" patient \" in exchange for his money, and directed him to go down by the one staircase while he beckoned to the next sufferer to come up by the other. When Dr. Webley reached the tent the 'THE MESMKKIC LADY, WITHOUT OPENING HER KYES, SCRAWLED SOMETHING Ul'ON A 1'AI'liR ON THE LITTLE GILT TABLE IN FRONT OF HER.\" Each person was warned to be brief, and, on being jogged at the elbow by the man in velveteen as a warning that time was up, dropped the speaking-tube or had it taken away from him, while the Mesmeric Lady, without opening her eyes, scrawled something upon a paper on the little gilt table in front of her. Then the man in red advanced to the table, five-shilling patients were being treated, and they were to come round to the tent at an hour appointed to receive their medicine on giving their number. To his rage and disgust, he reckoned up the takings during one half-hour, and found that the amount exceeded five pounds. Then came a batch of half-crown patients, who brought money in at a rate even faster,

THE MESMERIC LADY. 701 since each sat no more than a minute, and was not accorded the privilege of having his pulse felt. The doctor was amazed at the credulity which allowed these swarms of invalids, real and imaginary, to he satisfied when they got for their hard-earned silver nothing hut two written lines of advice, with which, however, all appeared perfectly content. At last his anger got the better of his pru dence, and he broke out, to a sturdy-looking Lancashire man of forty or so who s'ood beside him in the crush, into invecuves against the folly of the crowd, the inaction of the police, and the obviously fraudulent nature of the whole affair. \" Nay, nay, mister,\" said the man. good- humouredly, \" it can't be fraud, seein' t' lady does us good. I've been treated myself by her a twelvemonth coom Christmas, and no doctor never did me half the good as what she did. And so, says I, fraud or no fraud, it's all one to me, and when there's aught amiss with me I waits till t' lady cooms again to t' market-place, and away goes my half-crown.\" But all his neighbours did not take the doctor's expostulations so good-humourtdly; and when a group of rough lads recognized him, and tried to shout down his protest against the proceedings, there arose a jeering chorus around him. someone knocked his hat off, and he would have stood a chance of some rough handling if the young man in the red velveteen and spangles had not yelled out a hoarse threat to turn the lights out. and hushed the tumult with promptitude which spoke of experience. His nearest neighbours, however, still con tinued to gibe at the doctor, though without any renewed attempt at violence. \" A fine one to talk of poisons ! \" cried one lad, in answer to an injudicious remark of Dr. VVebley's about quacks and the harm they may do in their ignorance. •' I'll warrant, doctor, you'd like for to poison t' lot of us, for coomin' to t' lady instead o' coomin' to you ! \" \" And if 'twas poison what t' lady give us, why aren't we all dead ? I'd like for to hear him answer me that,\" said another. The doctor thought it wiser to say no more, and presently the crowd shifted, and he found himself surrounded by fresh groups. By and by, braving the gibes of those who might recognize him. he mounted the platform himself and took his place in the patients' chair as one of a five-shilling batch. Thrusting his hand through the hole in the white silk veil pointed out to him by the man in red, Dr. Webley felt his wrist held with a grasp which convinced him that, whatever might be the limitations to her medical know ledge, the Mesmeric Lady had felt enough pulses in her time to know the way to do it. He proceeded to describe his symptoms through the speaking-tube in the following manner :— \"J suffer from blood to the head and a

702 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. as he would have given himself, Dr. Webley became convinced that the Mesmeric Lady and her accomplices had, by some means or other, become possessed of the rudiments of a medical education, or at least that they had mastered the contents of a work dealing with a certain number of common ailments. And it occurred to him as possible that one at least of the confederates, of whom ttiere were probably several, misiht turn out to be a chemist's assistant. But these facts did not diminish his disgust that these crowds of fools should he ready, under the influence of a brass band and brightly-lighted tent and a little- childish mummery, to give their half-crowns and crowns for commonplace advice given in cir* cumstances of uncomfortable publicity and with too much haste to be anything but superficial, when they would not, for an even smaller fee, put themselves into the hands of a highly-qualified man who could examine and advise them at leisure. He went out of the tent, and hung about until the clock of the town hall struck the half-hour after eleven, when the man in red shouted that the lady's trance was over, and that the people must \" clear out.\" They obeyed like a flock of sheep, the more readily that the man in red velveteen began to turn the lights out. Ten minutes later those persons whose numbered tickets entitled them to medicine were filing in and out of a smaller tent where a perspiring man in a cloth cap and shirt sleeves was handing out bottles, ready corked and labelled, as fast as he could. The doctor was much interested to know what would be prescribed for his ailment. And once again his sense of humour almost got the better of his annoyance when he had handed out to him, not medicine, but a small bottle of Bass's bitter ale. Nevertheless he smothered his feelings of hilarity, as before, and waited until the crowd had melted away and the tents were deserted by all but the two men in charge. Then he sauntered towards the living van, a brightly-painted affair, which stood at a short distance from the tents. As he approached, taking care to do so under cover of an empty stall, he saw that a woman was sitting on the s'.eps of the vehicle, and in spite of the fact that she had divested herself of her fantastic finery and was wearing a long rug coat and a close motor-hood, he had no difficulty in recognizing the handsome young woman before him as the Mesmeric Lady of an hour before. He walked suddenly out of the shadow into the light cast by the little lamp that hung outside the carriage, and the woman uttered a scream. \" Don't be alarmed, pray, madam,'1 said Dr. Webley, in a dry tone. \" You are, I believe, the lady who prescribes for patients suffering from all kinds of ailments ; and, as I am a medical man myself, I shall be glad