Chatterbox, 1905 Part 83

The china manufactory is old-fashioned, but very interesting. The potter's wheel is still used there, and it is wonderful to see the ease and quickness with which a lump of clay is made into a cup, a saucer, a vase, or any other article you may ask for. After it is taken off the wheel, it is dipped into liquid glaze, then ornamented with some design transferred from coloured paper, and finally fired in the furnace.

Most people who visit the Italian lakes go on to Milan, a very important, busy town. On the way you pa.s.s through large tracts of country covered with maize and rice fields. The maize grows to an enormous height, and the rice is watered artificially by tiny streams, which may be seen trickling through the fields in all directions.

ELAINE CARRUTHERS.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Peep at Northern Italy.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The sailor-pupil climbed into the car."]

CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.

VII.--BALLOONS AT THE SIEGE OF PARIS IN 1870.

Towards the close of the war between France and Germany, in 1870, the German troops lay so closely round the walls and fortifications of Paris that all communication with the outside world was cut off. No letters could be sent to friends, and no letters from friends could be received, for, once outside the walls of the town, they would surely fall into the hands of the enemy. But the post office was anxious to continue doing its duty, and the Government felt bound to find some means for sending out and receiving official dispatches. The only way to accomplish this was by the use of balloons. Paris had always been very busy with balloons, but, when inquiries were made, it was found that there were not more than six in all the city, and these were far too old and worn out to use. Balloons must, therefore, be made, said the authorities, and two gentlemen, named G.o.dard and Yon, were requested to begin the work at once. As railway stations were not wanted for trains in Paris at that particular time, the two largest were chosen in which to build balloons.

Henceforth their 'trains' would journey silently through the sky instead of noisily over the iron roads.

Needles and cotton and calico were all carried in large quant.i.ties to the Gare du Nord and the Gare d'Orleans (as the two stations are called), and in less than four months sixty balloons were built and dispatched.

Some people in Paris, however, were so anxious to try the experiment that they could not wait for the new balloons, but used an old one, called the 'Neptune,' and M. Durnof, a daring aeronaut, made a flying dash in it out of Paris. Those who witnessed his adventure say that the old Neptune bounded almost straight up into the air, and fell beyond the enemy's camp in much the same manner. It was as though a large cannon ball had been fired (only very slowly) from the streets of Paris.

The successful path of the Neptune was soon followed. M. Gambetta, the great statesman, stepped into the car of the 'Armand Barbes' on the morning of October 7th, and, after many narrow escapes from the enemy's guns, landed safely among friends. Three days later a pretty grey-feathered pigeon settled in Paris, bringing in one of its quills the story of his journey.

But among the many wonderful ascents made in that terrible time, none is more interesting than that of M. Janssen, a great astronomer, who went to Algeria to see an eclipse of the sun. Certain learned societies in France, very anxious that the progress of science should not be delayed by this unhappy war, were delighted to find him willing to undertake the dangerous journey. England offered to obtain a safe-conduct for him through the Prussian camp, but the astronomer said: 'No, thank you. I do not wish to be under any obligation to the enemy.'

So, packing his telescope and other instruments with very great care, he carried them to the Gare d'Orleans on the morning of the 2nd December (three weeks before the eclipse would take place), and, settling himself in the car of his white balloon, the 'Volta,' gave orders for the anchor to be weighed. At that time in the morning it was quite dark, and, ere daylight was an hour old, he and his companion (a young sailor) had come to earth again by the mouth of the Loire. They had travelled nearly three hundred miles in a little more than three hours. A swifter journey has hardly ever been made. It is disappointing to learn that, after such a daring exploit, M. Janssen reached his destination only to find dense clouds covering the Algerian sky at the moment the eclipse took place.

The frequency with which balloons left Paris soon made it necessary to increase the number of aeronauts, for those who departed were, of course, unable to return. As the professional men became fewer, it was found that the best to take their places were sailors. But, that they might first have lessons in the art, a car was suspended from the roof of the factory, and into this the sailor-pupil climbed. He soon learned how to cry out, 'Let go all!' Then, after throwing out the ballast, pulling the valve-rope, and dropping the anchor, he was ready, with more courage than discretion, to call himself an aeronaut. And into the air he went, with bags of letters and cages of pigeons, and, on the whole, succeeded very well as a postman in the clouds.

The mention of pigeons leads us to another story of ingenuity, though it has not much to do with balloons.

After the question of how to dispatch letters had been solved, the next that arose was, how to receive replies. The balloons that _left_ the city had got nearly all Europe to settle in, but it was hopeless to try to steer them back to so small a spot as the city itself. But a carrier pigeon would have no such difficulty in returning. Means must be found, however, to make it possible for each bird to carry many letters. M.

Dagron, a clever photographer, discovered this means. He showed how he could photograph a letter and reduce it in size till the writing became unreadable, even under an ordinary magnifying gla.s.s. This could be done on films so thin that a roll of twenty of them could be inserted in one quill, each film representing a large number of letters. Having proved to the authorities the success of his invention, M. Dagron departed in a balloon, to explain to the various towns in France how letters must be sent to Paris.

Every day after that the welcome sounds of flapping wings was heard in the beleaguered city. The letters that they brought were placed between two sheets of gla.s.s and enlarged. Then, by means of a magic lantern, they were reflected on to a large screen, while post-office clerks, sitting at a table opposite, copied them down on to separate sheets, and dispatched them to their different addresses in the city. Nearly one hundred thousand letters were sent to Paris in this way during the four months of the siege, and the hostile army outside its walls was powerless to intercept them.

JOHN LEA.

WILLIE'S SUM.

Willie laid his pencil down, And put his books away, And with a sad and peevish frown He hurried out to play.

But as he ran, the blackbird's song From poplars in the lane, Rang out: 'You know that sum was wrong, And should be done again.'

Yet Willie heeded not the sound; Pretended not to hear, Till trees, and hills and all around Kept singing in his ear: 'It's no use, Willie! Trust us, do!

You can't enjoy the fun Until the task that's set for you Is well and justly done.'

Then in a sad and sorry state He homeward turned amain: Took up his pencil and his slate And worked the sum again.

_This_ time the answer wasn't wrong, And as to play he went, His conscience sang an altered song Which made his heart content.

GENEROSITY.

A father of a family wished to settle his property between his three sons. He therefore made three equal parts of his chief possessions and gave one part to each son. There remained over a diamond ring of great value, which he reserved for the son who should perform the n.o.blest and most generous action within the s.p.a.ce of three months. The sons separated, and at the appointed time presented themselves before him.

The eldest son said, 'Father, during my absence I had in my power all the riches and fortune of a person who entrusted them to me without any security of any kind; he asked me for them, and I returned them to him with the greatest honesty.'

'You have done, my son,' replied the father, 'only what was your duty, and I should die of shame if you were capable of doing otherwise, for honesty is a duty; what you did was just, but not generous.'

It was now the second son's turn, and he spoke thus: 'I was on the banks of a lake, when, seeing a child fall in, I threw myself in, and with great danger to myself drew him out. I did it in the presence of some countrymen, who will testify to the truth of it.'

'Well and good,' replied the father, 'but there is only humanity in that action.'

At last came the turn of the third son, who spoke thus: 'I found my mortal enemy, who had strayed during the night, and was sleeping on the edge of a precipice in such a manner that the least false movement on waking would have thrown him over. His life was in my hands; I was careful to wake him with precaution, and drew him out of danger.'

'Ah, my son!' exclaimed the father, overjoyed, embracing him, 'without doubt you deserve the ring.'

ANIMAL MAKESHIFTS.

True Anecdotes.

II.--TIME WITHOUT A CLOCK.

'The stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed times,' says the Bible, and the turtle-dove, the crane, and the swallow to this day 'observe the time of their coming.' What a wonderful law is theirs! They need not learn it, for it is born in them. Migratory birds know not only the need for their journeys, but the fixed times for them. It has been thought that the rules of their airy road have been handed down from generation to generation, but this is not always true. Nothing is positively known, except that the travellers are in search of food or quiet nesting-places, when they move from land to land.

As the time draws near for birds of pa.s.sage to travel, they seem to know it by an inward restlessness; they long to be away--they know that delay is dangerous, and, so strong is the longing to be gone, that migratory birds kept back by accident or wilful cruelty, often die of the desire to go. The young cuckoo never survives an attempt to detain him. A poor, wild goose, with a lame wing, was seen bravely setting out on foot to do his journey of hundreds of miles over sea and land, when he saw his brethren depart for another clime.

One of nature's grandest sights is the yearly flight southwards of wild swans from Norway to the great lakes in Turkey. The birds fly at the rate of about one hundred miles an hour, in vast flocks, shaped like the letter V, the sharp end foremost, as an arrow pa.s.ses through the air. At the point flies the leader or captain, the strongest and wisest of the band, and ahead of the main army he sends a skirmishing swan to keep a sharp look-out. This swan's business it is to see if the coast is clear.

From time to time he comes rushing back with some warning note. Then there is a great cackling, a pause, and a council. After holding this noisy parliament, the army resumes its course, or changes it, according to the news brought. When the swans reach the lake, they do not swoop down till the captain has made a careful search around, poking among the reeds, flapping over the surface, and even taking a sip of the water, to make sure that nothing has happened to make the lake dangerous for swans since the last time he was there. All being well, he signals to the band, who descend with a rush, and soon cover the water with their graceful forms.

Do pigeons carry watches? How do London pigeons, for instance, tell the hour, and turn up punctually at the feeding-places? At Guildhall Yard the birds come early in the morning to eat the breakfast provided for them, but they do not stay all day. At Finsbury Circus, Draper's Hall Gardens, and other places in London, there are flocks which are carefully fed at regular hours, and those who have the care of them agree that at feeding-time the flocks are always joined by large numbers of guests from without. Perhaps the pigeons ask each other out to dine, mentioning the hours for the meals!

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Flight of Wild Swans.]

The rough idea of time which all living things possess is keenest in domestic animals. The dogs, cats, horses, donkeys, and others, who know certain days in the week and hours in the day without clock or almanac, may be guided by noticing little events which we do not, but which show them the time; or they may even feel the position of the sun, though it cannot be seen. However this may be, they show a sense which we must admire and may envy. Horses are great observers of time, as many anecdotes show, perhaps none better than this one: A horse belonging to a news-man knew the houses at which his master's journals were delivered, and, when he took them round in the trap, always stopped at the right doors. But this was not all. There were two people--living one at Thorpe, the other at Chertsey--who paid for a weekly paper between them, taking it in turns to read it first. The horse found this out, and would stop one week at Thorpe and the next at Chertsey, alternately.