Chatterbox, 1905 Part 93

When the three pa.s.sengers wearied of deck games, they sat on the p.o.o.p reading some of the books which they had borrowed from the s.h.i.+p's library. Fred sometimes brought out his medical books, but he obtained more practical than theoretical knowledge that voyage, for the s.h.i.+p's doctor--a young fellow who had been recently qualified and was taking a sea voyage, and small pay in return for his medical services--was completely prostrated by sea-sickness, and utterly useless as a doctor.

Fred attended to him, doctored such of the crew as needed it, and successfully set a stoker's dislocated forefinger.

(_Continued on page 285._)

MICE ON A SUBMARINE.

The sailors in our submarines have found out a simple device to protect their lives whilst on their 'under-sea' trips. Every submarine that goes to sea takes out a couple of mice. If one of these mice shows symptoms of distress, it is a sure sign that the time for coming to the surface has arrived, and that the air of the closed box needs replenis.h.i.+ng from the fresh air.

X.

THE FATHER OF ALL.

Little flower, in meadow bright, With thy raiment sweet and white, Knowest thou who set thee there, Gave to thee a dress so fair, Caused thee from the ground to spring, Such a sweet and tender thing, Sent the rain and sent the sun, Sent the stars when day is done?

Little flower, dost thou not know It was G.o.d Who made thee grow, Gave to thee thy lovely dress, Such as kings can ne'er possess; Set thee in thy little bed, Gave thee petals, white and red; Sent for thee the dewdrop bright, Shuts thy blossom up at night?

Little bird, high in the air, Flying here and everywhere, Dost thou know who made thy wing, Gave thee thy sweet song to sing; Brought thee o'er the ocean track, Guided thee in safety back, Caused thee with the spring to come To thy green and shady home?

Little bird, G.o.d made thy wing, Gave thee all thy songs to sing; Set thee in the woods and trees, Fanned thy nest with gentle breeze.

He it was who brought thee home, Safe across the ocean's foam, To the meadows green and bright, Gave thee songs of sweet delight.

ADVICE THAT SAVED A KING'S LIFE.

A certain Khan of Tartary, making a journey with his n.o.bles, was met by a dervish, who cried with a loud voice: 'If any one will give me a piece of gold I will give him a piece of advice.' The Khan ordered the sum to be given him, upon which the dervish said, 'Begin nothing of which thou hast not well considered the end.'

The courtiers, upon hearing his plain sentence, smiled, and said with a sneer, 'The dervish is well paid for his maxim.' But the king was so well satisfied with the answer, that he ordered it to be written in golden letters in several places of his palace, and engraved on all his plate.

Not long after, the king's surgeon was bribed to kill him with a poisoned lancet. One day, when the king needed bleeding, and the fatal lancet was ready, the surgeon read on the bowl which was close by: 'Begin nothing of which thou hast not well considered the end.' He started, and let the lancet fall out of his hand. The king observed his confusion, and inquired the reason. The surgeon fell prostrate, and confessed the whole affair. The Khan, turning to his courtiers, told them: 'That counsel could not be too much valued which had saved the life of your king.'

W. Y.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He started, and let the lancet fall."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The women of Bohemia act as bricklayers' labourers."]

LIFE IN BOHEMIA.

Bohemia is a land of rugged mountains and towering pine-forests, with other beauties of its own. Not many years ago it was, to most English people, an unknown land; but in these days, when travelling is so easy and rapid, year by year an ever-increasing number of our countrymen find their way to this beautiful country in search of health and pleasure.

You have only to cross the strip of silver sea that rolls between our little island and sunny France or misty Holland, and you may then rush on, borne by the fastest of express trains, over the level plains that greet you on landing, on through the beautiful Rhineland and the quaint old towns of Bavaria, till at length you find yourself in this land of enchantment.

Here, surrounded by the mighty forests, and shut in by the mountains, stands the town of Marienbad. Not very long ago it was a lonely village, inhabited during the summer months by peasants tending their flocks and herds on the pasture of the table-land. In winter it was almost deserted, given over to the wild storms that swept the mountain slopes and to the wolves and bears that roamed through the forests.

Gradually the wonderful qualities of its mineral springs became known, and now a crowd of fas.h.i.+onable folk pour into it during the summer, and in every direction trees are being cut down to make way for villas, and buildings of all kinds, which are springing up like mushrooms.

The peasant-life of the people continues wonderfully simple, and it is very amusing to watch this mixing of modern fas.h.i.+onable life with the primitive ways of the villagers.

English boys and girls would, perhaps, not care to go for a ride in the Bohemian waggons, as they are so fond of doing in ours during harvest-time. These waggons are made of a few long, wide planks, nailed together so as to form a kind of huge trough, and strengthened on the outside by cross-pieces of wood. This is placed upon the framework with which the wheels are connected, and then roughly fastened to it. These clumsy vehicles are drawn over the rough mountain roads by teams of patient oxen. On _fete_ days the cattle look very gay, for then they are decked out with ribbons of many colours.

The women of Bohemia work very hard indeed; they help their husbands in all kinds of work. Among other occupations they act as bricklayers'

labourers. They run up and down the tall ladders with heavy loads of bricks or mortar, chattering gaily all the while as if life were one long holiday.

The houses are built in quite a different way from ours. First of all a complete skeleton house is set up, made of wood, and, when this is finished, the s.p.a.ces between the wooden structure are filled in with bricks and mortar. Before the roof is put on, a large green bush is hoisted up as far as the eaves, and there tied to the scaffolding poles.

This is supposed to drive away the pixies or wicked fairies, and no one would dare to put the roof on without the protection of the green bush.

The women also do the work of journeymen bakers. The loaves are of the long kind, sometimes jokingly called 'half-yards of bread.' These are carried on the backs of the women. They look very droll with their huge burdens, the loaves poking out in all directions above their shoulders, making a kind of background to their stooping figures.

Most of the people who visit Bohemia in order to take the mineral waters are very stout. They drink them to make themselves thinner, and the difference in their appearance when they arrive and when they leave is very great. They have sometimes to take mud baths, and it is very amusing to watch them going and returning from these. It does not seem to be a very pleasant way of spending a fine summer morning, but they appear to enjoy it all the same.

The Bohemians are very fond of music, and they never fail to greet any new-comers of importance with a serenade on the evening of their arrival.

HOW TOM DRESSES.

AT HOME.

A grimy face, A muddy boot, A broken lace, And shabby suit; With threadbare knee, And dusty coat, And dirty collar Round his throat.

OUT VISITING.

Now see! his face is All aglow; He's tied both laces In a bow; He's combed his hair, He's brushed his suit-- There's not a speck On either boot; His collar now Is new and clean-- A neater boy I've never seen.

Yet Tom should be, Beyond a doubt, As clean at home As when he's out; For those who dress 'Mid friends to roam, Should dress as well For those at home.

JOHN LEA.