Here and There.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue IX, 27 August 1904, Page 13

He re and There .

Tn a little bayou so near the beaeli that the low tide rose and fell on the overgrown banks, a “Hat-bottom," paddied by an old darky, was shelved on a mud bank. The mud was too deep for him to get out and push, and his manoeuvres with the paddle were proving less and less effectual.

In his exasperation he saw a woman stooping down at the landing some yards above to fill her pail from the stream.

“Get out o’ dat!’’ he called out, angrily. ‘‘Ef ye takes a drop out.en dis y ere bayou till I gits afloat agin, I’ll mek ye pay fer it ef 1 hev ter wade asho’ ter do it!”

In days of old, when knights were bold, and barons were the stuff, a warrior grim, bethinking him that he could run his bluff, rode on his mailed steed up to the gate of the castle and thundered thereon with the butt of his lance. “What ho. within!” he shouted, haughtily. “What ho, without!” was the answering cry of the warder. “I want to stay here all night,” imperiously returned the stranger. “No objection in the world to your doing so, although there’s no accounting for tastes,” replied the warder. “Stay there, and welcome.” And above the gloomy portal-arch., timing his footsteps to a march, the warder continued to march, low humming as he paced along the precursor of some present-day rag-time song.—“ Puck.”

By reason of the great development which is taking place on North Shore, many of the oldest landmarks are fast disappearing (says the “Sydney Morning Herald”). This has been particularly the case since the railway to Milson’s Point was opened. At the corner of Alfred and Fitzroy streets, North Sydney, it has been found necessary to remove a gigantic fig tree, which for a period of upwards of 60 years lias been a most conspicuous feature of the neighbourhood. Its removal is due to building operations being carried out for the enlargement of Dind’s Hotel, itself one of the oldest hostelries of the district. At Neutral Bay, in Hayesstreet, near the Government Wharf, is a piece of land known as Mann’s paddock. upon which it is proposed to erect a large residence. Upon the site is a huge fig tree, which for generations has been a familiar landmark to residents of the neighbourhood. But upon the land is also an old well, quarried out of natural rock, and constructed by convict labour in the old days for the purpose of conserving water for the use of vessels-o’-war that at, different periods visited the port. This is being filled in, and within a short time this historic relie will have made way for tlie general advancement of tho neighbourhood.

Lord Charles Beresford has introduced into the training of the Channel Squadron new methods especially adapted for modern war. When at sea, every morning from 7.30 to S. evolutions of the squadron are conducted, not by the captains of the respective ships, but by tho officer of the watch. This teaches them to handle ships and to learn to read the signals without resorting to the signalbook. A few years ago it was rare for any officer or yeoman of signals to be able to read a hoist of flag without recourse to the signal dictionary. It is due to the persistence of Lord Charles Beresford that the knowledge of signals has extended throughout the fleet, to such an extent that no less than a minute to a minute and a-lialf is saved in the execution of some evolutions. The value of this saving of time may moan the difference between winning and losing a battle. Tn the Channel Squadron, each captain in turn takes charge of the squadrons, thus learning to handle a fleet. Hitherto M captain has begun to learn the A B C of an admirals’s duties until he hoists his own flag. Under the Beresford system of training, each captain in the Channel Squadron becomes a trained admiral, anil when the time comes to hoist his oyvn flag he will be efficient for the performance oi his duties instead of having to learn them. Much practice in evolution and turning movements is curried on at night with and without lights. As re-

garJs the men, the Channel fleet is virtually a training squadron, as the lower deck hands are changed every six months. Front this cause the drills are necessarily constant and severe, but the material turned out is of the best. The squadron was never in a higher state of efficiency than is the case to-day. The following lines arc from some stirring verses entitled ••The Menage of Asia,” contributed by Mr W. West-cott-Fink to •■ Harper’s Weekly The spirit of the Orient i< represented addressing across the seas the kings of Europe: — “I com? to speak for Asia, for its millions yellow and brown. For the golden rule your Christ set up and your arms have broken down. You have taught us Christ is Mammon, that God is a god of greed; You have preached the &weet-soul?d Nazarene while sowing destruction's seed. You have rent our lands asunder and parcelled l hem out by lot. The larger lot to the stronger with the dice of your cannon’s shot.” “We bought the white man’s wisdom, tho ski'! of the while man’s hand: The fateful force of your demon arts we have studied—-we understand! You speak of our night: Aye! long we slept while the smoke of our incense curled And a century marked l>ut one degree in the journey around the world. “The Hindu and the Buddhist, the hearer of Islam’s blade, Have crouched like hungry tigers o'er the mangled corpse of trade. Join! sons of the mighty Aryan sire, Goth, Saxon, and Gaul, and Greek! What matter your chance dividing linos? What matter the tongues you speak? A common pall is over you all - from Scandia’s wintry seas, Round the ragged coasts of ’Christendom to the pillars of Hercules. The ocean boils with navies as if lashed by a whirlwind’s breath. For the Occident and tho Orient lock prows in the clutch of death. A cloud obscures the ocean, a chill comes out of the cloud. But the great guns peal till tho awed coasts reel and Ruin laughs aloud.”

A native stationer’s shop in Japan is a most fascinating place. The common account-books arc made of so many sheets of paper folded inside a sheet of card, and threaded on a piece of rope, which is tied into an ornamental knot for hanging up. The bookbinding is done by tiny boys, who ought, to be still in their cradles, and the rice paste which they use, which looks much more appetising than most blancmange, is kept rolled up in bamboo-leaves. Japanese books are bound in the maddest way. They arc folded like maps, and the* loose ends are sewn together half an inch from the edge. Ft follows that only one side of the page can be used, and when the paper is very thick the book has only about as many pages as an exercise-book. r .L he favourite thing to bind them in is paper crepe, though some books attain to the dignity of a hemp binding, or oven silk, and wood is rather popular. There are two kind of Japanese notepaper, squafo sheets of beautiful rice-paper printed in colours or water-marks with designs of temples and gardens and bridges and Hying storks, or even popular courtezans. This is for the childish foreigner. For himself he uses a. roll of curl paper about six inches wide and forty yards long’, on which he writes with a paintbrush, beginning at the rigid hand instead of the left, and writing down the page instead of across it. When he has painted a yard nr two of the letter, he tears it off and folds it up very narrow, because his envelope, though it may be a foot long, is never more than two inches wide. The envelope is sometimes plain, but very often has a fancy border in pale green or blue, oven when it is not prepared to suit the childish foreigner. The bookbinders do their work on tho floor, kneeling at tables a yard long, half a yard wide, and a foot high, which is tho Japanese dining-table on the rare occasions when the Jap does not dine off tho floor.

Perhaps the most interesting of now vessels plying the Ohio, Illinois and Mississippi rivers, says a writer in the “beien* title American,” is one built upon an extensive scale for use as a floating theatre. The seating capacity is for 1,000 people, and there are boxes for the elite and

for the orchestra. In addition, the vessel is sufficiently large to admit of numerous sleeping rooms for the aetors, the deckhands. and all those connected with either the show or the boat. The entire force numbers forty. On the steamer which tows the floating theatre, besides the boilers and engines, there is a complete electric light plant, a kitchen, and a din-ing-room. In view of the fact that the long water route of the floating theatre carries it' into the warmer portions of the South, the season for the show docs not close until late in the southern winter. The entire route comprises 2,500 miles. Ihe boat starts at Pittsburg and visits the towns of the coal miners anil steel workers along the Monongahela River. Next it returns and goes down the Ohio, to the Kanawha, thence to Cairo, and later up the Illinois River to La Selle, Then, after going back to the Mississippi. the boat slowly makes its way in the direction of New Orleans. The idea of a floating theatre is not exactly new, but the extensive scale upon which it is now being carried on, and the fact that it is the drama instead of the vaudeville programme that is being presented, attract unusual attention to the boat. “Faust” is the production which lias been presented this season. Along the route of the floating theatre the towns are often but ten or fifteen miles apart. Therefore the jumps of the boat and its company are not. long ones. On the upper deck of the .steamer is a calliope. Long before the theatre reaches the town in which it is to show the sounds of this instrument may be heard. The idle population of the river towns at once begins to assemble on the wharf. As the steamer comes within a few hundred feet of the dock the calliope is sifenced and a brass band strikes up a familiar air. The crowd on the wharf then grows larger. Many are there awaiting the first opportunity to secure reserved seats. When the boat touches the wharf the sailors, some of whom later are transformed into aetors, make the vessel fast and put the gang-plank in place. The scenery is arranged, and the orchestra, rehearses while the cook is preparing the next meal in the kitchen. The people come aboard and select their seats. At night the theatre is briliantly lighted by electricity, and a searchlight flashes over the surrounding territory. The entertainment lasts about three hours. A curious example of the economy ol nature has been given in the Western District of late years, in ecaneetkm with the grub pest, says -a writer in the ‘'Australasian." A small, yellowish grub, about three-quarters of an inch long, began to play havoc with the pastilles, revelling in the richer soils. This grub burrows just, beneath the surface of the soil, anil cuts off the stems of the grass, •which then, of course, dries up, and is blown away. The grubs begin work in the early autumn, and keep on until the. winter rains kilt them off. Two years ago the •autumn was a very dry one, and little rain fell until June. 'Hie grubs did a lot of damage; but they were hardly al work before large flocks of the well-known straw-necked ibis (t’aplii'bis spinicollis) same along, from the north, and commeneed a strong attack on them. As the autumn wore on. the flocks increased both in number and size, until, in a single paddock, there would be some I hoitsands of the birds nt work. As the ibis is a big bird, lie consumes a huge quantity of grubs, ami he seems to feed pretty well all day. At I hat time, driving anywhere along the roads through the grnb-infest.ed districts, huge flocks of ibises could be seen covering two or three acres 'at a time —• one solid regiment of birds, nil diligently plunging their long bills into the soft earth. At sundown they furnished -a very pretty speetaete as they flew, in immense V shaped flocks, up into the timbered country, where they roosted. At first the grazier welcomed the ibis, and guarded him almost as jealously as the ancient Egyptians used to protect their sacred ibis. Rut it was found that the birds tore the ground about so niueh searching for the grubs that, it was doubtful whether the cure was not ns bad as the disease. Last year the grubs were, not so bad, and firn rains came early, with tho result, that very few ibises arrived; while this year, so far, none have arrived, although there are still a few grubs nboat. Whether by some instinct the ibises have got to know that there is nothing much for them down hero, or whethen owing to better seasons, they have now good feeding grounds further north, in an open question.

"Mick” Doyle, a linotype operator on the “Sunday Times,” Sydney, put up a ■ew Australian record on July 5. During * two hours’ run on minion type, 15 ems pica wide, from ordinary newspaper eopy, lie composed 39,066 ens, or an average of 19,533 ens per hour. The previous Australian record was 15,800 ens per hour, the English record is 17,200 ens, and the American 24,000 ens. The. "on” is taken to represent the average thickness of a letter of the alphabet.

A good deal of fun may be obtained by trying the following little experiment upon your friends. Do not, however, attempt it upon a quick-tempered man who is heavier than yourself. First, write down the year of your birth. Add your age this year. That is to say. if your birthday is past, the age you were then; but if it is still to come the age you will be. Add 4. Multiply by 1000. Subtract 693,423. Substitute the letters of the* alphabet for the numbers. A for 1, B for 2, and so on, and the result will tell you what you are. Try it.

Oh, Gussie de Bigwig owned a car, (i forty-horse, clear-the-course, snorting thing; and Gussie imagined himself the Czar of the King’s highway as he rode B.far with the zip, the rattle, the jolt, the jar that scorching proceedings bring.

1 When Gussie was out it was “Clear the way I I’m Mist ah de Bigwig, don’t you know!” His average kill was a man a day, and he’d wreck ten prams and a 1 Jewel’s dray, till the local policemen all turned grey at Gussie’s diurnal chow.

Alas that one morning things were slow, and Gussie had fears of an empty bag. Though he’d rattled his motor to Und fro, he'd never a mangled thing to show. Then, just as he'd uttered a languid “Blow!” he spotted a man with a> flag-

Of his full-speed lever he took a grip; <re he’d finished his chuckle the deed was done. For straight at the fellow he let her rip. A thud! Then he hooted a glad “Pip-pip!” And he stroked the down on his upper lip as he proudly, cried “That's one!”

His car sped on. Alackaday! the smile soon vanished from Gussie’s face, for the man with the flag had led the way for a big road-roller. Crash! They say that Gussie just gasped as he turned to elay, “By Jupiter, that's a brace!” A wondrous thing the alphabet'As doubtless you’ll agree. No honey from the B we get, No water from the C. ~The J has never built a nest; No pod enfolds the P; lAud there Is nothing to suggest A — beyond the D. Uo oyster has the II to sell; No pupil has the I; ’No house adjoins the modest L; No questions asks the JA ‘The X is never cross; and O From debt Is wholly free; CAnd cockney H you’d onl/ know' By Its apostrophe. S 3 i No type Is measured by the M; No sugar spoils the T; "'No Dutchman .fashions dykes to stem U’he inrush of the X. No lambkin lags behind the U; The U—no wool has she; No Chinaman up-bralds the Q. No Scottish tears sheds E. The F Is sharp. If not acute; And A is flat, It’s true: iWhile G and N and K dispute The ownership of Gnu, New, Knew. The S its dollars counts for naught; B>=t VV. to me Suggests that for these rhymes 1 ought To get a double “V.” FRANK ROE BATCHELDER. In "The Smart Set.’’ Hardly a piece of literature, but a very brightly and freshly written book, is Mr. Jacob Riis’ life of “Theodore Roosevelt the Citizen,” recently published. It is a thoroughly hearty book, and interesting from its very heartiness. It does not pretend to be a life of the President, for which, as the author truly says, “it is both too early and too late.” It is a friend Writing about his friend, and as such a pleasant book to read. “You can tell for a certainty,” says Mr. Riis, “that a man does not know him when he speaks of him as ’Teddy.’ ” The following is a specimen of the author’s treatment of his subject: “The faculty of forgetting all else but the topic in hand is one of the great ■ecrets of his success in whatever he has Bndertakeu as an olliciul. It ia the facul-

ty of getting things done. They tell stories yet, that go around the board at class dinners, of how he would come in(o a fellow-student’s room for a visit, and, picking up a book, would become immediately and wholly absorbed in its contents, then wake up with a guilty start to confess that his whole hour was gone, and hurry away while they shouted after him. It was the student in him which we in our day are so apt to forget in the man of action, of deeds. But the two have always gone together in him; they belong together. . . . As lam writing this now,

there comes to mind really the finest compliment I ever heard paid him, and quite unintentionally. The lady who said it was rather disappointed, it seemed. She was looking for some great hero in whom to embody all her high ideals, and, said she, ‘I always wanted to make Roosevelt out that; but somehow every time he did something that seemed really great it turned out, upon looking at it closely, that it was only just the right thing to do.’ . . . It comes as near as anything could to putting him just right!”

“When a man has nothing to regret and nothing to recant, when he finds nothing that he could wish to cancel, to alter, or to unsay in any page he has ever laid before his reader, he need not be seriously troubled by the inevitable consciousness that the work of his early youth is not and eannot be unnaturally unlike 1 he work of a very young man.”

With this striking confession Mr Swinburne prefaces the eagerly awaited collected edition of his poems, the first volume of which, containing the ’‘Poems and Ballads,” was published in London recently.

The preface, in the form of a dedicatory epistle to his friend, Mr. WattsDunton, is mainly given up to a frank analysis of Mr. Swinburne’s own plays. “Bothwell” he considers “an ambitious, conscientious, and comprehensive piece of work,” with which he took as much care and pains as though he. had been writing a history of the period. “It is nothing to me,” he says with characteristic independence, “that what I write should find immediate or general acceptance.”

As an apology for attempting to review his own work, he affirms that “as long as the writer can succeed in evading the kindred charges and the cognate risks of vanity' and humility, there can be no reason why he should not undertake it.”

The “Badminton Magazine” has an article on Windsor Castle and its surroundings, written from the sporting point of view. It was the facilities which the neighbourhood offered for sport- that decided William the. Conqueror to make Windsor his home, though it had been associated with Kings of Englund before then. The buckhounds being no more," sport at Windsor nowadays chiefly means shooting, and, to come to details, bags are principally composed of pheasants and rabbits, for partridges have never done well, though great and continual pains have been taken to get up a good head. Soldiers, and for the matter of that civilians, are always riding about the park, dogs are running about it, and •the partridges are naturally driven away, but pheasants do excellently, and are likely to do better still, for a new pheasantry has lately been started under the skilful and judicious management of Captain Walter Campbell, deputy ranger, i’n the old deer paddocks at Swindley Woods. Here, as at ►Sandringham, his Majesty himself considers arid decides every question relating to the sport, and he has given his sanction to this and to the system -which is being adopted. The new pheasantry is carefully wired, so that the foxes eannot do mischief; 250 hens are placed there, and the eocks can of course fly in. Never more than five guns go out shooting at Windsor, or it should be said that five is the almost invariable number, a sixth being present on extremely rare occasions, and the rule is pheasants in the morning, rabbits in the afternoon, with an occasional partridge if luck sends one. Partridge eggs are never bought, though they are exchanged with Sandringham and Osborne, at which latter place, by the way, very fair sport is obtainable—that is to aay, 1000 birds have often been killed during the season; but it is the frequent disturbance* ♦ o which they are subjected that make the partridge-shooting »o poor, that it may almost be described as non existent.

When we “T’othersiders” see the rapid brooks of Maoriland, it is*to deplore the aridity of our own soil. They can’t waste water in New Zealand (writes a recent Australian visitor in one of the Sydney papers). It flows in the gutters of the streets in strong bodies, and carlies away the germs of disease. “What a waste of water,” said a girl who saw the waters sporting in a great mass from a main. I knew at once she was an Australian. The running water is half the charm of Maoriland towns, and the Avon is the sole charm of dreary- Christchurch. This beautiful ereek runs through the chessboard-like streets of Biketown, and the Biketown people spend a lot of money on it. It is fringed with green lawns and willows, and oaks and elms, and toi-toi with its white feathery flags, and the water beneath is a deep emerald. In Christchurch you rent a boat for a week, and you spend most of your time on the stream, which is scarcely wide enough for two boats to pass, and you can always get a Christchurch girl to steer for you, or sit by your side when you ram the nose of the boat into a grass bank, and let time amuse you, veiled from the vulgar gaze by the drooping wands of willow. That is how most Sydney fellows spend their days in Christchurch. Sometimes you get locked with a passing boat in the stream, and as you ground the pebbly rapids there are the usual small boys to throw acorns at you, and as you shoot the piers of the bridges . there are street idlers leaning over the rails to see your oarsmanship; but you soon lose all self-consciousness and enjoy yourself as an arid Australian should. Besides, as you float down the stream, it is just lovely to watch the girl's eyes grow limpid with sentiment, it is all so pretty. I would like to steal the Avon and set it down in Kalgoorlie or Broken Hill. How would the red dust-stained people revel in watching green waters gone mad! But as well hope to steal Mounts Cook and Egmont and a few snow-covered ranges, and set them down at Arltunga.

Lord Charles Beresford is regarded by most people as a typical British sailor. But he has another side to his character, and some of his friends believe that had he been a landsman instead of a seaman, this most popular of admirals might have made an ever greater place for himself than he has done, for he is one of the most versatile of men, and possessed of that ready wit which is so valuable a gift in public life. In this connection all sorts of stories are told, of which two may be cited. His father, who began life as a clergyman, and ended it as fourth Marquess of Waterford, was a very keen sportsman, and all his sons followed in his footsteps. On one occasion a friend of the family, who did not approve of this kind of education for a clergyman’s son. approached the youthful Charles, and observed, severely, “Do you suppose that the Apostles shot <>n the Sabbath Day?” “Perhaps not,” was the immediate response, “but I am certain they flshed.” Yet another story illustrating Lord Charles’ readiness of retort is better known. He once had a Chinese servant called Tom Fat, who learnt to so imitate his master’s signature that he managed to forge cheques to a considerable

amount before he was discovered. This became known to some of Lord Charles’ friends, and on u certain occasion, when, during a political speech, he observed that he thought a Mahometan or * Buddhist had as good a chance of ultimately getting to heaven as a Roman Catholic* or a Protestant, a- friend interjected slyly, “But what about Tom Fat?” “That fat will certainly be in the lire,” came the quick answer. Many naval officers are never really; comfortable unless they are on board ship. This is not at all the case with Lord Charles Beresford. He has a great many laud hobbies, including gardening, boat-making, house-building, horsebreaking, and, last but not least, turning and carpentering, in which he is quite a skilled hand. In his suburban home on Ham Common he has a good workshop, and he has long been a member of the Society of Ornamental Tur ers.

The “Academy” has been making a collection of the most ingenious and difficult rhymes in English poetry. Here are some examples:— > But—oh! ye lords and ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not henpecked you all. •—Byron. Mephistopheles Flung in his face a whole cup of hot cof-fee-lees. —--ingoldsby Legends.” The wrangler hasn’t got au use for tangent or hypotenuse; He doesn’t deem it rotten news to hear about the rows; And gentlemen whose bliss a row of sentences from Cicero Is found in, wouldn't miss a row fort reams of Latin prose. —Lehmann's “Laus Remigii.” The doctor’s fat errand boy, just such * dolt as is Kept to mix draughts and spread planters and poultices. An ott’ring ’tis true to Jove, Mars, or Apollo cost No trifling sum in those days if a holoconst. If, as legends relate, and I think we may trust ’em, her Stars had not brought her another guess customer. But even at college, 1 fairly acknowledge, X , Never was very precise at chronology. Just as Clarence in Shakespeare describefl all the qualms he Experienced while dreaming they’d drowned him in Malmsey. •—"lngoldsby Legends.” I That chord now—a groan or a grunt is’t? ' Schumann’s self ..was no . worse contrapuntist. - • « « - e I While treading down rose and ranunculus. You Tommy-ma ke. roonrfor-your-unele-us! Troop, all of you, man or liomonculus, , Quick march! etc. —From Browning’s "Pachiarotto.” 1 I could favour you with sundry touches Of the paiut-smutches with which th* Duchess Heightened the mellowness of her cheek’fl yellowness (To get on faster) until at last her J Cheek grew to be one master-plaster. —"Flight of the Duchess.” j

’ ¥*o men <ilio iflxyfd • game of billiards in a lions’ cage at Scarborough Hippodrome recently described their experience to a London “Express” representative.

They repudiate any suggestion that they were nervous; it was the audience that was excited. The lions were Simply curious. “The risk was slight,” said Mr. J. W. Metcalfe, one of the players, who manages a local billiard-room.

“Mlle. Ella, who earlier in the evening put her head for a moment in the mouth of one of the lions, exerted her influence, and the animals appeared to he curious rather than dangerous. They jvatched the game intently, “I was not in the slightest degree nerfrous, though I confess I kept one eye On the lions while the other was on the game. The cues were special ones, and .very heavy. Had they been required they would have been useful weapons.”

It took Mr. Metcalfe ten minutes to get his 25 points. He won the game by seven points.

“There were some misses,” he explained, “and once the ball went off the table. One of the lions gave a grunt of disapproval, but he was quieted by ■Mlle. Ella, who recovered the ball for ns.”

Mr. W. I’. Smith, tiie other player, t-onceded that the circumstances were not such as to permit them to concentrate their thoughts on the game. “But I was not at all nervous,” he hastened to add. “There was a very small element of danger, and I would rather go through it again than have a tooth drawn. “All the same, had the lions taken Unkindly to the game, I don't knew jvhat we should have done.”

Our latest little war is with Tibet. :Yet not one Briton in twenty could say exactly what it is for which we are lighting (says “Answers.") We are not seeking territory; neither flo we wish io interfere with the selfgovernment of the Tibetans. T'.io trouble has arisen thus:

In 1890 n Con ven I ion was drawn up between Tibet and Great Britain, by which the Tibetans agreed to establish, between themselves and adjacent and friendly Powers, such, means of conimunication as 'ought to exist between neighbouring States,

The authorities at T.hassa, the Tibtetan capital, seem, however, to leave regretted the making of this Convention, for they have never shewn the slightest disposition to fulfil their promises. We have repeatedly .sent despatches of protest against this nyglect, but they have been returned to us unanswered, ami in ilome instances even unopened, and they have recently become more and more heedless of our representations, because they supposed they had the full sympathy and support of Russia.

The British Mission was sent to get the explanation of their of the Convention, seeing that such an explanation iwas evidently not forthcoming unless fetched by our own emissaries. To accept, their silence unchallenged 'Would be to inspire in the Tibetan min'd a contempt for British power; and as part of our Indian frontier abuts upon Tibet, it is absolutely necessary, for the sake of the. Tibetans as well as our own. that we should give them no encourage, ment to think that, they may treat a properly drawn-up Convention 'with iWe had hoped that our Mission would end as it began—a peaceful one; but the Tibetans themselves drew the sword upon it. |

Japan and Korea have a most remarkable breed of chickens, such as are known nowhere else in the world. They have been brought to their present jwonderful state of perfection by more than a thousand years of careful breeding and improvement. Their plumage is exceedingly gorgeous, but what makes them wonderful is the fact that their tails are immense. 'A small chicken will have a tail of resplendent feathers from twelve to fifteen feet. long.

No breeder thinks much of a fowl yvith a tail less than a dozen feet long, and tails from twelve to fourteen feet are common.

The Japanese breeders Tiave the record of one bird whose (ail reached the length of twenty feet, with a few inches over for good measure. These tails are almost always magnificent, shimmering in rich bronzes and winisons and gold; and the breeders keep them wrapped in thin rice paper

flo protect them, so that they shall not be bruised or smirched.

The breeding of the peculiar fowl began in Korea some time before the year 1000 A.D., and for many centuries the industry was aided by- the Royal house, and great honours and riches given to the man who managed to breed a particularly fine specimen. Consequently, for ages there have been families in Korea that did nothing, generation after generation, except to breed long-tailed fowl. Aud, naturally, they became amazingly skilful at it. It is supposed that the breed originated from some wild fowl, but no one knows what it was.

In Japan the art of producing these long tails was rewarded with extravagant generosity. In the Island of Shikoku, one of the biggest of the Japanese group, the ruler of the Province of Tosa, tlie Diainyo, used the best tail feather as decorations for hisspear, ami every tail feather had a deep significance, so that quite a little system of heraldry and etiquette was built up around the long-tailed fowl. As the feathers of the bird develop they are made to sit on high perches, ■which are raised continually as the tail grows, so that it shall never touch the floor.

A writer in “Macmillan’s.” in a highly entertaining article upon Oxford University, relates that on the use of the Latin language in speeches and statutes hinged one of the most amusing debates that Oxford ever heard. Some time in the Seventies the practice had grown up (and was supposed to be sanctioned by statute) of lending out books from the Bodleian. It had increased until there was some danger of a similar state of things to that which once existed at Cambridge, where the University Library served as a circulating medium for the provision of light reading for the. daughters of the neighbouring clergy. At the Bodleian, however, it was no question of novels, but of the most valuable books, which were allowed to be carried away by persons as noted for their careless habits as for their profound scholarship. This thing had become a burden, when an astounding discovery was made. The statute on which the lending was based permitted the librarian mutuari libros. Now, mutuari means “to borrow,” but the statute was the work (or was said to be) of a famous headmaster, anti most undoubtedly he thought it meant “to lend.” More marvellous still, the whole university had acquiesced. Had it been the Hebdomadal Council only, which once achieved lasting fame by translating einige Professoren “a single professor,” no one would have wondered. But for ten years or more the word had passed muster. The librarian then came to Convocation to get mutuari changed into commodare and Convocation made the change, but limited to itself the right to lend, thereby stopping the practice. In the debate, which was delight fill, the Professor of Chinese brought down the house. There was a book, ho said, of which three copies only existed in the whole wide world, and one was in the Bodleian. He had two copies himself, but he had three pupils, and where was he to get a copy to lend to the third pupil if not from the library? This was a sufficiently appalling prospect, for the advocates of lending whom the good professor supposed he was supporting. But Ihe matter was settled by a speech from one of the sub-librarians, who described in inimitable language the interior of the study of one of the bor-> rowers, now a highly respected prelate of the Church. The scene, he said, was' Alpine: there were mountainous masses of books, torrents of falling volumes. There was the (liessbach, there was the. Staubbach —more particularly the Staubbach—and buried deep beneath moraines of literature were found the priceless treasures of the Bodleian, illuminated manuscripts and incunabula of incalculable value. There was no resisting the conclusion; once again the Nbn-l’lacet Society had its way. and lending from the library, except under the most stringent conditions, was at an end.

Rome excellent pen portraits of the Kaiser are given in M. .Henri de Noussanne’s book, which has just been published in Buris under the title of “The Real William II.” M. de Noussanne goes carefully into the Kaiser’s banking account, and sets out for the curioqs the amount of money at, Ins disposal. As German Emperor, William TI. only receives £30,000 a year, of which,

•Her necessary items of expenditure in the shape of gifts aud charity donations have been deducted, only about £5OOO remains for personal use. As King of Prussia, however, the Kaiser is treated with greater liberality. He receives from this source an annual sum of £785,965. On this he must keep his family, as there is no separate grant for the Empress or the royal princes. He also has to make good any deficit in the receipts of the royal theatres at Berlin, Hanover, and Cassel, pay for Court concerts, aud maintain his gardens and castles. The Kaiser’s castles number 52. He also has 83 farms. Many of these he has never scon. A year ago his list of castles was increased by one in Switzerland, which was bequeathed to him by a Swiss admirer. A curious illustration of the Kaiser's love of detail is furnished in the fact that he in person arranges for the dresses which the Empress wears. It is stated that when at the Court of Italy some years ago he was mortified by the contrast in the robes worn by Queen Margherita and by tlie German Empress. One had been made in Paris, the other in Berlin. After this, lie became his wife’s chief modiste. M. de Noussanne says that the Kaiser is a devoted admirer of the crinoline, chiefly from the fact that he considers it to be an advantageous balance to the bosom. The Kaiser is known as a lover of music, except that, of Waguer. When he takes the field as Commander-in-Cluef during manoeuvres a piano forms part, of his camp outfit. A very tine piano is kept, on the royal yacht, for the, "Kaiser’s use. In December, 1900, the Kaiser appeared for the first, time as the conductor of an orchestra. This was at Wendeck. A cavalry baud had delighted him with some selections, and he ordered them to play some old military marches. He took the baton from the bandmaster, stepped on the latter’s raised platform in the midst of the players, and conducted the band for some time. On another occasion, in the presence of the famous I'Teuch actor, Coque.lin, the Kaiser was annoyed because the. band was playing one of his favourite works too slowly. He seized the conductor’s baton, and made the musicians play it considerably faster. Then he returned to his suite. When Coquelin phrased the proper compliment, the Kaiser said, “Every one must be able to do for himself what he considers to be necessary.” In Germart dramatic, life the Kaiser is ambitious of taking a great part. He frames plays, especially those which have as their theme the glories of the Hohenzollerns. He arranges for scenic effects, and is a severe critic of performances. Above all, the Emperor is a strict censor of plays. Paul Keyset a German dramatist, declared that his play on Mary Magdalene was suppressed by the personal order of the Kaiser.

Tn the Sydney ’ Town and Country Journal" Mary Salmon has been reviving some memoirs of "An Old-time Circus,” which makes good reading. “The name of Henry Burton lives in the memories of all circus-goers in Australia during the latter half of last century, as he may be called the pioneer ‘King of the Ring’ in this land. Mr. Burton was trained in the great Cook Circus Company, where he was ringmaster for some years in the party under Mr. .Tames Cook, that “worked” Scotland and the Border counties. When the combination broke up Mr. Burton, hearing of the fine feats of Colo-

nial boys in riding, decided to come t» Australia, and arrived at Port Adelaide in the Constant. Christmas Day, 1849. A catastrophe nearly prevented their arriving in the colonies, as a lad upset a keg of burning tar in the hold a foituiglil before reaching land, and it was only wflli the greatest difficulty that the fires were kept down.” Tlie writer gives a racy description of the first circus performance given on an Australian goldfield, at the Turon River. She says: ••There they found a party of happy, successful diggers, brimming with excitecessful diggers, brimming with excitement over new found gold, and prepared to have a night’s amusement at any cost. The sun was going down as the tired, hungry and travel-worn company reached the camp, and a show that night seemed an impossibility; but whilst a contingent of the miners was told off to get ready re hurried feast—the best the diggings could provide—a number of the sturdiest young fellows set to work to make a rude enclosure of logs and mark out a ring. There was no time to rig up the tent. Therefore, with no illumination except the light from the fires inside the enclosure. which served the double purpose of keeping the spectators warm and enabling them to see the show, under a roof of stars, the appreciative audience lustily applauded alike acrobats, trick ponies, clowns and columbine with hearty good humour. It was a ‘smoke’ entertainment, with no charge for admission and no doorkeeper; but where gold was to lies had for the digging no one grudged to pay liberally. The diggers ’ran tln» show,’ and Henry Burton says, ‘We liarf ■o reason to complain of deadheads, frtv each vied with the other in planking down bis money.’ Long after the finding of gold was an old story the circus traversed the country from Melbourne to Rockhampton, sometimes going by sea and often taking trips on the overlanders’ routes. Once when a Newcastle season came immediately after a visit to Adelaide (1862), the Dragon was specially chartered, and it took 28 days for the trip, only three days short of the time a. letter could reach us from London nowadays. But, if travelling by sea was perilous, trips across country were both tedious and difficult, though, perhaps, no travellers along the roads met with somuch kindness and hospitality as the circus. Every stationholder made them his guests gladly, and it was a point of honour not even to ask for a song in return. When the population warranted re stay, everyone in the district turned out',, some coming a three days’ journey in bullock teams, and making a week’s picnic excursion for the show. Sometimes, as well as the circus, there would be the extra excitement of the bushrangers being in town; indeed, they were often among Burton’s best customers. Down Qiicanbeyan way they stopped the party, asking for a special performance, expressing the greatest pleasure at the equestrian feats, and complimenting the ladies of the company upon their beautiful spangled ballet skirts. (Spangles were worth a pound for a pound weight in those days—now they are four and sixpence.) After the, show a collection was tnlmn up “by this gang and handed up to the king of the ring with many thunks anil much praise.Ou one occasion, when on the Lachlan, the circus was on the road, having in Iho front buggy the takings, nearly as much as the gold escort that the bushrangers were in wail for. Two men could have stuck up the whole show, but though (hey ordered them 'to stand,’ with a laugh one called to his mates, ‘it’s only the circus,’ and passed them safely through.”