So far the morning had been pa.s.sed harmlessly, if unpleasantly, for I continued to resent the second-hand suit, and especially the hat, and now we walked direct back to the house. After a meal, of which the less said the better, Mr. Parsons took me into his own bedroom, telling me to change my shirt and look sharp about it. When I had put on the white shirt, a wide collar, and the new necktie, I returned to the front room, but was sent into the pa.s.sage to fetch the tall hat.

In the front room I found Mr. and Mrs. Loveridge, as well as a rough-looking man whom I had not seen before. Mr. Parsons placed his hand on my shoulders, and turned me round and round as if he were proud to show the change he had affected in my appearance.

'Won't he do beautiful?' he cried, excitedly. 'Did ever you set eyes on a nicer, genteeler-looking lad? Don't he take the cake?'

They all began to laugh, evidently with approval, while I bit my lips and tried to look as if I also liked it, although I think it was one of the worst minutes of my life.

'Well,' said Loveridge, 'we shall see what we get for our money.'

Mrs. Loveridge muttered something which I could not understand, and Mr.

Parsons shook his head with a significant frown.

'Trust me for that,' he answered. 'Come along, Jacky! Handsome is that handsome does, you know.'

A few minutes later we were again out in the street, and while any casual pa.s.ser-by would have imagined that I was accompanied by an affectionate old gentleman who held my arm, I knew very well what was his real motive. It was a hot afternoon, and presently we took an omnibus to Oxford Circus, where we at once turned down a side street.

'I dare say you are thirsty, my lad,' he exclaimed, suddenly. 'Now, two or three doors from here there's a nice shop where they sell delicious ginger-beer--a penny the bottle. Go and get yourself a bottle, Jacky.'

'I--I don't want any,' I answered, as he took a coin from his pocket.

'Jacky,' he said, looking full into my face, 'you will find it always best to do as you're told. Go and get yourself a bottle of ginger-beer, my lad.'

CHAPTER XVIII.

Taking the two-shilling-piece, I walked on and entered the small shop, where a clean-looking woman stood behind the counter. Opening a bottle of ginger-beer, she poured the contents into a gla.s.s, counting out the change for the florin while I drank. In the meantime Mr. Parsons was waiting directly outside the door, and the moment I reached his side he again gripped my arm.

'Change!' he muttered, whereupon I put the one and elevenpence into his shaky hand.

When we had walked a little farther, he stopped at another shop--a tobacconist's this time.

'Just go in there and buy me a box of wax lights,' he said, giving me half-a-crown.

Accordingly I entered the shop, where a young man was smoking a cigarette just within the door.

'A box of wax lights,' I cried, placing the money on the counter. Having given what I asked for, the man began to examine the coin. He rang it on the counter, he tried it with his teeth, and then he looked curiously into my face.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Take off your jacket,' Mr. Parsons said."]

'Haven't you got any smaller change?' he asked.

'No,' I answered, and, with another curious glance, he examined the half-crown again, and finally gave me the change.

(_Continued on page 158._)

INSECT WAYS AND MEANS.

IV.--HOW INSECTS SEE.

Of the five senses, sight is to mankind undoubtedly the most precious.

The changes of the seasons, the beauty of scenery, sunset and sunrise, the wonders of nature, and the triumphs of art are only to be appreciated through the eyes, which have aptly been described as the 'windows of the soul.' Yet there are many who pa.s.s through life without even realising what we may call the 'gilding' of the world--the delights of colour. Quite a large number of people have no colour-sense, and are unable to tell red, for instance, from green. The writer knows an eminent botanist who is unable to tell the colours of the flowers he so loves to study!

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 1.--Head of Insect with eyes at side (greatly magnified).]

How is it with the little people of the insect world in this matter?

Their eyes are constructed on an entirely different plan from ours. What sort of a world is it that they look on? Taken as a whole, it would seem that the insect inhabitants of our world see but very little of it; they perceive it rather through the sense of smell. Only a very few insects, such as dragon-flies, for example, see well, and even their length of sight probably does not exceed six feet or so. They are a near-sighted race. Moreover, they see moving objects more easily than stationary ones.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 3.--Head of Drone Bee (greatly magnified). 'Ocelli'

at O.]

That many recognise colours there can be no doubt, and many show preferences for certain colours. Bees show a great liking for blue, and ants for violet. White b.u.t.terflies appear to prefer white flowers, and yellow b.u.t.terflies yellow flowers. Orange and yellow are also attractive to bees, whilst other colours seem to have no charms for them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 2.--Head of Worker Bee (greatly magnified).]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 4.--Eye of Bibio Fly. 'Ocelli' at O (greatly magnified).]

There is no doubt that some insects, however, see much more of the world than others, for the eyes of the insects and their near relations, the spiders and scorpions, are of two different kinds, and both kinds differ greatly from ours in structure. Let us take the simple eye found in the spider or scorpion, for an example, and look at it. If you catch a spider, and carefully examine the front of his head, you will notice a number of bead-like bodies of different sizes, arranged sometimes in the form of a circle, sometimes on a prominent swelling or 'tubercle,' or it may be in some other fashion, according to the kind of spider. These are the eyes. A section cut through one of these eyes and placed under the microscope would show that the surface of the eye was formed by a transparent body like a lens, and that behind this lay a complicated arrangement of rods pa.s.sing gradually into the nerves of sight. Only _ocelli_, as these eyes are called, are found in the spider and his kind. But in true insects, like the dragon-fly, or the b.u.t.terfly, we meet with eyes of another kind, in addition to ocelli. These are known as compound eyes. Where compound eyes are found, the ocelli never exceed three in number, and are arranged in the form of a triangle, and placed in the middle of the head (figs. 2, 3, and 4).

The compound eyes vary greatly in their size. In some insects they are placed one in each side of the head (fig. 1); in others, as in the drone bee, they meet one another at the top of the head (fig. 3, spot marked O) and extend downwards to the mouth. In others, yet again, they may attain a huge size, and occupy even the whole front of the head, crowding over the ocelli to form a little group at the top, as in the head of a species of fly known as the Bibio (fig. 4).

The compound eye is so delicate and wonderful, that great knowledge of anatomy or the science of optics is necessary before it can be really appreciated. Briefly, it is made up of a cl.u.s.ter of simple eyes, in each of which there are several parts. Beginning at the surface we have what is known as the facet, or cornea, which roughly corresponds to the surface of our own eyes. Next we meet with a clear, gla.s.sy rod, and this pa.s.ses downwards into the nerve of sight. Around these rods is a sheath of black colouring matter, so that each eye is cut off from its neighbour. Thus the whole eye may be likened roughly to a bundle of telescopes.

Of what use, it may be asked, are the three little eyes in the middle of the head of insects which have these wonderfully complex eyes? Well, the large compound eyes are used to watch the movements of other animals; thus they are enabled to escape their enemies. Many of you doubtless have tried to catch b.u.t.terflies, and if so you will know how suddenly and quickly they avoid the master-stroke that is to land them in the net. But the use of the three little eyes seems to be to enable their possessor to see in the dark. By their means the bee (figs. 2 and 3) can distinguish objects even in the darkest parts of the hive; so too the ant can find his way about the galleries of his underground home.

Night-flying moths all have these little eyes, whilst in b.u.t.terflies, which fly in the daytime, they are wanting.

W. P. PYCRAFT, A.L.S., F.Z.S.

TWO WAYS OF READING A SENTENCE.

People in high stations of life often receive from authors presents of their works, and are expected to say something flattering about them in return. They do not like to hurt the author's feelings if the book is worthless, and so Benjamin Disraeli, when Prime Minister, used to answer those who approached him in this way: 'I have received your book, and shall _lose no time in reading it_.' This sentence, as you can see, is capable of being read in two ways, but the sender of the book was, of course, intended to understand the more flattering reading. It was a kind of deception, and was not very honest, but it was done out of kindness.

A musical composer found another way of answering the many applicants for his opinion: 'I have received your music,' he would write, '_and much like it_.'

S. CLARENDON.