The platforms were built at intervals around the wall, each having room for six or seven men. The defenders would have to shoot over the top of the wall, but cover had been provided for them by sandbags fixed securely along the ridge.

'Our women workers made those sandbags,' Barton remarked. 'They used table-cloths, rugs, curtains, and even some of their own dresses. They have been a great help to us.'

'By-the-bye, do your colleagues know how to handle their rifles?' Fred inquired.

'Mr. Wilkins, that old gentleman with the grey beard, was a good shot forty years ago; but from the time he first left England, until yesterday, he hadn't touched a rifle. However, he was practising yesterday and to-day, and I have no doubt that he will do well. My other colleagues had never handled a rifle in their lives until this morning, when I gave them a little instruction. I was a member of the Oxford University Corps.'

'We ought to make a good defence then,' said Fred. 'But we must keep a sharp eye on the ammunition, and see that it isn't wasted.'

'That reminds me that my man got a fine Lee-Metford and a large box of ammunition. They were sold to him at a low price by a boatman who, I suspect, had stolen them at one of the treaty ports. As the rifle was strange to me I held it back until I had time to learn how to fill the magazine. Would you like to have it?'

'I should, very much.'

They hurried to the verandah of the house where the Lee-Metford and ammunition lay. Fred picked up the rifle and, after examining it closely, recognised it as the very one which he had used with good effect against the river pirates. He was about to tell Barton of his discovery when loud shouts from the town made known to them that the Boxers had arrived. Fred pulled off his skull-cap, filled it with cartridges, and followed Barton down the steps and up on to the platform, where Charlie, Ping w.a.n.g, and Number One were stationed.

(_Continued on page 386._)

TOYS FROM THE STREETS.

Who does not know the Street Toy-man? 'All made to work! Here you are, sir, a real motor-car for a penny! The wonderful jumping frog!'

Cheapside and Ludgate Hill, and many less busy parts of London, ring with such cries for a month before Christmas. All the year round the hawkers are standing patiently on the curbstone with their wonderful penn'orths; but it is at Christmas-time that they do most business. Some children are fortunate enough to be taken by their parents to see the streets at Christmas-time, and sometimes they are allowed to buy some of the pretty things for themselves. But there are many others not so fortunate, who can only look on wistfully, and others again who are not rich enough or, perhaps, too ill even to go and look at the sights. Poor men and women, who cannot really afford even a penny, find in the hawkers' wares the cheapest market, and many a bare, cold home is brightened at Christmas by one or two of the little toys that cost so little, but bring so much happiness.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Toys from the Streets.]

These toys have a wonderful history of their own. Do you know that when you have one of them in your hand, you may be holding what has come thousands of miles over sea and land from the hands of other children in distant countries? Whole families make a living by manufacturing these toys. The material--wood, paper, tinsel, wire, or what not--is given out at the factory, and the worker takes it home. There every one is busy; one cutting out pieces of paper of a given shape, one whittling pieces of wood to fit together, one gumming up the various parts, till the whole toy is finished and added to a growing pile. Nearly every civilised country has such workers--Austria, Germany, France, America, j.a.pan, and England; and the toys in the end travel mile after mile in great ships and trains, to be sold in the streets for such a little sum!

Now think how some of these are made. Most of those which require gumming or fitting together are the work of man's hands alone. The birdcage and dog musical-box in the ill.u.s.tration are of this kind. In the inside of the box under the dog is a little cogged wheel, which, when the handle is turned, rubs against pieces of metal and produces the musical sounds. The bird's song, or rather, croak, is caused by air rushing through a sort of parchment tissue when the floor of the cage is compressed. The train, carman, cart, and trailer are made almost entirely by means of moulds, though some parts have to be fitted together by hand. First of all, a model is made in wax or clay, or some other substance, then a cast is taken of it in plaster of Paris, then a double mould (in two pieces) is made from the plaster cast, and into these moulds liquid metal--an alloy mainly composed of lead--is run, and left to cool. All these five toys have wheels that move. They are electro-gilt--that is, the gilding is fixed on them by means of a bath through which an electric current pa.s.ses.

The other toys in the ill.u.s.tration are made mainly by hand, though parts have to be cast in moulds or cut by machinery. The monkey bicyclist is hand-made; his body is composed of wool and wire. The weight hanging down under the string keeps him perfectly balanced, and as the string is raised or lowered he runs up and down more easily than a good many human bicyclists.

(_Continued on page 389._)

[Ill.u.s.tration: Chinese Laundrymen.]

THE CHINESE LAUNDRYMAN.

The differences in general appearance of the men of various races are most striking. No one could mistake a Chinaman for a North American Indian, or a Negro for a Malay or a Maori. Not only are these men of various races different in outward appearance, but they have also minds of different characters, and seem naturally fitted for different kinds of work.

The Chinaman has his own special fields of labour. He is a great trader with the countries near home, and sends out many junks to the East Indies, the Malay Islands, and the South Sea Islands, to collect edible birds' nests, trepang, ornamental woods, pearls, pearl-sh.e.l.ls, tortoise-sh.e.l.l, and the skins of birds of paradise. At Singapore, there are hundreds of Chinese shopkeepers, who sell all kinds of miscellaneous articles, such as penknives, cotton thread, writing-paper, gunpowder, and corkscrews, often at a price which would be considered cheap even in England.

But it is when the Chinaman settles in some American or Australian town that his special abilities are best seen. He is surrounded and outnumbered by Englishmen and Americans, and is entirely under their government; and yet there are some kinds of work which he can do so well and so cheaply that no European can compete with him. He is an excellent gardener in a small way, and if he can obtain only a very little plot of ground, he will cultivate it so constantly and so carefully that he will be able to maintain himself in comfort with the money which he obtains from the sale of his vegetables and fruits. Many gardens belonging to Chinamen are to be seen on the outskirts of the cities of Australia and New Zealand, and early in the morning the Chinamen hawk their products through the streets.

The Chinaman is equally good as a laundryman, and in some cities the Chinese colonists do the whole of the laundry-work. In San Francisco, where there are thousands of Chinese, all the washing is performed by them. They work in the open air, just as the English and Scotch women used to do in their public washing-grounds, standing in the water rubbing and wringing their clothes. They have a curious practice in ironing, of spraying the linen with water through their mouths. They do the work very thoroughly, and at the same time cheaply. A Chinaman will live very comfortably on forty pounds a year, and, as he is an almost incessant worker, he can make sufficient money for his needs by work which is very poorly paid from an Englishman's point of view.

A BUSY WORLD.

What a busy world is this!

Everything I view Has some task it must not miss-- Something it must do; There is nothing idle stands, All things work with head or hands.

All day long the busy Sun Runneth through the skies, And its work is never done Till the stars arise: Then it goes to other lands, Nor one moment idle stands.

In this world where all things work, I must busy be; There are tasks I must not shirk, Duties set for me; And since nothing idle stands, I must work with head or hands.

A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

True Tales of the Year 1805.

VII.--REPTON, THE CONVICT.

It was the last day of the Winter a.s.size, in the year 1805, and a long row of prisoners stood in the dock of the court to receive the sentence of death.

Sixteen men to be hanged! It seems quite incredible now, but a hundred years ago the death sentence was given indiscriminately for offences of all sorts, some so trivial as hardly to deserve the name. For instance, the man of sixty, who stood first in the dock, had s.n.a.t.c.hed a ham from a shop-door, to take to some starving children at home; and the country lad of some eighteen years or less, at the other end of the row, had set fire to a rick--it was an accident, it is true, but a quant.i.ty of hay had been burnt; the jury found him 'guilty,' and he was to be hanged with the rest.

Poor lad! The judge's words fell on his ear like strokes of a heavy hammer. Surely they could not be meant for him! It was but a few days ago that he had been a happy, careless lad, shouting and laughing over a bonfire in which he and some friends were to roast potatoes. A high wind got up suddenly, and some sparks from their fire were carried to a hay-rick at some little distance, and at once there was a blaze!

The other lads slunk away, terrified at the mishap, but this lad, Repton by name, ran up, and tried to stamp out the flames, and so was taken 'red-handed,' as the angry farmer expressed it, and was there and then lodged in the county jail.

And now he was to die! He sat in a corner of the dark underground room, dazed and miserable, whilst the men round him, sentenced like himself, were talking and laughing, and trying by these means to put away the thought of their fate. But Repton was stupefied with anguish, till at last merciful sleep overcame him.

He was roused next morning by the jailor, who said, roughly enough, 'You've escaped the gallows this time, lad. A reprieve has come for you.'

'Am I free? Can I go home?' asked the lad eagerly, not understanding the man's words.

The jailor burst out laughing. 'Free! What are you thinking of? Folks can't burn ricks, and be free. You are to be transported to Botany Bay for ten years, and then you will be free.'

The six months which Repton had to pa.s.s on the hulks at Sheerness among scenes of wickedness and brutality seemed afterwards like a bad dream, and the lad prayed--oh, so earnestly!--to be kept from the evil which surrounded him. Then came the day when, chained two and two, he and his companions were marched through the streets and shipped on board the _Neptune_, as unseaworthy a craft as ever sailed the ocean, but thought good enough for convicts.

However, the _Neptune_ did not sink; but she took nearly a year to reach her destination, and the convicts, stowed together in the hold, suffered torments from heat and thirst in the tropics. Then small-pox broke out amongst them, and many died; the rest were more like skeletons than living men, when the _Neptune_ at last cast anchor in Botany Bay. Here the men had to work on Government buildings, and at night were locked up in barracks, hardly more roomy or airy than the hold of the old _Neptune_.

Most of the convicts did as little work, and gave as much trouble as they dared, and nothing but fear of the overseer kept them from open mutiny. At last, finding the overseer alone one day, and for once unarmed, two or three of the worst convicts set upon him, and would have murdered him, if Repton had not stood by him and helped him till a.s.sistance came to overpower the mutineers.