Chapter XI (3)

'Oh, no!' cried Estelle, shocked at the idea. 'She is crying, and saying her prayers, and they are all for you.'

Jack's face flushed suddenly into a deep red.

'Oh!' he said in a peculiar tone. Estelle thought it sounded as if he were too sorry for words. He did not again offer to take her to his mother.

'I am sorry. I did not know I should hurt her, or I would never have asked her---- ' cried Estelle, looking up in surprise and dismay at the change in his face.

Putting her down, Jack arranged her couch more comfortably. She had tossed all the cushions into a heap in her agitation, and while replacing them he said quietly: 'You have made a mistake, Missie. Mother is not angry with you. She is sorry for me; I have not been what I ought, after all her love and good training. I will go to her now, and she will soon be all right. Poor Mother!' he ended, with a sigh like his mother's.

Before he had time, however, to get to the bedroom, Mrs. Wright appeared, and returned his look of anxiety by stretching up to give him a kiss. Estelle was glad to see how loving was the meeting. Neither said a word on the subject of their trouble. The understanding between them was too complete. Mrs. Wright put her arms round Estelle, and kissing her affectionately, said, 'Forgive me, dearie; I am tired and a little upset. It is so long since I have been out, and walked up that steep path, that it seems to have knocked me over. We will just have a cup of tea, and that will make us all bright and cheerful again.'

Estelle began to speak, but her old friend would not allow her to finish her sentence. The subject was over, and she bustled about preparing the meal, and chatting about the sea and the French sea-folk. Jack had left the room, and did not appear again till Estelle was in bed. Then she heard him say, as he wished his mother good-night, 'The past is past, and can't be undone. The future is in our hands, and it won't be my fault if I don't do my best to redeem it. Perhaps some day atonement may be possible.'

Being half asleep Estelle did not catch the reply. Tired out with the afternoon's expedition and the excitement following it, she slept more soundly than she had done since her illness. Morning found her more lively and vigorous than usual, and with a better colour in her face. The cloud her unfortunate question had occasioned appeared to have cleared off. Perhaps Jack was more quiet, as if some of his joyousness had gone; but no one but sensitive Estelle would have noticed anything amiss. Mrs. Wright was as cheerful as ever, as kind and careful towards her little girl, and even more tenderly loving to Jack.

The day was bright and clear, the weather spring-like, as Jack had promised. Taking advantage of it was the best medicine and tonic that Estelle could have. The trips in the boat became longer, and very soon there was even a talk of a walk in the village, which Estelle much wished to see.

This desire was greatly increased when one afternoon, on returning from their boating, she found 'la mère Bricolin,' as she was called, sitting with Mrs. Wright. Madame Bricolin was housekeeper to M. le Curé, and held herself a little above the fisher-folk, rarely stopping to gossip with them. But Mrs. Wright was different--as different as Jack was from the men with whom he went out to ply the nets.

'What do you say, dearie?' cried Mrs Wright, as Estelle entered the room. 'Here's Mère Bricolin telling me the great fair is to come off next week.'

(_Continued on page 222._)

THE SINGERS YET TO BE.

Oh, touch them not, the loving toil
Of wild birds fair; he surely wrongs
Both Heaven and earth who seeks to spoil
The promise of a thousand songs.

Think! in these fragile caskets lie
The unborn singers who will give
Day-long their sweetest harmony
From dawn until the quiet eve--

The choristers, whose morning praise
Is one glad psalm of hope and joy,
Long, long before their heads upraise
Each sleeping, dreamy girl and boy.

Grey larks, how often I have heard
You singing in the golden noon,
Until my heart within me stirred
To thank you for your music's boon.

Yet sweeter still than all the rest,
The last clear hymn at eventide,
When, dropping to each well-hid nest,
You gaze to where the sun has died.

Faced to the splendid purple West,
You pour full-throated forth a lay,
Giving to God and man your best,
As come the shadows soft and grey.

So touch it not, this present home
Of future singers: pass along--
They'll soon, from out the sky's great dome,
Repay your gentleness with song.

CAUGHT BY A TREE.

A natural history student was one afternoon, during a prolonged drought, hunting for ferns in a dense wood. Towards evening, it grew suddenly dark, and a few drops of rain gave warning that a storm was coming. At that moment, the student's eye fell upon a big, hollow tree-trunk on the ground.

Striking a match, the man peered within, and saw, as he thought, a convenient place of shelter. With feet foremost and arms pressed closely to his side, he wormed himself into the log.

Presently the rain came down in torrents, and the student congratulated himself on having found so snug a shelter.

Fatigued with his long tramp, he fell asleep. How long he slept he did not know, but by-and-by he was awakened by a sharp pain in his head, and a feeling of cramp in his whole body. The rain was still falling, the darkness was intense. The bodily discomfort was, of course, due to the man's cramped position; the pain in his head was caused by a continual drip of water from above on to his forehead.

He drew his head back out of the way of the drops, and, in spite of his uncomfortable position, actually fell asleep again! But the next time he awoke, the pain in his head was intolerable. It seemed impossible to get out of reach of those maddening drops, and 'wherever they fell,' says the student, 'they seemed like a sharp iron boring into the skull.'

But the worst was yet to come. When the poor fellow tried to crawl out of the log, he was unable to do so! The opening by which he had so foolishly entered had been only just large enough to admit his body, and the wood, shrunken by the long drought, had in the rain swelled to such an extent that he was now caught, as he says, 'like a rat in a trap.'

Throughout the night the wretched victim shrieked, struggled, pushed, kicked, and wriggled in vain. He could not raise his hands to tear at the wood.

Happily, he was discovered the next morning through the good services of a sagacious dog, which led a search-party to the spot.

Even then, however, his sufferings were not at an end. Before he could get out of his prison, it was found necessary to cut away a part of the log with an axe.

A PAGE FROM AN AUTOGRAPH BOOK.

Count Ensenberg, who was formerly the Hessian Ambassador in Paris, was a collector of autographs, and there was one page of his autograph book of which he was specially proud.

This page contained the writing of three celebrated men--Guizot, Thiers, and Bismarck. Guizot had written: 'During a long life I have learned to forgive much and forget nothing.' Thiers, for many years Guizot's most bitter political opponent, wrote under this: 'A little forgetfullness is a great help to reconciliation.' Some years later Bismarck closed the page with the words: 'For my part, I have seen it best to forget much, and to let others forgive me.'

MARVELS OF MAN'S MAKING.

VII.--THE NILE DAM AT ASSUAN.

The waters of the River Nile have been put into harness and made manageable for the benefit of Egypt. The mighty stream, swelling to a flood and overflowing once a year, was wont to bring fertility, in its own way, to the fields on either bank. But too soon these refreshing waters sank away, and too soon the short harvest was followed by a period of drought. It was a case of having more than enough water at one season and not enough at another, and it was plain to see that if the supply could only be regulated, the bare, parched plains of Egypt would have abundant crops more than once a year.

The best way to accomplish this would be to get control of the flood waters, and to keep some of them back in a huge reservoir, until the rain-regions, from which they came, began to stop supplies, and the river sank to its usual size. Then the gates of the reservoir could be opened, and the pent-up flood be allowed to gush forth again to refresh the thirsty fields.

In 1898 the performance of this task was undertaken by the engineering firm of John Aird & Co.,[1] at a cost of two million pounds, and in May of that year the scene of operations was chosen, four miles south of the town of Assuan. Here it was proposed to erect a dam, or barrier, right across the Nile. It would stand on the crest of a cataract and would be one mile and a quarter long. But as the river at flood-time carries down large quantities of rich deposit which is extremely beneficial to the soil on which it settles, it would never do to erect any obstruction to check this in its flow. Therefore this Nile dam must be a barrier capable of letting the river pass until its treasure was safely delivered in Egypt. _Then_ the waters must be checked and the great reservoir filled. This could only be done by means of a number of sliding doors in the dam, which could be opened and closed at will.

[Footnote 1: To whom we are indebted for permission to reproduce the illustrations of the Dam.]

The first examination of the cataract seemed to show that it flowed over sound, hard rock, and no difficulty was expected in finding a good, firm foundation. But when, to keep the water back while the work was in progress, sand-banks and temporary dams were built across the four channels through which the river flows to the cataract in the spring, it was found that the granite of the river-bed was 'rotten,' and in many places it was necessary to dig down thirty feet, before solid rock could be found. This was a sad surprise, for it seemed impossible to start building at such a depth, and carry the masonry to a sufficient height before the Nile in flood would come roaring down to Assuan. It was a race with time; and if the engineers failed to win, their temporary dams would be washed away, and would have to be built again next year before the great barrier could be gone on with. Already the Nile had more than once laughed at these temporary banks of sand and stone, and had broken through them and leapt upon its course as though jeering at human power. So persistent had been its attacks that the engineers almost despaired of finding anything heavy enough to hold its own in the opening which the water had made. At last two large railway waggons were filled with stones in wire cages, securely tied into the waggons with steel ropes. These, weighing altogether fifty tons, were pushed along a pair of rails on the top of the 'sudd' (or thick growth of weeds and flotsam) till they fell with a tremendous splash into the opening. Then the Nile was beaten. It could not move such a weight, and the masons worked on in peace--three hundred and fifty-three of them, night and day. Fortunately, too, the builders were encouraged by telegraphic reports received from stations farther up the river to the effect that the waters showed no signs of rising. The flood, in fact, proved unusually late that year, and by the time it came, the dam at Assuan was raised sufficiently high to be independent of the temporary 'sudds.' For three months work was suspended while the water roared through and over the stonework, but at the end of that time work progressed more rapidly than ever.

So cleverly had matters been arranged that no delay was caused by having to wait for materials. The granite was quarried in the neighbourhood, but was no more prompt in arriving at the scene of action than the coal and cement that came all the way from England. During the time of construction no less than twenty-eight thousand tons of coal were burned in the engine fires; and seventy-five thousand tons of cement were mixed to bind the granite blocks together, or to be formed into smooth slabs for facing the sluice-ways. In the long wall thus erected, which is seventy feet high in places (the bed of the river being so uneven) there are one hundred and eighty gateways or sluices, each nearly seven feet wide and twenty-three feet deep--except a few which are just half that depth. These openings are arranged on different levels, the bottom row being sixty feet below the surface of the water when the reservoir is full. They are all contained in a length of four thousand six hundred feet, the rest (one thousand eight hundred feet) of the dam being solid masonry. The sluice-ways are closed by iron gates which work vertically in grooves of steel, and can be raised or lowered from the top of the dam--a roadway sixteen feet wide. That these huge iron curtains may be lifted more easily, one hundred and thirty of them are fitted with rollers, and whatever the pressure of water, they rise and fall with great smoothness.

Five years were allowed for the accomplishment of this great task, but by diligence and promptness, John Aird & Co. were ready to pack up their tools and come away a whole year sooner than was expected. His Royal Highness the Duke of Connaught went to Assuan, in December, 1902, and declared the great dam fit to begin its important duties.

And this is how those duties are performed. Early in July each year, every sluice is opened to its widest, the iron doors being lifted as high as they will go. The Nile at that time is seen to be rapidly rising, and nothing must obstruct its passage. For five whole months it is allowed to rush in growing volume on its course. By that time, the rich deposit, of which we have spoken, has all passed through the sluices, and the time has arrived for checking the clearer and less turbulent water by which it is followed. The first gates are lowered early in December, being of course those in the lowest part of the dam. These are followed by fifty more on a higher level; and so on until all the sluices are carefully closed, with the exception of some which are left open for surplus water to pass through. The reservoir is not full until the end of February, and thus takes three months to collect its waters. But so vast is its extent, that the stoppage is said to affect the river one hundred and forty miles farther south. The water thus held back is not allowed to escape until May, when it is most wanted in the fields below the dam; and it is, of course, all gone by the beginning of July, when the sluices are gaping wide again to let the new floods pass. It need hardly be said that the order just described varies a great deal according to the moods of the river. The dam must be regulated to those changing moods, or the benefits it gives could not be relied upon. Thus from the fickle stream a constant blessing is drawn, and year after year, with the shifting seasons, those stately gates will rise and fall; the river channel will always have its water, so long as the gates last, and there will be corn in Egypt.

GREY-SKIN'S ADVENTURES.

But for an undue affection on my part for fruit of all kinds, you would probably never have heard my story; for I might possibly have been free, and the happiest lives, they say, are those which have no history.

What happy times we had in that far-away land over the seas--the gambols and the pranks we played! I was always fond of freedom, in fact I loved it beyond anything, and it was this that first led me into misfortune.

I disobeyed my good old mother, by going beyond the bounds appointed, and through this I was brought into captivity. An elephant-hunter caught me, almost before I knew where I was, and then, good-bye to freedom!

I was shipped on board a huge vessel. What a voyage it was to be sure! I trumpeted for hours in misery. Once I felt certain I was going to the bottom, but my fears were unfounded, for we reached England in perfect safety, none the worse for our stormy experiences. Shortly after landing, I was dispatched to my new home.

I should not have minded so much if I had been sent to the Zoo, for I hear some of the elephants there have fine times and are treated like royalty. But I was bought by a circus company. Fancy, taking _me_ to a common thing like a circus! At first I moped; who would not, under such trying circumstances? By degrees, however, I got used to my surroundings, and learned to do all sorts of clever things. I was young and teachable, so they said. I could stand on a tub, sit at a table and dine, ring the bell for the waiter to come and clear away, after which I would eat my dessert with the air of a gentleman.

In fact, I was 'The Children's Delight,' 'The Elephant Extraordinary,' and 'The Marvel of the World.' That is what they said on the circus-bills! I used to feel proud, at times, of all the praise which was bestowed upon me, and gave myself airs. You see, it is not everybody who is 'The Marvel of the World.'

However, praise alone did not satisfy me for very long. Freedom was what I wanted, and one day, to my delight, freedom was what I managed to get.

And didn't I enjoy myself!

Never mind how I accomplished it; let me say simply that I eluded my keeper and got into a sort of forest (I suppose it was a country wood), and there I stayed all night, laughing in my trunk to think what a panic the circus company would be in. If only I could have made my way to some seaport town, and have been shipped off home again, I would gladly have endured the roughest voyage to be once more in my own dear native land.

Towards morning I got weary of my loneliness, and hungry too, I must admit. Feeling a bit more courageous than when I first escaped, I decided to take a walk, and I found my way into an adjoining town. Here it was, alas! that I came to grief.

I met a baker's boy on the road with a basket of rolls. I gobbled up every one, and so partly satisfied my hunger.

The boy was dreadfully scared. Had I not been so busy with my breakfast, I should have been quite anxious about him. For a few seconds he stood open-mouthed with fear; then he flew like the wind. What for, I did not know, for I had no intention of doing him any harm. All I wanted was his rolls.

Of course, after having appeased my hunger, I ought to have made my way back to the woods again. I realise this now.

But I saw, not far off, a greengrocer's shop, and the things there displayed were enough to tempt any one's appetite, I simply could not resist them. I broke the window, and upset the fruit over the pavement. What a feast I had to be sure! The people in the shop were afraid to interrupt me, so I had it all to myself. Two basketsful I demolished, and was prepared to attack a third, when suddenly, to my horror, I was caught.

My keeper, with two or three other men, who were helping in the search, happened to see me in the middle of my feast, and then--well, here I am, again in captivity.

I said I liked fruit. Yes, but that is a thing of the past, now.

I have pretty well settled down again to my life as 'The Children's Delight,' and 'The Elephant Extraordinary,' although at times I still yearn for the freedom of the forest. But this one lesson I have learnt--that if you cannot get the things you want, the wisest plan is to make the very best of the things you have.

THINK THIS OUT

An Arabian proverb, which contains a lot of meaning very closely packed, runs as follows: 'Who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is foolish; shun him. Who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is humble; teach him. Who knows, but knows not that he knows, is asleep; wake him. Who knows, and knows that he knows, is wise: follow him.'

THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.

(_Continued from page 215._)