could devote his whole attention to observation, and it could when necessary rise to obtain a distant view.

air-car

As for vulnerability, the would be no worse than the horse, and if the seats and engines were rendered bullet proof, it could hardly be brought down by rifle fire. For reconnaisance, for despatch delivery, for raids into the enemy's territory, such a means of transport would be unsurpassed.

The question of invasion is one in which the British public takes a more general interest. Professor Newcomb concludes that "England has little to fear from the use of airships by an enemy seeking to invade her territory. ... The key to her defence is the necessary vulnerability of a balloon."

...

. . But, again, what about the flyer? If such machines can be proved to be practicable, and not too expensive, they will soon be adopted by the military Powers, not by ones and twos as with the costly airships, but by the hundred. We know that these machines can be made. There can be no reasonable doubt but that they will be immensely improved during the next year or two.

Now I would seriously ask, What valid reason is there why, within a few years' time, a foreign nation should not be able to despatch a fleet of a thousand aerial machines, each carrying two or three armed men and able to come across to our shores and land, not necessarily on the coast, but at any desired inland place? The majorThe Nineteenth Century and After.

ity of the men could be landed while the flyers could be sent back for further supplies. No defence seems possible against invasion by such a fleet, since, like a swarm of locusts, its destination cannot be guessed, and, after settling, it may rise again and swoop down on some fresh place, while an hour later it may have returned to its base, having wrought havoc in the district of its descent.

All this may sound like a flight of fancy, but let us remember that Wright has already accomplished flights with a passenger of double the distance across the Channel. Let us bear in mind, too, that 10,000 such machines would probably not cost much more than one modern battleship. The only system of defence that I can see is (Irish though it may sound) to form a similar fleet to attack the homes of those that dare to visit our shores unasked.

Then let us be prepared. It is not enough for our naval and military authorities to shirk the matter by saying that they do not consider it likely to be serious. The question is whether there is any sort of possibility of this mode of warfare developing into one of importance. If there is, it demands our most serious consideration, and the British taxpayer must put his hand in his pocket and provide the wherewithal to place us at least on a par with any foreign nation which attempts to form a large aerial fleet. B. Baden-Powell.

CHAPTER VIL Late one afternoon about a fortnight after the Leslies had taken up their abode at the Little Farm, the two girls made their way homewards

from an entertainment given in their honor by Mrs. Turnworth. It was now late November and the dusk had already set in, a clinging damp fog made progress difficult, and their ad

vance was further impeded by the extremely muddy condition of the roads. Kitty carried a small lantern, the feeble light of which was only sufficient to enable them to see a few yards ahead, and they walked slowly and with great caution.

"I wish I hadn't put on my highheeled shoes," sighed Bess. "My dear little French shoes! They're full of mud now-and they're the last of their line. We shall have to get great country clod-hopping things after this."

"Well, they'll be more suitable, I dare say," said Kitty in a dispirited tone.

"Yes, all our little elegances were quite thrown away on Cousin Marian and her friends," agreed Bess. "That was an entertainment, wasn't it?"

"She did her best," returned Kitty, charitably, but dolefully.

"The cats' tea-party!" ruminated Bess. "Do you remember that book we were so fond of as children? It was a regular cats' tea-party to-dayand Cousin Marian was the cattiest of all!"

Kitty laughed feebly and Bess continued in a more sprightly tone, for the fancy cheered her up a little.

"Yes, there were clerical toms and ordinary cats-and that nice Mrs. Molesworth was a dear kind old pussy. She purred all the time, and she was so proud of her white frill. And Mrs. Moreton was a Chinchilla, I think, with her greenish eyes and gray whiskers -did you notice her whiskers? Every time she opened her mouth she seemed to give a sort of plaintive 'miaow!'

Bess came paddling up alongside of Kitty, in her eagerness scarcely heeding where she stepped and splashing up the mud.

"Yes, we had five cats and one calfone pink-faced calf," she repeated meditatively. "The Chilby man looked like nothing but a calf. I saw him

waggling his ears while you were talking to his mother, and when he handed me those nasty little sticky cakes he looked just as if he was going to 'moo.'"

"Calves don't moo," said Kitty.

"Yes, they do. You know how they throw up their head and say 'M-m-m-m'? Mr. Chilby went just like that. 'M-m-m' he'd say, holding out a plate of something or other. Oh, Kitty, isn't it horrid?"

She stood stock still in the middle of a pool, dropping her skirts the better to gesticulate with both despairing little hands. Her mouth drooped, and as Kitty, startled, held up the lantern, she saw two great tears upon her sister's cheeks.

"My darling, what's the matter?"

"Oh, it's so horrid," sobbed Bess again, "there's no use pretending to each other and making believe that we like it, when it's so hateful

"Being poor, you mean?"

"Being poor and living on a farm, and tramping along muddy roads, and going to a cats' tea-party. Oh, Kitty!"

"Of course it has been horrid to-day," said Kitty soothingly, though her own heart sank.

"It's horrid every day," protested Bess. "I don't mind the place so much-it's the people. And to think we shall see nobody a bit better all our days. That we shall vegetate and grow cld and ugly on our maiden stalks unless the pink-faced calf takes a fancy to us. That's all we have to look forward to now!"

She picked up her skirts again and plodded on, Kitty following her in sore distress.

"We may as well make up our minds to it," resumed Bess. "We have absolutely no prospects. No lovers to walk in the Lovers' Walk-nobody to dance with even if there was such a thing as a ball. The only excitement that breaks the monotony of our days

-a party at Cousin Marian's with a married clergyman on each side of you and a thing like Chilby to hand the bread-and-butter!"

Kitty herself was too painfully convinced of the truth of these remarks to venture to contradict them. Cousin Marian's entertainment had, moreover, been of a chastening nature, and she was so thoroughly out of spirits herself that she was incapable of persuading her sister to take a more cheerful view. They paddled on again, and for some time the silence was only broken by the squelching of the mud beneath their feet and the drip of mois. ture from the neighboring hedge. All at once, however, a faint sound of wheels was heard and the hoof-beats of a fast-trotting horse.

As the vehicle approached Bess dropped behind her sister; the road was narrow just at that part.

"Keep close to the hedge, Kitty," she cried; "or we shall be run over by some bloated aristocrat or other. What a pace he is going! Ugh, I'm a regular Radical now-a Socialist-no, a Nihilist, I mean. I'd like to throw a bomb under that horse's feet. What business has that creature to spin past us and splash us, while we, who are fifty times better than he or she can be, are plodding along in the mud?"

On came the rapid wheels; Kitty insensibly held up her lantern and the sisters squeezed themselves almost flat against the hedge. To their surprise, however, the unseen driver drew up and a well-known voice inquired:

"Is that you, Miss Leslie? Will you have a lift?"

"Why, it's Farmer Hardy," cried Bess, joyfully.

Snatching the lantern from Kitty's hand she held it aloft, peering meanwhile into the mist. The half-defined outlines of a tall black horse and an equally tall dogcart were now dimly visible. Also those of a man's stalwart LIVING AGE. VOL. XLI. 2170

figure bending towards them from his high perch.

"Oh," exclaimed Bess, with a gleeful little cry, "I am so glad it's you, Mr. Hardy. Yes, please, we'd like a lift, shouldn't we, Kitty? We are so damp and so cold we are feeling quite wicked -at least I am."

"Can you see the step?" inquired Stephen. "I'll hold the light. Now, Miss Leslie. I'll let down the back seat in a minute for you, Miss Bess."

"Oh, but your horse won't stand," said Bess. "Don't turn round, Mr.. Hardy, don't turn round. Let me get up in front. I saw you driving three like that the other day."

"If you like," returned Stephen. "Of course 'tis only a little way, but I thought you would prefer—”

But Bess had already scrambled into the cart and popped herself down between him and Kitty.

"I'm used to doing bodkin," she said. "Oh, what a nice warm rug! This is delightful! You farmers have really the best of it, and, only fancy, I thought you were a bloated aristocrat when you were coming along-that's why I felt so wicked! I said to Kitty that I should like to throw a bomb under your wheels."

Stephen, having finished tucking them up with the rug, gathered up the reins leisurely and allowed the horse to proceed; then he glanced down at Bess and laughed, a little puzzled as to what rejoinder to make. Bess was, however, in no way disconcerted by this fact.

"Kitty and I have been to tea at Cousin Marian's," she volunteered. "Cousin Marian seems to be in a funny sort of set here, Mr. Hardy-in the social way I mean."

"Perhaps I'm hardly in a position to judge," returned Stephen.

"No," rejoined she, "that's just what's so refreshing. You and your mother need not go into society. You

can just live in that heavenly old house of yours and look after your work, and you can hunt and she can superintend the dairy, and so you're quite happy. Now Cousin Marian--Cousin Marianyou needn't pinch me, Kitty-Mr. Hardy knows just as well as I do that Cousin Marian only knows fusty, musty people-and, if we are to be in her set, we shall only know fusty, musty people too."

Stephen laughed again and drew 'the lash of his whip lightly across the horse's neck; the animal sprang forward and the light cart swung as they rounded a corner.

"Now farmer people," resumed Bess, "needn't ape gentility, they can just go in for comfort, which is far more satisfactory."

"What a pretty horse," put in Kitty's soft voice.

She thought it was time to change the conversation.

"Yes," rejoined Hardy, and his tone was well pleased. "He is about the best I have. I bred him myself and broke him."

comfy?" exBess. "It's

"And isn't the cart claimed the irrepressible so springy and so light, and this is a nice warm rug, too. Ah, give me comfort!"

"Well, 'tis better than going afoot on such an evening as this," rejoined the young farmer somewhat awkwardly. "I could have called for you at Mrs. Turnworth's if I had only known. It is really not a fit night for you to be walking."

"Beggars mustn't be choosers," responded Bess. "I don't like being a beggar at all," she added dolefully.

By this time they had turned down the little lane leading to the two farms, and Stephen presently drew up before the gate of the smaller one. Kitty, murmuring her thanks, sprang to the ground, but Bess did not accomplish the descent without a variety of little

manoeuvres. First she had to extend her hand to Stephen, then to exclaim at the height of the vehicle from the ground, and the shortness of her own legs, to give voice to certain misgivings as to the difficulty of preserving her skirts from the wheel, and, finally, as the horse became restive and Stephen bewildered, to fling herself bodily on top of Kitty, who stood by holding the lantern.

"I hope I haven't damaged you," she exclaimed. "Oh, Kitty, I've torn my glove-my nice white glove! Why didn't you keep the lantern out of the way? I'm sure my finger's bleeding too. Good-night, Mr. Hardy. Oh, Kitty, hasn't it been odious? The only part of the whole time that I enjoyed was the drive home."

The two little figures vanished round the angle of the house and Stephen pursued his way, now smiling to himself as he thought of the prattle of one sister, now frowning as he remembered the silence of the other.

There was no light in the passage, but in answer to a shrill summons from Bess, the servant who had replaced Mrs. Green came clattering down the stairs.

"Bring a light, please," said Kitty. "Oh, Louisa," groaned Bess, "come and take off my shoes-they're so muddy I can't touch them!"

Louisa, who had begun to clump upstairs for the candle, now clumped down again in response to the appeal of her younger mistress, then, apparently bethinking herself when about halfway that she could not remove the shoes without a light to see them by. mounted the stairs again at a gallop and came clattering down again at such speed that her light was extinguished before she reached the hall.

"Oh, good gracious!" exclaimed Bess in exasperation, as the noisy steps began to retreat, "where are you off to now?"

"To get the matches, miss," responded Louisa cheerfully. "I do always leave 'em in the same place-in the attic window-sill-and then I do always know where to find 'em."

She spoke with modest pride, evidently expecting to be commended for her forethought.

"Well, give me the candlestick," said Kitty, "else perhaps you'll forget that by the time you've remembered the matches."

"So I mid," rejoined Louisa, with unimpaired good humor.

"Considering that she never by any chance goes near the attic except at bedtime, I don't quite see the point of keeping the matches there," said Bess.

Both girls were tired and cross. Kitty slowly removed her pretty white fur tippet and shook it, inwardly wondering whether it would recover the effects of that clinging fog; while Bess tapped discontentedly on the floor with the tip of her ill-used little shoe.

A clatter on the stairs, a heavy bump on the landing, and renewed clatter on the lower flight heralded the return of Louisa; the hurried and, for some time, ineffectual scraping of a match was at length rewarded by the appearance of a flame which revealed first Louisa's large red hand and presently her large red, good-humored face wreathed in smiles.

""Twas lucky you did think o keepin' the candlestick, miss, else I'd ha' smashed en all to flinders when I did fall upon the stairs. I can never mind the landin' there, an' I do always fall," she added pleasantly.

"Well, don't fall over me, anyhow," remarked Bess acidly; "take off my shoes and put them carefully on one side until they dry. They're not to be put near the fire, mind-and not to be blacked."

"Would ye have the brown polish on 'em then?" inquired Louisa, as she

drew off one of the objects in question.

"Brown, no!" returned Bess with a little scream. "They're my very best shoes, they must be done with kid reviver-I'll do them myself if it comes to that."

"Well, it mid be safer," replied Louisa, turning to Bess's left foot. "Wold Cox there, he is a terr'ble wold chap for makin' mistakes. Yesterday 'twas, he was as near as anything puttin' blackin' on Miss Leslie's brown shoes. He be sich a one for thinkin' about his soul, ye know."

"What?" cried Kitty, turning round with a laugh.

"His soul, miss!" repeated Louisa. "There, he do go into a reg'lar stud thinkin' about it an' goin' over textses an' things in his mind. I do often say to en when he be a cleanin' the knives an' a stud-studdin' all the time:

Maister Cox,' I do say, 'you'll have one o' your fingers off so sure as anything.' An' he do tell I not to take so much care for the things o' this world."

Bess laughed too, but somewhat unwillingly, for she was still contemplating the sad condition of the muddy shoes. "Bring me my trees, Louisa," she said "you know. Oh, I don't mean an oak or an ash or anything of that kind," as Louisa squatted back on her heels with a mystified expression. "I mean the little wooden things that go inside my shoes. You know where they are, don't you?"

“Oh, e-es, miss," responded Louisa delightedly. "I did find 'em in your room to-day an' I did put your other little shoes on 'em 'cause they was a bit damp arter you was out this mornin'. They didn't seem to fit so very well, but I did stretch an' stretch 'em an' the elastic at the back keeps 'em in place nice."

"You don't mean my goloshes!" ejaculated Bess, bursting into helpless