Part 9 (2/2)

William, who had said nothing as yet, but had been walking backwards and forwards, with his head down, and his hands in his pockets, turned suddenly round to Mary, and said, ”I have been thinking we can soon know if your knife is in the nest. We only want a polemoscope for that. Hurrah! long live optics!”

”A lemoscope!” said Lucy, ”What is that? Is it a long hook?”

_William_.--(Smiling rather contemptuously.) ”Poor sister! What ignorance!”

_Father_--”William, speak kindly--tell your sister what this instrument is, and what you want to do with it.”

_William._--(Scientifically.)--”In war, when a besieged garrison wishes to know all the movements of the enemy, without being seen, they erect behind the walls, or the ramparts, a mirror, placed at the end of a long pole, and inclining towards the country. You understand, then, that everything that takes place outside, is reflected in the mirror, and can be seen from within, or in another mirror placed at the bottom of the pole, and sloping inwards. This, Lucy, is what is called a polemoscope--that is to say, an instrument for observations in war.”

”Thank you, William,” said Lucy, ”but what are you going to do with it?”

_William._--”The thing is quite plain. I am going to fasten a small mirror on a light pitchfork, inclining it downwards. This pitchfork I shall fasten firmly to pole; then some one will climb, dear papa, without any danger, as far as the strong branches reach; from thence he can draw up the pole and its mirror, with a long string, and by raising the mirror above the nest, he will enable us to see, with the aid of your telescope, all that the nest contains.

This is my plan, and I think it is not so bad!”

_Father_.--(Smiling.)--”Dear William. It is a great pity, however, that you are so blind. There are two things you have not considered. One is, that the branches which cover the nest, are very thick and tufted. Therefore, your mirror, even if it reached their summit, would only reflect the leaves, and consequently neither the nest nor the knife; and the other thing which you do not observe, is this, that the magpies, by an admirable instinct, which G.o.d has given them, build their nests, not like a basin, as you supposed, but in the form of a ball; so that the nest is covered with a vaulted roof, formed of sticks closely interwoven, which shelters the bird and its brood from bad weather, and above all, from the cruel claw of the kite or hawk.”

”I am much obliged to you, dear papa,” said William. ”What a pity,”

he added, with a sigh; ”for my plan would otherwise have been infallible.”

”Let us seek a better one,” said their father. ”Mary, go and see if you have not left your knife in the fruit-room. Perhaps it was yesterday, that you peeled the apple for Sophy.”

”I will do so,” said Mary, and she went into the house for the key of the fruit-room.

She soon returned, exclaiming, ”The key is not in its place, and I put it there this morning.”

”Miss Mary is mistaken,” said Elizabeth, coming out of the kitchen; ”I see the key in the door.”

”Papa,” said Mary, ”I recollect, when I put the key in the cupboard, this very morning, Sophy looked at it, and said, 'It is certainly the prettiest key on the bunch.'”

”Let us go to the fruit-room,” said the father, directing his steps thither. ”I fear this will prove a sad affair.”

”What is this, too,” cried Mary, examining the shelves, ”the big key of the cellar here Where did it come from? And this key covered with cheese, from one end to the other!”

”Let us go to the cellar!” said the father. ”I believe we shall find out more there than we can here.”

They opened the door, and found the brilliant silver knife, not in the magpie's nest, but sticking in a cheese, from which a large portion appeared to have been detached.

The children were amazed, and their Father much grieved.

”Here is your knife, Mary,” said John, who first saw it. ”Certainly, there is no need of a looking-gla.s.s to find it.”

”You must not joke, my children,” said the Father; ”this is a very sad business. I am thankful it has taken place in the absence of your dear Mother, and I forbid you writing her anything about it. This must concern me, and me alone.”

_William_.--(Indignantly.)--”It amounts to a theft, a falsehood!”

_Lucy_.--”But who has done it, William? Did not Mary leave her knife here?”

_William_.--”Who saw the Magpie carrying it off in his beak?”

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