a search in his pockets, and at length produced a small paper packet, which, on being opened, was found to contain about a table-spoonful of green metallic-looking crystals.

“There id is,” he said, handing the packet to the colonel for inspection.

“Um!” ejaculated the colonel, turning the crystals over slowly with his finger. “Quite new to me; I don’t recognise them at all. And what is the nature of the power derivable from these crystals?”

“Dreated in one way they give off elegdricidy; dreated in another way they yield an exbansive gas, which may be subsdiduded for either gunbowder or sdeam,” answered the professor.

“Are they explosive, then?” asked the colonel.

“Nod in their bresend form. You mighd doss all those crysdals indo the fire with imbunidy; but bowder them and mix indo a baste with a zerdain acid, and whad you now hold in your hand would develop exblosive bower enough to demolish this building,” was the quiet reply.

The professor’s little audience looked at him incredulously; a look to which he responded by saying:

“Id is quide drue, I assure you,” in such convincing tones as left no room for further doubt. They knew the professor well; knew him to be quite incapable of the slightest attempt at deception or exaggeration.

“Then, if I have understood you aright, you will construct your aerial ship of your new metal, and apply your new power to give motion to her machinery?” said the colonel.

“Yes. Thad is do say, I would if I bossessed the means do build such a ship as I have described. Bud I am a scientist, and therefore boor. Never mind; I have no doubt thad, when I make my discoveries known, I shall find some wealthy man who, for the sake of science, will find der money,” said the professor hopefully.

“How much would it cost to build an aerial ship such as you have been speaking of?” asked the baronet.

“Oh! I cannod say. Nod zo very much. Berhabs a hundred thousandt bounds,” was the reply.

“Phew! That’s rather ‘steep,’ as the Yankees say. But—‘a fool and his money are soon parted’—if you are convinced that your scheme is really practicable, professor, I will find the needful,” remarked the baronet.

“Bragdigable! My dear sir, id is as bragdigable as id is to build a shib which will navigade the ocean. I have thoughd the madder oudt, and there is nod a single weak boindt anywhere in my scheme. Led me have der money and I will brovide you with the means of zoaring above the grest of Mount Everest, or of exbloring the deepest ocean valleys,” exclaimed the professor enthusiastically.

“Good!” remarked the baronet quietly. “That is a bargain. Meet me here at noon to-morrow, and we will go together to my bankers, where I will transfer one hundred thousand pounds to your account. And—what say you, gentlemen?—when this wonderful ship is completed will you join the professor and me in an experimental trip round the world?”

“I shall be delighted,” exclaimed the colonel.

“Nothing would please me better,” remarked the lieutenant.

And so it was agreed.

“Well,” remarked the baronet reflectively, and as though he already began to feel doubtful as to the wisdom of his agreement with the professor, “if it has no other good result it will at least afford employment to a few of the unfortunate fellows who are now hanging about idle day after day.”

The professor looked up sharply.

“What!” he exclaimed. “Of whom are you sbeaging, my dear Sir Reginald?”

“I am speaking of the unfortunate individual known as ‘the British Workman,’” was the baronet’s quiet reply.

“Am I do understandt thad you make the embloymend of English workmen a gondition of the underdaking?” asked the professor somewhat sharply.

“By no means, my dear sir,” answered Sir Reginald; “I shall not attempt to impose conditions of any kind upon you. But I should naturally expect that, if English workmen are as capable of executing the work as foreigners, the former would be given the preference in a matter involving the expenditure of say a hundred thousand pounds of an Englishman’s money.”

“Quide zo,” concurred the professor; “and you would be perfectly justified in such an expegdation if the Bridish workman was the steady, indusdrious, reliable fellow he once was. Bud, unfordunadely, he is nod the same, zo var ad leasd as reliabilidy is concerned. You gannod any longer debend ubon him. Id is no longer bossible to underdake a work of any imbordance withoudt the gonsdand haunting fear that your brogress will be inderrubted—berhaps ad a most cridical juncture—by a ‘sdrike,’ The greadt quesdion which, above all others, do-day agidades the British mind is: ‘Do whadt cause is the bresendt debression of drade addribudable?’ And, in my obinion, gendlemen, the answer to that quesdion is thad id is very largely due do the consdandly recurring sdrikes which have become almosdt a habid with the Bridish workman. The ‘sdrike’ is the most formidable engine which has ever been brought indo oberation do seddle the differences bedween embloyer and embloyed; and, whilst I am willing to admid thad in certain cases id has resulded in the repression and redress of long-sdanding oppression and injusdice, id has been used with such a lack of discrimination as do have almost ruined the drade of the goundry. With the invention of the ‘sdrike’ the workman thoughd he had ad lasd discovered the means of enriching himself ad the expense of his embloyer, or of securing his fair and righdful share of the brofids of his labour, as he described id; and, udderly ignorand of the laws of bolidigal egonomy, recognising in the ‘sdrike’ merely an insdrumend for forcing a higher rade of wages from his embloyer, he has gone on recklessly using id undil the unfordunade gabidalist, finding himself unable do produce his wares ad a cost which will enable him do successfully gompede with the manufagdurers of other goundries, has been gombelled to glose his works and remove his gabidal and his energies to a spodt where he gan find workmen less unreasonable in their demands. There is no more capable or valuable workman in existence than the English artisan, if he gould only be induced to do his honest best for his embloyer; there is hardly any branch of industry in which he is nod ad leasd the equal, if not very greadly the suberior of the foreigner; and id is even yet in his power to recover the command of the world’s market by the suberior excellence of his broductions, if he could only be brevailed upon do abandon sdrikes and do be satisfied with a wage which will allow the cabidalist a fair and moderade redurn for the use of his money and brains and for the risks he has do run. If the British workman would gollecdively make up his mind to do this, and would acquaindt the gabidalist with his decision, we should speedily see a revival of drade and embloymend for every really capable workman. Bud in the meantime there unfordunadely seems do be very little chance of this; and in so delicade a madder as the gonsdrugdion of this ship of ours, it would be nod only unwise, but also unfair to you to run the risk of a failure through the embloymendt of untractable or unreliable workmen; and if, therefore, you had insisted on my embloying Englishmen, I should have been relugdandly gombelled do wash my hands of the whole affair. Ad the same dime I feel id due do myself do say thad, even had you nod mendioned the madder, I should have done my best to secure Englishmen for the work, as of course I shall now; bud I do nod feel very sanguine as do the resuldt.”

“My dear professor!” exclaimed the baronet, smiling at the intense earnestness of the German, “are you not laying on the colour rather thickly? I admit with sorrow that your portrait is only too truthful—as a portrait—still I cannot help thinking it rather highly coloured. They are surely