History of wireless telegraphy and broadcasting in Australia/Topical/Biographies/Alan Owen Burrows/Notes

1901 03
Alan's father applies for a liquor licence for his store "Notice of Application for a Colonial Wine License. I, RICHARD BURROWS, of George street, Windsor, Storekeeper, do hereby give notice that I desire to obtain, and will at the next Quarterly Licensing Court to be holden at Windsor, on the 11th day of April, 1901, apply for a Certificate authorising the issue of a Colonial Wine License for a house situate in George-street, Windsor, Signed, RICHARD BURROWS, Dated 25th March, 1901."

1908 08
Birth Notice for Alan's half-sister "BIRTHS. . . . BURROWS.— August 2, at 20 King-street, Newtown, to Florence and Richard Burrows — a daughter."

1922 04
'''JEWELERY AS AN ART. DIMINISHING DEMAND. Buyers Prefer Kitchen Tables.''' (By Alan Burrows)

NEWS comes from America that £10,000 worth of jewellery has been stolen. With that sum you could almost buy a small warship, or a few Rolls Royces, or build a number of soldiers' homes. All that for pretty ornaments that a woman wears. We all wear jewellery, however, in some form or other. As a rule, men don't evince a great fondness for it; but what an appeal it has to the feminine mind — particularly to the young feminine mind. No one seems to know if Adam gave Eve an engagement ring, but he may have thought it unnecessary, as there, was no rival, who might think Eve still unattached. Nevertheless, there is nothing surer that, if Eve were at all like her children, and the ring been given her, she would have worn it, if only to flaunt it in the face of the serpent. And if the serpent, to outdo Adam, had presented her with a tiara, necklet or bracelet, or the whole lot, she would have worn them, too.

ARISTOCRATIC TRADERS It is astonishing the amount of jewellery that is worn in Sydney — not necessarily all at once. The quantity, however, is made, so it must be put on sometimes. Such jewellery some of it is, too! "Parisian designs" that would raise the hair of a Paris policeman. The last evidence of a barbarous instinct (a woman puts rings through her ears for exactly the same reason that a blackfellow puts one through his nose), jewellery, as time goes on, seems to be growing more savage in itself. Strange, bizarre designs that no effort of imagination could call artistic; and of what use is an ornament if it offends the eye? The idea of the perpetrators, of course, is to be "out of the ordinary" — and they nearly always succeed. Centuries ago, a jeweller came near to being an aristocrat; he was an artist then, and wore his sword — the hallmark of a gentleman. Nowadays he is merely a "tradesman." There is something different about the trade, even now, for all that. References to jewellery run right through fiction. The family heirlooms are always getting lost; the villain generally purloins invaluable diamonds — or else he smuggles them through the Customs; and who ever heard of a detective (private, of course) who hasn't recovered hoards of jewels? Poetry, too, has its share. The heroine invariably wears some jewellery: "Her vest of gold, 'Broidered with flowers and clasped from head to foot, An emerald stone in every golden clasp, And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls." You couldn't introduce the art of plumbing or bricklaying like that; it seems but a step further to the work of a painter or sculptor.

THE ACCOMPLISHED SALESMAN. Perhaps in no other business is the customer more at the mercy of the salesman that in that of jewellery, for the average purchaser is totally ignorant of the value of the article being bought. The salesman leans seductively over the counter: "This, madam, is a French pearl — there is no other like it in Sydney." She glances helplessly at her escort, who stands gloomily at her side, then at the lustrous gem. "Is it — is it a very good one?" "It is the best of its kind," the salesman assures her, quite truthfully. Seldom does she receive more satisfaction than that. But so long as she is content (so the gloomy escort thinks), what does it matter? As might be expected, stage jewellery lends itself more readily to deception than the ordinary variety. When the fair Desdemona appears, resplendently bedecked and shimmering at every angle with brilliant facets, don't hold your breath; the ring on your little finger is probably worth more than the whole lot put together. They are not even akin to Isaacstien's stones, which "vas nearly di'monds." Lately, however, only about a quarter of the jewellery is being made, compared to a couple of years ago. Whether this is due to the general depression, or to the circumstance that the confused youth — who does most of the buying, and who generally doesn't know if he is being sold an engagement ring or a safety-razor — has taken a tumble and buys a kitchen table instead, will very likely never be known. Certainly, for an ordinary present, a box of chocolates is decidedly cheaper, and for other purposes a two-stone ring is now accepted in place of the customary (and costlier) half-hoop. During the war people bought jewellery wholesale, despite the fact that wages were higher, gold dearer, and diamonds £50 and £60 a carat — they were £12 and £14 in 1914, and at present they fluctuate around £25. Meanwhile, shop-windows still glitter alluringly.

1922 08
'''THE PUBLIC LIBRARY. Cheaper Than Pictures.''' (By Alan Burrows)

THREE large rooms, almost bulging with books. They rise up before you, row upon row, tier upon tier, until your brain is dizzy with the thought of them. Books on theology, books on sociology, on poultry, cookery, books on every conceivable subject. And daily and hourly this tremendous repository of information is assailed by people in search of enlightenment on matters ranging from the third book of the Apocrypha to the quickest way to remove a carbuncle. To stand near the door of the Public Reading Library, or in the vicinity of one of the attendants, is a fascinating pastime. The seekers for information may be divided into three classes — those who come with a definite object in view, and know what they want; those who only have an idea of what they want; and those who are frankly filling in time, and who walk in haphazardly, just as they would into a continuous picture theatre. Only to the first class are the catalogues of any use; to those of the second class they are more or less jumbled compilations, increasing their confusion and magnifying their task. The third class may not even know they are there. Seekers After Knowledge It is the attendants, however, to whom nearly everyone looks. Number one species will generally ask for vol. 2 of "Historical Treatises," or Swinburne's "Songs Before Sunrise," because he knows that those volumes will contain what he wants. If he is a regular habitue, he will not trouble the attendant, but obtain the book himself. He may even be allowed the privilege of replacing the books on the shelf again, a latitude denied the casual visitor. On the whole, the first class is uninteresting, and will create little diversion. He often reads for hours on end, and makes voluminous notes. Belonging to the race known as bookworms, how can he be anything but uninteresting? Class number two generally affords better results. A member of that variety may want to find the area of the Malay Archipelago, or the circumference of the base of Mount Everest. As a rule, he is left with an enormous pile of geographical books in front of him and a baffled look on his face. One, I remember, desired information concerning the rites of the Druids, and seemed annoyed when he was brought a number of English histories. It appeared he merely wanted details of a modern benefit society. "A Little Nonsense Now and Then" If you are fortunate you may be mistaken for one of the attendants. Opportunities, which should not be missed, are then opened to you. "I want a book on caterpillars — how to breed them and that sort of thing," I was asked. I do not know if there is a volume entitled "Professor Bingsley's Treatise on Grubs and Kindred Animals," but my inquisitor certainly took the advice offered and asked for it. Then there was the young lady who wanted to know "all about Caractacus, because she noticed the name in a book she was reading." She looked at me a little suspiciously when I recommended her to a work, "Caractacus: Its Growth and Culture"; but eventually she went in search of it. Of course that sort of thing has its risks. A gentleman of scholastic appearance once asked for "Dr. William Dodd's 'Beauties of Shakespeare.' " "We are out of that at present," he was told politely; "but we have Sir Horatio Spudd's 'Joyousness of Hamlet.' " What he said wasn't in harmony with the atmosphere of the library. I learned afterwards that he was a prominent member of the Shakesperian Society. Then there is the third class, those who wander in for lack of something else to do, and may not read two lines the entire time they are in there. They stroll round with an air of wisdom, gazing with varying degrees of interest at the different sections. Beneath the heading "Ethnology" their pace increases; at "Ethics" it accelerates still more; at "Fiction," "Literature in General" and "Magazines" (none less than three months old), their speed slackens, and at "French Literature" they stop completely — until they discover that most of it is untranslated. Perhaps they are bored, but to go to the pictures would cost ninepence, whereas the Public Library, with its thousands of books, is free to whoever listeth. The National Child Welfare Association of America is issuing a series of fairytale posters to be hung up in nurseries and children's hospitals.

1922 09
'''JEWELLERY BY AUCTION. Methods of Sale.''' (By Alan Burrows)

IT is not always necessary to visit an imposing establishment on a main street when in need of certain articles. Instead of being overwhelmed and confused by ornate appointments and obsequious shop-walkers, an intending purchaser may seek a somewhat uninviting upstairs room, where but two or three attendants, who are anything but obsequious, will administer the wants of customers, caring little whether they buy or not. In all probability, far from conferring a favor by buying, the purchaser will leave with the impression that he is under an everlasting obligation in being allowed the privilege of making a purchase. The auction rooms exist on an entirely utilitarian basis. Their wares are not laid out attractively, and no one is pressed to buy. The proceedings are conducted by a loud-voiced, worried-looking gentleman, who resents whispered conversation and other irrelevant matter with a suddenness which is disconcerting. Articles of all sorts are sold, from pianos to attache cases. The jewellery sales, however, have an atmosphere all their own. They are attended by a particular class of buyers, and generally arouse the most interest. Articles are snapped up by men whose appearance would awaken your sympathy unless you saw them pay ten and fifteen pounds each for gold watches, as though they were used to it. And, according to a printed notice, terms are strictly cash. Everything is judged on its merits. Apparently the auctioneer knows this, for his remarks, as he hands the articles to his assistants for exhibition, are strictly truthful, and do not unduly boost his goods. "Gold albert here, with medal attached; medal might be gold too, Waltham watch, case supposed to be silver — have a look for yourself. Here's a nice diamond ring; diamonds as good as new." It is necessary to see the ring itself to appreciate the last remark. The items follow one another in quick succession, and the assistants have a lively time in keeping track of the articles being inspected. They are suspicious individuals, those attendants, and if a piece of jewellery vanishes for more than five seconds they become remarkably perturbed. Anything of more than usual value is, attached to a cord, one end of which is in the hand of a vigilant assistant. Should no one offer what the auctioneer considers a fair thing, the assistant receives the curt order to "Shove it back."

AUCTIONEER'S STACCATO. The auctioneer is expert in the art of abbreviating. When the bidding is under way, his body sways, and he almost seems to become excited. The lifting of a finger or the inflection of an eyebrow raises the price in regular steps. "Gold-filled, 7-jewel Elgin watch — everyone seen it? Two pound — two pound-five for the 7-jewel Elgin watch. Two-ten — two-fifteen for the 7-jewel Elgin. Three pounds for the Elgin — three-five — three-five — three pound five for the Elgin — three-ten for the Elg — " At about that point the watch is "knocked down." The tension breaks — for the bidders — and the room seems strangely quiet after the noisy crescendo of the auctioneer's voice; it is not unlike the climax to a melodrama. A little crowd gathers around the victor, offering its congratulations or sympathy — for not, always is jewellery cheap at the auction sales.

1922 10
Funeral Notices for Alan Burrows father FUNERALS.. . . BURROWS.— The Relatives and Friends of Mrs. RICHARD BURROWS and FAMILY and of Mr. ALAN BURROWS are kindly invited to attend the Funeral of their dearly loved HUSBAND and FATHER; to leave the residence, Pacific View, Macpherson-street, Waverley, THIS DAY, TUESDAY, at 3.45, for Waverley Cemetery. A short Service will be held at the house, commencing at 3.15. W. CARTER, Undertaker, Waverley.

BURROWS.— The Relatives and Friends of Mr. and Mrs. G. F. BURROWS (of Hurlstone Park) and FAMILY are kindly invited to attend the Funeral of their dearly loved BROTHER and UNCLE, Richard; to leave Pacific View, Macpherson-street, Waverley, THIS DAY, at 3.45, for Waverley Cemetery.

BURROWS.— The Relatives and Friends of Mrs. L. TURTLE, Mr. and Mrs. C. H. TURTLE, Mr. and Mrs. S. TURTLE, Mr. and Mrs. E. JEFFREY, Mr. and Mrs. H. DUNN, and of Mr. and Mrs. G. F. EGAN are kindly invited to attend the Funeral of their dearly loved SON-IN-LAW and BROTHER-IN-LAW, Richard, to leave Pacific View, Macpherson-street, Waverley, THIS DAY, at 3.45, for Waverley Cemetery.

1923 01
'''LOOKING FOR ADVENTURE. Wireless School at Work.''' (By Alan Burrows)

WHEN Kipling told the story of the boat which was built at Lowestoft, he made one slip. There should have been another verse, something like this:— "Her wireless man was a bush-bred fool Before he struck the radio school, But now he's gone a-rovin'." Of course, wireless operators weren't so numerous when that was written as they are now. And even if they were, it is doubtful if a boat "built for the herring trade" would require one. However, a verse to that effect would have aptly described the lot of a good percentage of the youths who find outlet for their thirst for travel through the avenues of wireless telegraphy. Since it is compulsory for all ships to carry a certain number of wireless men, according to their size and class it will be seen that a heavy demand must exist for trained operators. And as an operator, before he goes to sea, must pass a Government examination, the natural sequence is a school of instruction in radiotelegraphy. You walk up a staircase to the first floor. As you near the top you wonder whether you are mistaken, and have come upon a sawmill which has hidden itself in the centre of Sydney. But your doubts are groundless; it is merely a dozen or so (though it sounds like ten times that number) budding operators sending "buzzer" practice in the one room. About sixty are receiving. But romance is here — romance as real as any which can be found in "Peter the Whaler" or "The Coral Island." For in all but a few instances it is the same impulse which sent lads to sea a hundred years ago as brings these to this modern wireless school. Clerks, shop assistants, warehousemen, boys from the bush who never saw the sea before they began this quest — they are all here; all willing to give two and three hours of three nights a week to drudgery (it is little else) at the tapping key — for adventure's sake! Day and evening classes, under instructors who have had sea-going experience, are conducted, so that one may pursue his usual vocation when taking instruction. There is also a correspondence course. Suddenly you notice a sort of break in the incessant noise — not a pause, but a twitch, as it were, as though the operators' attention has been distracted. Then you see the reason; a lady — a young lady (hence the twitch) — has just emerged from the lecture-room. There are lady doctors, lady engineers and lady politicians, but a wireless operator of the fairer sex comes as a distinct surprise. But one involuntarily finds himself inwardly wishing her the best of luck.

1923 02
'''Bottling Up the German Fleet. PAWNSHOPS. Places of Lost Hopes. PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT.''' (By Alan Burrows)

He came to me and said he was broke. I gave certain instructions to a man I knew, and after his pledging the ring and the watch, I handed £90, together with £10 of my own, to Mr. Dalton. He said he would repay the £100 when his horse again won. THAT was part of a statement made by an optimist in a Sydney Court recently. It suggests the interesting problem — How many who pledge articles at pawnbrokers expect to redeem them? One pawnbroker said, that so far as he could judge, some look upon it as merely an easy way of disposing of anything — in which case they gain only a fraction of its value. But the great majority are firmly convinced (and often take pains to say so) that the need is purely temporary; they hope to return again "when their horse again wins." But how many really redeem their pledges? Walk along William-street, Oxford-street, or Castlereagh-street near the railway, and see for yourself. What a varied collection of curios has been left upon "Uncle's" shelves!— supposedly because the horse failed to win again or nothing turned up. Bargains they are in truth, some of them, but you take your chance. Unredeemed watches are not guaranteed, and the heavy albert which looked so brilliant from the street is apt to show spots of a baser metal when examined more closely. And that sparkling single-stone whose facets seemed to shine into the farthermost corners of the shop sometimes loses its lustre when taken outside. For some obscure reason, pawnbrokers show a decided disinclination to arrange their goods in any sort of order. Side by side with a "Nellie Stewart" bangle lies a pair of opera glasses. Like most of the wares on exhibition, they are old, the lacquer is worn and chipped, and one lens is broken — perhaps at one time they were levelled at their shelf-companion's namesake.

EASE IN PAWNING. And here is a revolver, apparently a new addition, for the oil is not yet dry upon it. Its muzzle points menacingly at a china representation of a young lady, in a disgraceful state of undress, sitting familiarly in the curve of the man in the moon (he is only a quarter moon). Both are flirting, and it would serve them right if the revolver went off. They are interesting enough, those silent witnesses of lost hopes, temporary embarrassments, and not a few "also rans." But there is a touch of pathos, too. Jerome, who was a journalist, which may add to his authority to speak on pawnshops, once misquoted Pope: "True ease in pawning comes from art, not chance." Very seldom is any embarrassment shown by depositors. Many display a proficiency in the art which can only come of long practice. Not many give thought to what that more imposing name of pawnshops really means. "Mont do Piete" is literally "Mountain of Piety!" The name was not given them by a person with a distorted sense of humor; at one time it was more or less merited. Sometimes Monts de Piete were controlled by the Government. The first was founded in Italy in 1462. They were prohibited, presumably as being contrary to the principles of democracy in France by the leaders of the Revolution, but were reintroduced by Napoleon. There is something connected with Sydney's pawnshops or Monts de Piete of which not many of the most "regular customers" know. A pawnbroker (or any "dealer in old wares") receives a list of the previous day's robberies from the police every day — sometimes twice a day. After inspecting one of these one would never be surprised at the number of robberies mentioned in the newspapers; as a rule there are three typed pages. The purloined goods range from grandfather clocks to fountain pens. So next time you put that "gold" watch in "soak" and it happens to resemble one listed among the missing, Mr. Isaacstein may look askance at you. I wish people who advocate early marriages would come to this court to see the results of them.— Mr. W. Clarke Hall, Old-street (London) magistrate.

1923 04
'''THE ESSENCE OF TRUTH. An Untested Experiment.''' (By Alan Burrows)

MOFFET is an experimenter. Sometimes — not often — he rises to the rank of a discoverer. But as his discoveries are generally of a useless variety, so far he has not made a name for himself. Once he almost struck something worth while, but circumstances pre-vented him giving it a fair test. He came to me excitedly one day, and held up a small bottle containing a brown liquid. "At last!" he exclaimed. "What is it?" I said curiously. "It will revolutionise the world. No more lies; no more falsehoods. It will be wonderful!" "Yes; but what is it?" I repeated patiently. "The Essence of Truth!" he said triumphantly. "One dose of this and it is impossible to tell a lie!" "Wonderful," I returned. "I'd advise you to get rid of it as soon as you can." "Don't you see. Compulsory administration of this to politicians, criminals, husbands, wives, sweethearts — " "Have you tried it?" I interrupted. Moffet subsided a little. "No-o," he said slowly. "To tell you the truth, I can't persuade anyone to take it." He hesitated. "Will you try it?" "No, thanks," I said hastily. A shadow crossed Moffet's face. "No one will," he said despondently. "What about yourself?" I asked. He picked up the bottle of brown liquid and looked at it thoughtfully. "You see, I'm a married man," he said. He seemed to think that a vital objection. However, eventually I made him promise to give it a try-out himself. He said he would take a dose when he got home and let me know the result in a day or two.

FORMULA DESTROYED. Three days later Moffet again came to see me. "Well?" I said. "It's effective I think," he replied without much enthusiasm. "I'm glad to hear it," I said, also without much heartiness. Then he relapsed into a despondent silence. As I was about to speak, he said abruptly — "My wife's left me!" In spite of my astonishment I put two and two together. "By jove, that stuff must have been efficacious." "I've destroyed the formula," he went on in the same miserable voice. "Under the circumstances — as you knew them to be beforehand," I said, with a feeling that the subject was becoming delicate; "don't you think that in spite of my persuasion, it was foolish of you to take this Essence of Truth?" Moffet glared at me. "I haven't said yet that I did take it," he said with asperity. "You didn't take it?" "No; I'm not mad altogether;" he said, sharply. "Then who — " He fell into his former depressed attitude. "It was like this," he said. "The wife had toothache one night — she got up to take some laudanum — you see — " "Yes?" His voice had trailed off. But I was beginning to understand "Well, it was the wife who took it by mistake. When I told her what it was she left me." It was just Moffet's luck, I reflected. He'll never really know now whether the Essence of Truth was effective. It's a pity his wife left him when she did.

1923 05
'''ANTIQUES FOR EVERYONE. Unsuspected Treasures. The Technological Museum.''' (By Alan Burrows)

HAVE you ever felt a longing to examine the ancient pottery, the marvellous old embroidery such as was auctioned in the city, a short time ago? Not many are fortunate enough to inspect a gathering of art similar to the Lowder Collection. Such sights are too rare for the ordinary person. And, for the same reason, only the favored few will be lucky enough to have the opportunity of seeing the treasures taken from the tomb where Tutankhamen reposed for so long. Nor can we all spare the money to go and gaze upon the Crown jewels. There are substitutes, however. Everyone is familiar with the Museum overlooking Hyde Park — or the upheaval which was once Hyde Park. You go there to see pleasant looking native implements, which might or might not, be garden stakes; cheerful skeletons tied together with pieces of wire; and dainty little humming birds no larger than blowflies. Probably some of our earliest recollections are associated with that Museum. But how; many have visited the Technological Museum, situated in Harris-street; a few hundred yards from the Fish and Vegetable Markets?

PALE BLUE WEDGWOOD WARE. (Start Photo Caption) This small statuette of a woman, to be seen in the Sydney Technological Museum, has been positively identified as a piece of the early work of the famous Josiah Wedgwood.(End Photo Caption) There in place of skeletons which grin at you as you pass, you can view the finest examples of Doulton and Sevres china — mentioned so often in novels, but which you have probably never seen before. And here, beside some Awaji crockery — which you probably haven't seen mentioned in novels — are some pieces of pale blue ware made by Wedgwood. A number of burnt glazed vases, shining with the lustre of burnished copper, challenge attention before the eye is attracted by bowls of delicate filagree work. These are not so rare as some, of the specimens in the Lowder collection, perhaps, yet, nevertheless, beautiful. Then you come upon some actual "excavated" antiques. These are silver vases and dishes, badly knocked about — which, of course, is greater proof of their antiquity. They were once the property of Hildeshelm, an early Roman gentleman, and were accidentally dug up some years ago at Mount Galgen by German soldiers. These are only replicas of the originals, certainly, but as you probably couldn't tell the difference, that doesn't matter a great deal. You may never see even the imitations of Tutankhamen's treasures. There are samples of diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and other precious stones of whose existence one never dreamed — smaller than the Crown jewels, but decidedly more varied. A little further on are exquisite pieces of old point lace, of which Honiton, Brussels, Valenciennes are but a few of the varieties. Antiques, however, are not all the Technological Museum holds, and if you wish to enter more modern times you may. There are examples of Australian products there which would open the eyes of some American goods advocates. Australian machinery is in evidence, and furniture, made from choice Australian timbers, affords fine specimens of workmanship. It would be a pity to leave the building without seeing the generator which supplied current to South Head Lighthouse for 30 years. It was installed in 1881, and is still in perfect order. But it is the antiques, of course, which are the chief attraction.

1923 06
THE LAME HORSE. By Alan Burrows

THERE, were pleasanter places than Alice Springs in the gold rush of 1903. It could hardly be called a rush, for the 300 mile camel ride effectually prevented any undue haste. However, a small number reached the objective and attacked the over-boomed reefs, which, in the greater number of cases, petered out within a few days. Those who could afford it, persevered for a time, while the remainder went back to Oodnadatta, the nearest railway station. Amongst those who hung on were four men who had taken out a claim about two miles out of Alice Springs. Gallagher, one of the four was a big, muscular man. It was not his size altogether, however, that overawed his three companions. It was his personality and character. The four miners lived together in a one-roomed shanty, isolated except for chance travellers, so perhaps it was natural that Gallagher's unspoken dominance should rankle. Young Delane, probably because he was little more than a boy, seemed least affected by it. But Steiner and Forsythe writhed beneath the superiority of the big man, and hated him for it. And Gallagher had a temper which was a thing to fight shy of. For months now, they had barely paid their way. The sight of gold to the four miners was becoming rarer and rarer — Delane said it seemed that the only gold he could ever remember seeing was Forsythe's gold tooth. Steiner and the other two would have left the claim but Gallagher persuaded them to stay evidently hoping for better things. As their fortunes dwindled, so did their isolation appear to become more pronounced. Their most frequent visitor was a freckled half-caste boy, Johnno Wilkins, who made periodical descents upon the empty bottles invariably left after Forsythe's excursions into Alice Springs for provisions. Early one morning, Gallagher, apparently losing hope in the claim at last, said he would do some prospecting. He rode away towards the McDonnell Ranges soon afterwards on his big roan, a horse built as massively as he was himself. Steiner had once lost his temper with that horse, and struck it with a broken bottle — Gallagher was not about at the time — permanently injuring it. When he discovered it, Gallagher had blazed out at the three men in a manner which none of them would ever forget. The horse was little the worse for the injury, beyond the fact that it was always slightly lame afterwards. That roan's gallop could be distinguished from a thousand others. Its lameness gave it a hoof-beat peculiar to itself. Delane, who was from Melbourne, once remarked, "a blind man could pick it out in Collins-street." Gallagher returned that night in fierce excitement. He had discovered signs of a reef, he said, that should make them rich for life. It was a fair distance away — five hours' hard riding, and in a place that would be unusually difficult to find. He had drawn a plan for his own guidance by which anyone could easily locate the spot. "Give us a look," said Forsythe promptly, when told of the plan. "Plenty of time," said Gallagher. "I'll get it registered first." "In whose name?" asked Steiner swiftly. "Our four names, of course. We'll share as usual." Gallagher seemed surprised at the question. He refused to show the plan, and Delane voiced the opinion that he didn't blame him — a remark that earnt him a kick from Steiner. Gallagher returned to the find again the following morning to gain its exact location. He left behind him two men embittered with jealousy. All that morning Steiner and Forsythe talked, and at midday, Delane, who was pegging away optimistically at the bottom of the shaft, was taken into their confidence. This was not because they held any regard for him, but because they considered him necessary to their plan. When they put their proposition to the boy he recoiled from it with horror. Steiner talked for a long time, and in conclusion he said: "As it is now, that claim's worth has to be divided amongst four. When there's only three it means so much more each." This was at least logic. But Delane, perhaps because he was young, perhaps because he did not hold the hatred towards Gallagher which the others did, raised his voice against the two men. Steiner and Forsythe, however, considered his help essential, and all that afternoon they exerted a sort of third degree upon him, with the result that eventually he was capable of doing anything — or of being made to do anything. "Listen," said Steiner, then; "you've got a revolver. Go about a mile out to meet him, and hide until he passes you — then make sure you aim straight. There'll be no one to hear. And don't forget the plan. Without that we can do nothing — nothing." So they put him upon a horse — the only remaining one — and despatched him on his mission. They had no doubt that he would not accomplish their purpose; he feared them too much by that time. Then they waited. Soon after night fall Delano returned, and fell off the horse into Forsythe's arms. Steiner's first thought was the plan; it was in Delane's inside pocket. Then they endeavored to revive him, and for nearly an hour they fought to bring movement to his eyelids. But the reaction had evidently been too great, and he had fallen into a stupor upon which their combined efforts had no effect. It was not for Delane's sake that they tried to bring him to consciousness — they were anxious to learn details of the crime. Everything pointed to its success; the fact of the plan being in Delane's possession was proof almost in itself. And Forsythe had thought to examine his revolver, in which one cartridge was empty. When he had done this, Forsythe dropped the revolver down the shaft and kicked some dirt on top of it, saying he wanted no circumstantial evidence hanging about. So leaving Delane to recover in his own time, they turned their attention for the first time to the plan. "We'll cut him out of it," said Steiner, indicating Delane. "He'll be too frightened to squeal, and he can't prove anything against us, anyhow. If the claim's any good at all I reckon we'll be set for life!" And Forsythe, whose greed, if not his courage, was as great as Steiner's, assented. Steiner half unfolded the plan, then suddenly stopped. "Listen," he said in a peculiar voice. Forsythe had heard it — the sound of a horse's gallop, carrying far on the still night. But what made the eyes of the men meet was the unmistakable, irregular hoof-beat that they knew so well. "Gallagher!" said Forsythe, hoarsely. Steiner stepped to where the prostrate form of Delano lay and kicked it again and again. "You'll get nothing out of him," said Forsythe fearfully. "Something must have gone wrong. What'll we do? He'll kill us if he knows what we've done — or what we meant to do. An' no horses or revolver!" Delane's horse was hobbled some distance away. "There's a chance he doesn't know — and we mustn't let him find, out," said Steiner sharply. "He's sure to suspect us." "We'll have to prove we had nothing to do with it." It was evident that Steiner feared Gallagher, although he was calmer than the other. By this time the horse could be heard distinctly. Picking up a whisky bottle, Steiner rubbed some of the liquid on the face of the unconscious Delane, and poured a little into his mouth. Then he rumpled the boy's clothing; and by that time it was obvious that Delane had been drinking. He had hardly completed this when Forsythe said abruptly "what about the plan?" Steiner looked around the roughly furnished shanty and then at the other. The same thought was in the minds of both — Gallagher knew every corner and crevice as well as they did themselves and it would be useless to hide the document. If he was suspicious, as he certainly would be — unless, of course, he had seen Delane and had definite proof — he would ransack the room. And they knew nothing would escape him — not even themselves. The hoof-beat was very close now, sounding unevenly on the hard ground. "There's nothing else for it. It means goodbye to a fortune," said Steiner grimly, making a motion with the plan. "Better than being killed like dogs," muttered Forsythe. Steiner held the plan over the smoky oil-lamp. It burst into flame, illuminating for an instant every corner of the room, then fell in a cascade of ashes, which Steiner, quickly stamped into the earthen floor. A second later they heard the horse pull up outside. In the faint light they saw Gallagher's big roan. The freckled face of Johnno Wilkins protruded itself through the open doorway. "Say," he said. "I found this horse o' yours wanderin' by itself down the gully. I guess you'd better tie it up next time." Germans have one comfort. The French will not lay waste the "occupied" territory, as once was done in Belgium and northern France.— Portland "Oregonian." (Start Graphic Caption) Lying in wait.(End Graphic Caption) (Start Graphic Caption) The reaction had been too great.(End Graphic Caption)

1923 08
THE BLACK PEARL NECKLET. By ALAN BURROWS

IT was not the custom of Baldy Gleeson to make mistakes. His profession did not allow that. But when he sold the necklet of dull black beads to Stromburg for two pounds, he made the biggest slip or his life. Stromburg was a pawnbroker, and "dealer in old wares" on a comprehensive scale. The pawnbroker had held up the loop of black beads and examined it carefully. "Thirty shillin's," he had said. Following his usual procedure, Baldy had held out his hand for the return of the necklet. He would have done the same if Stromburg had said "thirty pounds." However, the dealer grunted "Two poun', then," and Gleeson thought it wiser to close the deal at that. Stromburg took another look at his purchase, and then locked it carefully in the safe. That evening the papers mentioned that Mrs. Hansen-Witworth's black pearl necklet, valued at £2000, had been stolen. It had been taken, they said, with other jewellery from her Darling Point residence the night before. Once more Gleeson visited Stromburg. "You damned swindler!" he said; "you knew what it was worth all the time." The pawnbroker smiled, and did not deny it. "Fifteen hundred was my estimate," he said absently. The housebreaker leaned forward, and barked: "I want that necklet, or something like its value!" "Don't be foolish," said Stromburg, unperturbed. "You should have known what they were." "It wasn't my fault. I'd never seen black pearls before. Do I get that necklet?" "No!" said Stromburg, with finality in his voice. "You fool! The police'll get you; there's nothing surer," said Gleeson, beginning to realise his own helplessness. "What about you?" asked the other. "I won't have the necklet. It will be you they'll be after," said Baldy, fiercely." "I'll risk it," said Stromburg. With anger in his heart the housebreaker left. But the dealer was not so unconcerned as he had led Gleeson to believe. With the necklet in his possession came the fear of the police, of whom at any time he was in dread. In all his dealings so far Stromburg had managed to keep inside the law, and it knew him only as a harmless old pawnbroker into whose premises small missing articles sometimes strayed. In that respect he was no different to any secondhand dealer. The only difference was that Stromburg had a special little clientele which sold him those goods. But the matter of the black pearl necklet, with the hue and cry its loss entailed, was something apart from his usual dealings. And there was always the possibility that Gleeson would endeavor to retrieve the necklet by the same means as he had gained it. Between the two dangers, the dealer began to feel the strain. Then, when the weight of the two possibilities was seriously telling on him, he received news that threw him into a fresh gulf of uncertainty. Gleeson had been arrested and sentenced, on some minor charge evidently, for Stromburg never saw it in the papers. He learned it from a client. So one of his terrors — the smaller one — was removed, only to increase the other a hundredfold. Gleeson would probably split to find favor in the eyes of the authorities, and Stromburg shivered when he thought of what that would mean. However, a month passed, and nothing happened. But the dealer breathed no more freely at the end of that time. On the other hand his fear of detection seemed to grow each day. Then, in desperation, he formed a re-solution. Frightened to sell the pearls, even separately, and seeing no safe means of disposing of them for a very long time, he decided to let Gleeson know, he could have the things when he came out. Unless he did this, Stromburg realised that the fear of Gleeson turning informer would be always present, and he could not stand much more of the suspense. That Gleeson had kept silent for a month was not proof that he would hold his tongue indefinitely. Stromburg made this decision when he was out one night, and he returned to the room above his shop with the resolution firmly fixed. It was driven from his mind, however, when he entered the shop. The place had obviously been visited; the door had been forced, and jammed shut again. And the premises had been ransacked, though nothing had been stolen. The necklet, in a cunning hiding place which he had constructed himself, was still safe. So Baldy had squealed. There was no other explanation, for thieves would have taken all they could get. And by sheer good luck the police had missed him. They had searched, unsuccessfully, for the necklet. Stromburg's head was going round, but the facts seemed plain enough. Then a thought struck him. Even now, if he could escape, he knew he could get word to Gleeson — through one of his clients — and he knew that the definite promise of the necklet when he was released would be sufficient to make him contradict his story. He took the necklet from its hiding place, and deciding to leave it, he put it back into its place of concealment, with a feeling that he would never see it again. Then he let himself out to the back laneway. He did not notice a figure, which untangled itself from some lumber at the rear of the building, follow him in the darkness. He turned as the figure overtook him. So, after all, he couldn't reach Gleeson in time. They had waited for him. Stromburg made a movement for the revolver he always carried lately. He managed to draw it from his pocket, but his assailant was too quick, and even before he fired, the man had twisted it around till it pointed directly at Stromburg. Then the tension on his wrist made him press the trigger. The officer on duty was just in time to find the man feverishly searching the form on the ground. The man struggled desperately, but finally the constable won. Then he stopped to examine the result of the shot he had heard. "Why, it's old Stromburg!" he said in surprise, as the light from his torch showed the face of the figure. Then he looked at his prisoner. "Baldy Gleeson!" he exclaimed in still greater amazement, as one meeting an old acquaintance. "And only out this morning! You've made a fair start, Baldy. Burglary, I suppose, and then — this." He touched the motionless form gently with his boot. "You damned swindler!" Made this decision when he was out one night.

1923 09
Hi Wong's Wife. By Alan Burrows

Hi Wong, with some follow-countrymen, had been brought from China by Jimmy Napier, whose business needed labor — the cheaper it was the better. Wong had dreams of those riches, so easily made in Australia, to take back to his country, and thereafter live a life of idleness. But he must first repay his passage money in hard work to Napier before he began to amass wealth on his own behalf. For the batch that Wong had come to Australia with had been brought across secretly, in the face of the restrictions imposed by the authorities, and Wong know that he was at Napier's mercy. Jimmy Napier, however, found Hi Wong a bad investment. Wong, was evidently convinced that his destiny did not lie in working hard for another man, and twice Napier had to bring him back, under threats of exposure to the authorities, from a countryman's residence in Townsville. This happened a third time, and when he had captured him Napier, rather fed-up, emphasised his threats with blows and kicks, which Wong received as imperturbably as he did everything. At the first opportunity he escaped again, and this time Napier, though he used all the influence he possessed, was unable to locate him. In spite of his frequent threats, he dared say nothing to the authorities, for that would incriminate himself. He subsequently learned that Wong had passed through Cairns, still heading northward but he realised that it would not be worth the expense of pursuing him. So he had to accept, as best he could, the fact that Hi Wong's passage money was practically a dead loss. About a year after that Napier's sugar crop failed, and simultaneously a number of his transactions became more or less public. The net result of his misfortunes was to leave him penniless, and make him a doubtful character in the vicinity of Townsville. So he raked together sufficient money to buy a ticket for Sydney. On his arrival he went straight to interview Benson, a one-time manager of his, now down-and-out, with the object of procuring a loan. Benson, however, was not in his customary residence, a third-rate boarding-house — and that night Napier, absolutely hard up, was forced to sleep out. The following day he returned in search of Benson. This time he found him, but so far as any help was concerned the visit was fruitless. The path to Benson's quarters lay through the Chinese section of the city — Benson had a few Queensland acquaintances there — and on his re-turn Napier noticed a small restaurant, not very clean or prosperous in appearance. But it was the name, "Hi Wong," over the door which attracted his attention. Napier again slept in the open that night; but in the morning an idea occurred to him. He went straight to Hi Wong's restaurant, which for some reason was closed. He had a definite object in view, however, and so he knocked. A young Chinese woman, better looking than most, opened the door. "Could I speak to Hi Wong?" said Napier, trusting that she could speak English. Her face remained expressionless as she said: — "Hi Wong died this morning." "Did he once work in Queensland?" Napier asked, to assure himself of the dead man's identity. She said, "Yes." "Are you his wife?" he asked, making a guess that Hi Wong had married since he left him. Again she said "Yes" in the same dull voice. "Look here, then, Mrs. Hi Wong," said the other, "My name's Napier. I daresay you've heard all about me. I hold a contract over your late husband, which he broke a long time ago. I want some payment for the breaking of that contract, or I'll have you, as his wife, hauled up. It can be done, and I'll do it." Napier know well that such a course was impossible. But it was hardly likely that Hi Wong's wife would know that. "Yes; I know you," she answered. "You beat my husband and kick him. And now you want money." "Or you go to gaol," he said. "I have no money. We only came to Sydney a few days ago; my husband very sick. All the money went to buy this shop." "I don't believe it," said the man. "I want money to buy a bed tonight, and something to eat. I'll be back this evening, and if you have no money then — you'll go to prison!" Napier could not have said whether she believed him or not, nor could he tell in any way if his bluff had affected tier. As he turned to go he felt a light touch on his arm. "You say you have nowhere to sleep," said she, looking at him steadily. "You sleep here tonight, instead of some of the money. It is all I can do." Napier hesitated. The place was not inviting, but in all probability it would be better than anything else he could afford that night. His long association with the race had done much to kill the natural repugnance of the white man for a Chinese dwelling. Nor did the thought that a man had died there that day, and that probably his remains were still on the premises, trouble him greatly. Throughout a hard life Napier had found that it didn't pay to be sensitive over such matters. So he agreed curtly, and said he would be back that night. Then he went to tell Benson the result of the visit. The room to which Hi Wong's wife showed him that night was no cleaner than he had expected, and the bed certainly had not been made that day — it was apparent, in fact, that it had only recently been occupied. But, worn-out and tired, he took little notice of these things, and slept soundly. Early the next morning Benson went around to see Napier. In the restaurant he met Hi Wong's wife, whom he knew casually. He mentioned Napier's name, and it immediately aroused her to intense anger. She spoke fiercely of his attempts to gain money from her, her eyes narrowed to slits, and she looked indescribably evil. And in her anger she mentioned something else, which made Benson alter his intention to sea Napier then. When the outburst was over he left. Ten minutes later he sent a note to Napier, who received it in bed, Hi Wong's wife pushing it beneath the door to him. The effect of the note was peculiar. A minute after he read it Napier fled from the place where he had slept that night, white and shaken, as though some great terror had suddenly gripped him. He went to a chemist, where he spent the shilling with which he had intended buying his breakfast. Then he went hurriedly, still scared in appearance, to the public baths, where he bathed again and again, freely using the contents of the bottle he had bought, which smelt strongly of disinfectant. Not until his skin shone was he satisfied. He had hardly recovered from the shock when, on the following day, he met Benson, who had taken pains to avoid him since his conversation with Hi Wong's wife. "You won't be surprised to know that Mrs. Wong has disappeared," he said. "She must have surmised that I told part of her conversation, with me in my note." Then Napier released his pent-up fright. "Blast her!" he said, shaking his fist in the general direction of the restaurant. "That heathen vixen meant to kill me, and she might have done it, too, but for your note to me. Her precious husband, Hi Wong, came here from North Queensland half gone with fever, did he, and then died of it. An' that Chinese spitfire put me in the bed in which he died." (Start Graphic Caption) With blows and kicks.(End Graphic Caption) (Start Graphic Caption) "Hi Wong died this morning."(End Graphic Caption) (Start Graphic Caption) Not until his skin shone was he satisfied.(End Graphic Caption)

UNOFFICIAL OPINION. (By Alan Burrows)

"Children," said Loppet, "are the curse of mankind. They annoy him, and arouse his worst instincts. They keep him awake at nights, and reduce him to a mental wreck. By ceaseless attempts at all forms of mischief they keep him on an edge and destroy his nervous system. Ingratitude being one of their worst features, they bite the hand and pull the hair of those who feed them, thus killing man's belief in his fellow-creatures. They are notoriously sly, and pull faces behind the backs of their superiors. Soft words are wasted upon them, and advice has no effect on their hardened natures. To say they are nuisances is inadequate; they are the essence of all worry and trouble. No thanks; I'm not hungry today." Smith had offered him some biscuits, as it was the lunch hour, and Loppet appeared to have forgotten his usual sandwiches. He waved the proffered food away, and looking around the office, continued his oratory. "And women, too, have laid their blight upon men with their sublety and hypocrisy. They prey upon the male with their winning ways and honeyed words, and reduce his life to one of subjection. Thanks; but I'm off my food today. Smith had repeated his offer. At this stage the office boy approached. "You're wanted outside, Mr. Loppet, " he said. I followed Loppet at a little distance. I saw a stout, contented-looking woman, with a train of about six young children, all displaying the same plump contentment. They shrieked a clamorous welcome as Loppet appeared, and he threw one arm around the woman and the other around as many children as he could manage. Considering their plumpness and the general excitement, he did well in this respect. He kissed the woman individually, and the children in groups of threes. "Jack," said the woman, "we were in town, so the children and myself thought you'd like to have lunch with us." "Of course, my dear," said Loppet, beaming. "There's a little place around the corner we can go to. I feel more peckish today than I have for a long time."

1923 10
'''EVERYDAY SURNAMES. Some Strange Origins. THE UNLUCKY CRUIKSHANK.''' (By Alan Burrows)

"Indeed there is a woundy luck in names, sir. And a main mystery an' a man knew where to vind it." THERE is a fascination in names, if, as Ben Jonson says, you know where "to vind it." A name tells a whole story in itself, and distinguishes a man as surely as his choice of cigars. Surnames, unlike first names, were not given haphazardly, and there was always a reason for them. Half the names of today were once nicknames. Familiar names, such as Short, Long, Brown, Small, and Moody, are typical examples. It pleases me to think that the early fathers of Sir Algernon Baker must have worked for a living, for the present generation of that family certainly doesn't. Instances of this occupational type of name are common: — Smith, Brewer (Brewster was simply the feminine term), Potter, Fuller, Miller, Waver, or Webber (Webster was the lady worker), and Fisher are a few of the more obvious examples. This practice of distinguishing a man by his trade appears to have been popular. At one time, of course, surnames were not used at all, and it was not until the English language began to be written that there was really any call for them. Then, when it was found necessary to know a man by something more than the one name, the last name was taken from a variety of sources, of which the occupational type is the most familiar now. Their sometimes strange corruptions are accounted for by the queer spelling which was used, and the multitude of English dialects, which gave the names different pronunciations. Some of the occupational names are not so apparent. Fletcher was the man who put the feathers on the arrows; Tipper tipped them. Taylor, of course, is obvious — he sent bills in the olden days, just as he does now. Wainwright was a waggon-maker, while Cartwright constructed the smaller conveyance. In "Tam-o'-Shanter," Burns mentions "souter Johnny" — Souter is Scotch for "shoemaker," while Bowman is the Gaelic term for the English archer. If, in medieval times, you didn't wish to have your calling advertised, you might be named according to where you lived. "Ton" is a corruption of "town," so we get those everyday names representing points of the compass — Norton, Sutton, Aston, and Weston. Brooks, Hill, Parke, and Coledale are all instances of residential names.

CALLED AFTER HIS FATHER. When a man's sons grew up, a few centuries ago, they seldom left the district, all settling down like model children around their father, who generally possessed no surname. The sons, therefore, became known by the only name their father happened to have; and there are several additions to the original names which mean, literally, "the sons of" — The word "son" itself is as familiar as any — Johnson, Williamson, and so on. "Es" or just the "s" are the Cornish and Welsh suffixes, meaning the same, whereupon the names become Williams and Jones, or Johns. Again, remembering that "fils" is the French word for "son," and that England at one time suffered a Norman invasion, it doesn't need much imagination to see where all the "Fitzes" come from — merely a garbled rendering of the French word. Which gives us Fitz-John and Fitz-William. Some names have private histories all to themselves. Bradford, for instance, is a corruption of "broadford," and Throsby or Thorby represent towns named after Thor, one of the Viking gods. I have kept the gem till the last. It illustrates what is sometimes unearthed in this absorbing study. Cruickshank is a peculiar, though not uncommon, name. Now, "croix" is French for "cross," while "shanks" refer to a person's nether limbs. Therefore, the unlucky man whose legs, because he was knock-kneed, bore some resemblance to a cross, had to accept that doubtful distinction as a surname.

'''WORLD'S BIG DIAMONDS. Lure of Precious Stones. HALF A MILLION REFUSED.''' (By Alan Burrows)

PRECIOUS stones have left a trail of romance — and sometimes blood — down the centuries. Marie Antoinette had a passionate love of jewels — and they brought little good to her. And who hasn't heard of the Great Sancy diamond? Taken from the body of the Duke of Burgundy at some time, it was sold to the King of Portugal. Ten years later — in 1489 — he sold it to the Baron de Sancy, from whom it derived its name. Sancy later returned it to the King as a gift, sending it in charge of a servant, who was attacked by robbers. In an endeavor to save his master's property, he swallowed the diamond, and after his death it was reclaimed from his body. It weighed 53 carats, and was supposed to be worth £30,000. Subsequently Queen Elizabeth became its owner, and now, so far as can be ascertained, it is in India. Much larger, of course, though not possessing such a peculiar history, is the world famous Koh-i-noor, now in the Crown Jewels. Originally that mass of crystallised carbon weighed 793 carats, but unskilled cutting reduced it to 186. Later again an Amsterdam expert cut it down to 106 carats, but enhanced its "fire" and brilliance to the extent that now it is matchless in that respect. It is said to be worth over £140,000.

THE KAFFIR'S FIND. There is a popular misconception that the Koh-i-noor is the largest diamond in the world. Amongst the 70 odd notable stones of which there is any record it is really one of the smallest. The largest is the Excelsior, found in Jagersfontien on June 30, 1893. The story is that the kaffir who discovered it received £150, a horse, saddle and bridle, and his freedom, from the delighted manager of the mine. He certainly was due for some reward, for the stone, which is almost perfect, weighed 971 carats! Some idea of its size may be gauged by the fact that a cut diamond with the circumference of a sixpence, weighs about seven carats. And Sydney doesn't often see one that size. With regard to the Excelsior, a Birmingham newspaper said at the time: "The British Government have offered half a million pounds sterling for this diamond to the proprietors, Messrs. Breitmeyer and Bernheimer, but the offer has been refused. It is also said that the directors of the Chicago Exhibition were willing to insure the diamond for three-quarters of a million, in order to show the eighth wonder of the world. The German Emperor is reported to be the probable purchaser of the Excelsior." SAPPHIRES AND RUBIES All gems of purest ray are not always as serene as the poet — and the salesman — would lead many to believe. Some are rank frauds. It is a fact that with regard to many stones, apart from diamonds, the best are synthetic; these, however, can hardly be classed as imitations. This applies more particularly to rubies and sapphires, which not many people know are exactly the same stone, differently colored. When man wishes to improve on nature he melts the rough stone in a fierce heat, removes all impurities, and adds what coloring matter he may desire, which is generally better than the original. When it cools it is cut in the ordinary way. Stones made in this manner are twice as cheap as those of nature's manufacture, and the result is a beautifully tinted, flawless gem. In fact, their flawlessness and perfection are the only means of distinguishing them from genuine stones.

1923 11
McMASTER'S SACRIFICE. By Alan Burrows

The slow mixed train had stopped for the tenth time within the hour. That in itself was nothing unusual, and the three men who were its only passengers were by now quite used to the unending series of jolts. But this time the train took a longer spell than usual, and the patience of the passengers — strangers to each other — was becoming exhausted. "I guess our wives will be getting anxious," said the youngest-looking traveller, with elaborate carelessness. The clean-shaven man in the opposite corner looked at him amusedly. "You're not long married," he said. The boy flushed slightly, and admitted that he was not. "You'll soon learn that your wife doesn't worry as much as you think," remarked the other. "It's you who become anxious — wondering if she is anxious about you. A man thinks more of a woman than she does of him." "And will do more for her," added the third passenger, who possessed a heavy black beard. "There's no limit to what a man will be fool enough to do for a woman," agreed the clean-shaven man; "and he doesn't always have to be her husband to do it. To marry a woman is a small item — a detail compared with what I've known some men do for a girl they thought a lot of." "Which is quite as it should be," said the young man, with emphasis. The other man smiled. "Perhaps, but I remember an instance when a man was a little too eager to make a martyr of himself. In fact, it turned out that his heroism was entirely unnecessary, and I don't think he is aware yet that his self-sacrifice went for nothing. It won't take long to tell. "I was down near Summerhook, about twenty-five years ago as accountant, auditing the books of a big sawmill, amongst a fairly tough crowd. Some, of course, were better than others. McMaster and Deaton were the pick of the lot. Both fine fellows, and both, as often seems to happen, bitter rivals. I may mention that the manager of the mill had a pretty daughter. "We all reckoned McMaster would be the winner, although Rose wasn't too keen on him herself. But he had the backing of Trustcott, the girl's father, and that went a long way, for Trustcott was a hard man, with a frightful temper, and no one thought that Rose would be game to tackle anything without his consent. You'll guess it was Deaton who Rose reckoned would suit her; a girl never does approve of her father's choice. Objects on principle, I suppose. "For a long time honors were even. Both men did their best to find favor where they knew it was missing. McMaster worked hard to make Rose look at him more kindly, while Deaton tried all he knew to persuade Trustcott to regard him favorably as a prospective son-in-law — Rose, remember, was only nineteen. Neither, however, appeared to make any progress, so for a long time it was what you might call a romantic deadlock. "These strained affairs generally come to a head suddenly. This one did. "McMaster was returning from Summerhook late one night — the men and Trustcott all had quarters near the mill, which was about two miles out of the town. McMaster was almost home when he got the shock of his life. Rose Trustcott suddenly burst on to the path, within a yard of him. "The girl seemed as surprised as he was, and could hardly speak for a second. When she did McMaster received another shock. "Please, please don't tell anyone you've seen me here tonight, she said breathlessly. "Promise me!" "McMaster opened his mouth to ask her reason, but she saw his intention. "It doesn't matter why," she said, stamping her foot. "Promise me, that no matter what happens, you'll let no one know that you met me here tonight. "He saw she was in dead earnest, and although he was naturally curious, he realised that if he wanted to avoid a quarrel with her — the last thing he wished for — he'd better agree. So he promised that no matter what happened he would say nothing of their accidental meeting." He paused, and the bearded man stirred impatiently. "The next morning the manager, Trustcott, was found dead about a quarter of a mile from his house, a little distance off the path from the town. "In the confusion which followed, and the rumors that Trustcott had been shot, or stabbed, or drowned in the river — no one appeared to know which — two facts stood out clearly. One was that the manager had been seen to leave his house, for some unknown reason, a little before 12, and the other was that McMaster had left Summerhook that night in time to reach, by about 12 o'clock, the spot where Trustcott had been found. "You'll agree that the evidence was altogether too thin to convict a man on. It seemed, however, that McMaster didn't think so, for when they came to look for him he had gone — must have left the minute he heard of Trustcott's death. And that, of course, appeared conclusive evidence of his guilt. "Now, here's my point: McMaster, with the unexpected meeting in his mind, her frantic appeal for silence, and her refusal to give any explanation, must have been sure that Rose knew something of her father's death. So he cleared, knowing that the action would be taken as proof of his guilt, removing at the same time any suspicion from the girl." "He wasn't guilty, by any chance?" asked the young man. "Of course not." "Then," said the boy, "if the girl was guilty, as he was sure she was, his was a noble act, which probably saved the girl, and was not, as you said at first, unnecessary heroism." "I didn't say that the girl was guilty, nor that Trustcott was murdered — I said he was found dead. At the inquest two days later, when McMaster was perhaps hundreds of miles away, still fleeing, as he thought, from the law it was found that the manager had died of heart failure." The bearded man leaned forward, tense with interest. "But his meeting with Rose so late at night, he said in a peculiar voice — "her plea for silence, and her obvious panic. How do you explain all that?" "Easily," said the other. "She had just met Deaton secretly and arranged to elope with him. She knew her father had seen her leave the house, and that was why she asked McMaster to say nothing. She didn't know, of course, that her father had followed her, and it was probably when he saw her meet Deaton, whom he hated, that his uncontrollable fury brought on the attack which killed him. "McMaster was never heard of again. He left the country, I suppose, and never learnt the facts of the happening. "So he probably never knew — he still thinks the girl he loved was in some way guilty," said the boy; "and that he is shouldering her supposed crime?" It was the man with the beard who answered the question as the train jerked forward again. "No," he said, and laughed harshly. "He never knew — till now. You see, my name is McMaster."

(Start Graphic Caption) "Don't tell anyone you've seen me." (End Graphic Caption)

(Start Graphic Caption) "The next morning Trustcott was found dead." (End Graphic Caption)

1923 12
THE AMATEUR BUSHRANGER. By Alan Burrows

Old Man Moran, during his last hour on earth, asked Jack Walford to write a letter for him. "An' listen, lad," said the old man to his young friend, "you've got to swear that you'll post that letter so that the right person'll get it." Walford, although he knew Moran was half-drunk at the time, promised he would do this. Then Moran dictated a letter. It was written to his daughter, whom he had not seen for about ten years, saying that he was dying, and that there were five thousand pounds concealed beneath the floor of his shack, which she must come and claim personally. "That'll do," said Moran, breaking off suddenly. "Now you see that my daughter gets that." "But," began Walford in astonishment. "You post that letter. It will make Kathleen happy," said the old man. "Your daughter can't come here; and in any case — " "Who's daughter is she?" said Moran irritably, "And who's dying, anyway. You post that letter." Half an hour later Moran died. There were several reasons why Walford would rather have burned that letter than posted it. He found the temptation so strong, indeed, that he mailed it immediately, in order to keep his word to a dying man. But he enclosed a note of his own, advising Miss Kathleen Moran not to visit Carinda, as her father was already dead, and her coming could do no good. Of her "inheritance" he said nothing; but he hinted, as broadly as he dared, that her father was not "clear in the head" when the letter was written. He hoped she would not guess what was really wrong with her father at the time. Kathleen Moran's photograph stood on a shelf in her father's shack. It was a constant source of interest to Walford, and often had he wished for a chance to meet its original. Nevertheless he prayed, that she would keep away from Carinda now. It she came, it was inevitable that she would learn the manner of her father's death — that Moran was a habitual drunkard and had died from wounds received in a drunken brawl, and that, even if he had recovered, he would have had to appear before the court on a charge of manslaughter. An interesting story, Walford reflected, to have to tell the original of that photograph, who thought, as he knew well, that her father was a hard-working miner, and an example to the entire town. And he knew that he would have the telling of the story, for if he kept silent, she would surely receive a garbled account from the gossips of the town. Three days later he was thrown into panic by the receipt of a wire saying she would be in Carinda the following day, and asking him to obtain accommodation for her. In spite of this knowledge that she was on her way, Walford clung to the idea that, at all costs she must be kept away from the place. He visited O'Rourke, the proprietor of the coach service which kept Carinda in touch with Walgett, the nearest railway station. O'Rourke was sympathetic, but could offer no suggestions. Walford, as a last resource, proposed a "breakdown," but O'Rourke had the mails to carry, so that was out of the question. Walford was becoming desperate. He wondered, bitterly, why some girls had such fathers. Then an inspiration came to him, and once more he spoke to O'Rourke. This time that gentleman was quite agreeable. The next day Walford waited on a deserted piece of road which the coach would pass on its daily trip. Soon a cloud of dust appeared, which Walford knew would be the coach. He drew a rusty revolver from his pocket and stepped to the centre of the road. O'Rourke pulled up with a jerk. "Hands up," ordered Walford. O'Rourke obeyed, but the only passenger — a young girl — made no movement. "Hands up and alight, please," said Walford gruffly. "This is absurd," began the girl. "Ye'd better get out, miss," advised O'Rourke in a conciliatory tone. "These bushrangers are fair terrors when they're roused." With an air of resignation Miss Moran stepped to the ground. "Highway robbery in these times, a few miles from a railway station," she said. "Now the trunks," said the bushranger to O'Rourke. The coachdriver, as though he were accustomed to it, made a neat pile of his passenger's luggage on the side of the road. "You may go now," said Walford, and O'Rourke climbed to his seat in a matter-of-fact manner and drove off. The road was still deserted. Walford sat down on a rock and invited the girl to do the same. She took a seat on her luggage in stony silence. Walford, hardly knowing how bushrangers generally conversed with their captives, said nothing. She was evidently wondering what was going to happen next; Walford, however, was waiting for O'Rourke on his return journey from Carinda. Kathleen Moran surpassed his expectations, and, in ordinary circumstances, he would have enjoyed the situation. But as it was — He shrugged his shoulders, and Miss Moran, happening to glance at him, thought what a pity it was that such a fine-looking man should be an outlaw. "Eventually, after a dreary wait, the coach returned, and Walford stopped it again. "Listen," he said to O'Rourke; "put this lady in the first train to Sydney. She has her purse and enough money, I trust, for her ticket. I have all her luggage, so it is all she can do, as she can't buy anything here. You understand?" he asked, turning to the girl. "I'll inform the police. I refuse to go back," she said with determination. "You take my advice, miss," said O'Rourke, "and go back to Sydney. This man has the police bribed." "Not only the police, evidently," said Miss Moran, bitingly. She entered the coach, however, apparently glad to escape so easily. "You get her away, and I'll send her luggage by the next train," whispered Walford and O'Rourke picked up the reins. "Leave it to me," said the driver, and winked broadly. Walford wiped his forehead. Then he sighed, but not altogether with relief. It was hard luck to send her back — but it had to be done. That night Walford visited Moran's shack to make it look a little respectable, just in case, he thought, his scheme failed. He was not long left in doubt. Without warning the door opened, and Walford heard a voice which at any other time he would have welcomed. "I was just — cleaning up," he said, glancing helplessly at the evidence of some of Moran's recent exploits. The girl looked around the room and her eyes filled. "Yes," she said; "I know all about father. It was good of you, Mr. Walford. But next time you attempt any kidnapping, you should select a more reliable accomplice. You forgot Mr. O'Rourke was Irish, like myself, and after a little persuasion he thought it was a shame to deceive an Irish girl, and he even directed me here." "Then my effort went for nothing," said Walford, not altogether sorry. "The money my father spoke of — have you got it?" she asked suddenly. Walford stared. "There was none." "But the letter?" she exclaimed in surprise. "I thought you would understand. The five thousand pounds was the product of your father's — delirium. I knew him for years, Miss Moran, and he never had a pound all at once the whole time. I merely posted the letter to fulfil his last wish." She went to the door. The road, along which Walford's attempt as an outlaw had failed so completely, stretched like a silver ribbon in the moonlight. "Then," she said, "my journey was as useless as your lawlessness — I came here for nothing." Walford experienced a sense of disappointment. "For nothing?" She looked at him then, and smiled in the moonlight. "No. . . perhaps not for nothing," she said.

(Start Graphic Caption) "Whose daughter is she?" said Moran. (End Graphic Caption)

(Start Graphic Caption) "I was just cleaning up." (End Graphic Caption)

1924 03
'''THE BROADCASTER. Question of Set. MAKING IT YOURSELF.''' (By Alan Burrows) No 1

Now that broadcasting is coming into its own — whatever that is — you will no doubt want to listen to it. There are three ways of doing this. The first, and cheapest, is to ingratiate yourself with a wireless "fan." Everyone has acquaintances of this description nowadays. This is easily done by cultivating an interest in the radio art, which necessitates the learning by heart of a number of technical names, such as "condenser," "valve," and "tickler." By repeating these at ten-second intervals you will soon receive numerous invitations to listen-in on your friend's set. This, as I remarked before, is decidedly the cheapest. The second method of gaining access to aerial vaudeville (without that front-row attraction) is to buy a set for yourself. This is more costly, though sometimes simpler. The cost, of course, can be left to your own judgment; but the simplicity is more doubtful, as probably you will have to fall back eventually upon an experimental friend to persuade the set to "go." The third method, therefore, is the best. That is, to make the set yourself. Not always is this the simplest; nor does it sometimes yield the best results — in fact, very often it yields no results at all. But it is infinitely more satisfactory to make your own; and by the time it is completed you have generally lost all interest in the best concert ever broadcasted. Even Melba, when you know that others are paying two guineas for the same entertainment, would scarcely interest you.

PRIDE OF THE CONQUEROR. The concert, when you begin to make your own set, appears as something almost unattainable; a faint possibility of the remote future, and if the product of your labor eventually happens to emit a slight noise, no one is more surprised than yourself. After weeks of hammering and soldering and family execrations, to hear an indistinct buzz, something like an asthmatic cough, is a joy in itself. Yours is the pride of the conqueror; and the glow of achievement is well worth the nights of hard work and resultant bad language. It is not the purpose here to detail the construction of the set (there are handbooks for that purpose), beyond remarking that it is made of everything acquired from about the house which seems to suit the purpose the least. If the article was doing good service before, so much the better. To purchase anything is a sign of weakness; to buy an article and use it for the purpose for which it was intended is unforgivable, and comes near to ruining the proud boast: "I made it myself!" To regain the respect of the household, however, whose peculiar objection to the drawing-room's conversion into an electrical workshop has made them rather cool towards you of late, something more than asthmatic wheezes has to be coaxed from the machine. They, of course, not knowing the pride of the creator — even of an asthmatic cough — fail to see the glory of the achievement. And they generally tell you so, in a way which leaves no doubt about the matter. It is just here that you find your fondness for the creation of tangled wires leaving yon. Beneath the avalanche of criticism and unanswerable questions (so far as you are concerned), your loyalty to the cause of science begins to fade, and a hearty dislike for anything with a wire in it, from the telephone (which already has a good start) to the doorbell, begins to take its place. You get more than the wheezy cough, of course. The thing howls, grunts, and makes noises which would outdo the "effects" of a picture theatre. But so far as a suggestion of rational sound is concerned, the affair is dead.

SONGS IN AGONY. It sometimes happens that the next-door neighbor is the wireless expert who fired your ambition to build a set. By this time you regard him as your worst enemy. But if you can overcome your hatred sufficiently, you perhaps carry your set in to his place and meekly ask him to "make it work." And he, connecting it to his own aerial, will make what he calls a few minor adjustments, and presto! you hear something like this: "C.O.D. here. The item to follow will be "I'll Sing Thee Songs in Agony" (or so it sounds to your unaccustomed ears). Speechless with delight, you grasp him warmly by the hand and, seizing the contraption, start back for home, but as further proof of his interest in you, he offers to lend you his loudspeaker to enable the entire family to listen. Then, promising to obey his instructions, you juggle the affair carefully back again, and beaming upon the sceptical assemblage, you say, "Now, listen!" They listen. You listen. After ten minutes the strained attention becomes positively painful. Frenziedly you make a few "minor adjustments," thinking you might fluke it. But the thing is as mute as a Pharaoh's mummy. To all intents and purposes it has expired utterly, and even the asthmatic cough seems to have become discouraged. Nothing you can do will rouse it to the slightest sign of life. A derisive giggle breaks the silence, and your humiliation is complete. Five minutes later the next-door neighbor (from the other side) comes in and says:— "Got a few new records. Like to come in and listen to the gramophone for a while?" Ah, would you? Would King Solomon have refused the music of the harps and cymbals?

1924 04
'''BROADCASTING. The Conference. FACTS AND CONSIDERATIONS.''' (By A. Burrows)

At last a conference has been granted, which, if it fulfils its purpose, should settle the involved questions that at present surround broadcasting. Indirectly it is the outcome of the discontent of the public and the majority of those interested commercially in broadcasting; directly it is the result of a deputation consisting of members of the Association for Developing Wireless in Australia, New Zealand, and Fiji, which recently waited upon the Postmaster-General. The sealed set, of course, was the primary cause of the deputation. Its abolition is the objective aimed at by the powerful association with the imposing name. This represents the view of practically all Australia. The members of the conference to be held next week in Sydney will, of course, be experts. As those who sat at the conference of last May also came within that category that may appear little recommendation. However, the impending conference should go further and achieve more than the previous one, which was undoubtedly, influenced by outside motives. The public — which knows more of broadcasting than it did a year ago — is not likely to be misled twice. At next week's meeting one aspect must be paramount above all others. That is the public's viewpoint, which last time was relegated to a second — or third — place. The conference will consist of a representative of each broadcasting licensee — about seven in all — with representatives of the traders and experimenters who will watch the interests of the amateurs. It so happens that under this arrangement one Sydney broadcasting company will have two delegates, by virtue of the fact that it holds two licenses. This is Farmer's, which is closely allied with Amalgamated Wireless (Australasia), Ltd., the firm which steered the sealed set regulation through the last conference, and eventually found itself unable to put into effect its own proposals. It will be this company and three others who next week will fight any alteration of the present regulations. The reasons are easily found.

FISK'S ROSY HOPES. Amalgamated Wireless has a lot to lose if the sealed set goes overboard. In this it is no different from many other companies who supported the scheme at the previous conference, owing to the rosy colors given it by Mr. E. T. Fisk, of the firm in question. These companies, however, are willing to write off their losses with the advent of the open set, knowing that they will gain in the long run by the people's appreciation of that principle. But the "big four," and Amalgamated Wireless in particular, are in slightly different circumstances. From all broadcasting companies Amalgamated Wireless collects, under patent rights, a 25 per cent. royalty on profits. This is a big item. In addition, because firms otherwise placed cannot afford to manufacture or import sets sealed to only one wave length, Amalgamated Wireless has practically a reserve on the wholesaling of Farmer's broadcast receiving sets. This reserve, of course, also applies to Farmer's, in the matter of the retailing of their sets. This privilege — to give it a generous term — would naturally vanish with the sealed set. It is true that on the profits which may be made by broadcasters under whatever scheme should replace the sealed set, Amalgamated Wireless will still collect its 25 per cent. But Farmer's three guinea per year service (on which, if circumstances permit the profits will be huge), along with similar services in other states, offers such a lucrative royalty to the company that it is probably considered preferable to any alternate scheme by which broadcasters would make smaller profits. The other firms who advocate the sealed set have no royalties to gain, but their ideas of manufacturing and bulk importing run on similar lines to those of Amalgamated Wireless. Now, had the sealed set proved a practicable proposition and one not inimical to the public's interests, all this would have probably been accepted as part of the firms' more or less, reasonable gains due to foresight and acumen. But it has not proved itself a success, and the interested firms are unwilling to relinquish those advantages, which, justly or not, would have been theirs had events not shown the sealed set in its true light. Hence the opposition on their part to any other scheme.

PUBLIC RIGHTS. These facts are well known to most of those who will attend the forthcoming conference. They point unmistakably to a disregard of the public rights. So, considering the direction in which public opinion points, and that Mr. Gibson has admitted the failure of the sealed set (as he did to the recent deputation). It would appear that there will be little uncertainty concerning the resolution the conference will make. It remains to be seen how far the "big four" will carry its views. Many, who are in a position to know, are of the opinion that they realise the futility of hoping for a continuance of the sealed set regulation. Still, they will fight for it the whole way, in the expectation of a compensation as large as they can bluff out of the Postmaster-General. But in his admission of the sealed set's failure, Mr. Gibson has virtually confessed to his moral obligation to the people of Australia.

1924 05
'''PAYMENT BY NOISE. Wireless Association Protests to P.M.G. "SENSE VERSUS ORIGINALITY"'''

Considerable opposition is being shown to the proposal that there should be only one big broadcasting company. "Payment by noise," is the way one writer describes the suggestion that the listener-in should be charged, more or less, according to the distance he is from the transmitting station. SCHEMES WITHOUT END. Government Plan Criticised. "BENEVOLENT MONOPOLY" (By Alan Burrows)

Of the making of broadcasting schemes there appears to be no end; and it will indeed be unfortunate for all concerned — including the advocates who are not mentioned — if the latest proposition should be gazetted by an impressionable Cabinet. The central idea of this most recent scheme is that of one big broadcasting company, to have one station operating in each capital city, with the exception of Hobart, which, presumably, is sufficiently near Melbourne to render one in Tasmania unnecessary. There are several reasons which make it probable that this principle will appeal to the Government. The first is its simplicity, in comparison, at any rate, with the alternative draft of regulations. This, however, should be a secondary consideration where such important issues are involved. Another point which may weigh in its favor is the fact that England solved, to some extent, her broadcasting troubles with one company — the British Broadcasting Company. Conditions in Australia, however, are entirely different from those in England. There, on account of the close population and the resultant proximity of separately controlled stations, it was found highly impracticable to allow a multitude of what would inevitably be clashing services. As it is, services are arranged by the B.B.C. so that those stations which overlap in their transmitting, offer a variety of items which listeners-in within range may choose from at will.

INDEPENDENT SERVICES. These advantages, with Australia's widely-separated stations — and with the low power of 1000 watts mentioned in yesterday's proposals, would be absent here. There is nothing at all, beyond the distribution of revenue, a not insuperable difficulty, to prevent a number of independent services operating simultaneously. Perhaps, however, the sliding-scale of charges is the section which lays itself open to the greatest criticism. What is lacking in common sense is balanced in originality. Payment will be made, evidently, according to the distance the listener-in may be from the broadcasting station — on a similar principle, very likely, to that which provides that a patron pays more at a theatre for a dress-circle than he does for a gallery seat. But the similarity goes no further than that. The listener-in is to be charged by the amount of noise he receives. The closer he is to the broadcasting station, the louder, of course, his music is — and the more he pays. With the exception of the longest distances, the reception nearest to the station will probably be no better than that further away. When a station is too close to a transmitting station, the telephony is apt to "distort"; besides which it is hard to cut it out to enable the operator to listen to any other station. Two points may be advanced in favor of the sliding scale of charges. One is that the broadcast listener who spends more on his set — to enable him to receive over the greater distance — will pay less in fees; and the other, that those on the extreme edge of the transmitting range will not pay the full sum for a service which may be rather doubtful; owing to the great distance and more possibility of interference by atmospherics.

BENEVOLENT MONOPOLY. The scheme is apparently intended to involve a sort of benevolent monopoly, absorbing all present broadcasting companies; and with a provision preventing any sort of vested interests gaining control. A quarter of the capital — £200,000 — is to be reserved for dealers and manufacturers — which will be their share in the concern. But the most objectionable feature of the proposition is the absolute lack of competition it entails. No supervision or qualifications are mentioned, and this, along with the clause relating to the broadcasting of paid advertisements, cannot help but leave a strong feeling of doubt in the minds of most people. Without competition it is hard to believe that any company can give its best to the public. The most favorable proposal is that in connection with experimenters. This, with its fee of five shillings to sit for an examination, and 20s per year for those who pass, which will be equally divided between the Government and broadcasters, is much fairer (following similar lines to my recent "Sun" article) than the alternative suggestion — the limiting of the number of experimenters in each State. Few will disagree with the experimenters' treatment in this proposition. Other points affect minor issues. The open set is enclosed. Probably the outline only of the scheme is given, but, judging the suggestion of one big broadcasting company by the press report, it seems, generally speaking, decidedly derogatory to the interests of everyone connected with it, particularly the public.(Start Graphic Caption) LISTENING IN (End Graphic Caption)

1924 07
'''AD ASTRA. "Wireless" Column.''' (Conducted by Alan Burrows)

The regulations, as they appear on the Prime Minister's outline, have deceived the greater part of the wireless public, and many whose interest in radio extends beyond that of listening-in. It may be this, or their gratification may be caused by the overdue appearance of any sort of regulations, and the fear that protest might precipitate another indefinite holdup. And on a cursory examination from the listeners' viewpoint, they are admirable. The fees are lower than was generally anticipated, and few will take exception to the modest — comparatively speaking — toll of 5s extracted by the Government. The zone system, modified on a previous idea, evidently discarded for what it was worth, has its merits, although it creates a precedent, and wireless precedents, in Australia, have not always ended happily. It has the advantage, however, of handicapping least the man who pays most for his gear, and vice-versa. Experimenters' fees have evidently been formulated on the assumption that they do occasionally listen to broadcasting; and few experimenters will deny this. This clause, however, may have been inserted on the grounds of the usual disadvantages in the country, since, as it is not stated what amount of those fees the Government retains, the assumption is that it keeps it all. The open set, of course, was practically understood. General permission, however, to use every variety of set — including the most regenerative — came as a surprise to many. Providing some provision is made to deal with the inveterate users of certain circuits, this will meet with universal approval — and the Wireless Institute, be it remembered, is probably to thank for this unexpected concession. Dealers' and entertainment fees are, for the most part, regarded as satisfactory, although in some quarters the charges for dealers — £2 to £5 — are considered somewhat high. This can scarcely be said of the fee for entertainment purposes, which ranges from £10 to £7 10s. Any old pianist would cost that a fortnight.

THE "BUT" COMES IN. So far, in their incidental features, the regulations can almost be said to be excellent — satisfactory, in any case. Everyone, therefore, is happy; the radio community girds its loins, and broadcasting is going to boom. For a time, that is, until the real weaknesses of the regulations, the product of the Government's dilemma, make themselves felt. It is not impossible, for instance, that the time is far distant when the public will tire of the services of those companies which the Government has subsidised; and so long as they conform to a certain standard — fixed, presumably, by the authorities — no others will be allowed to make good the deficiency. Nor does it seem probable that the present companies, with their assured ratio of profit, will excel themselves, if at the close of two years' service there is no prospect of more competitors entering their guarded precincts. What competitive element the scheme might have possessed — and it possesses none — is nullified by the fixed subsidy, precluding any incentive for expansion or improvement in the existing stations, and the protection afforded from newcomers. And in the States where more than one company dominates, even if there existed a competitive feature, why should two companies, so snugly and securely ensconced, be bothered competing? When such an attitude is taken, and there appears to be nothing to prevent it, the outcome is scarcely for the Public good. While granting that the biggest difficulty in the support of broadcasting stations is the allocation of revenue, there seems little to prevent an unlimited — so far as the Government is concerned — number of stations opening up, provided there is sufficient revenue to support them, and the assumption is that they wouldn't start until there was enough; or if they did they would simply pay for it or go out of business, as in an ordinary business venture. For the Government to protect one or two stations, however, is just as anomalous as it would be to protect a storekeeper from the competition of others.

ETHEREAL PHILANTHROPY. There are, of course, the "B" class stations, which are magnificently allowed to broadcast for nothing, so far as a share of the license fee is concerned, although they may be as willing and as competent to do it as the company which collects its 70 per cent. These potential stations — and there is more than one in Sydney — whose only error was to refuse to broadcast under regulations which were unsound, are now positively forbidden (except under intolerable and unfair conditions) to give the public their services. One fact is plain. Compensation claims have haunted the Government; the influence or fear of those who, it is true, led the way under the impossible conditions of the 1923 regulations, has compelled the Prime Minister to compensate them out of all proportion. What amounts to a monopoly for all time, or at the best the life of the present Ministry, seems indeed a huge recompense for those who led the way — providing that this was genuine pioneering work in the interest of wireless broadcasting. And the inclusion of rights to advertise is a feature of this amazing arrangement, which, under any commonsense scheme, would have been impossible. For under any plan whereby the people had some semblance of expression of opinion in what they wanted, stations which advertised would not be tolerated. Broadcasting is going to boom — at the public's expense. KGO, California, who sometimes now makes a point of calling Australia, is becoming as well-known to N.S.W. amateurs as 2BL and 2FC are. Mr. Finch, of Bankstown, reports hearing him on one valve and working a loud speaker with two valves. Mr. R. C. Allsop, Randwick, also hears the American station regularly. For those who have not yet heard KGO it should be mentioned that, although this station is now on high-power — about 1000 watts — too much must not be expected for any sort of entertainment purposes. The fading is very marked, and seldom can the station be held for long. No amount of expert handling, of course, can obviate this. "Crystal" (Newtown): Any standard amplifying unit, or circuit, can be added to your present set.

(Start Photo Caption) ECOUTEZ DONC! (End Photo Caption) Three little listeners in a garden of Paris, on a convenient set of the latest plancon model.

'''AD ASTRA. "Wireless" Column.''' (Conducted by Alan Burrows)

Directional wireless, such as will be used in the Marconi Empire wireless scheme, is actually not a new idea. Marconi himself has made several attempts, extending over a number of years, to perfect some system which would lend more privacy to wireless communication. It is this lack of privacy which, in normal times, is perhaps the chief objection to wireless, the only protection being afforded by the coding of messages, and, to a small extent, the tuning to a certain wave length. A modified form of directional wireless has for some time been used successfully, principally on the American and Scottish coast, for "lighthouses." This, however, is not directional wireless in the real sense of the word; the signal is merely stronger in one direction, but is by no means confined to that direction. It is accomplished, as a rule, by inclining the aerial in the desired direction, the signal being strongest along that plane. Marconi, however, uses a reflector behind the aerial, which renders the direction, theoretically in any case, entirely selective. Far back as 1888 Hertz — to whom wireless owes much — demonstrated that short waves could be directed by the use of a parabolic mirror, and at about the same time Marconi interested himself in the concentrating of wireless waves. Nothing definite, however, was achieved which could be of more than experimental value; and with the exception of patents taken out later by Marconi, which were not utilised at the time, directive wireless made no commercial progress (so far as the world was aware) until some months ago, when Mr. E. T. Fisk, of Amalgamated Wireless (Australasia), Limited, received messages from the Poldhu station in England. This, in view of the limited nature of the experimental work, conducted previously in various places, was a tremendous jump — so great, indeed, that to place it immediately upon a commercial footing seems a risky step. So far as any records go, previous tests were seldom successful beyond a distance of 50 miles, and generally less than that. Conditions, moreover, on account of the concentrated nature of the beam, had to be ideal and the range free from obstruction. In other words, owing to the necessity of using short wave lengths, the terrific frequencies (which naturally increase as the wave length shortens) were found exceedingly difficult to handle; and this is one of the considerations which make special apparatus necessary to receive directive signals. Most of the tests were conducted on a wave length ranging from 3 to 20 metres, although for the Poldhu-Sydney tests a wave length of 90 metres was used, which is interesting to compare with one of Sydney's broadcasting station's length of 1000 metres. Experiment in this direction has by no means been limited to those of Marconi, although he appears to have realised, as forcefully as anyone, the value of a unidirectional method of transmitting wireless messages. Franklin also has conducted research in this direction, sometimes in conjunction with Marconi, and improvements to the radio "lighthouse" which has been mentioned, resulted.

SHORT WAVE LENGTHS. These instances will illustrate the entirely experimental scope of directional wireless until very recently, and it is difficult to believe that it has yet passed from that stage into a business proposition. The American "Wireless World" some time ago said: — "It is thought that recently enough has been done to show that shortwave directional wireless telegraphy is likely to be very useful in the future, and the results should lead the way to more extended researches." This is an instance of the cautious feeling in radio circles with regard to the matter; and the only explanation is that Marconi has found some new principle which his co-experimenters have not shared. In the discussion concerning the merits and otherwise of a beam system whose general efficacy is granted, one point seems to be missed, looking at it from a wartime angle. Any shortwave stations (as directive installations will have to be) are more easily erected — as Marconi himself states — than the station using the usual commercial longwave, and can therefore be used temporarily by an enemy to intercept messages with greater ease than would otherwise be possible — a fact which might almost balance its directional feature. Again, shortwave transmission can be jammed and mutilated far more quickly than transmission on longer waves. On the other hand, atmospherical interference on the wave length used for a beam is considerably lessened. The admission, however, that the directive stations will only be reliable for seven hours a day indicates that daylight working will be next to impossible — a disadvantage which is difficult to reconcile with a worthwhile service. Wireless has affected the Sydney School of Arts Debating Club, which last Thursday discussed the question of the regulations from the point of view that the "Federal Government's decision to create a broadcasting monopoly is justifiable." "R.P." (Alexandria).— When they are ready, licenses will be available at any post office. The official you spoke to evidently had not been notified. "G.N." (Toronto).— If you expect to receive Sydney broadcasting, you will find a crystal set, such as you are constructing, of no use for that distance. A crystal set will not receive broadcasting beyond about 20 miles, nor will it, under any circumstances, work a loudspeaker, as you evidently expect. To do this, where you, are situated, you will need at least a two or three valve set, which is an entirely different proposition from a crystal set, although, when once installed, you will find it worth the extra outlay and trouble. It would not do, however, to leave its working in children's hands. Any Sydney book store will be pleased to forward a list of cheap radio books, which have little difference in their merits.

(Start Photo Caption) A giant python of the Bronx Zoo becomes enamoured of the loud speaker because someone is playing a sentimental ballad on a violin nearby. (End Photo Caption)

1924 08 06
WIRELESS & RADIO. Conducted by Alan Burrows '''THE DEMAND FOR CRYSTAL SETS. Noisy Regenerators Warned Off The Ether.'''

CRYSTAL sets are in great demand at present, and many dealers find their hands full in meeting the orders which are coming in. The same can be said of accessories, and almost as many amateurs appear to be making their own outfits as there are buying them outright. Enamelled wire, of the gauges used in every crystal set, is almost unprocurable in Sydney at the present moment. Aerial wire is just as scarce, and certain types of valves (201A's particularly) show signs of a similar scarcity. This, however, need not discourage the beginner; in fact, it will be an opportunity for him to test his resourcefulness. Cotton-covered wire will always be found suitable for the coils of a crystal set. While certainly not looking as neat, the efficiency is not effected to any extent, and with care quite a respectable single or double coil tuner can be made in this way. The same applies to aerials. If unable to buy the correct wire, there are still a number of varieties which will do. "16" wire can usually be bought without difficulty, and this, or almost any kind of insulated wire, will replace, for the moment at least, the recognised "7-20" aerial wire. Many, indeed, find themselves forced to improvise at the present time, although it is seldom that this seriously affects a set's working.

RUSH FOR LICENSES. Nearly every post office official is busy now selling licenses to the huge number of prospective enthusiasts. Well over a hundred were sold one day last week at the G.P.O. alone, and altogether the number is reaching the thousand mark, which is not bad going, considering they have only been on sale for a week. Some quick work was put in by the N.S.W. radio officials when the licenses came to hand. Arriving in Sydney on the Thursday after the regulations were made known, they were distributed to the different post offices on the following day, and were being sold on Saturday. Since then there has scarcely been a break in the demand for them. Mr. W. Crawford, State Radio Inspector, has his hands full with the work following upon the popularity of wireless. There were the zones, for instance, which had to be decided; and this rather intricate matter being settled, every postmaster in the State had to be supplied with a copy of the boundaries, so there could be no doubt concerning which zone they occupied. "It would be as well to emphasise," said Mr. Crawford, "that no postmaster has the power to refuse to grant a broadcasting licence, although he may ask that the applicant go to the post office nearest to where he lives. This is merely to facilitate the renewal of licences when the time comes, as it will probably cause confusion if an application is made for renewal at a different office from where it was originally issued." Mr. Crawford was very definite concerning regenerative sets. All owners of noisy sets will be warned once, after which they will be de-licensed and fined if they still persist in annoying their neighbors. However, the radio inspector pointed out that it would probably be simply a matter of educating the public, as no set, when it is oscillating sufficiently to cause interference, can reproduce music or speech without distortion. It would be in a listener's-in own interests to be instructed in the manipulating of his set.

EXPERIMENTERS. "No applications have been made yet for experimental licenses," said Mr. Crawford. "Nor do we expect many, as the difference in the cost of the two licenses is only 15s, it is not likely that a great number will go to the trouble of sitting for an examination. For that matter, very few would have a chance of passing it, as a big proportion of so-called experimenters were really only broadcast-listeners. On the other hand, there are a few in Sydney who, when their present licenses expire, will be granted an experimenter's status without question. These, however, are very few." Quite a number of people state that they find as much pleasure in listening to amateurs' transmission as they do to that of regular broadcasters. There is one amateur transmitter, however, whom they will probably not hear for some little time. Mr. J. S. Marks (2GR) had the bad luck to have his aerial blown down in the storm last Saturday night, and consequently has been unable to broadcast his usual concerts. There are two transmitters at Armidale who have been "coming in" well lately. These are 2HM (Mr Marshall) and 2GQ (Mr Barlow). They are worth listening for, and should compensate for the unaccountable silence of well-known Sydney stations, such as 2ZN (Mr Cotterel) and 2YG (Mr. R. Allsop), whose aerials, so far as can be ascertained, are still intact.

UNUSUAL CRYSTAL RECEPTION. Mr. Edward Atkins recently heard at Dubbo some items from Farmer's programme on a crystal set. "On the evening of July 31," Mr Atkins says, "using the public school's aerial and an unamplified crystal single slide set, Farmer's concert, was received here between 9 and 10 p.m., with only occasional fading and very little static." A statement in this column that a crystal set, was of little use beyond 20 miles moved Mr. Atkins to mention this instance of remarkable reception. Very seldom, however, can feats like this be accomplished, and only then under favorable conditions. Twenty miles is the reliable and constant range of a crystal set. For some time the advocates of Esperanto, the universal language, have been conducting a campaign with the idea or convincing broadcast fans that they will find it useful — essential, almost — to adopt some language which can be understood by all countries. A special wireless issue of their journal was recently published, and several radio clubs around and about Sydney have been given lectures by officials of the society, all of which proved interesting. Quite a number of "Esperanto talks" and similar features have been broadcast from Continental stations, and the idea, seems to be more popular over there than here. It will, however, probably be some time at least before Australian amateurs need another language — Australian appears to meet all requirements for broadcasting purposes at present.

ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS. C.A. (Camden): A 'phone condenser will improve the tone of your broadcasting. Otherwise it makes little difference. Connect it straight across the 'phones themselves, or from one 'phone terminal to the other. The fact that you have heard Pennant Hills doesn't prove that you will hear Sydney broadcasting by any means. You would probably be able to hear 2BL when conditions were very favorable, but it would not be anyway certain. A coil wound on a phonograph record would scarcely receive 2BL, unless the wires were very fine. A 4-inch former, costing sixpence, is much better. R.R. (Auburn): Here is a list of parts necessary for a single-coil crystal set, without 'phones and aerial, which will cost about 35s. apart from the set. The prices, of course, vary slightly at the different dealers. Half a pound of 24 or 20 gauge enamelled wire, 2s 6d; 4-inch former, 6d; end-pieces, about 9d each; detector, 2s 6d; terminals, slider, and rod, about 3s. The crystal will cost, perhaps, 1s. although, if you wish, you can pay four times this amount for a really good piece. J.G. (Bingara): A crystal set, unfortunately, will not receive broadcasting beyond 20 miles from the station, which renders you hopelessly out of range, so far as a crystal set is concerned. You will need a three-valve set, which, if you cared to tackle making yourself (it would be a big job), would cost £18 for the parts, and about £25 to buy ready for use. "Count" (Haberfield): You must, to obtain the best results, have the coil a little distance from any surrounding objects. The end-pieces to the former should keep it half an inch from the baseboard or table. Any method (as a piece of wood under each end of the former) will do, however, which raises the coil slightly. After you have finished winding the coil, put a hole or a tack into the former and twist the wire around the tack, or through the hole, to keep the winding tight; then take it to the brass screw, and bind the wire securely around it. Always remember to scrape the wire until it shines when making connections of this sort. The aerial wire, decidedly, should not touch the coil anywhere but at the binding post which leads to the detector. Keep the set as tightly and neatly wired as possible. "Catwhisker" (Rose Bay): If the inductance coil is tapped there should, of course, be a movable switch-arm, and one end of the coil is a "dead-end" until you put the switch on the last tap. The other end can go straight to aerial or earth. From the crystal detector one wire (from the cup or catwhisker) should go to a 'phone terminal; the other wire to the end of the coil, or switch-arm, as the case might be. (Several questions which arrived late have been held over. Letters should reach A.B., c/o the editor of "The Sun," by Monday.) (Start Photo Caption) Another of the towers at Sayville.(End Photo Caption) (Start Photo Caption) Base and tower of one of the wireless masts at the great station at Sayville, Long Island, U.S.A. There are nine towers at this station.(End Photo Caption)

1924 08 13
WIRELESS & RADIO. (Conducted by Alan Burrows) '''POPULAR LOUD SPEAKERS. The Pocket Crystal Set. CLUB ACTIVITIES AND AMENITIES.'''

A RADIO officer recently estimated that there were 15,000 pairs of head-'phones being used in New South Wales at present, while those who preferred — and could afford — loudspeakers numbered over 10,000. One point which these figures emphasise is that the loudspeaker is coming into its own. Their manufacture now is a highly specialised branch of radio, and "loud-talkers," as they are called in America, can be had, which, if correctly handled, will give a reproduction as perfect as that of the 'phones. It would be difficult to gauge the number of listeners for every loud-speaker. Some are unable to overcome a certain prejudice, for sitting with a pair of receivers "clamped" to the head, and consequently scarcely give them a fair trial. A little use will prove, however, that the modern ear-'phone is by no means "clamped" to the head. They are barely noticeable after a few minutes' wear. Loudspeakers, however, lend a social touch, which has been called the "community method" of listening-in, and it undoubtedly has advantages — with, of course, a proportionate increase in cost — which the other method lacks.

KNOWING YOUR SET. Quite a number of broadcast-receiving sets being sold are fitted with what is known as the "PI" circuit. While an experimenter will understand what this means, the chances are that the average purchaser doesn't realise the nature of the set he is buying. The "PI" circuit forms one of the most efficient types of valve sets that can be made; but it needs careful handling — it could almost be said to possess a "temperament." Simply, this means that it oscillates (the condition of a set when it distorts music and causes interference) very easily, and the point at which it works best is that just before it begins to oscillate. So it can be seen that in the hands of a person not too familiar with its adjustments it would be very likely to distort his broadcasting, not to speak of the annoyance caused the neighbors. Keeping this in mind, it is wise to find whether or not your set has a "PI" circuit, and if it has, be particularly careful to gain full instructions concerning its manipulation. Wireless produces its novelties just as anything else does; and the latest seems, to be a pocket crystal set. About the size of a large fountain-pen, these sets, it is claimed, will receive broadcasting within the usual specified crystal range. Whether or not this claim is accurate seems doubtful, and in any case, as the aerial and earth are very far from being portable, the better plan would appear to be to procure a set of the usual dimensions and be assured of definite results. They are interesting, of course, as a novelty.

NEW TRANSMITTING OUTFITS. Mr. C. Marsden, who is more familiar to listeners-in as 2JM, is building a new transmitting set. It will be of an unusual panel design, consisting of four valves as a coupled Hartley circuit, with valve-controlled modulation. "We have been working late at night," said Mr. Marsden, speaking generally of Sydney's amateur transmitters, "which is why the public hasn't heard us much. There is keen rivalry at present amongst amateurs, and we have practically all taken our coats off to it. Quite a number are building new sets, while the others are doing their best to improve their present transmission. The amateur transmitters will be worth listening to when we get going properly again." Amateur transmitters can be found on wave lengths between 125 and 250 metres, and, as a rule, are not quite so strong as the broadcasters.

A WIRELESS LANGUAGE. Mr. F. T. Simon, of the Esperanto Society, writes on the subject of the need radio has for Esperanto. He says: "Your article last week states, 'it will probably be some time at least before Australian amateurs need another language — Australian appears to meet all requirements for broadcasting at present.' Australia occupies the unique position of being the only continent where one language is spoken throughout, and so long as we are content to confine our interests to that area very little trouble should arise. But venture outside, and you are lost in the throes of language difficulties. This is more than ever apparent in radio circles in Europe; thousands upon thousands of peoples must limit their enjoyment of listening-in to local broadcastings, unless music from other countries bridges the gap of unintelligibility." Mr. Simon supports his opinion by a statement of the Director of Programmes of the B.B.C. that the native tongue will be supplemented by an international language, and mentions the number of cities from which Esperanto concerts have been broadcast. Even the King's speech at the opening of Wembley was translated into this language and transmitted. In addition, several amateurs have mentioned the uselessness of logging South American stations, if subsequent conversation is impossible owing to the ignorance of each other's language. The matter seems to merit deeper consideration.

CLUB ACTIVITIES. There are over 50 radio clubs in the State now, the attendances of which range from 20 to 200. Most of the city and suburban organisations are affiliated with the Wireless Institute of Australia, while the others are separate little entities dotted all over the country. No better way for the newcomer to wireless to learn a little more, or find willing helpers, can be suggested. Those who are fortunate enough to live near any club would be well advised to become a member. This column, if so desired, will supply the addresses of the secretary of the club in any district. Six new members were enrolled at the business meeting of the Leichhardt and District Radio Society, which was held last week. Mr. R. C. Caldwell will lecture tonight on "Aerial and Earthing Systems," and a big roll-up is expected. The secretary's address is Mr. W. J. Zech, 145 Booth-street, Annandale. One of the foremost suburban clubs is the Marrickville and District Radio Club. The annual election of officers has just been concluded, and now the club hopes to soon possess a transmitting licence. The secretary, Mr. A. W. Hemming, will be found at 23 Central-avenue, Marrickville.

ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS. E.G.B. (Rockdale): You can only use a loop aerial with the more sensitive valve sets, this type of aerial being absolutely useless for a crystal or single-valve set. However, here are a few details concerning loops: They should, to work at their best, be 6ft. square. To receive 2BL four turns will be necessary, while a different loop, of about 12 turns, will have to be used on Farmer's wave length. Each end is connected in place of aerial and earth, and, in a two-circuit set, the loop takes the place of the primary. It is tuned by a condenser, which must not exceed .001 microfarads, and all loop aerials, as you are probably aware, are directional; that is, they must point in a certain direction to receive signals at the loudest, or very often to receive them at all. "Perikon" (Campsie): In some districts the use of the electric light wires for aerials is highly successful, if used with the special adaptor; while in others it is a complete failure. You would find it worth while trying, although, of course, the results cannot be assured. If this is useless, make an aerial as long, and erect it as high, as possible, and use five or six wires. This will not be as efficient as the usual type, but it seems the only alternative in your circumstances. C.C.O. (North Sydney): Any large metallic mass buried in the ground (an old bath-tub, or coil of bare wire, for instance) makes an efficient earth, particularly if kept moist. Sometimes electric light conduit forms a good earth. If you live in a flat you could, at a pinch, run bare wire beneath the floor covering, or use a counterpoise. The fire underwriters will not allow the use of a gas-pipe as an earth. P. O'B. (West Narrabri): Unfortunately, the cheapest three-valve set obtainable here would cost over £20. Apart from the set itself, the incidental expenses are the 'phones, about £2, or a little less; the aerial wire, about 8s; and the masts, stays, and insulators, which depend upon your plan of erection. A valve set will need two batteries, which, however, are nearly always included in the quote, if the set is bought outright. You would just about be in range for head-'phones strength with a two-valve set, although the three valves would assure you of success. Any reliable Sydney firm, all of which advertise, will supply you with your gear. H. McN. (Harefield).— (1) The slider has to touch every turn for the entire length of the coil. (2) You should receive good signals at that range. (3) If your set is working as it should, you cannot get louder signals without an entirely new valve outfit. There is no attachment, apart from a valve amplifier, which will do this. M.H. (Barraba): Two valves would just be sufficient to got fair head-'phone strength at your distance. In an ordinary set, only one valve can be used as a detector — the others are amplifiers. You will have to use, in your circumstances, one valve as a detector, and the other as an audio frequency amplifier. If you used another, making a three-valve set, as a radio-frequency amplifier, it would be a great improvement. J.M. (Sutherland): Yours is a tall order, and would take too much space to answer here. Write to a city bookshop, telling what you want, and you can choose, from a large selection, a moderately priced book which will give every detail. P.M. (Marrickville).— The aerial, so far as your diagram shows, should work successfully, although 100 feet is a little too long. This, however, will not make a great difference. Twenty feet is scarcely high enough; another ten would make a big improvement. Be sure to insulate it well from the trees. R.A. (Naremburn).— A single coil set can certainly be used as the secondary (inside) coil of a loose-coupler, or, for that matter, as the primary (outside) coil. It would be difficult, however, to make a good job of it. The brass rods are what support the secondary as it slides within the primary. E.V. (Waverley).— It you simply fill the bobbins of the receivers with 46 gauge s.w.g. enamelled wire their resistance will be approximately 1500 ohms.

(Start Photo Caption) Rodolph Valentino becomes a radio "fan."(End Photo Caption)

(Start Photo Caption) Senator Ralston, who was a candidate for the U.S.A. Presidential nomination receiving wireless news of the Democratic Convention. (End Photo Caption)

1924 08 20
WIRELESS & RADIO. (Conducted by Alan Burrows) '''THE AERIAL PROBLEM. No Leniency for Unlicensed Sets.'''

Aerials perhaps provide the greatest amount of trouble for the average fan. A receiving set itself can be bought complete to its last detail, but the aerial is necessarily a home-erected affair dependent upon local circumstances. For that reason its construction or erection is a matter of moment to the most technically disinterested listener-in. Questions regarding aerials are probably one of the most unsatisfactory for the expert to answer. If a good, substantial aerial is recommended the reply is invariably to the effect that the next-door neighbor hasn't got an aerial — he receives well off a clothes-line, or something equally unsuitable. On the other hand, if an arrangement is suggested which will entail little trouble, but will not assure good results, the scheme seldom is successful — and the adviser is naturally blamed. He gets it either way. The truth lies between the two extremes. To use a bedstead or clothes-line, for instance, may be successful; but, after all, it is only an experiment, and the efficiency cannot be gauged. Successful instances are practically freak results. The plan of erection for aerials is governed almost entirely by local conditions and depends upon the trouble and expense to which the owner cares to commit himself. There are, however, some rules which should always be remembered. The higher the aerial is the better. Thirty feet can be taken as the standard height, although many are lower than this. Up to about 70 feet, the longer the aerial is the more efficient will it be. Anything beyond this will help only very little. Two wires are better than one, but three or more are no improvement. Keep the aerial well insulated. This is highly important, and is often overlooked. The farther the aerial is away from any objects, particularly iron roofs, the better. Indoor aerials are seldom successful with crystal sets. Keeping those facts in mind, the remainder is purely a matter to be decided by yourself.

UNLICENSED SETS The exception nowadays is for a home to be without a wireless set; and this fact was recently mentioned to Mr. T. Armstrong, Assistant Government Radio Inspector, in connection with the matter of illegal sets. "At the close of last week," said Mr. Armstrong, "there were over 3000 broadcasting licenses issued — by now there should be nearly 4000. There are, of course, far more sets than this in N.S.W. at the present time. We haven't yet got properly into the running under the new regulations, but within a few days we expect staff arrangements to be completed. "It can be said now, however, that we will be far more strict than we have been in the past. People now have no excuse for not taking out a license, and little latitude will be allowed. I will be surprised if even one warning is given for an unlicensed set — the offender will be fined immediately." Mr Armstrong likened the possession of a broadcast-receiving license to a motor car or dog license. "No 'first chance' is given in these cases," said the inspector.

THE NOISY REGENERATORS. The question of energised aerials causing interference was also mentioned by Mr. Armstrong. This is a matter which is expected to look after itself to a great extent. Neighbors who are troubled with howling valves will soon see that the trouble is dealt with. "I am doubtful about the extensive use being made of the PI circuit," said the inspector. "The fact that it is essentially a direct-coupled set makes it almost impossible to tune finely. This is evident by the fact that on many of these circuits it is impossible to tune out the broadcasters in the city. This renders them liable to cause interference over a broader band than they would otherwise.'' The "PI" circuit was mentioned as one which needed careful handling in last Wednesday's "Sun."

TEACHING THE PUBLIC. A number of Sydney radio firms have taken upon themselves the instruction of the public in wireless matters. Farmer's last Saturday inaugurated the first of a number of lectures to children, and more of these will be announced at a later date. Harrington's, Ltd., have also instituted a series of suburban demonstrations in connection with radio. Various sets will be used, and an opportunity will be afforded to all to listen-in to the broadcasting from the stations of the city, and any information desired by those present can be obtained first-hand. The demonstrations for this week are as follow:— Thursday, 21st, at 7.30 p.m., Killara Memorial Hall. Monday, 25th, at 7.30 p.m., Manresa Hall, Carlow-street, North Sydney. Thursday, 28th, at 7.30 p.m., Town Hall, Lane Cove. David Jones announce a series of "wireless talks for men" this week, from 1.15 to 1.45 p.m., in their lecture hall. They will he held daily until Friday. Mr. Basil Cooke, F.R.A.S., is the lecturer. LOUD SPEAKERS Recently there have been complaints that some city firms are selling loud speakers with crystal sets. This is a practice which, apart from its moral aspect, should come near to being a punishable offence. Any form of loud speaker is absolutely useless with a crystal set, and for a dealer to sell one for use with such a set is indefensible. Using a crystal detector, two valves as a rule will be necessary as amplifiers to work a loud speaker. Generally, with good headphone strength, one extra valve will be required for this purpose, while if the 'phone strength is poor, two amplifying valves will be found necessary. There have from time to time been alleged loud speakers put on the market for use with crystal sets, but none have really been successful. A second's thought will prove that without the additional power which a valve supplies it is impossible for a set to give sufficient volume to fill a room, which normally is just enough for two or three pairs of 'phones.

CLUB ACTIVITIES. Mr. A. H. Perret, publicity officer for the Wireless Institute of Australia, writes:— "There have been many inquiries concerning the certificates issued by the institute in connection with the exhibition held last year in the Town Hall. There have been many obstacles which unfortunately delayed the preparation of these, but now they are ready. Those who are entitled to these certificates should make a point of calling at the institute headquarters, 82 Pitt-street, Sydney, where they may be obtained between the hours of 10 to 12 o'clock in the morning, and 1 to 4 o'clock afterwards." Marrickville Radio Club has formed an associate membership, which should be of advantage to many. This step was decided upon at the meeting held last Monday at the School of Arts. At this meeting Mr. W. L. Hamilton successfully demonstrated the "ST 100" circuit, using a stage of radio frequency. This set, believed to be the first one used with success in Australia, has already brought in KGO.

ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS. B.D.R. (Portland): There is little to choose between any of the reputable Sydney firms, whose announcements may be seen in the newspapers. Write to the one you prefer, telling what you want, and they will give you full particulars. The parts for a two-valve set, however, will probably cost more than £8, although there may be a few dealers selling them at this price. L.S. (S. Kensington): Always connect the detector as shown in the diagram. Apart from the appearance, which is a matter of opinion, there is no reason why the ends of the former should not be left bare. If you don't care to have it left this way, you can cut the former down accordingly and shorten your baseboard to suit. Once you have the amount of wire wound on the former which the directions stipulate, it is hardly advisable to put more on simply to fill it up. It doesn't matter in the least what thickness the slider rod is; so long as it fits the slider the rest is a matter for you to decide yourself. A piece of brass or copper a quarter of an inch wide is generally used. C.H. (Cabramatta): Insulate the aerial from the spreader as much as possible. Or, if the aerial wires touch the spreaders, insulate the spreaders from the mast, or whatever supports them. Otherwise when they become damp your aerial will lose a lot of its efficiency, and your signals will not be as loud as they should be. Your earth wire need not be insulated in the least; in fact, the more it touches parts of the house the better. No porcelain insulater therefore is necessary. N.B. (Merrygoen): To describe how to make a 4 -valve set would almost fill a small text book. You can buy a number of these books which will give you full instructions for making all sorts of sets, and you would be best advised to write to any city book shop for a list. "Practical Radio," though a little expensive — it will cost 10s — is about the most reliable and easily understood radio book. Altogether, the parts for a 4-valve set would cost approximately £30. H.H. (Leichhardt): You can buy any number of radio books which will tell you simply how to make a single valve set. There is not space to describe it in "The Sun." A single valve set will not work a loud speaker; you will need a 3-valve set to do this satisfactorily. "A.B.C." (Wellington).— Two valves will be necessary for headphones; four if you wish to use a loud speaker. "G.A.P." (Molong).— You would gain little in using a stage of radio in front of the crystal, as this increases the volume only slightly. The clearness of crystal detection would be scarcely balanced by this loss in volume. Considering that you have the batteries and gear needed for the valves, it would be far better to use a valve as a detector — and even then it would not work a loud speaker, although it would do for the 'phones. For the loud speaker you will need a 4-valve outfit, consisting of one stage of radio, detector, and two audio frequency valves.