d a half miles long, and another two and a half.
They are, however, only six or seven feet in diameter, just large enough
for workmen to enter for the purpose of doing repairs. The pipes for
conveying the water are a little more than one yard across, and are
capable of delivering twelve and a half million gallons per day. There
is room on the road for six such pipes to be laid, so it is considered
that Birmingham will not run short of water for at least a hundred
years. It need hardly be pointed out that these pipes do not descend at
one uniform grade throughout their journey of seventy-three miles, but
any irregularity in their rise and fall is of little consequence so long
as the end of that irregularity which is nearest Birmingham is at a
lower level than the point at which it begins. Thus, for instance, if
the pipes are to take a sudden dip to pass under a stream, they should
not rise again on the other side to quite the same level. This _dip_ is
called a syphon, and in no way retards the natural flow of the water.
There are many such 'ups and downs' between Radnor and Warwickshire; so
many, indeed, that we might almost look upon the whole aqueduct as a
syphon seventy-three miles long. Birmingham is the lower end, and water
_must_ flow to the lower level.

On July 22nd, 1904, the King and Queen, at one of the great reservoirs,
turned the tap which admitted the water into the aqueduct, and in due
course it rippled to the noisy city so many miles away, and Birmingham
drank its first glass of crystal water drawn from the three stupendous
cups standing among the silent hills of Wales.

We are indebted for our illustrations to Mr. Thomas Barclay, of
Birmingham, and to Messrs. Mansergh & Co., Engineers, of London.

THE FOUNTAIN.

A little spring of water rose
Within a shady grot;
It bubbled up all bright and pure,
And freshened that sweet spot.
Clear as a crystal was its wave,
And I was very sure
The waters were so pure and sweet,
Because the fount was pure.

So when from little lips there flow
Words that are kind and good,
And thoughts that are as fresh and sweet
As violets in a wood,
The reason we can understand,
For, oh, we may be sure
The thoughts and words are pure and sweet
Because the fount is pure.

THE TRIALS OF LECKINSKI.

(_Concluded from page 306._)

For about two hours Leckinski had slept in his dungeon, when the door
was gently