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diff --git a/old/orig2895-h/p4.htm b/old/orig2895-h/p4.htm deleted file mode 100644 index fe94091..0000000 --- a/old/orig2895-h/p4.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2175 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> -<html> -<head> -<title>FOLLOWING THE EQUATOR, Part 4</title> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> - - -<style type="text/css"> - <!-- - body {background:#faebd7; margin:10%; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; - margin-top: .75em; - margin-bottom: .75em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } - HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } - blockquote {font-size: 97% } - .figleft {float: left;} - .figright {float: right;} - .toc { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;} - CENTER { padding: 10px;} - --> -</style> - - - -</head> -<body> - - - - -<center> -<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3> -<tr><td> - <a href="p3.htm">Previous Part</a> -</td><td> - <a href="2895-h.htm">Main Index</a> -</td><td> - <a href="p5.htm">Next Part</a> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</center> - -<br><br><br><br> - -<center> - - - <h1>FOLLOWING</h1> - <h1>THE EQUATOR</h1> - <br><br><br> - <h3>Part 4.</h3> - <br><br><br> - <h2>A JOURNEY AROUND THE WORLD</h2> - <h2>BY</h2> - <h2>MARK TWAIN</h2> - <br><br><br> - <h3>SAMUEL L. CLEMENS</h3> - <h3>HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT</h3> - - -</center> - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="bookcover.jpg (131K)" src="images/bookcover.jpg" height="918" width="650"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<center><img alt="bookspine.jpg (70K)" src="images/bookspine.jpg" height="918" width="265"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<center><img alt="booktitle.jpg (53K)" src="images/booktitle.jpg" height="1051" width="619"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<center><img alt="bookfront.jpg (50K)" src="images/bookfront.jpg" height="978" width="650"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<center><img alt="bookdedicate.jpg (13K)" src="images/bookdedicate.jpg" height="329" width="575"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<center><img alt="bookmaxim.jpg (16K)" src="images/bookmaxim.jpg" height="367" width="627"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - - - -<br><br><br><br> - - <center><h2>CONTENTS OF PART 4.</h2></center> - -<blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> -<br><br><br> -<h3><a href="#ch30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h3> -<p> -Arrival at Bluff, N. Z.—Where the Rabbit Plague Began—The Natural Enemy -of the Rabbit—Dunedin—A Lovely Town—Visit to Dr. Hockin—His -Museum—A Liquified Caterpillar—The Unperfected Tape Worm—The Public Museum and -Picture Gallery - -<br><br><br> -<h3><a href="#ch31">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h3> -<p> -The Express Train—"A Hell of a Hotel at -Maryborough"—Clocks and Bells—Railroad Service. - -<br><br><br> -<h3><a href="#ch32">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h3> -<p> -Description of the Town of Christ Church—A Fine Museum—Jade-stone -Trinkets—The Great Moa—The First Maori in New Zealand—Women -Voters—"Person" in New Zealand Law Includes Woman—Taming an -Ornithorhynchus—A Voyage in the 'Flora' from Lyttelton—Cattle Stalls for -Everybody—A Wonderful Time. - -<br><br><br> -<h3><a href="#ch33">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></h3> -<p> -The Town of Nelson—"The Mongatapu Murders," the Great Event of the -Town—Burgess' Confession—Summit of Mount Eden—Rotorua and the Hot Lakes -and Geysers—Thermal Springs District—Kauri Gum—Tangariwa Mountains - -<br><br><br> -<h3><a href="#ch34">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></h3> -<p> -The Bay of Gisborne—Taking in Passengers by the Yard Arm—The Green -Ballarat Fly—False Teeth—From Napier to Hastings by the Ballarat Fly -Train—Kauri Trees—A Case of Mental Telegraphy - -<br><br><br> -<h3><a href="#ch35">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></h3> -<p> -Fifty Miles in Four Hours—Comfortable Cars—Town of Wauganui—Plenty of -Maoris—On the Increase—Compliments to the Maoris—The Missionary Ways -all Wrong—The Tabu among the Maoris—A Mysterious Sign—Curious -War-monuments—Wellington - -<br><br><br> -<h3><a href="#ch36">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></h3> -<p> -The Poems of Mrs. Moore—The Sad Fate of William Upson—A Fellow Traveler -Imitating the Prince of Wales—A Would-be Dude—Arrival at -Sydney—Curious Town Names with Poem - -<br><br><br> -<h3><a href="#ch37">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></h3> -<p> -From Sydney for Ceylon—A Lascar Crew—A Fine Ship—Three Cats and a -Basket of Kittens—Dinner Conversations—Veuve Cliquot Wine—At Anchor in -King George's Sound Albany Harbor—More Cats—A Vulture on Board—Nearing -the Equator again—Dressing for Dinner—Ceylon, Hotel Bristol—Servant -Brampy—A Feminine Man—Japanese Jinriksha or Cart—Scenes in Ceylon—A -Missionary School—Insincerity of Clothes - -<br><br><br> -<h3><a href="#ch38">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></h3> -<p> -Steamer Rosetta to Bombay—Limes 14 cents a Barrel—Bombay, a Bewitching -City—Descriptions of People and Dress—Woman as a Road -Decoration—India, the Land of Dreams and Romance—Fourteen Porters to Carry -Baggage—Correcting a Servant—Killing a Slave—Arranging a Bedroom—Three Hours' -Work and a Terrible Racket—The Bird of Birds, the Indian Crow - - -</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> - -<br> -<hr> -<br><br><br><br> - - - -<br><br><br><br> -<h2><a name="ch30"></a><br><br>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> - -<p><i>Nature makes the locust with an appetite for crops; man would have made -him with an appetite for sand.</i> - <center>—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p>We spent part of an afternoon and a night at sea, and reached Bluff, in -New Zealand, early in the morning. Bluff is at the bottom of the middle -island, and is away down south, nearly forty-seven degrees below the -equator. It lies as far south of the line as Quebec lies north of it, -and the climates of the two should be alike; but for some reason or other -it has not been so arranged. Quebec is hot in the summer and cold in the -winter, but Bluff's climate is less intense; the cold weather is not very -cold, the hot weather is not very hot; and the difference between the -hottest month and the coldest is but 17 degrees Fahrenheit. - -<p>In New Zealand the rabbit plague began at Bluff. The man who introduced -the rabbit there was banqueted and lauded; but they would hang him, now, -if they could get him. In England the natural enemy of the rabbit is -detested and persecuted; in the Bluff region the natural enemy of the -rabbit is honored, and his person is sacred. The rabbit's natural enemy -in England is the poacher, in Bluff its natural enemy is the stoat, the -weasel, the ferret, the cat, and the mongoose. In England any person -below the Heir who is caught with a rabbit in his possession must -satisfactorily explain how it got there, or he will suffer fine and -imprisonment, together with extinction of his peerage; in Bluff, the cat -found with a rabbit in its possession does not have to explain—everybody -looks the other way; the person caught noticing would suffer fine and -imprisonment, with extinction of peerage. This is a sure way to -undermine the moral fabric of a cat. Thirty years from now there will -not be a moral cat in New Zealand. Some think there is none there now. -In England the poacher is watched, tracked, hunted—he dare not show his -face; in Bluff the cat, the weasel, the stoat, and the mongoose go up and -down, whither they will, unmolested. By a law of the legislature, posted -where all may read, it is decreed that any person found in possession of -one of these creatures (dead) must satisfactorily explain the -circumstances or pay a fine of not less than L5, nor more than L20. The -revenue from this source is not large. Persons who want to pay a hundred -dollars for a dead cat are getting rarer and rarer every day. This is -bad, for the revenue was to go to the endowment of a University. All -governments are more or less short-sighted: in England they fine the -poacher, whereas he ought to be banished to New Zealand. New Zealand -would pay his way, and give him wages. - -<p>It was from Bluff that we ought to have cut across to the west coast and -visited the New Zealand Switzerland, a land of superb scenery, made up of -snowy grandeurs, and mighty glaciers, and beautiful lakes; and over -there, also, are the wonderful rivals of the Norwegian and Alaskan -fiords; and for neighbor, a waterfall of 1,900 feet; but we were obliged -to postpone the trip to some later and indefinite time. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p286.jpg (11K)" src="images/p286.jpg" height="229" width="553"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>November 6. A lovely summer morning; brilliant blue sky. A few miles -out from Invercargill, passed through vast level green expanses snowed -over with sheep. Fine to see. The green, deep and very vivid sometimes; -at other times less so, but delicate and lovely. A passenger reminds me -that I am in "the England of the Far South." - -<p>Dunedin, same date. The town justifies Michael Davitt's praises. The -people are Scotch. They stopped here on their way from home to -heaven—thinking they had arrived. The population is stated at 40,000, by -Malcolm Ross, journalist; stated by an M. P. at 60,000. A journalist -cannot lie. - -<p>To the residence of Dr. Hockin. He has a fine collection of books -relating to New Zealand; and his house is a museum of Maori art and -antiquities. He has pictures and prints in color of many native chiefs -of the past—some of them of note in history. There is nothing of the -savage in the faces; nothing could be finer than these men's features, -nothing more intellectual than these faces, nothing more masculine, -nothing nobler than their aspect. The aboriginals of Australia and -Tasmania looked the savage, but these chiefs looked like Roman -patricians. The tattooing in these portraits ought to suggest the -savage, of course, but it does not. The designs are so flowing and -graceful and beautiful that they are a most satisfactory decoration. It -takes but fifteen minutes to get reconciled to the tattooing, and but -fifteen more to perceive that it is just the thing. After that, the -undecorated European face is unpleasant and ignoble. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p287.jpg (27K)" src="images/p287.jpg" height="688" width="266"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>Dr. Hockiun gave us a ghastly curiosity—a lignified caterpillar with a -plant growing out of the back of its neck—a plant with a slender stem 4 -inches high. It happened not by accident, but by design—Nature's -design. This caterpillar was in the act of loyally carrying out a law -inflicted upon him by Nature—a law purposely inflicted upon him to get -him into trouble—a law which was a trap; in pursuance of this law he -made the proper preparations for turning himself into a night-moth; that -is to say, he dug a little trench, a little grave, and then stretched -himself out in it on his stomach and partially buried himself—then -Nature was ready for him. She blew the spores of a peculiar fungus -through the air with a purpose. Some of them fell into a crease in the -back of the caterpillar's neck, and began to sprout and grow—for there -was soil there—he had not washed his neck. The roots forced themselves -down into the worm's person, and rearward along through its body, sucking -up the creature's juices for sap; the worm slowly died, and turned to -wood. And here he was now, a wooden caterpillar, with every detail of -his former physique delicately and exactly preserved and perpetuated, and -with that stem standing up out of him for his monument—monument -commemorative of his own loyalty and of Nature's unfair return for it. - -<p>Nature is always acting like that. Mrs. X. said (of course) that the -caterpillar was not conscious and didn't suffer. She should have known -better. No caterpillar can deceive Nature. If this one couldn't suffer, -Nature would have known it and would have hunted up another caterpillar. -Not that she would have let this one go, merely because it was defective. -No. She would have waited and let him turn into a night-moth; and then -fried him in the candle. - -<p>Nature cakes a fish's eyes over with parasites, so that it shan't be able -to avoid its enemies or find its food. She sends parasites into a -star-fish's system, which clog up its prongs and swell them and make them so -uncomfortable that the poor creature delivers itself from the prong to -ease its misery; and presently it has to part with another prong for the -sake of comfort, and finally with a third. If it re-grows the prongs, -the parasite returns and the same thing is repeated. And finally, when -the ability to reproduce prongs is lost through age, that poor old -star-fish can't get around any more, and so it dies of starvation. - -<p>In Australia is prevalent a horrible disease due to an "unperfected -tapeworm." Unperfected—that is what they call it, I do not know why, -for it transacts business just as well as if it were finished and -frescoed and gilded, and all that. - -<p>November 9. To the museum and public picture gallery with the president -of the Society of Artists. Some fine pictures there, lent by the S. of -A. several of them they bought, the others came to them by gift. Next, -to the gallery of the S. of A.—annual exhibition—just opened. Fine. -Think of a town like this having two such collections as this, and a -Society of Artists. It is so all over Australasia. If it were a -monarchy one might understand it. I mean an absolute monarchy, where it -isn't necessary to vote money, but take it. Then art flourishes. But -these colonies are republics—republics with a wide suffrage; voters of -both sexes, this one of New Zealand. In republics, neither the -government nor the rich private citizen is much given to propagating art. -All over Australasia pictures by famous European artists are bought for -the public galleries by the State and by societies of citizens. Living -citizens—not dead ones. They rob themselves to give, not their heirs. -This S. of A. here owns its building built it by subscription. - -<br><br><br><br> -<h2><a name="ch31"></a><br><br>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> - -<p><i>The spirit of wrath—not the words—is the sin; and the spirit of wrath -is cursing. We begin to swear before we can talk.</i> - <center> —Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p>November 11. On the road. This train-express goes twenty and one-half -miles an hour, schedule time; but it is fast enough, the outlook upon sea -and land is so interesting, and the cars so comfortable. They are not -English, and not American; they are the Swiss combination of the two. A -narrow and railed porch along the side, where a person can walk up and -down. A lavatory in each car. This is progress; this is -nineteenth-century spirit. In New Zealand, these fast expresses run twice a week. -It is well to know this if you want to be a bird and fly through the -country at a 20-mile gait; otherwise you may start on one of the five -wrong days, and then you will get a train that can't overtake its own -shadow. - -<p>By contrast, these pleasant cars call to mind the branch-road cars at -Maryborough, Australia, and the passengers' talk about the branch-road -and the hotel. - -<p>Somewhere on the road to Maryborough I changed for a while to a -smoking-carriage. There were two gentlemen there; both riding backward, one at -each end of the compartment. They were acquaintances of each other. I -sat down facing the one that sat at the starboard window. He had a good -face, and a friendly look, and I judged from his dress that he was a -dissenting minister. He was along toward fifty. Of his own motion he -struck a match, and shaded it with his hand for me to light my cigar. I -take the rest from my diary: - -<p>In order to start conversation I asked him something about Maryborough. -He said, in a most pleasant—even musical voice, but with quiet and -cultured decision: - -<p>"It's a charming town, with a hell of a hotel." - -<p>I was astonished. It seemed so odd to hear a minister swear out loud. -He went placidly on: - -<p>"It's the worst hotel in Australia. Well, one may go further, and say in -Australasia." - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p292.jpg (66K)" src="images/p292.jpg" height="1037" width="627"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>"Bad beds?" - -<p>"No—none at all. Just sand-bags." - -<p>"The pillows, too?" - -<p>"Yes, the pillows, too. Just sand. And not a good quality of sand. It -packs too hard, and has never been screened. There is too much gravel in -it. It is like sleeping on nuts." - -<p>"Isn't there any good sand?" - -<p>"Plenty of it. There is as good bed-sand in this region as the world can -furnish. Aerated sand—and loose; but they won't buy it. They want -something that will pack solid, and petrify." - -<p>"How are the rooms?" - -<p>"Eight feet square; and a sheet of iced oil-cloth to step on in the -morning when you get out of the sand-quarry." - -<p>"As to lights?" - -<p>"Coal-oil lamp." - -<p>"A good one?" - -<p>"No. It's the kind that sheds a gloom." - -<p>"I like a lamp that burns all night." - -<p>"This one won't. You must blow it out early." - -<p>"That is bad. One might want it again in the night. Can't find it in -the dark." - -<p>"There's no trouble; you can find it by the stench." - -<p>"Wardrobe?" - -<p>"Two nails on the door to hang seven suits of clothes on if you've got -them." - -<p>"Bells?" - -<p>"There aren't any." - -<p>"What do you do when you want service?" - -<p>"Shout. But it won't fetch anybody." - -<p>"Suppose you want the chambermaid to empty the slopjar?" - -<p>"There isn't any slop-jar. The hotels don't keep them. That is, outside -of Sydney and Melbourne." - -<p>"Yes, I knew that. I was only talking. It's the oddest thing in -Australia. Another thing: I've got to get up in the dark, in the -morning, to take the 5 o'clock train. Now if the boots——" - -<p>"There isn't any." - -<p>"Well, the porter." - -<p>"There isn't any." - -<p>"But who will call me?" - -<p>"Nobody. You'll call yourself. And you'll light yourself, too. -There'll not be a light burning in the halls or anywhere. And if you -don't carry a light, you'll break your neck." - -<p>"But who will help me down with my baggage?" - -<p>"Nobody. However, I will tell you what to do. In Maryborough there's an -American who has lived there half a lifetime; a fine man, and prosperous -and popular. He will be on the lookout for you; you won't have any -trouble. Sleep in peace; he will rout you out, and you will make your -train. Where is your manager?" - -<p>"I left him at Ballarat, studying the language. And besides, he had to -go to Melbourne and get us ready for New Zealand. I've not tried to -pilot myself before, and it doesn't look easy." - -<p>"Easy! You've selected the very most difficult piece of railroad in -Australia for your experiment. There are twelve miles of this road which -no man without good executive ability can ever hope—tell me, have you -good executive ability? first-rate executive ability?" - -<p>"I—well, I think so, but——" - -<p>"That settles it. The tone of——oh, you wouldn't ever make it in the -world. However, that American will point you right, and you'll go. -You've got tickets?" - -<p>"Yes—round trip; all the way to Sydney." - -<p>"Ah, there it is, you see! You are going in the 5 o'clock by -Castlemaine—twelve miles—instead of the 7.15 by Ballarat—in order to -save two hours of fooling along the road. Now then, don't interrupt—let -me have the floor. You're going to save the government a deal of -hauling, but that's nothing; your ticket is by Ballarat, and it isn't -good over that twelve miles, and so——" - -<p>"But why should the government care which way I go?" - -<p>"Goodness knows! Ask of the winds that far away with fragments strewed -the sea, as the boy that stood on the burning deck used to say. The -government chooses to do its railway business in its own way, and it -doesn't know as much about it as the French. In the beginning they tried -idiots; then they imported the French—which was going backwards, you -see; now it runs the roads itself—which is going backwards again, you -see. Why, do you know, in order to curry favor with the voters, the -government puts down a road wherever anybody wants it—anybody that owns -two sheep and a dog; and by consequence we've got, in the colony of -Victoria, 800 railway stations, and the business done at eighty of them -doesn't foot up twenty shillings a week." - -<p>"Five dollars? Oh, come!" - -<p>"It's true. It's the absolute truth." - -<p>"Why, there are three or four men on wages at every station." - -<p>"I know it. And the station-business doesn't pay for the sheep-dip to -sanctify their coffee with. It's just as I say. And accommodating? -Why, if you shake a rag the train will stop in the midst of the -wilderness to pick you up. All that kind of politics costs, you see. -And then, besides, any town that has a good many votes and wants a fine -station, gets it. Don't you overlook that Maryborough station, if you -take an interest in governmental curiosities. Why, you can put the whole -population of Maryborough into it, and give them a sofa apiece, and have -room for more. You haven't fifteen stations in America that are as big, -and you probably haven't five that are half as fine. Why, it's -perfectly elegant. And the clock! Everybody will show you the clock. -There isn't a station in Europe that's got such a clock. It doesn't -strike—and that's one mercy. It hasn't any bell; and as you'll have -cause to remember, if you keep your reason, all Australia is simply -bedamned with bells. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p295.jpg (70K)" src="images/p295.jpg" height="1070" width="650"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>On every quarter-hour, night and day, they jingle a -tiresome chime of half a dozen notes—all the clocks in town at once, all -the clocks in Australasia at once, and all the very same notes; first, -downward scale: mi, re, do, sol—then upward scale: sol, si, re, do—down -again: mi, re, do, sol—up again: sol, si, re, do—then the clock—say at -midnight clang—clang—clang—clang—clang—clang—clang—clang—clang— -clang——and, by that time you're—hello, what's all this excitement -about? Oh I see—a runaway—scared by the train; why, you wouldn't think this train could -scare anything. Well, of cours, when they build and run eighty stations at a loss and a -lot of palace-stations and clocks like Maryborough's at another loss, the -government has got to economize somewhere hasn't it? Very well look at -the rolling stock. That's where they save the money. Why, that train -from Maryborough will consist of eighteen freight-cars and two -passenger-kennels; cheap, poor, shabby, slovenly; no drinking water, no sanitary -arrangements, every imaginable inconvenience; and slow?—oh, the gait of -cold molasses; no air-brake, no springs, and they'll jolt your head off -every time they start or stop. That's where they make their little -economies, you see. They spend tons of money to house you palatially -while you wait fifteen minutes for a train, then degrade you to six -hours' convict-transportation to get the foolish outlay back. What a -rational man really needs is discomfort while he's waiting, then his -journey in a nice train would be a grateful change. But no, that would -be common sense—and out of place in a government. And then, besides, -they save in that other little detail, you know—repudiate their own -tickets, and collect a poor little illegitimate extra shilling out of you -for that twelve miles, and——" - -<p>"Well, in any case——" - -<p>"Wait—there's more. Leave that American out of the account and see what -would happen. There's nobody on hand to examine your ticket when you -arrive. But the conductor will come and examine it when the train is -ready to start. It is too late to buy your extra ticket now; the train -can't wait, and won't. You must climb out." - -<p>"But can't I pay the conductor?" - -<p>"No, he is not authorized to receive the money, and he won't. You must -climb out. There's no other way. I tell you, the railway management is -about the only thoroughly European thing here—continentally European I -mean, not English. It's the continental business in perfection; down -fine. Oh, yes, even to the peanut-commerce of weighing baggage." - -<p>The train slowed up at his place. As he stepped out he said: - -<p>"Yes, you'll like Maryborough. Plenty of intelligence there. It's a -charming place—with a hell of a hotel." - -<p>Then he was gone. I turned to the other gentleman: - -<p>"Is your friend in the ministry?" - -<p>"No—studying for it." - -<br><br><br><br> -<h2><a name="ch32"></a><br><br>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> - -<p><i>The man with a new idea is a Crank until the idea succeeds.</i> - <center> —Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p>It was Junior England all the way to Christchurch—in fact, just a -garden. And Christchurch is an English town, with an English-park annex, -and a winding English brook just like the Avon—and named the Avon; but -from a man, not from Shakespeare's river. Its grassy banks are bordered -by the stateliest and most impressive weeping willows to be found in the -world, I suppose. They continue the line of a great ancestor; they were -grown from sprouts of the willow that sheltered Napoleon's grave in St. -Helena. It is a settled old community, with all the serenities, the -graces, the conveniences, and the comforts of the ideal home-life. If it -had an established Church and social inequality it would be England over -again with hardly a lack. - -<p>In the museum we saw many curious and interesting things; among others a -fine native house of the olden time, with all the details true to the -facts, and the showy colors right and in their proper places. All the -details: the fine mats and rugs and things; the elaborate and wonderful -wood carvings—wonderful, surely, considering who did them—wonderful in -design and particularly in execution, for they were done with admirable -sharpness and exactness, and yet with no better tools than flint and jade -and shell could furnish; and the totem-posts were there, ancestor above -ancestor, with tongues protruded and hands clasped comfortably over -bellies containing other people's ancestors—grotesque and ugly devils, -every one, but lovingly carved, and ably; and the stuffed natives were -present, in their proper places, and looking as natural as life; and the -housekeeping utensils were there, too, and close at hand the carved and -finely ornamented war canoe. - -<p>And we saw little jade gods, to hang around the neck—not everybody's, -but sacred to the necks of natives of rank. Also jade weapons, and many -kinds of jade trinkets—all made out of that excessively hard stone -without the help of any tool of iron. And some of these things had small -round holes bored through them—nobody knows how it was done; a mystery, -a lost art. I think it was said that if you want such a hole bored in a -piece of jade now, you must send it to London or Amsterdam where the -lapidaries are. - - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p298.jpg (52K)" src="images/p298.jpg" height="659" width="623"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>Also we saw a complete skeleton of the giant Moa. It stood ten feet -high, and must have been a sight to look at when it was a living bird. -It was a kicker, like the ostrich; in fight it did not use its beak, but -its foot. It must have been a convincing kind of kick. If a person had -his back to the bird and did not see who it was that did it, he would -think he had been kicked by a wind-mill. - -<p>There must have been a sufficiency of moas in the old forgotten days when -his breed walked the earth. His bones are found in vast masses, all -crammed together in huge graves. They are not in caves, but in the -ground. Nobody knows how they happened to get concentrated there. Mind, -they are bones, not fossils. This means that the moa has not been -extinct very long. Still, this is the only New Zealand creature which -has no mention in that otherwise comprehensive literature, the native -legends. This is a significant detail, and is good circumstantial -evidence that the moa has been extinct 500 years, since the Maori has -himself—by tradition—been in New Zealand since the end of the fifteenth -century. He came from an unknown land—the first Maori did—then sailed -back in his canoe and brought his tribe, and they removed the aboriginal -peoples into the sea and into the ground and took the land. That is the -tradition. That that first Maori could come, is understandable, for -anybody can come to a place when he isn't trying to; but how that -discoverer found his way back home again without a compass is his secret, -and he died with it in him. His language indicates that he came from -Polynesia. He told where he came from, but he couldn't spell well, so -one can't find the place on the map, because people who could spell -better than he could, spelt the resemblance all out of it when they made -the map. However, it is better to have a map that is spelt right than -one that has information in it. - -<p>In New Zealand women have the right to vote for members of the -legislature, but they cannot be members themselves. The law extending -the suffrage to them went into effect in 1893. The population of -Christchurch (census of 1891) was 31,454. The first election under the -law was held in November of that year. Number of men who voted, 6,313; -number of women who voted, 5,989. These figures ought to convince us -that women are not as indifferent about politics as some people would -have us believe. In New Zealand as a whole, the estimated adult female -population was 139,915; of these 109,461 qualified and registered their -names on the rolls 78.23 per cent. of the whole. Of these, 90,290 went -to the polls and voted—85.18 per cent. Do men ever turn out better than -that—in America or elsewhere? Here is a remark to the other sex's -credit, too—I take it from the official report: - -<p>"A feature of the election was the orderliness and sobriety of the -people. Women were in no way molested." - -<p>At home, a standing argument against woman suffrage has always been that -women could not go to the polls without being insulted. The arguments -against woman suffrage have always taken the easy form of prophecy. The -prophets have been prophesying ever since the woman's rights movement -began in 1848—and in forty-seven years they have never scored a hit. - -<p>Men ought to begin to feel a sort of respect for their mothers and wives -and sisters by this time. The women deserve a change of attitude like -that, for they have wrought well. In forty-seven years they have swept -an imposingly large number of unfair laws from the statute books of -America. In that brief time these serfs have set themselves free—essentially. Men could not have done so much for themselves in that time -without bloodshed—at least they never have; and that is argument that -they didn't know how. The women have accomplished a peaceful revolution, -and a very beneficent one; and yet that has not convinced the average man -that they are intelligent, and have courage and energy and perseverance -and fortitude. It takes much to convince the average man of anything; -and perhaps nothing can ever make him realize that he is the average -woman's inferior—yet in several important details the evidence seems to -show that that is what he is. Man has ruled the human race from the -beginning—but he should remember that up to the middle of the present -century it was a dull world, and ignorant and stupid; but it is not such -a dull world now, and is growing less and less dull all the time. This -is woman's opportunity—she has had none before. I wonder where man will -be in another forty-seven years? - -<p>In the New Zealand law occurs this: "The word person wherever it occurs -throughout the Act includes woman." - -<p>That is promotion, you see. By that enlargement of the word, the matron -with the garnered wisdom and experience of fifty years becomes at one -jump the political equal of her callow kid of twenty-one. The white -population of the colony is 626,000, the Maori population is 42,000. The -whites elect seventy members of the House of Representatives, the Maoris -four. The Maori women vote for their four members. - -<p>November 16. After four pleasant days in Christchurch, we are to leave -at midnight to-night. Mr. Kinsey gave me an ornithorhynchus, and I am -taming it. - -<p>Sunday, 17th. Sailed last night in the Flora, from Lyttelton. - -<p>So we did. I remember it yet. The people who sailed in the Flora that -night may forget some other things if they live a good while, but they -will not live long enough to forget that. The Flora is about the -equivalent of a cattle-scow; but when the Union Company find it -inconvenient to keep a contract and lucrative to break it, they smuggle -her into passenger service, and "keep the change." - -<p>They give no notice of their projected depredation; you innocently buy -tickets for the advertised passenger boat, and when you get down to -Lyttelton at midnight, you find that they have substituted the scow. -They have plenty of good boats, but no competition—and that is the -trouble. It is too late now to make other arrangements if you have -engagements ahead. - -<p>It is a powerful company, it has a monopoly, and everybody is afraid of -it—including the government's representative, who stands at the end of -the stage-plank to tally the passengers and see that no boat receives a -greater number than the law allows her to carry. This conveniently-blind -representative saw the scow receive a number which was far in excess of -its privilege, and winked a politic wink and said nothing. The -passengers bore with meekness the cheat which had been put upon them, and -made no complaint. - -<p>It was like being at home in America, where abused passengers act in just -the same way. A few days before, the Union Company had discharged a -captain for getting a boat into danger, and had advertised this act as -evidence of its vigilance in looking after the safety of the -passengers—for thugging a captain costs the company nothing, but when opportunity -offered to send this dangerously overcrowded tub to sea and save a little -trouble and a tidy penny by it, it forgot to worry about the passenger's -safety. - -<p>The first officer told me that the Flora was privileged to carry 125 -passengers. She must have had all of 200 on board. All the cabins were -full, all the cattle-stalls in the main stable were full, the spaces at -the heads of companionways were full, every inch of floor and table in -the swill-room was packed with sleeping men and remained so until the -place was required for breakfast, all the chairs and benches on the -hurricane deck were occupied, and still there were people who had to walk -about all night! - -<p>If the Flora had gone down that night, half of the people on board would -have been wholly without means of escape. - -<p>The owners of that boat were not technically guilty of conspiracy to -commit murder, but they were morally guilty of it. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p303.jpg (52K)" src="images/p303.jpg" height="805" width="641"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>I had a cattle-stall in the main stable—a cavern fitted up with a long -double file of two-storied bunks, the files separated by a calico -partition—twenty men and boys on one side of it, twenty women and girls -on the other. The place was as dark as the soul of the Union Company, -and smelt like a kennel. When the vessel got out into the heavy seas and -began to pitch and wallow, the cavern prisoners became immediately -seasick, and then the peculiar results that ensued laid all my previous -experiences of the kind well away in the shade. And the wails, the -groans, the cries, the shrieks, the strange ejaculations—it was -wonderful. - -<p>The women and children and some of the men and boys spent the night in -that place, for they were too ill to leave it; but the rest of us got up, -by and by, and finished the night on the hurricane-deck. - -<p>That boat was the foulest I was ever in; and the smell of the breakfast -saloon when we threaded our way among the layers of steaming passengers -stretched upon its floor and its tables was incomparable for efficiency. - -<p>A good many of us got ashore at the first way-port to seek another ship. -After a wait of three hours we got good rooms in the Mahinapua, a wee -little bridal-parlor of a boat—only 205 tons burthen; clean and -comfortable; good service; good beds; good table, and no crowding. The -seas danced her about like a duck, but she was safe and capable. - -<p>Next morning early she went through the French Pass—a narrow gateway of -rock, between bold headlands—so narrow, in fact, that it seemed no wider -than a street. The current tore through there like a mill-race, and the -boat darted through like a telegram. The passage was made in half a -minute; then we were in a wide place where noble vast eddies swept -grandly round and round in shoal water, and I wondered what they would do -with the little boat. They did as they pleased with her. They picked -her up and flung her around like nothing and landed her gently on the -solid, smooth bottom of sand—so gently, indeed, that we barely felt her -touch it, barely felt her quiver when she came to a standstill. The -water was as clear as glass, the sand on the bottom was vividly distinct, -and the fishes seemed to be swimming about in nothing. Fishing lines -were brought out, but before we could bait the hooks the boat was off and -away again. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p304.jpg (14K)" src="images/p304.jpg" height="405" width="507"> -</center> - - -<br><br><br><br> -<h2><a name="ch33"></a><br><br>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> - -<p><i>Let us be grateful to Adam our benefactor. He cut us out of the -"blessing of idleness," and won for us the "curse of labor."</i> - <center>—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p>We soon reached the town of Nelson, and spent the most of the day there, -visiting acquaintances and driving with them about the garden—the whole -region is a garden, excepting the scene of the "Maungatapu Murders," of -thirty years ago. That is a wild place—wild and lonely; an ideal place -for a murder. It is at the base of a vast, rugged, densely timbered -mountain. In the deep twilight of that forest solitude four desperate -rascals—Burgess, Sullivan, Levy, and Kelley—ambushed themselves beside -the mountain-trail to murder and rob four travelers—Kempthorne, Mathieu, -Dudley, and De Pontius, the latter a New Yorker. A harmless old laboring -man came wandering along, and as his presence was an embarrassment, they -choked him, hid him, and then resumed their watch for the four. They had -to wait a while, but eventually everything turned out as they desired. - -<p>That dark episode is the one large event in the history of Nelson. The -fame of it traveled far. Burgess made a confession. It is a remarkable -paper. For brevity, succinctness, and concentration, it is perhaps -without its peer in the literature of murder. There are no waste words -in it; there is no obtrusion of matter not pertinent to the occasion, nor -any departure from the dispassionate tone proper to a formal business -statement—for that is what it is: a business statement of a murder, by -the chief engineer of it, or superintendent, or foreman, or whatever one -may prefer to call him. - -<blockquote><blockquote> -<p> "We were getting impatient, when we saw four men and a pack-horse - coming. I left my cover and had a look at the men, for Levy had - told me that Mathieu was a small man and wore a large beard, and - that it was a chestnut horse. I said, 'Here they come.' They were - then a good distance away; I took the caps off my gun, and put fresh - ones on. I said, 'You keep where you are, I'll put them up, and you - give me your gun while you tie them.' It was arranged as I have - described. The men came; they arrived within about fifteen yards - when I stepped up and said, 'Stand! bail up!' That means all of - them to get together. I made them fall back on the upper side of - the road with their faces up the range, and Sullivan brought me his - gun, and then tied their hands behind them. The horse was very - quiet all the time, he did not move. When they were all tied, - Sullivan took the horse up the hill, and put him in the bush; he cut - the rope and let the swags—[A "swag" is a kit, a pack, small - baggage.]—fall on the ground, and then came to me. We then marched - the men down the incline to the creek; the water at this time barely - running. Up this creek we took the men; we went, I daresay, five or - six hundred yards up it, which took us nearly half-an-hour to - accomplish. Then we turned to the right up the range; we went, I - daresay, one hundred and fifty yards from the creek, and there we - sat down with the men. I said to Sullivan, 'Put down your gun and - search these men,' which he did. I asked them their several names; - they told me. I asked them if they were expected at Nelson. They - said, 'No.' If such their lives would have been spared. In money - we took L60 odd. I said, 'Is this all you have? You had better - tell me.' Sullivan said, 'Here is a bag of gold.' I said, 'What's on - that pack-horse? Is there any gold?' when Kempthorne said, 'Yes, - my gold is in the portmanteau, and I trust you will not take it - all.' 'Well,' I said, 'we must take you away one at a time, because - the range is steep just here, and then we will let you go.' They - said, 'All right,' most cheerfully. We tied their feet, and took - Dudley with us; we went about sixty yards with him. This was - through a scrub. It was arranged the night previously that it would - be best to choke them, in case the report of the arms might be heard - from the road, and if they were missed they never would be found. - So we tied a handkerchief over his eyes, when Sullivan took the sash - off his waist, put it round his neck, and so strangled him. - Sullivan, after I had killed the old laboring man, found fault with - the way he was choked. He said, 'The next we do I'll show you my - way.' I said, 'I have never done such a thing before. I have shot - a man, but never choked one.' We returned to the others, when - Kempthorne said, 'What noise was that?' I said it was caused by - breaking through the scrub. This was taking too much time, so it - was agreed to shoot them. With that I said, 'We'll take you no - further, but separate you, and then loose one of you, and he can - relieve the others.' So with that, Sullivan took De Pontius to the - left of where Kempthorne was sitting. I took Mathieu to the right. - I tied a strap round his legs, and shot him with a revolver. He - yelled, I ran from him with my gun in my hand, I sighted Kempthorne, - who had risen to his feet. I presented the gun, and shot him behind - the right ear; his life's blood welled from him, and he died - instantaneously. Sullivan had shot De Pontius in the meantime, - and then came to me. I said, 'Look to Mathieu,' indicating the spot - where he lay. He shortly returned and said, 'I had to "chiv" that - fellow, he was not dead,' a cant word, meaning that he had to stab - him. Returning to the road we passed where De Pontius lay and was - dead. Sullivan said, 'This is the digger, the others were all - storekeepers; this is the digger, let's cover him up, for should the - others be found, they'll think he done it and sloped,' meaning he - had gone. So with that we threw all the stones on him, and then - left him. This bloody work took nearly an hour and a half from the - time we stopped the men." -</blockquote></blockquote> - -<p>Anyone who reads that confession will think that the man who wrote it was -destitute of emotions, destitute of feeling. That is partly true. As -regarded others he was plainly without feeling—utterly cold and -pitiless; but as regarded himself the case was different. While he cared -nothing for the future of the murdered men, he cared a great deal for his -own. It makes one's flesh creep to read the introduction to his -confession. The judge on the bench characterized it as "scandalously -blasphemous," and it certainly reads so, but Burgess meant no blasphemy. -He was merely a brute, and whatever he said or wrote was sure to expose -the fact. His redemption was a very real thing to him, and he was as -jubilantly happy on the gallows as ever was Christian martyr at the -stake. We dwellers in this world are strangely made, and mysteriously -circumstanced. We have to suppose that the murdered men are lost, and -that Burgess is saved; but we cannot suppress our natural regrets. - -<blockquote><blockquote> -<p> "Written in my dungeon drear this 7th of August, in the year of - Grace, 1866. To God be ascribed all power and glory in subduing the - rebellious spirit of a most guilty wretch, who has been brought, - through the instrumentality of a faithful follower of Christ, to see - his wretched and guilty state, inasmuch as hitherto he has led an - awful and wretched life, and through the assurance of this faithful - soldier of Christ, he has been led and also believes that Christ - will yet receive and cleanse him from all his deep-dyed and bloody - sins. I lie under the imputation which says, 'Come now and let us - reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, - they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, - they shall be as wool.' On this promise I rely." -</blockquote></blockquote> - -<p>We sailed in the afternoon late, spent a few hours at New Plymouth, then -sailed again and reached Auckland the next day, November 20th, and -remained in that fine city several days. Its situation is commanding, -and the sea-view is superb. There are charming drives all about, and by -courtesy of friends we had opportunity to enjoy them. From the grassy -crater-summit of Mount Eden one's eye ranges over a grand sweep and -variety of scenery—forests clothed in luxuriant foliage, rolling green -fields, conflagrations of flowers, receding and dimming stretches of -green plain, broken by lofty and symmetrical old craters—then the blue -bays twinkling and sparkling away into the dreamy distances where the -mountains loom spiritual in their veils of haze. - -<p>It is from Auckland that one goes to Rotorua, the region of the renowned -hot lakes and geysers—one of the chief wonders of New Zealand; but I was -not well enough to make the trip. The government has a sanitorium there, -and everything is comfortable for the tourist and the invalid. The -government's official physician is almost over-cautious in his estimates -of the efficacy of the baths, when he is talking about rheumatism, gout, -paralysis, and such things; but when he is talking about the -effectiveness of the waters in eradicating the whisky-habit, he seems to -have no reserves. The baths will cure the drinking-habit no matter how -chronic it is—and cure it so effectually that even the desire to drink -intoxicants will come no more. There should be a rush from Europe and -America to that place; and when the victims of alcoholism find out what -they can get by going there, the rush will begin. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p309.jpg (54K)" src="images/p309.jpg" height="973" width="611"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>The Thermal-springs District of New Zealand comprises an area of upwards -of 600,000 acres, or close on 1,000 square miles. Rotorua is the -favorite place. It is the center of a rich field of lake and mountain -scenery; from Rotorua as a base the pleasure-seeker makes excursions. -The crowd of sick people is great, and growing. Rotorua is the Carlsbad -of Australasia. - -<p>It is from Auckland that the Kauri gum is shipped. For a long time now -about 8,000 tons of it have been brought into the town per year. It is -worth about $300 per ton, unassorted; assorted, the finest grades are -worth about $1,000. It goes to America, chiefly. It is in lumps, and is -hard and smooth, and looks like amber—the light-colored like new amber, -and the dark brown like rich old amber. And it has the pleasant feel of -amber, too. Some of the light-colored samples were a tolerably fair -counterfeit of uncut South African diamonds, they were so perfectly -smooth and polished and transparent. It is manufactured into varnish; a -varnish which answers for copal varnish and is cheaper. - -<p>The gum is dug up out of the ground; it has been there for ages. It is -the sap of the Kauri tree. Dr. Campbell of Auckland told me he sent a -cargo of it to England fifty years ago, but nothing came of the venture. -Nobody knew what to do with it; so it was sold at L5 a ton, to light -fires with. - -<p>November 26—3 P.M., sailed. Vast and beautiful harbor. Land all about -for hours. Tangariwa, the mountain that "has the same shape from every -point of view." That is the common belief in Auckland. And so it -has—from every point of view except thirteen. Perfect summer weather. Large -school of whales in the distance. Nothing could be daintier than the -puffs of vapor they spout up, when seen against the pink glory of the -sinking sun, or against the dark mass of an island reposing in the deep -blue shadow of a storm cloud . . . . Great Barrier rock standing up -out of the sea away to the left. Sometime ago a ship hit it full speed -in a fog—20 miles out of her course—140 lives lost; the captain -committed suicide without waiting a moment. He knew that, whether he was -to blame or not, the company owning the vessel would discharge him and -make a devotion—to—passengers' safety advertisement out of it, and his -chance to make a livelihood would be permanently gone. - -<br><br><br><br> -<h2><a name="ch34"></a>XXXIV.</h2> - -<p>Let us not be too particular. It is better to have old second-hand -diamonds than none at all. - <center>—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p>November 27. To-day we reached Gisborne, and anchored in a big bay; -there was a heavy sea on, so we remained on board. - -<p>We were a mile from shore; a little steam-tug put out from the land; she -was an object of thrilling interest; she would climb to the summit of a -billow, reel drunkenly there a moment, dim and gray in the driving storm -of spindrift, then make a plunge like a diver and remain out of sight -until one had given her up, then up she would dart again, on a steep -slant toward the sky, shedding Niagaras of water from her forecastle—and -this she kept up, all the way out to us. She brought twenty-five -passengers in her stomach—men and women—mainly a traveling dramatic -company. In sight on deck were the crew, in sou'westers, yellow -waterproof canvas suits, and boots to the thigh. The deck was never -quiet for a moment, and seldom nearer level than a ladder, and noble were -the seas which leapt aboard and went flooding aft. We rove a long line -to the yard-arm, hung a most primitive basketchair to it and swung it out -into the spacious air of heaven, and there it swayed, pendulum-fashion, -waiting for its chance—then down it shot, skillfully aimed, and was -grabbed by the two men on the forecastle. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p313.jpg (56K)" src="images/p313.jpg" height="1009" width="541"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>A young fellow belonging to -our crew was in the chair, to be a protection to the lady-comers. At -once a couple of ladies appeared from below, took seats in his lap, we -hoisted them into the sky, waited a moment till the roll of the ship -brought them in overhead, then we lowered suddenly away, and seized the -chair as it struck the deck. We took the twenty-five aboard, and -delivered twenty-five into the tug—among them several aged ladies, and -one blind one—and all without accident. It was a fine piece of work. - -<p>Ours is a nice ship, roomy, comfortable, well-ordered, and satisfactory. -Now and then we step on a rat in a hotel, but we have had no rats on -shipboard lately; unless, perhaps in the Flora; we had more serious -things to think of there, and did not notice. I have noticed that it is -only in ships and hotels which still employ the odious Chinese gong, that -you find rats. The reason would seem to be, that as a rat cannot tell -the time of day by a clock, he won't stay where he cannot find out when -dinner is ready. - -<p>November 29. The doctor tells me of several old drunkards, one -spiritless loafer, and several far-gone moral wrecks who have been -reclaimed by the Salvation Army and have remained staunch people and hard -workers these two years. Wherever one goes, these testimonials to the -Army's efficiency are forthcoming . . . . This morning we had one of -those whizzing green Ballarat flies in the room, with his stunning -buzz-saw noise—the swiftest creature in the world except the lightning-flash. -It is a stupendous force that is stored up in that little body. If we -had it in a ship in the same proportion, we could spin from Liverpool to -New York in the space of an hour—the time it takes to eat luncheon. The -New Zealand express train is called the Ballarat Fly . . . . Bad -teeth in the colonies. A citizen told me they don't have teeth filled, -but pull them out and put in false ones, and that now and then one sees a -young lady with a full set. She is fortunate. I wish I had been born -with false teeth and a false liver and false carbuncles. I should get -along better. - -<p>December 2. Monday. Left Napier in the Ballarat Fly the one that goes -twice a week. From Napier to Hastings, twelve miles; time, fifty-five -minutes—not so far short of thirteen miles an hour . . . . A perfect -summer day; cool breeze, brilliant sky, rich vegetation. Two or three -times during the afternoon we saw wonderfully dense and beautiful -forests, tumultuously piled skyward on the broken highlands—not the -customary roof-like slant of a hillside, where the trees are all the same -height. The noblest of these trees were of the Kauri breed, we were told—the timber that is now furnishing the wood-paving for Europe, and is the -best of all wood for that purpose. Sometimes these towering upheavals of -forestry were festooned and garlanded with vine-cables, and sometimes the -masses of undergrowth were cocooned in another sort of vine of a delicate -cobwebby texture—they call it the "supplejack," I think. Tree ferns -everywhere—a stem fifteen feet high, with a graceful chalice of -fern-fronds sprouting from its top—a lovely forest ornament. And there was a -ten-foot reed with a flowing suit of what looked like yellow hair hanging -from its upper end. I do not know its name, but if there is such a thing -as a scalp-plant, this is it. A romantic gorge, with a brook flowing in -its bottom, approaching Palmerston North. - -<p>Waitukurau. Twenty minutes for luncheon. With me sat my wife and -daughter, and my manager, Mr. Carlyle Smythe. I sat at the head of the -table, and could see the right-hand wall; the others had their backs to -it. On that wall, at a good distance away, were a couple of framed -pictures. I could not see them clearly, but from the groupings of the -figures I fancied that they represented the killing of Napoleon III's son -by the Zulus in South Africa. I broke into the conversation, which was -about poetry and cabbage and art, and said to my wife— - -<p>"Do you remember when the news came to Paris——" - -<p>"Of the killing of the Prince?" - -<p>(Those were the very words I had in my mind.) "Yes, but what Prince?" - -<p>"Napoleon. Lulu." - -<p>"What made you think of that?" - -<p>"I don't know." - -<p>There was no collusion. She had not seen the pictures, and they had not -been mentioned. She ought to have thought of some recent news that came -to Paris, for we were but seven months from there and had been living -there a couple of years when we started on this trip; but instead of that -she thought of an incident of our brief sojourn in Paris of sixteen years -before. - -<p>Here was a clear case of mental telegraphy; of mind-transference; of my -mind telegraphing a thought into hers. How do I know? Because I -telegraphed an error. For it turned out that the pictures did not -represent the killing of Lulu at all, nor anything connected with Lulu. -She had to get the error from my head—it existed nowhere else. - -<br><br><br><br> -<h2><a name="ch35"></a><br><br>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> - -<p><i>The Autocrat of Russia possesses more power than any other man in the -earth; but he cannot stop a sneeze.</i> - <center>—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p>WAUGANUI, December 3. A pleasant trip, yesterday, per Ballarat Fly. -Four hours. I do not know the distance, but it must have been well along -toward fifty miles. The Fly could have spun it out to eight hours and -not discommoded me; for where there is comfort, and no need for hurry, -speed is of no value—at least to me; and nothing that goes on wheels can -be more comfortable, more satisfactory, than the New Zealand trains. -Outside of America there are no cars that are so rationally devised. -When you add the constant presence of charming scenery and the nearly -constant absence of dust—well, if one is not content then, he ought to -get out and walk. That would change his spirit, perhaps? I think so. -At the end of an hour you would find him waiting humbly beside the track, -and glad to be taken aboard again. - -<p>Much horseback riding, in and around this town; many comely girls in cool -and pretty summer gowns; much Salvation Army; lots of Maoris; the faces -and bodies of some of the old ones very tastefully frescoed. Maori -Council House over the river—large, strong, carpeted from end to end with -matting, and decorated with elaborate wood carvings, artistically -executed. The Maoris were very polite. - -<p>I was assured by a member of the House of Representatives that the native -race is not decreasing, but actually increasing slightly. It is another -evidence that they are a superior breed of savages. I do not call to -mind any savage race that built such good houses, or such strong and -ingenious and scientific fortresses, or gave so much attention to -agriculture, or had military arts and devices which so nearly approached -the white man's. These, taken together with their high abilities in -boat-building, and their tastes and capacities in the ornamental arts -modify their savagery to a semi-civilization—or at least to, a -quarter-civilization. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p319.jpg (16K)" src="images/p319.jpg" height="333" width="399"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>It is a compliment to them that the British did not exterminate them, as -they did the Australians and the Tasmanians, but were content with -subduing them, and showed no desire to go further. And it is another -compliment to them that the British did not take the whole of their -choicest lands, but left them a considerable part, and then went further -and protected them from the rapacities of landsharks—a protection which -the New Zealand Government still extends to them. And it is still -another compliment to the Maoris that the Government allows native -representation—in both the legislature and the cabinet, and gives both -sexes the vote. And in doing these things the Government also -compliments itself; it has not been the custom of the world for -conquerors to act in this large spirit toward the conquered. - -<p>The highest class white men who lived among the Maoris in the earliest -time had a high opinion of them and a strong affection for them. Among -the whites of this sort was the author of "Old New Zealand;" and Dr. -Campbell of Auckland was another. Dr. Campbell was a close friend of -several chiefs, and has many pleasant things to say of their fidelity, -their magnanimity, and their generosity. Also of their quaint notions -about the white man's queer civilization, and their equally quaint -comments upon it. One of them thought the missionary had got everything -wrong end first and upside down. "Why, he wants us to stop worshiping -and supplicating the evil gods, and go to worshiping and supplicating the -Good One! There is no sense in that. A good god is not going to do us -any harm." - -<p>The Maoris had the tabu; and had it on a Polynesian scale of -comprehensiveness and elaboration. Some of its features could have been -importations from India and Judea. Neither the Maori nor the Hindoo of -common degree could cook by a fire that a person of higher caste had -used, nor could the high Maori or high Hindoo employ fire that had served -a man of low grade; if a low-grade Maori or Hindoo drank from a vessel -belonging to a high-grade man, the vessel was defiled, and had to be -destroyed. There were other resemblances between Maori tabu and Hindoo -caste-custom. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p320.jpg (16K)" src="images/p320.jpg" height="413" width="365"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>Yesterday a lunatic burst into my quarters and warned me that the Jesuits -were going to "cook" (poison) me in my food, or kill me on the stage at -night. He said a mysterious sign was visible upon my posters and meant -my death. He said he saved Rev. Mr. Haweis's life by warning him that -there were three men on his platform who would kill him if he took his -eyes off them for a moment during his lecture. The same men were in my -audience last night, but they saw that he was there. "Will they be there -again to-night?" He hesitated; then said no, he thought they would -rather take a rest and chance the poison. This lunatic has no delicacy. -But he was not uninteresting. He told me a lot of things. He said he -had "saved so many lecturers in twenty years, that they put him in the -asylum." I think he has less refinement than any lunatic I have met. - -<p>December 8. A couple of curious war-monuments here at Wanganui. One is -in honor of white men "who fell in defence of law and order against -fanaticism and barbarism." Fanaticism. We Americans are English in -blood, English in speech, English in religion, English in the essentials -of our governmental system, English in the essentials of our -civilization; and so, let us hope, for the honor of the blend, for the -honor of the blood, for the honor of the race, that that word got there -through lack of heedfulness, and will not be suffered to remain. If you -carve it at Thermopylae, or where Winkelried died, or upon Bunker Hill -monument, and read it again "who fell in defence of law and order against -fanaticism" you will perceive what the word means, and how mischosen it -is. Patriotism is Patriotism. Calling it Fanaticism cannot degrade it; -nothing can degrade it. Even though it be a political mistake, and a -thousand times a political mistake, that does not affect it; it is -honorable—always honorable, always noble—and privileged to hold its head -up and look the nations in the face. It is right to praise these brave -white men who fell in the Maori war—they deserve it; but the presence of -that word detracts from the dignity of their cause and their deeds, and -makes them appear to have spilt their blood in a conflict with ignoble -men, men not worthy of that costly sacrifice. But the men were worthy. -It was no shame to fight them. They fought for their homes, they fought -for their country; they bravely fought and bravely fell; and it would -take nothing from the honor of the brave Englishmen who lie under the -monument, but add to it, to say that they died in defense of English laws -and English homes against men worthy of the sacrifice—the Maori -patriots. - -<p>The other monument cannot be rectified. Except with dynamite. It is a -mistake all through, and a strangely thoughtless one. It is a monument -erected by white men to Maoris who fell fighting with the whites and -against their own people, in the Maori war. "Sacred to the memory of the -brave men who fell on the 14th of May, 1864," etc. On one side are the -names of about twenty Maoris. It is not a fancy of mine; the monument -exists. I saw it. It is an object-lesson to the rising generation. It -invites to treachery, disloyalty, unpatriotism. Its lesson, in frank -terms is, "Desert your flag, slay your people, burn their homes, shame -your nationality—we honor such." - -<p>December 9. Wellington. Ten hours from Wanganui by the Fly. -December 12. It is a fine city and nobly situated. A busy place, and -full of life and movement. Have spent the three days partly in walking -about, partly in enjoying social privileges, and largely in idling around -the magnificent garden at Hutt, a little distance away, around the shore. -I suppose we shall not see such another one soon. - -<p>We are packing to-night for the return-voyage to Australia. Our stay in -New Zealand has been too brief; still, we are not unthankful for the -glimpse which we have had of it. - -<p>The sturdy Maoris made the settlement of the country by the whites rather -difficult. Not at first—but later. At first they welcomed the whites, -and were eager to trade with them—particularly for muskets; for their -pastime was internecine war, and they greatly preferred the white man's -weapons to their own. War was their pastime—I use the word advisedly. -They often met and slaughtered each other just for a lark, and when there -was no quarrel. The author of "Old New Zealand" mentions a case where a -victorious army could have followed up its advantage and exterminated the -opposing army, but declined to do it; explaining naively that "if we did -that, there couldn't be any more fighting." In another battle one army -sent word that it was out of ammunition, and would be obliged to stop -unless the opposing army would send some. It was sent, and the fight -went on. - -<p>In the early days things went well enough. The natives sold land without -clearly understanding the terms of exchange, and the whites bought it -without being much disturbed about the native's confusion of mind. But -by and by the Maori began to comprehend that he was being wronged; then -there was trouble, for he was not the man to swallow a wrong and go aside -and cry about it. He had the Tasmanian's spirit and endurance, and a -notable share of military science besides; and so he rose against the -oppressor, did this gallant "fanatic," and started a war that was not -brought to a definite end until more than a generation had sped. - -<br><br><br><br> -<h2><a name="ch36"></a><br><br>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> - -<p><i>There are several good protections against temptations, but the surest is -cowardice.</i> - <center>—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p><i>Names are not always what they seem. The common Welsh name Bzjxxllwep is -pronounced Jackson.</i> - <center>—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p>Friday, December 13. Sailed, at 3 p.m., in the 'Mararoa'. Summer seas -and a good ship—life has nothing better. - -<p>Monday. Three days of paradise. Warm and sunny and smooth; the sea a -luminous Mediterranean blue . . . . One lolls in a long chair all day -under deck-awnings, and reads and smokes, in measureless content. One -does not read prose at such a time, but poetry. I have been reading the -poems of Mrs. Julia A. Moore, again, and I find in them the same grace -and melody that attracted me when they were first published, twenty years -ago, and have held me in happy bonds ever since. - -<p>"The Sentimental Song Book" has long been out of print, and has been -forgotten by the world in general, but not by me. I carry it with me -always—it and Goldsmith's deathless story. - -<p>Indeed, it has the same deep charm for me that the Vicar of Wakefield -has, and I find in it the same subtle touch—the touch that makes an -intentionally humorous episode pathetic and an intentionally pathetic one -funny. In her time Mrs. Moore was called "the Sweet Singer of Michigan," -and was best known by that name. I have read her book through twice -today, with the purpose of determining which of her pieces has most -merit, and I am persuaded that for wide grasp and sustained power, -"William Upson" may claim first place— - - - -<h3>WILLIAM UPSON.</h3> - -<center> -<table summary=""> -<tr><td> - - -<br> -<br>Air—"The Major's Only Son." -<br>Come all good people far and near, -<br>Oh, come and see what you can hear, -<br>It's of a young man true and brave, -<br>That is now sleeping in his grave. -<br> -<br>Now, William Upson was his name -<br>If it's not that, it's all the same -<br>He did enlist in a cruel strife, -<br>And it caused him to lose his life. -<br> -<br>He was Perry Upson's eldest son, -<br>His father loved his noble son, -<br>This son was nineteen years of age -<br>When first in the rebellion he engaged. -<br> -<br>His father said that he might go, -<br>But his dear mother she said no, -<br>"Oh! stay at home, dear Billy," she said, -<br>But she could not turn his head. -<br> -<br>He went to Nashville, in Tennessee, -<br>There his kind friends he could not see; -<br>He died among strangers, so far away, -<br>They did not know where his body lay. -<br> -<br>He was taken sick and lived four weeks, -<br>And Oh! how his parents weep, -<br>But now they must in sorrow mourn, -<br>For Billy has gone to his heavenly home. -<br> -<br>Oh! if his mother could have seen her son, -<br>For she loved him, her darling son; -<br>If she could heard his dying prayer, -<br>It would ease her heart till she met him there. -<br> -<br>How it would relieve his mother's heart -<br>To see her son from this world depart, -<br>And hear his noble words of love, -<br>As he left this world for that above. -<br> -<br>Now it will relieve his mother's heart, -<br>For her son is laid in our graveyard; -<br>For now she knows that his grave is near, -<br>She will not shed so many tears. -<br> -<br>Although she knows not that it was her son, -<br>For his coffin could not be opened -<br>It might be someone in his place, -<br>For she could not see his noble face. -<br> - - - -</td></tr> -</table> -</center> -<p> -December, 17. Reached Sydney. - -<p>December, 19. In the train. Fellow of 30 with four valises; a slim -creature, with teeth which made his mouth look like a neglected -churchyard. He had solidified hair—solidified with pomatum; it was all -one shell. He smoked the most extraordinary cigarettes—made of some -kind of manure, apparently. These and his hair made him smell like the -very nation. He had a low-cut vest on, which exposed a deal of frayed -and broken and unclean shirtfront. Showy studs, of imitation gold—they -had made black disks on the linen. Oversized sleeve buttons of imitation -gold, the copper base showing through. Ponderous watch-chain of -imitation gold. I judge that he couldn't tell the time by it, for he -asked Smythe what time it was, once. He wore a coat which had been gay -when it was young; 5-o'clock-tea-trousers of a light tint, and -marvelously soiled; yellow mustache with a dashing upward whirl at the -ends; foxy shoes, imitation patent leather. He was a novelty—an -imitation dude. He would have been a real one if he could have afforded -it. But he was satisfied with himself. You could see it in his -expression, and in all his attitudes and movements. He was living in a -dude dreamland where all his squalid shams were genuine, and himself a -sincerity. It disarmed criticism, it mollified spite, to see him so -enjoy his imitation languors, and arts, and airs, and his studied -daintinesses of gesture and misbegotten refinements. It was plain to me -that he was imagining himself the Prince of Wales, and was doing -everything the way he thought the Prince would do it. For bringing his -four valises aboard and stowing them in the nettings, he gave his porter -four cents, and lightly apologized for the smallness of the -gratuity—just with the condescendingest little royal air in the world. He -stretched himself out on the front seat and rested his pomatum-cake on -the middle arm, and stuck his feet out of the window, and began to pose -as the Prince and work his dreams and languors for exhibition; and he -would indolently watch the blue films curling up from his cigarette, and -inhale the stench, and look so grateful; and would flip the ash away with -the daintiest gesture, unintentionally displaying his brass ring in the -most intentional way; why, it was as good as being in Marlborough House -itself to see him do it so like. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p327.jpg (17K)" src="images/p327.jpg" height="437" width="377"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>There was other scenery in the trip. That of the Hawksbury river, in the -National Park region, fine—extraordinarily fine, with spacious views of -stream and lake imposingly framed in woody hills; and every now and then -the noblest groupings of mountains, and the most enchanting -rearrangements of the water effects. Further along, green flats, thinly -covered with gum forests, with here and there the huts and cabins of -small farmers engaged in raising children. Still further along, arid -stretches, lifeless and melancholy. Then Newcastle, a rushing town, -capital of the rich coal regions. Approaching Scone, wide farming and -grazing levels, with pretty frequent glimpses of a troublesome plant—a -particularly devilish little prickly pear, daily damned in the orisons of -the agriculturist; imported by a lady of sentiment, and contributed -gratis to the colony. Blazing hot, all day. - -<p>December 20. Back to Sydney. Blazing hot again. From the newspaper, -and from the map, I have made a collection of curious names of -Australasian towns, with the idea of making a poem out of them: - -<center> -<table summary=""> -<tr><td> - - -<br> -<br>Tumut<br>Takee<br>Murriwillumba<br>Bowral<br>Ballarat<br>Mullengudgery<br>Murrurundi -<br>Wagga-Wagga<br>Wyalong<br>Murrumbidgee<br>Goomeroo<br>Wolloway<br>Wangary<br>Wanilla -<br>Worrow<br>Koppio<br>Yankalilla<br>Yaranyacka<br>Yackamoorundie<br>Kaiwaka<br>Coomooroo -<br>Tauranga<br>Geelong<br>Tongariro<br>Kaikoura<br>Wakatipu<br>Oohipara<br>Waitpinga -<br>Goelwa<br>Munno Para<br>Nangkita<br>Myponga<br>Kapunda<br>Kooringa<br>Penola -<br>Nangwarry<br>Kongorong<br>Comaum<br>Koolywurtie<br>Killanoola<br>Naracoorte -<br>Muloowurtie<br>Binnum<br>Wallaroo<br>Wirrega<br>Mundoora<br>Hauraki<br>Rangiriri -<br>Teawamute<br>Taranaki<br>Toowoomba<br>Goondiwindi<br>Jerrilderie<br>Whangaroa -<br>Wollongong<br>Woolloomooloo<br>Bombola<br>Coolgardie<br>Bendigo<br>Coonamble -<br>Cootamundra<br>Woolgoolga<br>Mittagong<br>Jamberoo<br>Kondoparinga<br>Kuitpo -<br>Tungkillo<br>Oukaparinga<br>Talunga<br>Yatala<br>Parawirra<br>Moorooroo -<br>Whangarei<br>Woolundunga<br>Booleroo<br>Pernatty<br>Parramatta<br>Taroom -<br>Narrandera<br>Deniliquin<br>Kawakawa. -<br> - - -</td></tr> -</table> -</center> - -<p>It may be best to build the poem now, and make the weather help - - - <h3>A SWELTERING DAY IN AUSTRALIA.</h3> - -<center> -<table summary=""> -<tr><td> - - -<br> -<br> (To be read soft and low, with the lights turned down.) -<br> -<br> The Bombola faints in the hot Bowral tree, -<br> Where fierce Mullengudgery's smothering fires -<br> Far from the breezes of Coolgardie -<br> Burn ghastly and blue as the day expires; -<br> -<br> And Murriwillumba complaineth in song -<br> For the garlanded bowers of Woolloomooloo, -<br> And the Ballarat Fly and the lone Wollongong -<br> They dream of the gardens of Jamberoo; -<br> -<br> The wallabi sighs for the Murrubidgee, -<br> For the velvety sod of the Munno Parah, -<br> Where the waters of healing from Muloowurtie -<br> Flow dim in the gloaming by Yaranyackah; -<br> -<br> The Koppio sorrows for lost Wolloway, -<br> And sigheth in secret for Murrurundi, -<br> The Whangeroo wombat lamenteth the day -<br> That made him an exile from Jerrilderie; -<br> -<br> The Teawamute Tumut from Wirrega's glade, -<br> The Nangkita swallow, the Wallaroo swan, -<br> They long for the peace of the Timaru shade -<br> And thy balmy soft airs, O sweet Mittagong! -<br> -<br> The Kooringa buffalo pants in the sun, -<br> The Kondoparinga lies gaping for breath, -<br> The Kongorong Camaum to the shadow has won, -<br> But the Goomeroo sinks in the slumber of death; -<br> -<br> In the weltering hell of the Moorooroo plain -<br> The Yatala Wangary withers and dies, -<br> And the Worrow Wanilla, demented with pain, -<br> To the Woolgoolga woodlands despairingly flies; -<br> -<br> Sweet Nangwarry's desolate, Coonamble wails, -<br> And Tungkillo Kuito in sables is drest, -<br> For the Whangerei winds fall asleep in the sails -<br> And the Booleroo life-breeze is dead in the west. -<br> -<br> Mypongo, Kapunda, O slumber no more -<br> Yankalilla, Parawirra, be warned -<br> There's death in the air! -<br> Killanoola, wherefore -<br> Shall the prayer of Penola be scorned? -<br> -<br> Cootamundra, and Takee, and Wakatipu, -<br> Toowoomba, Kaikoura are lost -<br> From Onkaparinga to far Oamaru -<br> All burn in this hell's holocaust! -<br> -<br> Paramatta and Binnum are gone to their rest -<br> In the vale of Tapanni Taroom, -<br> Kawakawa, Deniliquin—all that was best -<br> In the earth are but graves and a tomb! -<br> -<br> Narrandera mourns, Cameron answers not -<br> When the roll of the scathless we cry -<br> Tongariro, Goondiwindi, Woolundunga, the spot -<br> Is mute and forlorn where ye lie. - -</td></tr> -</table> -</center> - - -<p>Those are good words for poetry. Among the best I have ever seen. -There are 81 in the list. I did not need them all, but I have knocked -down 66 of them; which is a good bag, it seems to me, for a person not in -the business. Perhaps a poet laureate could do better, but a poet -laureate gets wages, and that is different. When I write poetry I do not -get any wages; often I lose money by it. The best word in that list, and -the most musical and gurgly, is Woolloomoolloo. It is a place near -Sydney, and is a favorite pleasure-resort. It has eight O's in it. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p330.jpg (4K)" src="images/p330.jpg" height="194" width="199"> -</center> -<br><br> - - -<br><br><br><br> -<h2><a name="ch37"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> - -<p><i>To succeed in the other trades, capacity must be shown; in the law, -concealment of it will do.</i> - <center>—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p>MONDAY,—December 23, 1895. Sailed from Sydney for Ceylon in the P. & O. -steamer 'Oceana'. A Lascar crew mans this ship—the first I have seen. -White cotton petticoat and pants; barefoot; red shawl for belt; straw -cap, brimless, on head, with red scarf wound around it; complexion a rich -dark brown; short straight black hair; whiskers fine and silky; lustrous -and intensely black. Mild, good faces; willing and obedient people; -capable, too; but are said to go into hopeless panics when there is -danger. They are from Bombay and the coast thereabouts. Left some of -the trunks in Sydney, to be shipped to South Africa by a vessel -advertised to sail three months hence. The proverb says: "Separate not -yourself from your baggage." - -<p>This 'Oceana' is a stately big ship, luxuriously appointed. She has -spacious promenade decks. Large rooms; a surpassingly comfortable ship. -The officers' library is well selected; a ship's library is not usually -that . . . . For meals, the bugle call, man-of-war fashion; a -pleasant change from the terrible gong . . . . Three big cats—very -friendly loafers; they wander all over the ship; the white one follows -the chief steward around like a dog. There is also a basket of kittens. -One of these cats goes ashore, in port, in England, Australia, and India, -to see how his various families are getting along, and is seen no more -till the ship is ready to sail. No one knows how he finds out the -sailing date, but no doubt he comes down to the dock every day and takes -a look, and when he sees baggage and passengers flocking in, recognizes -that it is time to get aboard. This is what the sailors believe. . . . - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p332.jpg (24K)" src="images/p332.jpg" height="431" width="565"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>The -Chief Engineer has been in the China and India trade thirty three years, -and has had but three Christmases at home in that time . . . . -Conversational items at dinner, "Mocha! sold all over the world! It is -not true. In fact, very few foreigners except the Emperor of Russia have -ever seen a grain of it, or ever will, while they live." Another man -said: "There is no sale in Australia for Australian wine. But it goes to -France and comes back with a French label on it, and then they buy it." -I have heard that the most of the French-labeled claret in New York is -made in California. And I remember what Professor S. told me once about -Veuve Cliquot—if that was the wine, and I think it was. He was the -guest of a great wine merchant whose town was quite near that vineyard, -and this merchant asked him if very much V. C. was drunk in America. - -<p>"Oh, yes," said S., "a great abundance of it." - -<p>"Is it easy to be had?" - -<p>"Oh, yes—easy as water. All first and second-class hotels have it." - -<p>"What do you pay for it?" - -<p>"It depends on the style of the hotel—from fifteen to twenty-five francs -a bottle." - -<p>"Oh, fortunate country! Why, it's worth 100 francs right here on the -ground." - -<p>"No!" - -<p>"Yes!" - -<p>"Do you mean that we are drinking a bogus Veuve-Cliquot over there?" - -<p>"Yes—and there was never a bottle of the genuine in America since -Columbus's time. That wine all comes from a little bit of a patch of -ground which isn't big enough to raise many bottles; and all of it that -is produced goes every year to one person—the Emperor of Russia. He -takes the whole crop in advance, be it big or little." - -<p>January 4, 1896. Christmas in Melbourne, New Year's Day in Adelaide, -and saw most of the friends again in both places . . . . Lying here -at anchor all day—Albany (King George's Sound), Western Australia. It -is a perfectly landlocked harbor, or roadstead—spacious to look at, but -not deep water. Desolate-looking rocks and scarred hills. Plenty of -ships arriving now, rushing to the new gold-fields. The papers are full -of wonderful tales of the sort always to be heard in connection with new -gold diggings. A sample: a youth staked out a claim and tried to sell -half for L5; no takers; he stuck to it fourteen days, starving, then -struck it rich and sold out for L10,000. . . About sunset, strong -breeze blowing, got up the anchor. We were in a small deep puddle, with -a narrow channel leading out of it, minutely buoyed, to the sea. - -<p>I stayed on deck to see how we were going to manage it with such a big -ship and such a strong wind. On the bridge our giant captain, in -uniform; at his side a little pilot in elaborately gold-laced uniform; on -the forecastle a white mate and quartermaster or two, and a brilliant -crowd of lascars standing by for business. Our stern was pointing -straight at the head of the channel; so we must turn entirely around in -the puddle—and the wind blowing as described. It was done, and -beautifully. It was done by help of a jib. We stirred up much mud, but -did not touch the bottom. We turned right around in our tracks—a -seeming impossibility. We had several casts of quarter-less 5, and one -cast of half 4—27 feet; we were drawing 26 astern. By the time we were -entirely around and pointed, the first buoy was not more than a hundred -yards in front of us. It was a fine piece of work, and I was the only -passenger that saw it. However, the others got their dinner; the P. & O. -Company got mine . . . . More cats developed. Smythe says it is a -British law that they must be carried; and he instanced a case of a ship -not allowed to sail till she sent for a couple. The bill came, too: -"Debtor, to 2 cats, 20 shillings." . . . News comes that within this -week Siam has acknowledged herself to be, in effect, a French province. -It seems plain that all savage and semi-civilized countries are going to -be grabbed . . . . A vulture on board; bald, red, queer-shaped head, -featherless red places here and there on his body, intense great black -eyes set in featherless rims of inflamed flesh; dissipated look; a -businesslike style, a selfish, conscienceless, murderous aspect—the very -look of a professional assassin, and yet a bird which does no murder. -What was the use of getting him up in that tragic style for so innocent a -trade as his? For this one isn't the sort that wars upon the living, his -diet is offal—and the more out of date it is the better he likes it. -Nature should give him a suit of rusty black; then he would be all right, -for he would look like an undertaker and would harmonize with his -business; whereas the way he is now he is horribly out of true. - -<p>January 5. At 9 this morning we passed Cape Leeuwin (lioness) and -ceased from our long due-west course along the southern shore of -Australia. Turning this extreme southwestern corner, we now take a long -straight slant nearly N. W., without a break, for Ceylon. As we speed -northward it will grow hotter very fast—but it isn't chilly, now. . . . -The vulture is from the public menagerie at Adelaide—a great and -interesting collection. It was there that we saw the baby tiger solemnly -spreading its mouth and trying to roar like its majestic mother. It -swaggered, scowling, back and forth on its short legs just as it had seen -her do on her long ones, and now and then snarling viciously, exposing -its teeth, with a threatening lift of its upper lip and bristling -moustache; and when it thought it was impressing the visitors, it would -spread its mouth wide and do that screechy cry which it meant for a roar, -but which did not deceive. It took itself quite seriously, and was -lovably comical. And there was a hyena—an ugly creature; as ugly as the -tiger-kitty was pretty. It repeatedly arched its back and delivered -itself of such a human cry; a startling resemblance; a cry which was just -that of a grown person badly hurt. In the dark one would assuredly go to -its assistance—and be disappointed . . . . Many friends of -Australasian Federation on board. They feel sure that the good day is -not far off, now. But there seems to be a party that would go -further—have Australasia cut loose from the British Empire and set up -housekeeping on her own hook. It seems an unwise idea. They point to -the United States, but it seems to me that the cases lack a good deal of -being alike. Australasia governs herself wholly—there is no -interference; and her commerce and manufactures are not oppressed in any -way. If our case had been the same we should not have gone out when we -did. - -<p> -January 13. Unspeakably hot. The equator is arriving again. We are -within eight degrees of it. Ceylon present. Dear me, it is beautiful! -And most sumptuously tropical, as to character of foliage and opulence of -it. "What though the spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle"—an -eloquent line, an incomparable line; it says little, but conveys whole -libraries of sentiment, and Oriental charm and mystery, and tropic -deliciousness—a line that quivers and tingles with a thousand -unexpressed and inexpressible things, things that haunt one and find no -articulate voice . . . . Colombo, the capital. An Oriental town, -most manifestly; and fascinating. - -<p>In this palatial ship the passengers dress for dinner. The ladies' -toilettes make a fine display of color, and this is in keeping with the -elegance of the vessel's furnishings and the flooding brilliancies of the -electric light. On the stormy Atlantic one never sees a man in evening -dress, except at the rarest intervals; and then there is only one, not -two; and he shows up but once on the voyage—the night before the ship -makes port—the night when they have the "concert" and do the amateur -wailings and recitations. He is the tenor, as a rule . . . . There -has been a deal of cricket-playing on board; it seems a queer game for a -ship, but they enclose the promenade deck with nettings and keep the ball -from flying overboard, and the sport goes very well, and is properly -violent and exciting . . . . We must part from this vessel here. - -<p>January 14. Hotel Bristol. Servant Brompy. Alert, gentle, smiling, -winning young brown creature as ever was. Beautiful shining black hair -combed back like a woman's, and knotted at the back of his -head—tortoise-shell comb in it, sign that he is a Singhalese; slender, shapely -form; jacket; under it is a beltless and flowing white cotton gown—from -neck straight to heel; he and his outfit quite unmasculine. It was an -embarrassment to undress before him. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p338.jpg (51K)" src="images/p338.jpg" height="346" width="650"> -</center> -<a href="images/p338.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Full Size" src="images/enlarge.jpg"> -</a> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>We drove to the market, using the Japanese jinriksha—our first -acquaintanceship with it. It is a light cart, with a native to draw it. -He makes good speed for half-an-hour, but it is hard work for him; he is -too slight for it. After the half-hour there is no more pleasure for -you; your attention is all on the man, just as it would be on a tired -horse, and necessarily your sympathy is there too. There's a plenty of -these 'rickshas, and the tariff is incredibly cheap. - -<p>I was in Cairo years ago. That was Oriental, but there was a lack. When -you are in Florida or New Orleans you are in the South—that is granted; -but you are not in the South; you are in a modified South, a tempered -South. Cairo was a tempered Orient—an Orient with an indefinite -something wanting. That feeling was not present in Ceylon. Ceylon was -Oriental in the last measure of completeness—utterly Oriental; also -utterly tropical; and indeed to one's unreasoning spiritual sense the two -things belong together. All the requisites were present. The costumes -were right; the black and brown exposures, unconscious of immodesty, were -right; the juggler was there, with his basket, his snakes, his mongoose, -and his arrangements for growing a tree from seed to foliage and ripe -fruitage before one's eyes; in sight were plants and flowers familiar to -one on books but in no other way—celebrated, desirable, strange, but in -production restricted to the hot belt of the equator; and out a little -way in the country were the proper deadly snakes, and fierce beasts of -prey, and the wild elephant and the monkey. And there was that swoon in -the air which one associates with the tropics, and that smother of heat, -heavy with odors of unknown flowers, and that sudden invasion of purple -gloom fissured with lightnings,—then the tumult of crashing thunder and -the downpour and presently all sunny and smiling again; all these things -were there; the conditions were complete, nothing was lacking. And away -off in the deeps of the jungle and in the remotenesses of the mountains -were the ruined cities and mouldering temples, mysterious relics of the -pomps of a forgotten time and a vanished race—and this was as it should -be, also, for nothing is quite satisfyingly Oriental that lacks the -somber and impressive qualities of mystery and antiquity. - -<p>The drive through the town and out to the Galle Face by the seashore, -what a dream it was of tropical splendors of bloom and blossom, and -Oriental conflagrations of costume! The walking groups of men, women, -boys, girls, babies—each individual was a flame, each group a house -afire for color. And such stunning colors, such intensely vivid colors, -such rich and exquisite minglings and fusings of rainbows and lightnings! -And all harmonious, all in perfect taste; never a discordant note; never -a color on any person swearing at another color on him or failing to -harmonize faultlessly with the colors of any group the wearer might join. -The stuffs were silk—thin, soft, delicate, clinging; and, as a rule, each -piece a solid color: a splendid green, a splendid blue, a splendid -yellow, a splendid purple, a splendid ruby, deep, and rich with -smouldering fires—they swept continuously by in crowds and legions and -multitudes, glowing, flashing, burning, radiant; and every five seconds -came a burst of blinding red that made a body catch his breath, and -filled his heart with joy. And then, the unimaginable grace of those -costumes! Sometimes a woman's whole dress was but a scarf wound about -her person and her head, sometimes a man's was but a turban and a -careless rag or two—in both cases generous areas of polished dark skin -showing—but always the arrangement compelled the homage of the eye and -made the heart sing for gladness. - -<p>I can see it to this day, that radiant panorama, that wilderness of rich -color, that incomparable dissolving-view of harmonious tints, and lithe -half-covered forms, and beautiful brown faces, and gracious and graceful -gestures and attitudes and movements, free, unstudied, barren of -stiffness and restraint, and— - -<p>Just then, into this dream of fairyland and paradise a grating dissonance -was injected. - -<p>Out of a missionary school came marching, two and two, sixteen prim and -pious little Christian black girls, Europeanly clothed—dressed, to the -last detail, as they would have been dressed on a summer Sunday in an -English or American village. Those clothes—oh, they were unspeakably -ugly! Ugly, barbarous, destitute of taste, destitute of grace, repulsive -as a shroud. I looked at my womenfolk's clothes—just full-grown -duplicates of the outrages disguising those poor little abused -creatures—and was ashamed to be seen in the street with them. Then I looked at -my own clothes, and was ashamed to be seen in the street with myself. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p343.jpg (47K)" src="images/p343.jpg" height="991" width="535"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>However, we must put up with our clothes as they are—they have their -reason for existing. They are on us to expose us—to advertise what we -wear them to conceal. They are a sign; a sign of insincerity; a sign of -suppressed vanity; a pretense that we despise gorgeous colors and the -graces of harmony and form; and we put them on to propagate that lie and -back it up. But we do not deceive our neighbor; and when we step into -Ceylon we realize that we have not even deceived ourselves. We do love -brilliant colors and graceful costumes; and at home we will turn out in a -storm to see them when the procession goes by—and envy the wearers. We -go to the theater to look at them and grieve that we can't be clothed -like that. We go to the King's ball, when we get a chance, and are glad -of a sight of the splendid uniforms and the glittering orders. When we -are granted permission to attend an imperial drawing-room we shut -ourselves up in private and parade around in the theatrical court-dress -by the hour, and admire ourselves in the glass, and are utterly happy; -and every member of every governor's staff in democratic America does the -same with his grand new uniform—and if he is not watched he will get -himself photographed in it, too. When I see the Lord Mayor's footman I -am dissatisfied with my lot. Yes, our clothes are a lie, and have been -nothing short of that these hundred years. They are insincere, they are -the ugly and appropriate outward exposure of an inward sham and a moral -decay. - -<p>The last little brown boy I chanced to notice in the crowds and swarms of -Colombo had nothing on but a twine string around his waist, but in my -memory the frank honesty of his costume still stands out in pleasant -contrast with the odious flummery in which the little Sunday-school -dowdies were masquerading. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p344.jpg (8K)" src="images/p344.jpg" height="181" width="447"> -</center> - -<br><br><br><br> -<h2><a name="ch38"></a><br><br>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> - -<p><i>Prosperity is the best protector of principle.</i> - <center>—Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.</center> - -<p>EVENING—14th. Sailed in the Rosetta. This is a poor old ship, and -ought to be insured and sunk. As in the 'Oceana', just so here: -everybody dresses for dinner; they make it a sort of pious duty. These -fine and formal costumes are a rather conspicuous contrast to the poverty -and shabbiness of the surroundings . . . . If you want a slice of a -lime at four o'clock tea, you must sign an order on the bar. Limes cost -14 cents a barrel. - -<p>January 18th. We have been running up the Arabian Sea, latterly. -Closing up on Bombay now, and due to arrive this evening. - -<p>January 20th. Bombay! A bewitching place, a bewildering place, an -enchanting place—the Arabian Nights come again? It is a vast city; -contains about a million inhabitants. Natives, they are, with a slight -sprinkling of white people—not enough to have the slightest modifying -effect upon the massed dark complexion of the public. It is winter here, -yet the weather is the divine weather of June, and the foliage is the -fresh and heavenly foliage of June. There is a rank of noble great shade -trees across the way from the hotel, and under them sit groups of -picturesque natives of both sexes; and the juggler in his turban is there -with his snakes and his magic; and all day long the cabs and the -multitudinous varieties of costumes flock by. It does not seem as if one -could ever get tired of watching this moving show, this shining and -shifting spectacle . . . . In the great bazar the pack and jam of -natives was marvelous, the sea of rich-colored turbans and draperies an -inspiring sight, and the quaint and showy Indian architecture was just -the right setting for it. Toward sunset another show; this is the drive -around the sea-shore to Malabar Point, where Lord Sandhurst, the Governor -of the Bombay Presidency, lives. Parsee palaces all along the first part -of the drive; and past them all the world is driving; the private -carriages of wealthy Englishmen and natives of rank are manned by a -driver and three footmen in stunning oriental liveries—two of these -turbaned statues standing up behind, as fine as monuments. Sometimes -even the public carriages have this superabundant crew, slightly -modified—one to drive, one to sit by and see it done, and one to stand -up behind and yell—yell when there is anybody in the way, and for -practice when there isn't. It all helps to keep up the liveliness and -augment the general sense of swiftness and energy and confusion and -pow-wow. - -<p>In the region of Scandal Point—felicitous name—where there are handy -rocks to sit on and a noble view of the sea on the one hand, and on the -other the passing and repassing whirl and tumult of gay carriages, are -great groups of comfortably-off Parsee women—perfect flower-beds of -brilliant color, a fascinating spectacle. Tramp, tramp, tramping along -the road, in singles, couples, groups, and gangs, you have the -working-man and the working-woman—but not clothed like ours. Usually the man is -a nobly-built great athlete, with not a rag on but his loin-handkerchief; -his color a deep dark brown, his skin satin, his rounded muscles knobbing -it as if it had eggs under it. Usually the woman is a slender and -shapely creature, as erect as a lightning-rod, and she has but one thing -on—a bright-colored piece of stuff which is wound about her head and her -body down nearly half-way to her knees, and which clings like her own -skin. Her legs and feet are bare, and so are her arms, except for her -fanciful bunches of loose silver rings on her ankles and on her arms. -She has jewelry bunched on the side of her nose also, and showy -cluster-rings on her toes. When she undresses for bed she takes off her -jewelry, I suppose. If she took off anything more she would catch cold. -As a rule she has a large shiney brass water jar of graceful shape on her -head, and one of her naked arms curves up and the hand holds it there. -She is so straight, so erect, and she steps with such style, and such -easy grace and dignity; and her curved arm and her brazen jar are such a -help to the picture—indeed, our working-women cannot begin with her as a -road-decoration. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p347.jpg (18K)" src="images/p347.jpg" height="537" width="365"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>It is all color, bewitching color, enchanting color—everywhere all -around—all the way around the curving great opaline bay clear to -Government House, where the turbaned big native 'chuprassies' stand -grouped in state at the door in their robes of fiery red, and do most -properly and stunningly finish up the splendid show and make it -theatrically complete. I wish I were a 'chuprassy'. - -<p>This is indeed India! the land of dreams and romance, of fabulous wealth -and fabulous poverty, of splendor and rags, of palaces and hovels, of -famine and pestilence, of genii and giants and Aladdin lamps, of tigers -and elephants, the cobra and the jungle, the country of a hundred nations -and a hundred tongues, of a thousand religions and two million gods, -cradle of the human race, birthplace of human speech, mother of history, -grandmother of legend, great-grandmother of tradition, whose yesterdays -bear date with the mouldering antiquities of the rest of the nations—the -one sole country under the sun that is endowed with an imperishable -interest for alien prince and alien peasant, for lettered and ignorant, -wise and fool, rich and poor, bond and free, the one land that all men -desire to see, and having seen once, by even a glimpse, would not give -that glimpse for the shows of all the rest of the globe combined. -Even now, after the lapse of a year, the delirium of those days in Bombay -has not left me, and I hope never will. It was all new, no detail of it -hackneyed. And India did not wait for morning, it began at the -hotel—straight away. The lobbies and halls were full of turbaned, and fez'd -and embroidered, cap'd, and barefooted, and cotton-clad dark natives, -some of them rushing about, others at rest squatting, or sitting on the -ground; some of them chattering with energy, others still and dreamy; in -the dining-room every man's own private native servant standing behind -his chair, and dressed for a part in the Arabian Nights. - -<p>Our rooms were high up, on the front. A white man—he was a burly -German—went up with us, and brought three natives along to see to arranging -things. About fourteen others followed in procession, with the -hand-baggage; each carried an article—and only one; a bag, in some cases, in -other cases less. One strong native carried my overcoat, another a -parasol, another a box of cigars, another a novel, and the last man in -the procession had no load but a fan. It was all done with earnestness -and sincerity, there was not a smile in the procession from the head of -it to the tail of it. Each man waited patiently, tranquilly, in no sort -of hurry, till one of us found time to give him a copper, then he bent -his head reverently, touched his forehead with his fingers, and went his -way. They seemed a soft and gentle race, and there was something both -winning and touching about their demeanor. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p349.jpg (28K)" src="images/p349.jpg" height="965" width="405"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>There was a vast glazed door which opened upon the balcony. It needed -closing, or cleaning, or something, and a native got down on his knees -and went to work at it. He seemed to be doing it well enough, but -perhaps he wasn't, for the burly German put on a look that betrayed -dissatisfaction, then without explaining what was wrong, gave the native -a brisk cuff on the jaw and then told him where the defect was. It -seemed such a shame to do that before us all. The native took it with -meekness, saying nothing, and not showing in his face or manner any -resentment. I had not seen the like of this for fifty years. It carried -me back to my boyhood, and flashed upon me the forgotten fact that this -was the usual way of explaining one's desires to a slave. I was able to -remember that the method seemed right and natural to me in those days, I -being born to it and unaware that elsewhere there were other methods; but -I was also able to remember that those unresented cuffings made me sorry -for the victim and ashamed for the punisher. My father was a refined and -kindly gentleman, very grave, rather austere, of rigid probity, a sternly -just and upright man, albeit he attended no church and never spoke of -religious matters, and had no part nor lot in the pious joys of his -Presbyterian family, nor ever seemed to suffer from this deprivation. He -laid his hand upon me in punishment only twice in his life, and then not -heavily; once for telling him a lie—which surprised me, and showed me -how unsuspicious he was, for that was not my maiden effort. He punished -me those two times only, and never any other member of the family at all; -yet every now and then he cuffed our harmless slave boy, Lewis, for -trifling little blunders and awkwardnesses. My father had passed his life -among the slaves from his cradle up, and his cuffings proceeded from the -custom of the time, not from his nature. When I was ten years old I saw -a man fling a lump of iron-ore at a slaveman in anger, for merely doing -something awkwardly—as if that were a crime. It bounded from the man's -skull, and the man fell and never spoke again. He was dead in an hour. -I knew the man had a right to kill his slave if he wanted to, and yet it -seemed a pitiful thing and somehow wrong, though why wrong I was not deep -enough to explain if I had been asked to do it. Nobody in the village -approved of that murder, but of course no one said much about it. - -<p>It is curious—the space-annihilating power of thought. For just one -second, all that goes to make the me in me was in a Missourian village, -on the other side of the globe, vividly seeing again these forgotten -pictures of fifty years ago, and wholly unconscious of all things but -just those; and in the next second I was back in Bombay, and that -kneeling native's smitten cheek was not done tingling yet! Back to -boyhood—fifty years; back to age again, another fifty; and a flight -equal to the circumference of the globe-all in two seconds by the watch! - -<p>Some natives—I don't remember how many—went into my bedroom, now, and -put things to rights and arranged the mosquito-bar, and I went to bed to -nurse my cough. It was about nine in the evening. What a state of -things! For three hours the yelling and shouting of natives in the hall -continued, along with the velvety patter of their swift bare feet—what a -racket it was! They were yelling orders and messages down three flights. -Why, in the matter of noise it amounted to a riot, an insurrection, a -revolution. And then there were other noises mixed up with these and at -intervals tremendously accenting them—roofs falling in, I judged, -windows smashing, persons being murdered, crows squawking, and deriding, -and cursing, canaries screeching, monkeys jabbering, macaws blaspheming, -and every now and then fiendish bursts of laughter and explosions of -dynamite. By midnight I had suffered all the different kinds of shocks -there are, and knew that I could never more be disturbed by them, either -isolated or in combination. Then came peace—stillness deep and solemn -and lasted till five. - -<p>Then it all broke loose again. And who re-started it? The Bird of Birds -the Indian crow. I came to know him well, by and by, and be infatuated -with him. I suppose he is the hardest lot that wears feathers. Yes, and -the cheerfulest, and the best satisfied with himself. He never arrived -at what he is by any careless process, or any sudden one; he is a work of -art, and "art is long"; he is the product of immemorial ages, and of deep -calculation; one can't make a bird like that in a day. He has been -reincarnated more times than Shiva; and he has kept a sample of each -incarnation, and fused it into his constitution. In the course of his -evolutionary promotions, his sublime march toward ultimate perfection, he -has been a gambler, a low comedian, a dissolute priest, a fussy woman, a -blackguard, a scoffer, a liar, a thief, a spy, an informer, a trading -politician, a swindler, a professional hypocrite, a patriot for cash, a -reformer, a lecturer, a lawyer, a conspirator, a rebel, a royalist, a -democrat, a practicer and propagator of irreverence, a meddler, an -intruder, a busybody, an infidel, and a wallower in sin for the mere love -of it. The strange result, the incredible result, of this patient -accumulation of all damnable traits is, that he does not know what care -is, he does not know what sorrow is, he does not know what remorse is, -his life is one long thundering ecstasy of happiness, and he will go to -his death untroubled, knowing that he will soon turn up again as an -author or something, and be even more intolerably capable and comfortable -than ever he was before. - -<p>In his straddling wide forward-step, and his springy side-wise series of -hops, and his impudent air, and his cunning way of canting his head to -one side upon occasion, he reminds one of the American blackbird. But -the sharp resemblances stop there. He is much bigger than the blackbird; -and he lacks the blackbird's trim and slender and beautiful build and -shapely beak; and of course his sober garb of gray and rusty black is a -poor and humble thing compared with the splendid lustre of the -blackbird's metallic sables and shifting and flashing bronze glories. -The blackbird is a perfect gentleman, in deportment and attire, and is -not noisy, I believe, except when holding religious services and -political conventions in a tree; but this Indian sham Quaker is just a -rowdy, and is always noisy when awake—always chaffing, scolding, -scoffing, laughing, ripping, and cursing, and carrying on about something -or other. I never saw such a bird for delivering opinions. Nothing -escapes him; he notices everything that happens, and brings out his -opinion about it, particularly if it is a matter that is none of his -business. And it is never a mild opinion, but always violent—violent -and profane—the presence of ladies does not affect him. His opinions -are not the outcome of reflection, for he never thinks about anything, -but heaves out the opinion that is on top in his mind, and which is often -an opinion about some quite different thing and does not fit the case. -But that is his way; his main idea is to get out an opinion, and if he -stopped to think he would lose chances. - -<p>I suppose he has no enemies among men. The whites and Mohammedans never -seemed to molest him; and the Hindoos, because of their religion, never -take the life of any creature, but spare even the snakes and tigers and -fleas and rats. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p355.jpg (63K)" src="images/p355.jpg" height="1041" width="637"> -</center> -<br><br><br><br> - -<p>If I sat on one end of the balcony, the crows would -gather on the railing at the other end and talk about me; and edge -closer, little by little, till I could almost reach them; and they would -sit there, in the most unabashed way, and talk about my clothes, and my -hair, and my complexion, and probable character and vocation and -politics, and how I came to be in India, and what I had been doing, and -how many days I had got for it, and how I had happened to go unhanged -so long, and when would it probably come off, and might there be more of -my sort where I came from, and when would they be hanged,—and so on, and -so on, until I could not longer endure the embarrassment of it; then I -would shoo them away, and they would circle around in the air a little -while, laughing and deriding and mocking, and presently settle on the -rail and do it all over again. - -<p>They were very sociable when there was anything to eat—oppressively so. -With a little encouragement they would come in and light on the table and -help me eat my breakfast; and once when I was in the other room and they -found themselves alone, they carried off everything they could lift; and -they were particular to choose things which they could make no use of -after they got them. In India their number is beyond estimate, and their -noise is in proportion. I suppose they cost the country more than the -government does; yet that is not a light matter. Still, they pay; their -company pays; it would sadden the land to take their cheerful voice out -of it. - -<br><br><br><br> -<center><img alt="p356.jpg (13K)" src="images/p356.jpg" height="411" width="401"> -</center> - - -<br><br> - -<br><br> - - -<center> -<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3> -<tr><td> - <a href="p3.htm">Previous Part</a> -</td><td> - <a href="2895-h.htm">Main Index</a> -</td><td> - <a href="p5.htm">Next Part</a> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</center> - -</body> -</html> - |