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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75449 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL
+
+OF
+
+POPULAR
+
+LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART
+
+Fifth Series
+
+ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832
+
+CONDUCTED BY R. CHAMBERS (SECUNDUS)
+
+NO. 149.—VOL. III.      SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1886.      PRICE 1½_d._]
+
+
+
+
+NOTES ON THE NEW HEBRIDES.
+
+
+There is a wide contrast between the Hebrides of Scotland and the New
+Hebrides of the Western Pacific; but both have come into a good deal of
+prominence of late—the one in connection with the crofters, the other
+in connection with the French. It is of the New Hebrides we propose to
+say something.
+
+The group of islands forming part of Melanesia to which the name of
+New Hebrides has been given extends for about seven hundred miles. The
+most northern of the group is about one hundred miles from the Santa
+Cruz Islands, and the most southern about two hundred miles from New
+Caledonia. Espiritu Santo is the largest and most northerly of the
+group, and is about seventy-five miles long by forty miles broad. The
+next largest island is called Mallicolo, and is fifty-six miles long
+by twenty miles broad. The entire land area of the group may be taken
+as about five thousand square miles; and the population of the whole
+group has been estimated variously from fifty thousand to two hundred
+thousand. But whatever the total population, the peoples probably
+sprung from one original stock, although they have drifted far apart
+in the matter of language. There are said to be no fewer than thirty
+different languages in the New Hebridean group—all having a certain
+grammatical likeness, but quite unintelligible to the other islanders.
+The difference is not merely such as exists between Scotch, Irish, and
+Welsh Gaelic; it is a more marked division of tongues.
+
+The inhabitants vary nearly as much as their languages. Although
+distinctly Papuan, there are traits and traces of Polynesian
+intermixture and even of separate Polynesian settlement. Thus, on
+Vaté, the men are taller, fairer, and better-looking than those on
+some of the other islands, the more generally prevailing type being
+one of extreme ugliness and short stature. They all are, or have
+been, cannibals; but on Aneityum they are now supposed to be all
+Christianised.
+
+Aneityum, or Anateum, or Anatom—for it is spelt in all three ways—is
+within two hundred miles of the nearest point in New Caledonia, and
+within five hundred miles of Fiji. It has a spacious, well-sheltered
+harbour, which is easy of access, and is throughout well wooded and
+watered. The general character of the island is mountainous; and there
+is an agreeable diversity of hill and valley, the mountains being
+intersected by deep ravines, and cultivated spots alternating with
+barren tracts. The principal wealth of this island is in its timber,
+of which the kauri pine appears to be the chief; but there is also a
+good deal of valuable sandal-wood. Some years ago, an attempt was made
+to establish a whale-fishery off the shores of Aneityum; but we have
+not heard with what result. The length of this island is about fourteen
+miles, and its breadth about eight. The climate, although damp, is not
+disagreeable, and is not marked by great variations. The thermometer
+seldom goes below sixty-two degrees, and never below fifty-eight
+degrees; but, on the other hand, it never goes above ninety-four
+degrees, and seldom above eighty-nine degrees in the shade.
+
+Aneityum deserves especial mention because the whole population is
+understood now to profess Christianity. That population in 1865 was
+stated by Mr Brenchley to be two thousand two hundred, and it has not
+probably increased much, if any, since then. Previous to 1850, the
+natives of Aneityum were as degraded and savage as on any island of
+the Pacific; but two missionaries who settled there about the date
+mentioned began to work a steady and continuous change.
+
+The Aneityum people do not live in villages, but separately in the
+midst of their cultivated patches, which are divided into districts,
+each containing about sixty. The government is in the hands of chiefs,
+of whom there are three principal, each having a number of petty chiefs
+under them. But their power appears limited.
+
+Aneityum, like the other islands of the New Hebrides, is of volcanic
+origin, and it is surrounded by coral reefs. No minerals have been
+found; and in this connection it is worthy of remark that Australians
+insist that there is a much closer natural affinity between the New
+Hebrides and Fiji than there is between the New Hebrides and New
+Caledonia, which is an island rich in minerals. Mr Brenchley enumerates
+the principal indigenous products of Aneityum as bread-fruit, banana,
+cocoa-nut, horse-chestnut, sago-palm, another species of palm bearing
+small nuts, sugar-cane, taro—the staple article of food—yams in
+small quantities, sweet-potatoes, and arrowroot. Of fruits, &c.,
+introduced, the orange, lime, lemon, citron, pine-apple, custard-apple,
+papaw-apple, melons, and pumpkins, have succeeded. The cotton plant
+had also been introduced, and promised well; and French beans were
+grown for the Sydney market. There are more than a hundred species of
+ferns on the island, and more than a hundred species of fish in the
+waters surrounding it. But the fish are not all edible, and besides
+being different from, are inferior to those found in the northern
+hemisphere. The birds are not very numerous; but butterflies and
+insects abound, in the case of the latter the list being lengthened by
+the importation of fleas by Europeans. Among themselves, the natives
+barter fishing-baskets, nets, sleeping-mats, hand-baskets, pigs, fowls,
+taro, and cocoa-nuts. With foreigners, they barter pigs, fowls, taro,
+bananas, cocoa-nuts, sugar-cane, &c., for European clothing, hatchets,
+knives, fish-hooks, and so forth. Their weapons are spears, clubs, bows
+and arrows—the spears being rude and very crooked.
+
+Of Tanna, another of the southern division of the group, many
+interesting notes have been left by Mr Brenchley and Dr Turner. It is
+about forty or fifty miles from Aneityum, and has a somewhat narrow
+anchorage, called Port Resolution Bay. On the west side of this bay
+there is a large and preternaturally active volcano, which pulsates
+in a regular sequence of eruptions at intervals of five, seven, or
+ten minutes, night and day, all the year round. The regularity of the
+eruptions is supposed to be caused by the influx of water into the
+volcano from a lake which lies at its base. Tanna is nearly circular,
+and between thirty-five and forty miles across. It is covered with
+lofty hills, bright with verdure.
+
+Mr Brenchley stated the population at fifteen to twenty thousand; but
+Dr Turner placed it at only ten or twelve thousand; and Turner, who
+resided for some months on the island, is likely to be nearer the mark.
+The people are of middle stature, and of a copper colour naturally,
+although some of them are as black as New Hollanders, through
+artificial dyeing of their skins. They are rather better-looking than
+average Papuans, but make themselves hideous with red paint. The men
+frizzle their hair, which is oftener light-brown than black in colour;
+the women wear the hair short, but ‘laid out in a forest of little
+erect curls about an inch and a half long.’ They pierce the septum of
+the nose, and insert horizontally a small piece of wood; and in their
+ears they wear huge ornaments of tortoise-shell. They do not tattoo.
+The women wear long girdles, hanging to the knee, made of the dried
+fibre of banana stalks; and the men wear an unsightly waistcloth of
+matting. Their weapons are clubs, bows and arrows, and spears, with
+which they are very expert, and they always work and sleep with their
+weapons by their sides. They are, in fact—or were, when Dr Turner lived
+among them—a race of warriors, for the tribes were incessantly at war
+with each other. ‘We were never able,’ says Dr Turner, ‘to extend our
+journeys above four miles from our dwelling at Port Resolution. At such
+distances we came to boundaries which were never passed, and beyond
+which the people spoke a different dialect. At one of these boundaries,
+actual war would be going on; at another, kidnapping and cooking each
+other; and at another, all might be peace, but, by mutual consent, they
+had no dealings with each other.... When visiting the volcano one day,
+the natives told us about a battle in which one party which was pursued
+ran right into the crater, and there fought for a while on the downward
+slope inside the cup!’
+
+The climate of Tanna is damp for four months of the year, when fever
+and ague are common; but it is agreeable during the remainder of the
+year; and the average annual temperature is about eighty-six degrees.
+The soil, on account of the volcanic origin, is extremely fertile, and
+there are a number of boiling springs.
+
+Erromango, to the north of Tanna, is celebrated for its massacres of
+missionaries and white settlers, and it was here that Mr Williams was
+murdered many years ago. This island is covered with dense vegetation
+down to the very water’s edge. It contains a great deal of fine timber,
+such as sandal-wood, kauri pine, &c. The population was estimated at
+about five thousand by both Mr Brenchley and Dr Turner. The people
+are very much like the Tannese, but are without any settled villages
+or considerable chiefs. The Erromangan women tattoo the upper part of
+their bodies, and wear leaf-girdles hanging from waist to heel; but the
+men prefer nudity. Neither infanticide nor euthanasia seems to prevail
+here, but the sick are not particularly well cared for. Dr Turner
+traced a belief in witchcraft and some belief in a future state. The
+spirits of the dead are supposed to go eastward, and some are thought
+to roam about in the bush.
+
+Vaté or Sandwich Island, still to the north, is another interesting
+member of the group. It has attracted many Australians and others, who
+have attempted settlements, but not, we believe, with success as yet.
+Dr Turner calls it a ‘lovely island’—although, whether it compares with
+the island of Aurora, one of the most northerly of the group, which Mr
+Walter Coote says is a perfect earthly paradise, we cannot tell. Vaté,
+at anyrate, is very lovely, and seems to be of coral formation. Its
+size is about one hundred miles in circumference, and its population
+perhaps, ten thousand—although Dr Turner said twelve thousand. There
+is no general king, but a large number of petty chiefs. The people are
+more fully clothed than those of the other islands we have referred
+to; they do not tattoo—they only paint the face in war; they wear
+trinkets and armlets; and they live in regular villages. There are
+several dialects, but not such diversity as in Tanna. They do not
+fight so much as the Tannese; but have clubs, spears, and poisoned
+arrows. Infanticide, unfortunately, is prevalent, and seems to be
+the consequence of the practice of the women having to do all the
+plantation and other hard work.
+
+In Vaté, they have no idols, and they say that the human race sprang
+from stones and the earth. The men of the stones were _Natamoli
+nefat_, and the men of the earth _Natamoli natana_. The native name
+of the island is Efat or Stone—which has been corrupted into Vaté.
+The principal god is Supu, who created Vaté and everything on it;
+and when a person dies, he is supposed to be taken away by Supu.
+Ancestor-worship is also practised, and the aged were often buried
+alive at their own request.
+
+The island of Vaté is high above the sea, of an irregular outline,
+and distinguished by some fine bold features. ‘We could see,’ says Mr
+Brenchley, ‘high mountains, whose summits seemed clad with verdure,
+while the thick woods towards their base formed, as it were, a girdle
+which spread downwards as far as the beach.’ Ashore, he saw high
+reed-grass, wild sugar-canes ten feet high, and vast plantations of
+banana and cocoa-nut. The soil is of remarkable fertility; but the
+island is subject to frequent shocks of earthquake, sometimes very
+violent. The climate is damp, but not unhealthy. Of the natives, we
+have read differing accounts, one describing them as among the best,
+and another as among the worst of New Hebridean aborigines, with a
+remarkably developed and insatiable craving for human flesh. The happy
+mean is probably near the truth, that is to say, they are neither
+better nor worse than the rest of their race, and are very much as the
+visitor makes them.
+
+
+
+
+BY ORDER OF THE LEAGUE.
+
+BY FRED. M. WHITE.
+
+
+IN TWENTY CHAPTERS.—CHAP. XII.
+
+Coolly, as if the whole transaction had been a little light recreation,
+and untroubled in conscience, as if the fatal card had fallen to
+Maxwell by pure chance, instead of base trickery, Le Gautier turned his
+steps in the direction of Fitzroy Square. It was a matter of supreme
+indifference to him now whether Maxwell obeyed the dictum of the League
+or not; indeed, flat rebellion would have suited his purpose better,
+for in that case he would be all the sooner rid of; and there was just
+a chance that the affair with Visci might end favourably; whereas,
+on the other hand, a refusal would end fatally for the rash man who
+defied the League. Men can face open danger; it is the uncertainty, the
+blind groping in the dark, that wears body and mind out, unstrings the
+nerves, and sometimes unseats reason. Better fight with fearful odds,
+than walk out with the shadow of the sword hanging over one night and
+day. The inestimable Frenchman had seen what defiance to the League
+generally came to; and as he reviewed his rosy prospects, his bright
+thoughts lent additional flavour to his cigarette. Nevertheless, his
+heart beat a trifle faster as he pulled the bell at the quiet house in
+Ventnor Street. Adventures of this sort were nothing novel to him; but
+he had something more at stake here than the fortunes of the little
+blind boy and the light intrigue he looked for. Miss St Jean was in,
+he found; and he was shown up to her room, where he sat noting the
+apartment—the open piano, and the shaded waxlights, shining softly—just
+the proper amount of light to note charms by, and just dim enough to
+unite confidences. As he noted these things, he smiled, for Le Gautier
+was a connoisseur in the graceful art of love-making, and boasted
+that he could read women as scholars can expound abstruse passages of
+the earlier classics, or think they can, which pleases them equally.
+In such like case, the Frenchman was about to fall into a similar
+error, never dreaming that the artistically arranged room with its
+shaded lights was a trap to catch his soul. He waited impatiently for
+the coming fair one, knowing full well that she wished to create an
+impression. If such was her intention, she succeeded beyond expectation.
+
+With her magnificent hair piled up upon her small shapely head, and its
+glossy blackness relieved only by a single diamond star, shining like a
+planet on the bosom of the midnight sky, with a radiant smile upon her
+face, she came towards him. She was dressed in some light shimmering
+material, cut low upon the shoulders; and round the corsage was a
+wreath of deep red roses, a crimson ribbon round the neck, from which
+depended a diamond cross. She came forward murmuring a few well-chosen
+words, and sank into a chair, waiting for Le Gautier to recover.
+
+He had need of time to recover his scattered senses, for, man of the
+world as he was, and acquainted with beauty as he was, he had never
+seen anything like this before. But he was not the sort to be long
+taken aback; he raised his eyes to hers with a mute homage which was
+more eloquent than words. He began to feel at home; the dazzling
+loveliness threw a spell upon him, the delicious mystery was to his
+liking; and he was tête-à-tête.
+
+‘I began to think I had failed to interest you sufficiently last
+night,’ Isodore commenced, waving her fan slowly before her face. ‘I
+began to imagine you were not coming to take pity on my loneliness.’
+
+‘How could you dream such a thing?’ Le Gautier replied in his most
+languishing voice. His pulses began to beat at these last words. ‘Did
+I not promise to come? I should have been here long since, but sordid
+claims of business detained me from your side.’
+
+‘It must have been pressing business,’ Isodore laughed archly. ‘And
+pray, what throne are you going to rock to its foundations now?’
+
+Had Le Gautier been a trifle less vain, he would have been on his guard
+when the conversation took so personal a turn; but he was flattered;
+the question betokened an interest in himself. ‘How would it interest
+you?’ he asked.
+
+‘How do you know that it would not? Remember, that though I am bound by
+no oath, I am one of you. Anything connected with the League, anything
+connected with yourself, cannot fail to interest me.’
+
+The words ran through Le Gautier’s frame like quicksilver. He was
+impulsive and passionate; these few minutes had almost sufficed to seal
+his thraldom. He began to lose his head. ‘You flatter me,’ he said
+joyously. ‘Our business to-night was short; we only had to choose an
+avenging angel.’
+
+‘For Visci, I suppose?’ Isodore observed with some faint show of
+interest. ‘Poor man! And upon whom did the choice fall?’
+
+‘A new member, curiously enough. I do not know if you are acquainted
+with him: his name is Maxwell.’
+
+‘May he prove as true to the cause as—as you are. I have never had the
+fortune to be present on one of these occasions. How do you manage it?
+Do you draw lots, or do you settle it with dice?’
+
+‘On this occasion, no. We have a much fairer plan than that. We take
+a pack of cards; they are counted, to see if they are correct; then
+each man present shuffles them; a particular one represents the fatal
+number, and the president of the assembly deals them out. Whoever the
+chosen one falls to has to do the task in hand.’
+
+‘That, I suppose, must be fair, unless there is a conjurer presiding,’
+Isodore observed reflectively.—‘Who was the president to-night?’
+
+‘I myself. I took my chance with the others, you must understand.’
+
+Isodore did not reply, as she sat there waving her fan backwards and
+forwards before her face. Le Gautier fancied that for a moment a smile
+of bitter contempt flashed out from her eyes; but he dismissed the
+idea, for, when she dropped the fan again, her face was clear and
+smiling.
+
+‘I am wearying you,’ she said, ‘by my silly questions. A woman who asks
+questions should not be allowed in society; she should be shut away
+from her fellow-creatures, as a thing to be avoided. I am no talker
+myself, at least not in the sense men mean.—Shall I play to you?’
+
+Le Gautier would have asked nothing better than to sit there feasting
+his eyes upon her matchless beauty; but now he assented eagerly to
+the suggestion. Music is an accomplishment which forces flirtation;
+besides which, he could stand close to her side, turning over the
+leaves with opportunities which a quiet conversation never furnishes.
+Taking him at his word, she sat down at the instrument and commenced
+to play. It might have been brilliant or despicably bad, opera or
+oratorio, anything to the listener; he was far too deeply engrossed in
+the player to have any sense alive to the music. Perfectly collected,
+she did not fail to note this, and when she had finished, she looked
+up in his passionate face with a glance melting and tender, yet wholly
+womanly. It took all Le Gautier’s self-command to restrain himself
+from snatching her to his heart in his madness and covering the dark
+face with kisses. He was reckless now, too far gone to disguise his
+admiration, and she knew it. With one final crash upon the keys she
+rose from her seat, confronting him.
+
+‘Do not leave off yet,’ he urged, and saying this, he laid his hand
+upon her arm. She started, trembling, as if some deadly thing had stung
+her. To her it was a sting; to him, the evidence of awaking passion,
+and he, poor fool, felt his heart beat faster. She sat down again,
+panting a little, as from some inward emotion. ‘As you please,’ she
+said. ‘Shall I sing to you?’
+
+‘Sweeter than the voice of the nightingales to me!’ he exclaimed
+passionately. ‘Yes, do sing. I shall close my eyes, and fancy myself in
+paradise.’
+
+‘Your imagination must be a powerful one.—Do you know this?’
+
+Isodore took a piece of music from the stand, a simple Italian air,
+and placed it in his hands. He turned over the leaves carelessly,
+and returned it to her with a gesture of denial. There was a curious
+smile upon her lips as she sat down to sing, a smile that puzzled and
+bewildered him.
+
+‘Do you not know it?’ she asked, when the last chords died away.
+
+‘Now you have sung it, I think I do. It is a sentimental sort of thing,
+do you not think? A little girl I used to know near Rome sang it to me.
+She, I remember, used to imagine it was my favourite song. She was one
+of the romantic schoolgirls, Miss St Jean, and the eyes she used to
+make at me when she sang it are something to be remembered.’
+
+Isodore turned her back sharply and searched among the music. If he
+could only have seen the bitter scorn in the face then—scorn partly for
+him, and wholly for herself. But again she steeled herself.
+
+‘I daresay you gave her some cause, Monsieur Le Gautier,’ she said.
+‘You men of the world, flitting from place to place, think nothing of
+breaking a country heart or two. You may not mean it, perhaps, but so
+it is.’
+
+‘Hearts do not break so easily,’ Le Gautier replied lightly. ‘Perhaps I
+did give the child some cause, as you say. _Pardieu!_ a man tied down
+in a country village must amuse himself, and a little unsophisticated
+human nature is a pleasant chance. She was a little spitfire, I
+remember, and when I left, could not see the matter in a reasonable
+light. There is still some bitter vengeance awaiting me, if I am to
+believe her words.’
+
+‘Then you had best beware. A woman’s heart is a dangerous plaything,’
+Isodore replied. ‘Do you never feel sorry, never experience a pang
+of conscience after such a thing as that? Surely, at times you must
+regret?’
+
+‘I have heard of such a thing as conscience,’ Le Gautier put in airily;
+‘but I must have been born before they came into fashion. No, Miss St
+Jean, I cannot afford to indulge in luxuries.’
+
+‘And the League takes up so much of your time. And that reminds me. We
+have said nothing yet about your insignia. I may tell you now that it
+is not yet in my hands; but I shall obtain it for you. How bold, how
+reckless you were that night, and yet I do not wonder! At times, the
+sense of restraint must bear heavy upon a man of spirit.’
+
+‘Thank you, from the bottom of my heart,’ Le Gautier fervently
+exclaimed. ‘You are too good to me.—Yes,’ he continued, ‘there are
+times when I feel the burden sorely—times like the present, let us say,
+when I have a foretaste of happier things. If I had you by my side, I
+could defy the world.’
+
+Isodore looked at him and laughed, her wonderful magnetic smile making
+her eyes aglow and full of dazzling tints.
+
+‘That could not be,’ she said. ‘I would have no divided attentions; I
+would have a man’s whole heart, or nothing. I have too long been alone
+in the world not to realise what a full meed of affection means.’
+
+‘You should have all mine!’ Le Gautier cried, carried away by the
+torrent of his passions. ‘No longer should the League bind me. I would
+be free, if it cost ten thousand lives! No chains should hold me then,
+for, by heaven, I would not hesitate to betray it!’
+
+‘Hush, hush!’ Isodore exclaimed in a startled whisper. ‘You do not
+understand what you are saying. You do not comprehend the meaning of
+your words. Would you betray the Brotherhood?’
+
+‘Ay, if you but say the word—ten thousand Brotherhoods.’
+
+‘I am not bound by solemn oath like you,’ Isodore replied sadly; ‘and
+at times I think it could never do good. It is too dark and mysterious
+and too violent to my taste; but you are bound in honour.’
+
+‘But suppose I was to come to you and say I was free?’ Le Gautier asked
+hoarsely. ‘To tell you that my hands were no longer fettered—what words
+would you have to say to me then—Marie?’ He hesitated before he uttered
+the last word, dwelling upon it in an accent of the deepest tenderness.
+Apparently, Isodore did not notice, for her eyes were sad, her thoughts
+evidently far away.
+
+‘I do not know what I should say to you—in time.’
+
+‘Your words are like new life to me,’ Le Gautier exclaimed; ‘they give
+me hope and strength, and in my undertaking I shall succeed.’
+
+‘You will do nothing rash, nothing headstrong, without telling me.
+Let me know when you are coming to see me again, and we will talk the
+matter over; but I fear, without treachery, you never can be free.’
+
+‘Anything to be my own master!’ he retorted fervently.—‘Good-night,
+and remember that any step I may take will be for you.’ With a long
+lingering pressure of the hand and many burning glances, he was gone.
+
+Isodore heard his retreating footsteps echoing down the stairs, and
+thence along the silent street. The mask fell from her face; she
+clenched her hands, and her countenance was crossed with a hundred
+angry passions. Valerie entering at that moment, looked at her with
+something like fear.
+
+‘Sit down, Valerie,’ Isodore whispered hoarsely, in a voice like the
+tones of one in great pain, as she walked impatiently about the room,
+her hands twisted together convulsively. ‘Do not be afraid; I shall be
+better presently. I feel as if I want to scream, or do some desperate
+thing to-night. He has been here, Valerie; how I sustained myself, I
+cannot tell.’
+
+‘Did he recognise you?’ Valerie asked timidly.
+
+‘Recognise me? No, indeed! He spoke about the old days by the Mattio
+woods, the old times when we were together, and laughed at me for a
+romantic schoolgirl. I nearly stabbed him then. There is treachery
+afloat; his plan is prospering. As I told you it would be, Maxwell is
+chosen for the Roman mission; but he will never do the deed, for I
+shall warn Visci myself. And he was my bro——Visci’s friend!’
+
+‘But what are you going to do now?’ Valerie asked.
+
+‘He is a traitor. He is going to betray the League, and I am going
+to be his confidant. I saw it in his face. I wonder how I bear it—I
+wonder I do not die! What would they say if they saw Isodore now?—Come,
+Valerie, come and hold me tightly in your arms—tighter still. If I do
+not have a little pity, my poor heart will break.’
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Long and earnestly did Salvarini and Maxwell sit in the latter’s studio
+discussing the events of the evening, till the fire had burnt down
+to ashes and the clock in the neighbouring steeple struck three. It
+was settled that Maxwell should go to Rome, though with what ulterior
+object they did not decide. Time was in his favour, the lapse of a
+month or so in the commission being a matter of little object to the
+League. They preferred that vengeance should be deferred for a time,
+and that the blow might be struck when it was least expected, when
+the victim was just beginning to imagine himself safe and the matter
+forgotten.
+
+‘I suppose I had better lose no time in going?’ Maxwell observed, when
+they had discussed the matter thoroughly. ‘Time and distance are no
+objects to me, or money either.’
+
+‘As to your time of departure, I should say as soon as possible,’
+Salvarini replied; ‘and as to money, the League finds that.’
+
+‘I would not touch a penny of it, Luigi—no, not if I was starving. I
+could not soil my fingers with their blood-money.—What do you say to my
+starting on Monday night? I could get to Rome by Thursday morning at
+the latest.—And yet, to what good? I almost feel inclined to refuse,
+and bid them do their worst.’
+
+‘For heaven’s sake, do not!’ Salvarini implored. ‘Such a thing is worse
+than folly. If you assume a readiness to fulfil your undertaking,
+something may turn up in your favour.’ Maxwell gazed moodily in the
+dead ashes, and cursed the hot-headed haste which had placed him in
+that awful position. Like every right-minded man, he shrank with horror
+from such a cowardly crime.
+
+‘You will never attain your ends,’ he said. ‘Your cause is a noble one;
+but true liberty, perfect freedom, turns against cold-blooded murder;
+for call it what you will, it is nothing else.’
+
+‘You are right, my friend,’ Salvarini mournfully replied. ‘No good can
+come of it; and when reprisals come, as they must, they shall be swift
+and terrible.—But Frederick,’ he continued, laying his hand on the
+other’s shoulder, ‘do not blame me too deeply, for I will lay down my
+own life cheerfully before harm shall come to you.’
+
+Maxwell was not aware that Sir Geoffrey Charteris was a member of the
+League, as Le Gautier had taken care to keep them apart, so far as
+business matters were concerned, only allowing the baronet to attend
+such meetings as were perfectly harmless in their general character,
+and calculated to inspire him with admiration of the philanthropic
+schemes and self-denying usefulness of the Brotherhood; nor was it the
+Frenchman’s intention to admit him any deeper into its secrets; indeed,
+his admission only formed part of the scheme by which the baronet, and
+through him his daughter, should be entirely in the Frenchman’s power.
+The cards were sorted, and, once Maxwell was out of the way, the game
+was ready to be played. All this the artist did not know.
+
+With a heavy heart and a foreboding of coming evil, he made the simple
+preparations for his journey. He had delayed to the last the task of
+informing Enid of his departure, partly from a distaste of alarming
+her, and partly out of fear. It would look more natural, he thought,
+to break it suddenly, merely saying he had been called to Rome on
+pressing business, and that his absence would not be a prolonged one.
+Till Saturday, he put this off, and then, bracing up his nerves, he
+got into his cab, and was driven off rapidly in the direction of
+Grosvenor Square. He was roused from his meditations by a shock and a
+crash, the sound of broken glass, the sight of two plunging horses on
+the ground—roused by being shot forward violently, by the shouts of
+the crowd, and above all, by the piercing scream of a woman’s voice.
+Scrambling out as best he could, he rose to his feet and looked around.
+His cab had come violently in collision with another in the centre of
+Piccadilly. A woman had attempted to cross hurriedly; and the two cabs
+had swerved suddenly, coming together sharply, but not too late to save
+the woman, who was lying there, in the centre of an eager, excited
+crowd, perfectly unconscious, the blood streaming down her white face,
+and staining her light summer dress. A doctor had raised her a little,
+and was trying to force some brandy between the clenched teeth, as
+Maxwell pushed his way through the crowd.
+
+‘Nothing very serious,’ he said, in answer to Maxwell’s question.
+‘She is simply stunned by the blow, and has sustained, I should say,
+a simple fracture of the right arm. She must be moved from here at
+once.—If you will call a cab, I will take her to a hospital.’
+
+‘No, no!’ Maxwell cried, moved to pity by the pale fair face and slight
+girlish figure. ‘I am mainly responsible for the accident, and you must
+allow me to be the best judge. My cab, you see, is almost uninjured;
+put her in there, and I will tell you where to drive.’
+
+They lifted the unconscious girl and placed her tenderly on the seat.
+There were warm hearts and sympathetic hands there, as you may notice
+on such occasions as these, and there was a look of feeling in every
+face as the cab drove slowly away.
+
+‘Go on to Grosvenor Square,’ Maxwell instructed his man. ‘Drive slowly
+up New Bond Street. We shall be there as soon as you.’
+
+They arrived at Sir Geoffrey’s house together, considerably astonishing
+the footman, as, without ceremony, they carried the sufferer in.
+Alarmed by strange voices and the shrieks of the servants, who had come
+up at the first alarm, Enid made her appearance to demand the meaning
+of this unseemly noise; but directly she heard the cause, as coherently
+as Maxwell could tell her, her face changed, and she became at once all
+tenderness and womanly sympathy.
+
+‘I knew you would not mind, darling,’ he whispered gratefully. ‘I
+hardly knew what to do, and it was partly my fault.’
+
+‘You did quite right. Of course I do not mind. Fred, what do you take
+me for?’ She knelt down beside the injured woman there in the hall, in
+the presence of all the servants, and helped to carry her up the stairs.
+
+Lucrece looked on for a moment, and then a startled look came in her
+face. ‘Ah!’ she exclaimed, ‘I know that face—it is Linda Despard.’
+
+Enid heard these words, but did not heed them at the time. They carried
+the girl into one of the rooms and laid her on the bed. At a sign
+from the doctor, the room was cleared, with the exception of Enid and
+Lucrece, and the medical man proceeded to look to the broken limb. It
+was only a very simple fracture, he said. The gravest danger was from
+the shock to the system and the wound upon the forehead. Presently,
+they got her comfortably in bed, breathing regularly, and apparently
+asleep. The good-natured doctor, waving aside all thanks, left the
+room, promising to call again later in the day.
+
+
+
+
+FOUNDLING QUOTATIONS.
+
+
+Quotations play no small part in conversation and general literature.
+There are some which we know must inevitably be made under certain
+circumstances. It is almost impossible, for instance, for the
+conventional novelist, when he wants to convey to his readers the fact
+that his heroine’s nose is of a particular order—which, formerly,
+through our lack of invention, we could only describe by a somewhat
+ungraceful term—to avoid quoting Lord Tennyson’s description of the
+feature as it graced Lynette’s fair face—‘Tip-tilted like the petal of
+a flower.’ We feel sure that it must come; and there is now, happily,
+no occasion for a young lady in the position of one of Miss Braddon’s
+earlier heroines, when listening to a detailed description of her
+appearance, to interrupt the speaker, as he is about to mention the
+characteristics of her nose, with a beseeching, ‘Please, don’t say
+_pug_!’
+
+And then, does anybody ever expect to read a description of a certain
+celebrated Scotch ruin, without being told that
+
+    If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright,
+    Go visit it by the pale moonlight?
+
+or to get through an account of the ancient gladiatorial games at Rome
+without coming across the line,
+
+    Butchered to make a Roman holiday?
+
+You know, perhaps, what praise Mark Twain took to himself because he
+did _not_ quote this line. ‘If any man has a right,’ he says, ‘to feel
+proud of himself and satisfied, surely it is I; for I have written
+about the Coliseum, and the gladiators, the martyrs, and the lions, and
+yet have never used the phrase, “Butchered to make a Roman holiday.”
+I am the only free white man of mature age who has accomplished
+this since Byron originated the expression.’ This little piece of
+self-congratulation rather reminds one of the lady who was accused of
+never being able to write a letter without adding a P.S. At last, she
+managed to write one without the usual addition; but when she saw what
+she had succeeded in doing, she wrote: ‘P.S.—At last, you see, I have
+written a letter without a P.S.’ And so, though Mark Twain managed to
+steer clear of the hackneyed quotation in the body of his account, he
+could not help running against it in a P.S.
+
+Then we have all the multitude of Shaksperean quotations which are
+sure to be heard in their accustomed places, many of which, indeed,
+have become—to quote again—such ‘household words,’ that to very many
+people they do not appear to be quotations at all, but merely every-day
+expressions, of the same order as ‘A fine day’ or ‘A biting wind.’
+
+Again, when we read of some cheerful fireside scene, when the curtains
+are drawn closely against the winter wind that is roaring round the
+house, and the logs are crackling and spitting in the grate, and the
+urn is hissing and steaming upon the table, don’t we know that a
+reference to the ‘cup which cheers but not inebriates’ is certainly
+coming? This, by the way, is a line that is almost invariably
+incorrectly quoted, and it is the usual and incorrect form that we have
+given. We shall leave our readers to turn up the line for themselves,
+and see what the correct form is, and then, perhaps, the trouble they
+will thereby have had will serve to impress it upon their minds, and
+prevent them again quoting it incorrectly.
+
+But it was not with the intention of talking about these well-known
+and every-day quotations from Tennyson, Scott, Byron, Shakspeare, and
+Cowper that we thought of writing this paper. We want to talk about a
+few quotations, quite as well known as those to which we have already
+alluded, which have been so bandied about that all trace, or nearly
+all trace, of their original parish and paternity has been lost; and,
+though they are as familiar to us as the most hackneyed phrases from
+our best known poets, no one can say with certainty by whom they were
+first spoken or written.
+
+A good many wagers have been made as to the source of the well-known
+and much-quoted couplet:
+
+    He that fights and runs away,
+    May live to fight another day.
+
+The popular belief is that they are to be found in Butler’s _Hudibras_.
+But the pages of that poem may be turned over and over again, and the
+lines will not be found in them. We may as well say at once that they
+cannot be found anywhere in the exact form in which they are usually
+quoted. The late Mr James Yeowell, formerly sub-editor of _Notes
+and Queries_, once thought that he had discovered their author in
+Oliver Goldsmith, as a couplet, varying very slightly from the form
+we have given, occurs in _The Art of Poetry on a New Plan_, which was
+compiled by Newbery—the children’s publisher—more than a century ago,
+and revised and enlarged by Goldsmith. But the lines are to be found
+in a book that was published some thirteen years before _The Art of
+Poetry_, namely, Ray’s _History of the Rebellion_. There they appear as
+a quotation, and no hint is given as to the source from which they are
+taken. Ray gives them as follows (first edition, 1749, page 54):
+
+    He that fights and runs away,
+    May turn and fight another day.
+
+Though this is the earliest appearance in print of the exact words, or
+almost the exact words, in which the quotation is now usually given,
+it is by no means the earliest appearance of a similar thought. Even
+as far back as Demosthenes we find it. It appears, too, in Scarron, in
+his _Virgile Travesti_, if we remember rightly. And now we must confess
+that the still prevailing belief that the lines occur in _Hudibras_
+is not entirely without a _raison d’être_, and it is not impossible
+that Ray may have thought he was quoting Butler, preserving some hazy
+and indistinct recollection of lines read long ago, and putting their
+meaning, perhaps quite unwittingly and unconsciously, into a new and
+unauthorised form. This, however, is mere conjecture. The lines, as
+they appear in _Hudibras_ (part iii. canto iii., lines 243, 244), are
+as follows:
+
+    For those that fly, may fight again,
+    Which he can never do that’s slain.
+
+We may just add that Collet, in his _Relics of Literature_, says that
+the couplet occurs in a small volume of miscellaneous poems by Sir John
+Mennis, written in the reign of Charles II. With this book, however, we
+are unacquainted, and cannot, therefore, discuss the appearance of the
+foundling lines in it, or what claims its author may have to be their
+legitimate parent.
+
+All readers of Tennyson—and who that reads at all is not numbered
+amongst them?—know well the opening stanza of _In Memoriam_:
+
+    I held it truth, with him who sings
+      To one clear harp in divers tones,
+      That men may rise on stepping-stones
+    Of their dead selves to higher things.
+
+These lines contain another quotation of the order we have designated
+as ‘Foundling Quotations.’ Who is the singer, ‘to one clear harp in
+divers tones,’ to whom Lord Tennyson refers? Passages from Seneca and
+from St Augustine (Bishop of Hippo) have been suggested as inspiring
+the poet when he penned the lines; but neither Seneca nor St Augustine
+can be said to _sing_ ‘to one clear harp in divers tones.’ Perhaps
+the most reasonable hypothesis is that Lord Tennyson had in his mind
+Longfellow’s beautiful poem of _St Augustine’s Ladder_, the opening
+lines of which are:
+
+    Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
+      That of our vices we can frame
+    A ladder, if we will but tread
+      Beneath our feet each deed of shame!
+
+and the closing ones:
+
+    Nor deem the irrevocable Past
+      As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
+    If, rising on its wrecks, at last
+      To something nobler we attain.
+
+The question, however, though Lord Tennyson is still alive, is one
+that is not likely ever to be clearly solved; for we have very good
+authority for saying that he has himself quite forgotten of what poet
+or verses he was thinking when he composed the first stanza of _In
+Memoriam_.
+
+The equally well-known
+
+                      This is truth the poet sings,
+    That a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things,
+
+in _Locksley Hall_, refers, of course, to the line in Dante’s _Inferno_.
+
+The trite ‘Not lost, but gone before,’ might alone provide
+subject-matter for a fairly long essay. Like the other quotations
+which we are discussing, it can be definitely assigned to no author.
+The thought can be traced back as far as the time of Antiphanes, a
+portion of whose eleventh ‘fragment,’ Cumberland has translated, fairly
+literally, as follows:
+
+    Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before,
+    Advanced a stage or two upon that road
+    Which you must travel, in the steps they trod.
+
+Seneca, in his ninety-ninth Epistle, says: ‘Quem putas periisse,
+præmissus est’ (He whom you think dead has been sent on before); and he
+also has: ‘Non amittuntur, sed præmittuntur’ (They are not lost, but
+are sent on before), which corresponds very closely with the popular
+form of the quotation. Cicero has the remark that ‘Friends, though
+absent, are still present;’ and it is very probable that it is to this
+phrase of Cicero that we are really indebted for the modern, ‘Not lost,
+but gone before.’ We may note that Rogers, in his _Human Life_, has,
+‘Not dead, but gone before.’
+
+Then there is the somewhat similar, ‘Though lost to sight, to memory
+dear,’ which no one has succeeded in satisfactorily tracing to its
+original source. It was said, some years ago, that the line was to be
+found in a poem published in a journal whose name was given as _The
+Greenwich Magazine_, in 1701, and written by one Ruthven Jenkyns. The
+words formed the refrain of each stanza of the poem. We give one of
+them as a sample:
+
+    Sweetheart, good-bye! the fluttering sail
+    Is spread to waft me far from thee;
+    And soon before the fav’ring gale
+    My ship shall bound upon the sea.
+    Perchance all desolate and forlorn,
+    These eyes shall miss thee many a year,
+    But unforgotten every charm—
+    Though lost to sight, to memory dear.
+
+Mr Bartlett, however, in the last edition of his _Dictionary of
+Quotations_, has demolished this story of Mr Ruthven Jenkyns; and the
+line is still unclaimed and fatherless. Probably, as in the case of the
+last mentioned, ‘Not lost, but gone before,’ its germ is to be found in
+an expression of Cicero.
+
+There is a Latin line familiar to all of us, ‘Tempora mutantur, nos et
+mutamur in illis’ (The times change, and we change with them), which
+we are frequently hearing and seeing. This is a much-abused line;
+probably there is none more so; and we do not think we shall be guilty
+of exaggeration if we say that it is misquoted ten times for every time
+it is correctly cited. The positions of the _nos_ and the _et_ are
+usually interchanged; the result being, of course, a false quantity;
+for the line is a hexameter. Now, who first wrote this line? The answer
+must be, as in the cases of all our other ‘Foundling Quotations,’ that
+we do not know. But in this particular instance we may venture to be
+a little more certain and definite in our remarks concerning its
+pedigree than we have dared to be in previous ones. There can be little
+doubt that the line is a corruption of one to be found in the _Delitiæ
+Poetarum Germanorum_ (vol. i. page 685), amongst the poems of Matthias
+Borbonius, who considers it a saying of Lotharius I., who flourished,
+as the phrase goes, about 830 A.D. We give the correct form of the line
+in question, and the one which follows it:
+
+    Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis;
+    Illa vices quasdem res habet, illa suas.
+
+There is another foundling Latin line, almost as frequently quoted as
+the one we have just been discussing, namely, ‘Quos Deus vult perdere,
+prius dementat’ (Whom the gods would destroy, they first madden).
+Concerning this there is a note in the fifth chapter of the eighth
+volume of Mr Croker’s edition of Boswell’s _Life of Johnson_, in which
+it is said to be a translation from a Greek iambic of Euripides, which
+is quoted; but no such line is to be found amongst the writings of
+Euripides. Words, however, expressing the same sentiment are to be
+found in a fragment of Athenagoras; and it is most likely that the
+Latin phrase now so commonly quoted is merely a translation from this
+writer’s Greek, though by whom it was first made we cannot say. The
+same sentiment has been expressed more than once in English poetry.
+
+Dryden, in the third part of _The Hind and the Panther_, has:
+
+    For those whom God to ruin has designed,
+    He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.
+
+And Butler writes in _Hudibras_ (part iii. canto ii., lines 565, 566):
+
+    Like men condemned to thunder-bolts,
+    Who, ere the blow, become mere dolts.
+
+Further consideration will probably bring to the reader’s mind other
+examples of these ‘Foundling Quotations’ which have won for themselves
+an imperishable existence; though their authors, whose names these
+few-syllabled sentences might have kept alive for ever, if they were
+only linked the one with the other, are now utterly unknown and
+forgotten. Any one who can succeed in discovering the real authorship
+of the quotations we have been considering will win for himself the
+credit of having solved problems which have long and persistently
+baffled the most curious and diligent research.
+
+
+
+
+MISS MASTERMAN’S DISCOVERY.
+
+
+IN TWO CHAPTERS.—CHAP. I.
+
+Miss Phœbe Masterman was a spinster over whose head some fifty summers
+had flown—with, it may be presumed, incredible swiftness to herself.
+She was very comfortably situated with regard to this world’s goods,
+having inherited ample means from her father, a native of Durham, who
+had made a considerable fortune as a coal-merchant. At the time of her
+father’s death, she was thirty-five; and as she had no near relative
+in whom to interest herself, she established an Orphanage for twelve
+girls at Bradborough, a market-town in the north of England, within two
+miles of the coast. Brought up in the strictest conformity with Miss
+Masterman’s peculiar views, dressed with the most rigid simplicity,
+fed on the plainest fare, taught to look upon the mildest forms of
+recreation as vanity and vexation of spirit, these fortunate orphans,
+one would think, could hardly fail to become virtuous and happy; yet,
+inconceivable as it may appear, there were legends that orphans had
+been seen with red eyes and countenances expressive of anything but
+content; there was even a dark rumour to the effect that one of them
+had been heard to declare that if she only had the opportunity she
+would gladly commit a crime, that she might be sent to prison, and so
+escape from the thraldom of Miss Masterman!
+
+But even this ingratitude and depravity paled before that of the Rev.
+Shanghan Lambe, incumbent of the little church of St Mary’s. Now, Miss
+Masterman had built that church for the good of the district, and the
+living was in her own gift. Yet Mr Lambe, entirely ignoring the latter
+fact, had had the hardihood to baptise an orphan in Miss Masterman’s
+absence without previously obtaining the permission of that lady;
+upon which the indignant lady declared that unless he promised not to
+interfere with her orphans, she would withdraw all her subscriptions
+and leave him to find his own income. Nor was this all. There were
+other reasons to make Mr Lambe pause before quarrelling with Miss
+Masterman. Before he was appointed to St Mary’s, he had been only a
+poor curate with a stipend of fifty pounds a year, which munificent
+income he had found totally inadequate to his wants and those of an
+aged mother who was dependent on him; consequently, he had entered upon
+his duties at Bradborough shackled with small debts to the amount of a
+hundred pounds.
+
+Miss Masterman, who made a point of inquiring into every one’s affairs,
+soon became aware of this, and as want of generosity was by no means to
+be numbered among her failings, she rightly judged that it would not
+be reasonable to expect a man to give his mind to his work if he were
+weighed down by other cares; so, in an evil hour for himself, poor Mr
+Lambe accepted from the lady a sum of money sufficient to defray his
+debts—a sum for which, as he soon found, he would have to pay compound
+interest in the way of blind obedience to Miss Masterman’s behests. Not
+a funeral could be performed, not a marriage could be solemnised, not
+an infant could be baptised, without Miss Masterman’s permission; and
+it was even asserted by some that Miss Masterman selected the texts for
+the poor man’s sermons! The only oasis in his desert was the annual
+departure of Miss Masterman for change of air; then, and then only,
+did Mr Lambe breathe in peace. For a brief period, he felt that he was
+really master of himself. He could sit down and smoke his pipe without
+fear that his sitting-room door would be rudely flung open by an
+imperious female of fierce aspect, who would lecture him on his sinful
+extravagance in the use of tobacco, when he couldn’t pay his debts.
+
+One bright August morning, Miss Masterman was seated at her breakfast
+table, and having concluded her meal, had taken up the morning paper
+and was studying the advertisements, holding the paper at arm’s-length
+with an air of grim combativeness, as if she were prepared to give
+battle to any or all the advertisers who did not offer exactly what she
+sought. Suddenly, she pounced upon the following: ‘A Home is offered in
+a Country Rectory by a Rector and his family for two or three months
+to a Single Lady needing change of air. House, with large grounds,
+conservatories, pony-carriage, beautiful scenery.—Address, Rector,
+_Clerical Times Office_.’
+
+‘That will do,’ said Miss Masterman to herself; and, with her usual
+promptitude, she sat down then and there and wrote to the advertiser,
+asking particulars as to terms, &c. And in due course she received
+an answer so perfectly satisfactory in every respect, that the end
+of the month found her comfortably installed in the charming rectory
+of Sunnydale, in the county of Hampshire, in the family of the Rev.
+Stephen Draycott, rector of Sunnydale.
+
+The rector’s family, besides himself and his wife, consisted of two
+sons and two daughters, all grown up, with the exception of Master
+Hubert, a boy of ten years old, who was endowed with such a remarkable
+fund of animal spirits that he was the terror of the neighbourhood;
+and from the first moment of Miss Masterman’s arrival, he became the
+special _bête noire_ of that lady. With all the other members of the
+family, Miss Masterman was much pleased. The rector himself was a
+polished and dignified person, and by the extreme, if rather laboured,
+courtesy of his manners, he endeavoured to tone down the somewhat
+exuberant spirits of the rest of his family. Mrs Draycott was a gentle,
+refined matron, with a sweet, though rather weary face, and was simply
+adored by her husband and children. The two daughters, Adela and
+Magdalen, were charming girls, full of fun, and very popular with their
+two brothers, of whom the senior, Clive, was aged nineteen.
+
+To the young people, Miss Masterman’s arrival was little short of
+a calamity; they were so much in the habit of freely stating their
+opinions on all subjects without restraint, that the presence of a
+stranger appeared to them an unmitigated bore. It was in vain that
+their mother reminded them that the handsome sum paid by Miss Masterman
+for her board would be a very desirable addition to the family
+exchequer. At a sort of cabinet council held after she had retired to
+her room the first night after her arrival, Master Hubert expressed, in
+schoolboy slang, his conviction that she was a ‘ghastly old crumpet;’ a
+nickname which she retained until a servant one day brought in a letter
+which, she said, was addressed to ‘Miss Pobe Masterman;’ from which
+moment, Miss Masterman went by the name of ‘Pobe’ till the end of her
+visit—a piece of irreverence of which that lady happily remained quite
+unconscious.
+
+By the time Miss Masterman had settled down in her new abode, the
+principal ladies of the parish came to call upon her; and as some of
+them were not only rich but very highly connected, Miss Masterman
+greatly appreciated their kind attentions. Among them was a Lady
+O’Leary, an Irish widow, with whom Miss Masterman soon struck up a
+great intimacy. Lady O’Leary was generally believed to be a person
+of large fortune; but as this supposition was based entirely on her
+own representations with regard to property in Ireland, there were
+some sceptical spirits who declined to believe in it as an established
+fact. Lady O’Leary shared three furnished rooms with a Miss Moone, who
+lived with her as companion; and it soon became quite an institution
+for Miss Masterman to take tea with her two or three times a week at
+least. On these occasions, the two ladies—for Miss Moone discreetly
+withdrew when Lady O’Leary had visitors—discussed all the affairs
+of the parish, until, by degrees, they got upon such thoroughly
+confidential terms, that before long they had imparted to each other
+their joint conviction that the general moral tone of the parish was
+lamentably low, and that it was doubtless owing in a great measure to
+the deplorably frivolous conduct of the family at the rectory; for Miss
+Masterman had discovered, to her amazement and horror, that the rector
+not only permitted his daughters to read Shakspeare, but even gave them
+direct encouragement to do so. Nor was this all; he actually was in the
+habit, once a year, of taking all his children up to London to see the
+pantomime at Drury Lane!
+
+Among the more frequent visitors at the rectory was a Mrs Penrose, an
+exceedingly pretty young widow, who had recently taken a small house
+in the village, where she lived very quietly with an old servant,
+who appeared greatly attached to her mistress. The widow, who was
+apparently not more than five-and-twenty, was a charming brunette, with
+sparkling black eyes, and hair like waves of shining brown satin; and
+her sweet face and animated manners made her generally very popular
+in the village, where she visited the poor and assisted the rector in
+various parochial works of charity. Especially was she a favourite at
+the rectory, not only with Mr and Mrs Draycott, but with the young
+people, her presence in the family circle invariably giving rise to
+so much hilarity, that even the rector was attracted by the general
+merriment, and would leave his study to come and sit with his family,
+and allow himself to join in their mirth at Mrs Penrose’s lively
+sallies. Indeed, he had even been heard to declare, in Miss Masterman’s
+hearing, to that lady’s unspeakable disgust, that when he was fagged
+and worried with the necessary work of a parish, a few minutes of Mrs
+Penrose’s cheerful society acted on his mind like a tonic.
+
+Miss Masterman, from the first, had taken an extraordinary antipathy to
+Mrs Penrose, who appeared to her to be everything that a widow ought
+not to be! Her bright face and unflagging spirits were a constant
+offence to the elder lady, though she had often been told that the late
+Captain Penrose was such a worthless man that his early death, brought
+about entirely by his own excesses, could be nothing but an intense
+relief to his young widow, who was now enjoying the reaction, after
+five years of married misery. Miss Masterman’s dislike to Mrs Penrose
+was fully shared by her friend Lady O’Leary; and they both agreed that
+the widow was in all probability a designing adventuress, and deplored
+the infatuation which evidently blinded the rector as to her real
+character, for, as Lady O’Leary observed: ‘Though it was given out that
+Mrs Penrose was the particular friend of _Mrs_ Draycott, the rector’s
+partiality was obvious!’
+
+Miss Masterman had been at Sunnydale for six weeks, when one morning
+she received a letter from her housekeeper, informing her that Mr Lambe
+had taken upon himself to remark that the orphans were looking pale and
+jaded, and that he was going to take them all to spend a day at the
+seaside. Miss Masterman, on reading this letter, felt most indignant,
+and at once wrote to Mr Lambe to forbid the proposed excursion; and
+after enumerating the many obligations under which she had laid him—not
+forgetting the hundred pounds she had lent him—she concluded by
+expressing her surprise that he should presume to interfere with her
+special protégées in any way whatever.
+
+To this Mr Lambe replied that he was ‘extremely sorry if he had
+offended Miss Masterman; that he had imagined that she would be pleased
+for the orphans to have the treat, particularly as some of them
+looked far from well; but that, having promised the children, it was
+impossible for him to break his word, particularly as he had ordered a
+van for their conveyance and made all the necessary arrangements for
+the trip; he therefore trusted that Miss Masterman would forgive him if
+he still kept his promise to his little friends.’
+
+Furious at this unexpected opposition to her will, Miss Masterman at
+once went in search of Mrs Draycott to inform her that it was necessary
+for her to go home for a week or ten days on business of importance.
+Finding that Mrs Draycott was not at home, she repaired to the rector’s
+study, and after knocking at the door, and being told to enter, she
+informed Mr Draycott of her intentions. Saying that she must write home
+at once, she was about to withdraw, when Mr Draycott courteously asked
+her if she would not write in the study, to save time, as he was just
+going out. Miss Masterman thanked him; and as soon as he had gone, sat
+down and wrote to her housekeeper to say that she would be at home the
+following day without fail. Having finished her letter, she was about
+to leave the room, when she observed a note in a lady’s handwriting,
+which had apparently slipped out of the blotting-pad on to the floor.
+She picked it up, and was about to return it to its place, when the
+signature, ‘Florence Penrose,’ caught her eye. ‘What can that frivolous
+being have to say to the rector?’ thought Miss Masterman; and feeling
+that her curiosity was too strong to be resisted, she unfolded the
+note, and read the following words:
+
+    MY DEAR FRIEND—I have just received the diamonds, which are exactly
+    what I wanted. The baby’s cloak and hood will do very well. I have
+    now nearly all that I require. My only terror is, lest our secret
+    should be discovered.—In great haste. Yours, as ever,
+
+                                                       FLORENCE PENROSE.
+
+    _P.S._—I hope you won’t forget to supply me with plenty of flowers.
+
+Here was a discovery! For a few moments Miss Masterman sat motionless
+with horror; her head was in a whirl, and she had to collect her
+thoughts before she could make up her mind what to do. The first
+definite idea that occurred to her was to secure the note; the next
+was, to show it to Lady O’Leary and to discuss with her what was to be
+done. As soon, therefore, as she had completed all her arrangements
+for her journey on the morrow, she repaired to her friend’s lodgings;
+and after Lady O’Leary had fairly exhausted all the expletives that
+even her extensive Irish vocabulary could supply, to express her
+horror and detestation of the conduct of the rector and Mrs Penrose,
+the two ladies laid their heads together, and seriously discussed the
+advisability of writing to the bishop of the diocese and sending him
+the incriminating letter. However, they finally decided to do nothing
+before Miss Masterman’s return to Sunnydale; and in the meantime,
+Lady O’Leary undertook to be on the watch, and to keep her friend _au
+courant_ as to what was going on in the parish.
+
+It was late that evening when Miss Masterman returned to the rectory,
+and by going up directly to her room, she avoided meeting the rector.
+The next morning she pleaded headache as an excuse for having her
+breakfast sent up to her; and did not come down until, from her window,
+she had seen Mr Draycott leave the house, knowing he would be away for
+some hours. He left a polite message with his wife, regretting that he
+had not been able to say good-bye in person to Miss Masterman.
+
+‘The wily hypocrite!’ thought that lady. ‘He little thinks that his
+guilt is no secret to me. But such atrocity shall not go unpunished!’
+
+When she took leave of Mrs Draycott, she astonished that lady by
+holding her hand for some moments as she gazed mournfully into her
+face; then, with a final commiserating glance, the worthy spinster
+hurried into her fly. As she drove away, she leant forward and waved
+her hand to the assembled family with such effusion, that Mrs Draycott
+exclaimed: ‘Dear me, I fear I have done Miss Masterman injustice. I had
+no idea that she possessed so much feeling as she showed just now. One
+would really think she was going for good, instead of only ten days!’
+
+‘No such luck,’ cried the irrepressible Hubert. ‘But, at all events, we
+have got rid of her for a week at least; so now, we’ll enjoy ourselves,
+and forget all about “Pobe” till she turns up again!’—a resolution
+which the young gentleman did not fail to keep most faithfully.
+
+In the meantime, Miss Masterman was busily employed at Bradborough in
+quelling orphans and other myrmidons, and reducing things in general
+to complete subjection to her will; but with regard to Mr Lambe, she
+found her task more difficult than she expected. In fact, the worm had
+turned; and on her summoning him to her presence and opening the vials
+of her wrath on his devoted head, he calmly but firmly announced his
+intention of sending his resignation to his bishop; which took Miss
+Masterman so completely by surprise, that, in her bewilderment, she
+actually asked him to reconsider his decision. But though she even
+went so far as to give her consent to the orphans having their coveted
+treat, Mr Lambe’s determination was not to be shaken.
+
+The following week flew swiftly away; a good deal of correspondence
+devolved upon Miss Masterman through having to think of a successor to
+Mr Lambe, and the lady of the manor was very much worried. At last,
+however, everything was settled, and Miss Masterman began to think of
+returning to Sunnydale, where, as she felt, fresh anxieties and most
+painful duties awaited her.
+
+
+
+
+POPULAR LEGAL FALLACIES.[1]
+
+BY AN EXPERIENCED PRACTITIONER.
+
+
+_DEEDS OF GIFT AND WILLS.—I._
+
+One of the most universally believed fallacies is that it is better to
+make a deed of gift than a will for the disposal of property. Nothing
+can be more dangerous than this delusion, as we have often had occasion
+to observe in the course of our experience. A deed of gift—pure and
+simple—is a document under seal evidencing the fact that certain
+property specified therein has been absolutely given by the donor to
+the donee, without any reservation for the benefit of the former,
+or any power for him to revoke the gift or resume possession of the
+property in any circumstances. If the deed contains a condition that
+the donor shall have the enjoyment of the property during his life, and
+that he shall have a right to recall the gift thereby made, and dispose
+of the property in some other way, then the document is to all intents
+and purposes a will; and if it is only executed and attested as an
+ordinary deed, it is altogether void, in consequence of non-compliance
+with the directions contained in the Wills Act, 1837, which very
+properly requires more precautions against fraud and forgery in the
+case of a will than in the case of a deed. We say ‘very properly,’
+because the will does not take effect during the lifetime of the
+testator; and therefore the greatest safeguard is removed by his death
+before the document can be acted upon or its authenticity be likely to
+be questioned. This is a common oversight. The deed is prepared and
+duly stamped; and in consequence of the insertion of the powers alluded
+to above, it proves to be utterly useless, when, after the decease of
+the donor, his property is claimed by his heir-at-law and next of kin
+because of his having died intestate. It may occasion some surprise
+that any solicitor will prepare a deed which he knows cannot stand
+the test of litigation; but this is not altogether the fault of the
+profession. In many cases, the danger is pointed out; but if the donor
+is determined to dispose of his own property in his own way, who can
+gainsay him? If he cannot get what he requires in one office, he will
+go to another; and we have several times lost clients in consequence
+of our refusal to prepare such a deed; all our arguments being met by
+the reply that there would be no duties to pay to the government if
+the deed were executed; a complete fallacy in many cases, as we have
+afterwards had occasion to know, when we have seen what followed the
+decease of the misguided donor.
+
+On the other hand, if there is a genuine gift, and possession is
+given in accordance with the deed, what then? One case which came
+under our notice may illustrate the danger against which we have
+frequently protested in vain. A retired merchant invested the whole
+of his savings in a freehold estate which would produce sufficient
+annual income to supply all his wants and leave a good margin for
+future accumulations. Being a widower, in somewhat infirm health,
+he took up his residence in the house of his younger son, the elder
+being an irreclaimable reprobate. Unfortunately, the wife of this
+younger son was an artful and avaricious woman, whose sole reason for
+consenting to the arrangement as to residence was the hope of future
+gain. The old gentleman had an insurmountable objection to making a
+will—not an uncommon weakness—as it reminded him too forcibly of the
+time when he would have to leave his fine estate and go over to the
+great majority. At length, after urgent and repeated representations
+as to the risk of his estate being sold by his dissipated heir-at-law
+in case of his dying intestate, he was persuaded to execute a deed
+of gift to his younger son, to whom at the same time he handed the
+title-deeds relating to the estate. Soon afterwards, a quarrel arose
+between the donor and his daughter-in-law; and the latter persuaded her
+husband—whose moral principles were as weak as those of his brother,
+though in a different way—to sell the estate, and then turn his father
+out of his house. After his ignominious dismissal, the poor old
+gentleman went to the house of a nephew, who soon tired of supporting
+him; and eventually he was obliged to go into the workhouse, altogether
+neglected to the time of his death by all his relatives, except his
+graceless elder son; and alas! he could not assist his aged parent, as
+he was himself almost destitute. This may appear to be an extreme case;
+but it is not a solitary one, although it is one of the worst of those
+which have come under our own observation.
+
+This brief narrative may serve as an introduction to the explanation
+of one remarkable peculiarity in the practical working of a deed of
+gift of real estate. Personal property may of course be sold, and
+the sale completed by delivery of the goods or other chattels to the
+purchaser; but actual possession of land is no clue to the ownership
+thereof, the title being evidenced by deeds in the general way, the
+exceptions being those cases in which land has descended to the heir in
+consequence of the intestacy of the former owner; and also those cases
+in which long-continued possession has given an impregnable title to a
+person who was originally a mere trespasser, or at the most a tenant
+whose landlord has been lost sight of. When the freehold estate above
+mentioned was given away and the gift was evidenced by deed and actual
+possession, the donor lost the power of again giving it away either by
+deed or by his will. But he might have sold the property if he could
+have found a purchaser willing to complete without actual possession
+of the title-deeds; which, however, he might afterwards have recovered
+from the holder thereof; the reason for this being, that where there
+are two inconsistent titles, both derived from the same person, but
+one depending upon an actual sale and payment by the purchaser of the
+price agreed upon, while the other rests upon no better foundation
+than a mere voluntary act on the part of the donor, the title of the
+purchaser will prevail, because of the valuable consideration which he
+has paid; while the other person has paid nothing. On the other hand,
+if the donee, before he is dispossessed or his title superseded by a
+conveyance for value, were to sell the property, and if the sale were
+completed and the purchase-money paid, the donor would have lost his
+right to sell. Having placed the donee in a position to make a good
+title to the property, he must take the consequences of his own folly.
+We once had the pleasure of saving for the benefit of the vendor the
+value of an estate which he had previously given away; greatly to the
+astonishment of the donee, who supposed himself to be safely possessed
+of the whole estate.
+
+It will be understood that our remarks have no application to marriage
+settlements or similar documents in which extensive though limited
+powers of appointment are generally reserved to the settler, the power
+extending over the whole estate or a specified part thereof; while the
+persons to be the beneficiaries are strictly defined; and powers are
+also given to him to direct the payment of portions to his younger
+children, and to charge them upon the estate which is comprised in the
+settlement. This is the legitimate way in which a landed proprietor
+can provide for his family; and the only serious objection which has
+ever been made thereto is that it has a tendency to perpetuate the
+descent of the estates, instead of their distribution and subdivision
+into smaller properties. But these documents are beyond the scope of
+this paper. What we strongly object to are voluntary deeds of gift,
+which are generally made for the purpose of avoiding the payment of
+legacy and succession duty, but lead too frequently to disastrous
+consequences. They are beneficial to the legal profession, often
+leading to costly and harassing litigation; but to the intended
+recipients of the bounty of the donor, and sometimes to the donor
+himself, they are in a corresponding degree injurious.
+
+Attention may here be called to the provisions of the Customs and
+Inland Revenue Act, 1881, on the subject of voluntary gifts of personal
+property made for the purpose of avoiding the payment of the duties
+accruing due on the death of the owner of personal estate. By this
+Act, duty is payable at the like rates as the ordinary probate duty
+on voluntary gifts which may have been made by any person dying after
+1st June 1881, whether such gift may have been made in contemplation
+of approaching death or otherwise, if the donor has not lived three
+calendar months afterwards; or by voluntarily causing property to be
+transferred to or vested in himself and some other person jointly, so
+as to give such other person benefit of survivorship; or by deed or
+other instrument not taking effect as a will, whereby an interest
+is reserved to the donor for life, or whereby he may have reserved
+to himself the right, by the exercise of any power, to reclaim the
+absolute interest in such property. This enactment removes the last
+argument in favour of deeds of gift, for they do not now have the
+effect of avoiding the payment of probate duty; and in any event, since
+19th May 1853, succession duty has always been payable in respect of
+the benefit acquired by the successor by reason of the decease of his
+predecessor in title. The case of a voluntary settlement in respect of
+which the stamp duty has been paid is provided for by a direction that
+on production of such deed duly stamped, the stamp duty thereon may be
+returned. Personal estate includes leasehold property.
+
+With respect to wills, the position is very different. Every man who
+has any property of any kind ought to make a will, especially if he
+desires his property to be distributed in any way different from the
+mode prescribed by law in case of his intestacy. Many cases occur in
+which the neglect to make a will is not only foolish but positively
+wrong. A husband has a duty to perform towards his wife which cannot be
+omitted without culpability; and the same may be said of the duty of a
+parent to his children. As to the former, there is a danger which is
+often unsuspected by the owner of real estate. The law provides that
+on the death of such a person intestate, leaving a widow, she shall
+be entitled to dower out of such estate; that is to say, one-third of
+the rents thereof during the remainder of her life; but this right to
+dower is subject to any disposition which the owner of the estate may
+have made thereof, or any charges which he may have created thereon.
+In England, there is no inalienable share of property which the widow
+and children can claim, even as against the devisee, as is the case in
+Scotland. But there is a power to bar the right of the widow to her
+dower by means of a declaration to that effect in the conveyance to
+a purchaser, or in any deed subsequently executed by him relating to
+the property. It must be observed that the declaration in bar of dower
+is not necessary for the purpose of creating charges upon the estate,
+because dower is expressly made subject to such charges. But if the
+declaration has been inserted in the conveyance—without the knowledge
+of the purchaser—his widow will have no claim to any provision out of
+such estate unless it shall be made for her by the will of her husband,
+who, in ignorance of the necessity for making a will, dies intestate,
+thus leaving his widow dependent upon his heir-at-law; in numerous
+cases, a distant relative, who is not disposed to acknowledge that the
+widow of his predecessor has any claim upon him.
+
+Again, as to his children, the possessor of real estate ought not to
+forget that in the case of freehold property it will descend upon
+his eldest son as heir-at-law; thus leaving his younger sons and his
+daughters unprovided for except as to their respective shares of his
+personal estate, which may be of small value, or even insufficient
+for the payment of his debts. If the property should be copyhold, it
+would descend to the customary heir, who might be the eldest son, the
+youngest son, or all the sons as tenants in common in equal undivided
+shares; but in any event, the daughters would remain unprovided for.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] It should be understood that this series of articles deals
+mainly with English as apart from Scotch law.
+
+
+
+
+A DEAD SHOT.
+
+AN INCIDENT IN 1801.
+
+
+The following singular story is perhaps worth putting on record because
+the narrative is strictly true.
+
+In the year 1801, a fine old Jacobean house, known as Chatford House,
+situated on the borders of Devon and Somerset, was in the occupation
+of a Mr Edward Leggett, a wealthy farmer, and his two sons. The
+house, like many of its class, had originally been built so that
+its ground-plan formed the letter [Illustration: E], a centre, with
+projecting doorway, and two wings; but one wing had been taken down
+altogether, as well as a portion of the other, so that the ground-plan
+became thereby altered and took this form, [Illustration: E with
+the top bar removed], the centre doorway remaining untouched. This
+should be remembered, in order to understand the circumstances of
+the principal incident of the narrative. Over the projecting doorway
+was a room which went by the name of the ‘Oratory,’ probably on
+account of its large projecting bay window, which gave it somewhat
+of an ecclesiastical appearance, and from this window a view could
+be obtained on all sides. The small part of the wing which was left
+standing was used as storerooms, and access from the outside was gained
+by a small door, which had been injudiciously opened in the corner, or
+angle, when the alterations were made.
+
+Mr Leggett possessed a large quantity of very fine old massive
+silver-plate, which was placed in one of the storerooms, strongly
+secured and locked, in the remains of the wing referred to. It was
+supposed that he had also a considerable sum of money locked up with
+the plate, as banking was not so common in remote country-places in
+those days.
+
+Now it happened that, on the 23d of April 1801, Mr Leggett and his
+two sons had to attend a neighbouring cattle fair, and had proposed
+to sleep in the town, instead of returning home the same night; but,
+a good customer having arranged to complete a purchase early the next
+morning, Mr Leggett’s eldest son, George, came back to Chatford very
+late and went quietly to bed; but the worry of the fair, and anxiety
+about to-morrow’s purchase, prevented him sleeping. His bedroom was
+at the end of the house, close to the store wing, and just above
+the little door in the angle already mentioned. Whilst restlessly
+tossing about from side to side, young Leggett heard the house clock
+strike two, and just after became aware of a peculiar grating noise,
+apparently under his window. To jump up and cautiously and silently
+open the casement was the work of a minute. It was a cloudy moonlight
+night, just light enough to show objects imperfectly, but enough for
+George Leggett to observe the figures of two men close to the little
+door in the angle immediately below, on which they were apparently
+operating with some cutting tool, which had produced the grating noise
+he had heard. George, who was a young man of great intelligence,
+quick judgment, and ready resource, instantly comprehending the
+situation, took his measures accordingly. He happened to be a member
+of the county yeomanry cavalry; and catching up his carabine and
+some ball cartridges, he silently left his room, and proceeding down
+the corridor—loading his carabine as he went along—soon reached the
+‘Oratory’ room over the porch, whence he could see straight down on to
+the little door, which was then right in front of him. Silently opening
+the casement, he made a careful survey of the position, which a passing
+ray of moonlight enabled him to take in at a glance.
+
+At the little white-painted door were the two men, whose dark figures
+were well thrown up by so light a background. One was stooping
+or kneeling, and the other was standing close behind him, their
+backs, of course, being turned towards their observer. Putting his
+carabine on full-cock and laying it carefully on the window-sill,
+after a deliberate aim, Leggett pressed the trigger. A loud shriek
+and a stifled cry followed, then all was still. Leggett stood
+intently watching the spot for several moments; but profound silence
+prevailed—not a sound was heard, not a movement was perceptible. The
+only other man in the house was the groom, who was quickly roused; and
+lanterns having been procured, he and Leggett repaired to the spot, and
+were not a little staggered to find both burglars lying dead. The hand
+of one of them still grasped a very large steel centre-bit, with which
+he had been operating on the door. Subsequent surgical investigation
+showed that the bullet had struck the back of the first man, passing
+through his heart, and had then entered the head of the man who was
+stooping or kneeling in front of him, just behind the ear, lodging
+in the brain. The bodies were at once removed in-doors; and at the
+inquest, held the next day, the following particulars were elicited:
+
+By the side of the dead men was found a leather travelling portmanteau,
+containing a highly finished and elaborate set of housebreaking tools,
+together with a piece of candle and a preparation of phosphorus for
+obtaining a light, as it is needless to say that lucifer matches were
+unknown in 1801, their place being supplied by the old-fashioned flint
+and steel and tinder-box, articles not available for burglars’ use.
+Each man was armed with a brace of pocket pistols, loaded and primed;
+and one of them carried a formidable-looking dagger, fitted into the
+breast of his coat; clearly showing that these ruffians were prepared
+to offer a desperate resistance, if interrupted or molested. They were
+both well dressed, and had quite the appearance of gentlemen. Each
+possessed a good watch and seals, and carried a well-filled purse. One
+only had a pocket-book, containing many papers, chiefly relating to
+money matters and betting transactions; but only one letter, which,
+however, proved of immense importance in throwing light on the lives
+and characters of the deceased burglars, and in telling the story of
+the attempted robbery. The letter was directed to ‘Mr John Bellamy,’
+at an address in Shoreditch, London, and was dated from Roxburn, the
+name of a large neighbouring farm, and bore the initials ‘J. P.,’
+which, with the writing, were at once recognised at the inquest as
+those of ‘James Palmer,’ the managing bailiff at Roxburn Farm, a clever
+and unscrupulous fellow, without any regard for truth or principle,
+well known in those parts, but a man whom nobody liked and everybody
+distrusted. This communication was in these few but significant words:
+‘The 23d will do best; coast clear, no fear, all straight.—J. P.’
+
+This letter, with the tools and a full report of the whole case, was
+at once sent to Bow Street, London, and an investigation made by the
+‘Bow Street runners’—the detectives of those days—for there were then
+no regular ‘police,’ as we now understand the term. On searching the
+premises in Shoreditch, indicated in the letter, where John Bellamy
+lived, it was discovered that the supposed John Bellamy was no other
+than ‘Jack Rolfe,’ one of the most successful professional burglars
+of that day; and the authorities hesitated not to express their
+satisfaction that his career had been so cleverly cut short.
+
+An immense quantity of stolen property, of almost every description,
+was found at Rolfe’s lodgings in Shoreditch; and what was more
+important—as regards the present narrative at least—a correspondence
+extending over three or four years between Mr James Palmer of Roxburn
+Farm and the arch-burglar John Bellamy, alias Jack Rolfe himself, by
+which it appeared that this robbery had been planned and arranged by
+Palmer, who had supplied Rolfe with the fullest information as to
+Mr Leggett’s plate and money, as well as a neatly drawn plan of the
+premises, which was found amongst the papers. Palmer had also arranged
+the date of the robbery for the 23d of April, as he had discovered
+that Mr Leggett and his two sons intended to sleep out that night. Nor
+was this all; for only a few weeks previously, the rascal had had the
+effrontery to invite Rolfe to pay him a visit at Roxburn, under colour
+of his being a personal friend, which invitation Rolfe had readily
+accepted; and one of the witnesses at the inquest well remembered
+his coming, and at once recognised him in one of the dead men—he of
+the centre-bit. Rolfe was described as a quiet, pleasant, and rather
+gentlemanly man.
+
+Not far from Mr Leggett’s gate, a light cart and pony were found
+tethered early in the morning of the attempted robbery. The cart had
+been hired from a neighbouring market-town to convey the thieves to
+the scene of operations, and to bring them back with—as they fondly
+anticipated—a sackful of rich plunder. They had been staying a day or
+two at this inn as commercial travellers, calling themselves brothers,
+and giving the name of Sutton.
+
+On the evidence afforded by the correspondence found in Shoreditch,
+Palmer was apprehended; and further investigation brought out the fact
+that the notorious Jack Rolfe was not only his friend, correspondent,
+and accomplice, but his own brother also, Rolfe being merely an ‘alias’
+for his real name of Palmer. The two men were very much alike both in
+face and figure; and it came out in evidence that they belonged to a
+family of burglars and sharpers. One brother had been transported for
+life for robbery and violence; another was then in prison for fraud
+and theft; James had just been apprehended; and John had been shot
+dead whilst plying his trade. James appeared to have been the only
+member who had held a respectable position—that of manager of Roxburn
+Farm, and he could not keep away from dishonest practices. It was also
+further discovered that Palmer had been an accomplice in two or three
+mysterious burglaries which had been perpetrated in the neighbourhood
+during the two or three previous years, in which the thieves had
+displayed an accurate knowledge—even to minute details—of the premises
+attacked, the habits of the inmates, and the drawers or closets where
+valuables were kept. All this was due to the planning and arranging of
+the brother James, who could at his leisure quietly take his measures
+on the spot; which were then carefully communicated to his brother
+John, who ultimately became the willing executant. Palmer was shortly
+after brought to trial, convicted, and sentenced to fourteen years’
+transportation.
+
+The verdict of the coroner’s jury was ‘justifiable homicide;’ for in
+those days of desperate and well-armed burglars, the shooting of one
+or two of these gentry, whilst in the act of plying their nefarious
+calling, was considered not only a clever but a meritorious action.
+
+
+
+
+THE EVIDENCE OF THE SENSES.
+
+
+The senses are the witnesses which bring in evidence from the outer
+world, without which that world would for us have no existence at
+all; but the mind sits aloft on the judgment-seat and forms its
+conclusions from the evidence laid before it; and these conclusions
+are for the most part wonderfully correct; for, though the testimony
+of one sense alone might lead the mind to form an erroneous opinion,
+this can be rectified by discovering what one or more of the other
+senses have to say on the same subject. When, however—as sometimes
+happens under peculiar circumstances—the evidence of one sense only is
+available, the mind may very readily arrive at a false conclusion. As
+an instance of this may be cited what is often observed by surgeons in
+cases of hip-joint disease. The patient, usually a child, complains
+of severe pain in the knee, which, however, has not, so far as can be
+ascertained, been injured in any way. Very likely, the pain is severe
+enough to prevent sleep at night, so that there can be no doubt about
+its existence, and it may perhaps have been almost continuous for some
+time past. Now, in such a case the surgeon will have a shrewd suspicion
+of what is really amiss, and very often will at once proceed to examine
+the hip. This he will do, too, in spite of assurances on the part of
+the parents that the patient always complains of the knee and of that
+joint only. He does not doubt that the pain feels as if it was in the
+knee, but he strongly suspects, nevertheless, that the disease is in
+the hip; and this often proves to be the case. This is an instance of
+what is called ‘referred sensation.’ The nerve which conveys sensation
+from the knee also sends a branch to the hip-joint, and it is this
+anatomical fact which explains the phenomenon. It might be expected
+that even if the pain was not felt solely in the hip, it would at least
+be always felt there as well as in the knee. This, however, though
+sometimes the case, is by no means always so. In this instance, the
+patient comes not unnaturally to the conclusion that where he feels
+the pain, there the cause of the pain must of necessity be situated.
+He would be quite ready to declare that there was nothing the matter
+with his hip, for he cannot see into the joint and discover the disease
+there. He has, in fact, to depend upon the evidence of one sense only,
+and the conclusion based upon the evidence of the single sensation of
+pain, is false.
+
+Another instance in which the testimony of one sense alone may lead
+to a false conclusion as to the whereabouts of the cause of a pain is
+found in what often takes place after the amputation of a limb. Most
+people are aware that after part of a limb has been removed by the
+surgeon’s knife, the patient may still feel as though his arm or leg,
+as the case may be, was entire, may feel much pain in the foot when the
+leg has been amputated far above the ankle. Here, in recovering from
+the effects of the anæsthetic, were it not for the additional evidence
+of his eyesight, the patient might well doubt whether his limb had been
+removed at all. The amusing story, in Marryat’s _Jacob Faithful_, of
+the old sailor who, having two wooden legs, was accustomed at times
+to wrap them up in flannel on account of the rheumatic pains which he
+said he felt in them, is not so very extravagant after all. It is not,
+however, altogether correct, as it represents the man feeling these
+pains in his legs _long_ after they had been amputated. As a matter of
+fact, the false impression passes off before very long. The explanation
+given by physiologists is as follows: The severed nerve in the stump
+is irritated and gives rise to pain; and inasmuch as irritation to
+this nerve-trunk has hitherto been always caused by irritation of its
+ultimate filaments distributed to the foot and leg, the mind continues
+for some time to believe that the sensation still proceeds from thence.
+
+We may glance at another and very similar instance of referred
+sensations occurring also in surgical practice. Amongst the rarer
+operations of what is termed plastic, and, by Sir James Paget,
+‘decorative’ surgery is that by which a new nose is formed by calling
+in the aid of the tissue of other parts of the body. This has been
+done by bringing a flap of skin cut from the forehead down over the
+nasal bones. The flap retains its connection with the deeper tissues
+at a point between the eyes by means of a small pedicle, and thus its
+blood-vessels and nerves are not all severed. This flap is not simply
+pulled down from the forehead—it is twisted at the pedicle, so that
+the raw surface lies on the bones of the nose. Now, for some time
+after this operation has been performed, any irritation in the nose is
+referred by the mind to that part of the forehead from which the flap
+of skin was taken; and therefore, if a fly crawls over the patient’s
+nose, it appears to him to be creeping across his forehead. Before the
+operation, whenever the nerve-ends in the flap were irritated, it was
+caused by something touching the forehead, and it is some time before
+the mind ceases to refer such irritation to that part of the face.
+
+Leaving, now, the domain of surgery, we may notice two simple
+experiments mentioned by physiologists, which all can perform for
+themselves. They both prove that conclusions formed upon the evidence
+of the sense of touch alone may be quite incorrect. By crossing the
+second finger over the first, and then placing a marble between the
+tips of the fingers, we get a sensation that leads us to suppose that
+there must be two marbles instead of one only. This is because two
+points in the fingers are touched simultaneously, which in the ordinary
+position could only be touched at the same moment by two marbles.
+Judging, then, from the sense of touch alone, the mind infers that
+there are two round hard substances beneath the finger-tips; but the
+evidence of eyesight and the knowledge that we have placed but one
+marble in position, corrects the misapprehension. Again, if we take a
+pair of compasses the points of which are not sufficiently sharp to
+prick the skin, and separating the extremities rather more than an inch
+from one another, draw them across the cheek transversely from a little
+in front of one ear to the lips, we shall be tempted to think, from
+the evidence of touch alone, that the points are becoming more widely
+separated. By measuring the distance between the two points afterwards,
+we can assure ourselves that this has not been so; but whilst the
+compasses were being drawn along the cheek, and still more when they
+had reached the lips, the impression that the distance between the
+points increased was very strong. This delusion is said to depend upon
+the fact, that some parts of the cutaneous covering of the body are
+much more plentifully supplied with nerves than others. It is stated
+that the mind probably forms its idea of the distance between two
+points on the skin which are irritated in any way—as, for instance, by
+the points of a pair of compasses touching the surface—by the number of
+nerve-endings lying between these two points which remain unirritated.
+Thus, if there be fewer unirritated nerve-endings lying between the
+two points of the compasses when placed on the cheek, than there are
+when they are placed at the lips, the mind will infer that the distance
+between these points is smaller in the former position than in the
+latter.
+
+
+
+
+THE STATE’S NEGLECT OF DENTISTRY.
+
+
+The machinery of the State is so vast that it may well be imperfect
+here and there. It frequently falls to the lot of individuals to
+point out how the tide of progress has left details in a condition
+of inefficiency. We note a recent instance of this. In August last,
+at the annual meeting of the British Dental Association, Mr George
+Cunningham, one of its members, drew attention to the backwardness of
+the practice of dentistry in the various departments of the State.
+The substance of his case amounted to this: In the army and navy,
+unskilled practitioners wielded uncouth and inefficient instruments
+in following antiquated and unscientific methods; while the police
+force and the employees of the India and Post offices by no means
+derived the full advantages of this department of medical science. Mr
+Cunningham was bold enough to include the inmates of prisons among
+those whose interests were neglected; and of course the principle
+of the humane treatment of criminals is already conceded in the
+appointment of jail chaplains and surgeons. We need not enter here into
+the voluminous details with which Mr Cunningham substantiated his case.
+The broad conclusions he would seem to draw are these: that the medical
+practitioner employed by the State should possess a more thorough
+knowledge of dentistry; that, where necessary, the services of the
+completely trained and qualified dentist should be secured; and that
+full resort should be had to the remedial resources of dental science.
+Seeing the suffering caused by diseases of the teeth, and the subtle
+and intimate connection existing between dental and other maladies, we
+trust Mr Cunningham’s paper may receive the consideration it would seem
+to deserve.
+
+
+
+
+THE BOARD OF TRADE JOURNAL.
+
+
+Persons wishing to keep up their information on subjects connected with
+trade and changes in foreign tariffs may do so by consulting the _Board
+of Trade Journal_, the first numbers of which have just been issued.
+An attempt is also made in this journal to give the public information
+as to trade movements abroad, from the communications of the different
+consuls and colonial governors. Some of the periodical statistical
+returns of the Board of Trade will also be included from time to time.
+Such a journal deserves the support of all merchants and manufacturers
+at all interested in our foreign trade. Formerly, the commercial
+Reports from Her Majesty’s representatives abroad did not see the
+light for months, or perhaps a year, after they were received; now,
+these have some chance of being really useful to persons interested in
+foreign trade and to the community at large.
+
+
+
+
+LOVE’S SEASONS.
+
+
+    Love came to my heart with the earliest swallow,
+      The lark’s blithe matins and breath of Spring;
+    With hyacinth-bell and with budding sallow,
+      And all the promise the year could bring.
+
+    Love dwelt in my heart while the Summer roses
+      Poured forth their incense on every hand;
+    And from wood and meadow and garden-closes
+      The sweet bird-voices made glad the land.
+
+    Love grew in my heart to its full fruition
+      When Autumn lavished her gifts untold,
+    And answered earth’s myriad-voiced petition
+      With orchard-treasure and harvest-gold.
+
+    Love waned in my heart when the snows were shaken
+      From Winter’s hand o’er the rose’s bed;
+    And never again shall my soul awaken
+      At Hope’s glad summons—for Love lies dead.
+
+            W. P. W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON,
+and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_All Rights Reserved._
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75449 ***