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diff --git a/75449-0.txt b/75449-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3c6257 --- /dev/null +++ b/75449-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1759 @@ + +*** 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 *** |