diff options
Diffstat (limited to '75692-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 75692-0.txt | 1837 |
1 files changed, 1837 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/75692-0.txt b/75692-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8def410 --- /dev/null +++ b/75692-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1837 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75692 *** + + + + + +[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. 151.—VOL. III. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1886. PRICE 1½_d._] + + + + +NOTHING NEW. + + +Antiquaries are always delighted to remind us that there is nothing new +under the sun. When we boast of the great European art of printing, +they bring in the Chinese as evidence against us. Certain it is, +however, that the Romans used movable types to mark their pottery +and bread, and even to indorse their scroll-books. But if this is +to be called printing, then the Accadians, and their successors the +Assyrians, did the like on a grand scale many centuries before. To the +last-named people, moreover, must be ascribed, so far as we at present +know, the invention of a magnifying lens of rock-crystal, a thing +so well made, that Sir David Brewster pronounced it a true optical +instrument. It was found amid the ruins of Nimroud by Layard. + +It is curious to see also how great natural laws have been dimly +apprehended centuries before they were rendered demonstrable. The law +of gravitation was undoubtedly discerned by Sir Isaac Newton; but it is +remarkable that in Cary’s translation of Dante’s _Inferno_ an idea very +like it occurs, namely: + + Thou wast on the other side, so long as I + Descended; when I turned, thou did’st o’erpass + That point, to which from every part is dragged + All heavy substance. + +Of this passage, Monti remarks that if it had met the eye of Newton, +it might better have awakened his thought to conceive the system of +attraction than the accidental fall of an apple. + +For fifty or sixty years before any real light was thrown upon the +nature of gravitation, Pedro Mexia of Seville had a clear and correct +idea of its action. Thus, in his _Silva de Varia Leccion_ (published +in 1542, and which in various translations was in great demand until +the middle of the seventeenth century), the following appears: ‘The +sky is above in all parts of the earth, and the centre of the earth +is below, towards which all heavy things naturally tend from whatever +side of the earth; so that if God had made a hole, which by a true +diameter passing through the whole earth, from the point where we are, +as far as the other opposite and contrary to this, on the other side +of the earth, passed through the centre of it: then if one dropped a +plummet, as masons do, know that it would not pass to the other side of +the earth, but would stop and place itself in the centre of it; and if +from the other side one let fall another, they would meet together in +the very centre, and there they would stop. It is quite true that the +force might well cause the plummet to pass somewhat beyond, because its +movement, so long as it was going towards the centre, would naturally +be accelerated, passing somewhat beyond, but in the end it would return +to its place.’ + +Of this old Spanish work, an English translation was made by T. +Fortescue, and printed in London in 1576, entitled _The Forest, +or Collection of Historyes, no less profitable than pleasant and +necessary_. Another appeared in 1613 with sundry essays by other +authors, entitled _The Treasurie of Ancient and Modern Times_. +Considering that London publishing was on a small scale two and three +centuries ago, it is difficult to believe that Newton missed seeing +these works, even if he had not heard of the original. At anyrate, he +must in all probability have read what Shakspeare, borrowing probably +from the same source, puts into the mouth of Cressida: + + But the strong base and building of my love + Is as the very centre of the earth, + Drawing all things to it. + + _Troilus and Cressida_, act iv. scene 2. + +Some anticipations of telegraphy are also very interesting. Galileo, in +his _Dialogues on the Two Systems of the World_, that is, the Ptolemaic +and Copernican, and which he wrote in 1632, makes Sagredo say: ‘You +remind me of one who offered to sell me a secret art, by which, through +the attraction of a certain magnet needle, it would be possible to +converse across a space of two or three thousand miles. I said to him +that I would willingly become the purchaser, provided only that I might +first make a trial of the art, and that it would be sufficient for the +purpose if I were to place myself in one corner of the sofa and he in +the other. He replied that in so short a distance the action would be +scarcely discernible; so I dismissed the fellow, and said that it was +not convenient for me just then to travel into Egypt or Muscovy for +the purpose of trying the experiment; but that if he chose to go there +himself, I would remain in Venice and attend to the rest.’ + +It appears, however, that telegraphy took form as an idea two thousand +years ago, for Addison, in one of his delightful essays in the +_Spectator_ (No. 241), tells us that ‘Strada, in one of his Prolusions, +gives an account of a chimerical correspondence between two friends +by the help of a certain lodestone, which had such virtue in it, that +if it touched two several needles, when one of the needles so touched +began to move, the other, though at never so great a distance, moved +at the same time, and in the same manner. He tells us that the two +friends, being each of them possessed of one of these needles, made a +kind of a dial-plate, inscribing it with the four-and-twenty letters, +in the same manner as the hours of the day are marked upon the ordinary +dial-plate. They then fixed one of the needles on each of these plates +in such a manner that it could move round without impediment, so as to +touch any of the four-and-twenty letters. Upon their separating from +one another into distant countries, they agreed to withdraw themselves +punctually into their closets at a certain hour of the day and to +converse with one another by means of this their invention.’ + +In Homer’s _Odyssey_, translated by Pope, the following curious +description—originally detected by an ingenious mechanic—of the +Phœacian ships of old, has been well observed by the late Dr Birkbeck +to be no inaccurate description of steam-navigation: + + So shalt thou instant reach the realm assigned + In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind. + + * * * * * + + Though clouds and darkness veil the encumbered sky, + Fearless, through darkness and through clouds they fly; + Though tempests rage—though rolls the swelling main, + The seas may roll, the tempests swell in vain. + E’en the stern god that o’er the waves presides, + Safe as they pass, and safe repass the tides, + With fury burns; whilst careless they convey + Promiscuous every guest to every bay. + +It would almost appear from the above passage, which for ages was +considered merely a bold flight of the imagination, that the ancients +were not unacquainted with some method beyond that of the ordinary +sail, of propelling vessels through water with safety and celerity. + +Even that horror of naval warfare, the fish-torpedo, seems to have been +once afloat in the mind of Ben Jonson, although there are good reasons +for thinking he derived the idea itself from Drummond the inventor, +whom he visited at Hawthornden in 1619. In Jonson’s play, _The Staple +of News_ (act iii. scene 1), we read: + + _Thomas._ They write here one Cornelius’ son + Hath made the Hollanders an invisible eel + To swim the Haven at Dunkirk, and sink all + The shipping there. + + _Pennyboy._ But how is’t done? + + _Cymbal._ I’ll show you, sir. + It’s an automa, runs under water + With a snug nose, and has a nimble tail + Made like an auger, with which tail she wriggles + Betwixt the coats of a ship, and sinks it straight. + + _Pennyboy._ A most brave device + To murder their flat bottoms! + +Some of the most beneficent and useful discoveries in medical science +appear to have been anticipated years ago. For example, certain skulls +of prehistoric man have afforded the clearest evidence that even at +that remote period the art of _trepanning_ must have been practised +upon them. A skull found in the tomb of the Incas, near the city of +Cuzco, exhibited distinct marks of having undergone a like operation. +According to a reputed discovery by M. Stanislaus Julien, it appears +that as far back as the third century of our era, the Chinese were in +possession of an anæsthetic agent which they employed during surgical +operations. A description of this was discovered by M. Julien in a work +preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale, called _Kou-kin-i-tong_, or +a General Collection of Ancient and Modern Medicines, which appears +to have been published in the sixteenth century. In a biographical +notice of Hoa-tho, who flourished under the dynasty of Wei, between the +years 220 and 230 of our era, it is stated that he gave the patient a +preparation of _cannabis_ (_Ma-yo_), who in a few moments became as +insensible as one plunged in drunkenness or deprived of life; then, +according to the case, he made incisions, amputations, &c. After a +certain number of days, the patient found himself re-established, +without having experienced the slightest pain during the operation. It +appears from the biography of Han that this _cannabis_ was prepared by +boiling and distillation. + +Of the Germ Theory of disease, it must also be said, it is no +novelty. That noted physician, Athanasius Kircher, in his work on the +plague—published at Rome in 1658—attributed the origin of epidemics to +germs, or, as he termed them, animalcules. He argued that each kind of +putrefaction gives rise to a special virus, which produces a definite +species of malady. + +Even sticking-plaster is not a modern surgical appliance. One of +the highest living authorities in organic chemistry states that the +ordinary lead-plaster now so commonly used was said to be discovered by +the Roman physician Menecrates in the middle of the first century. + +Some readers of this _Journal_ will remember that while the British +Association was in progress at Montreal (1884), a telegram was received +from Mr Caldwell in Australia, notifying that he had found _monotremes +oviparous with mesoblastic ovum_—that is, that the ornithorhynchus, +the duck-bill or water mole, laid eggs. This piece of news greatly +interested naturalists, since it was justly regarded as furnishing one +more link in the chain of evidence tending to support the evolution +hypothesis. However, in a work entitled _The Literary Pancratium_, +by Robert and Thomas Swinburn Carr, published in London in 1832, a +quotation in the form of a footnote appears on page 8, as follows: ‘But +this is New Holland, where it is summer with us when it is winter in +Europe, and _vice versâ_; where the barometer rises before bad weather, +and falls before good; where the north is the hot wind, and the south +the cold; where the humblest house is fitted up with cedar; where +the fields are fenced with mahogany, and myrtle-trees are burnt for +firewood; where the _swans are black_ and the eagles white; where the +kangaroo, an animal between the squirrel and the deer, has five claws +on its forepaws and three talons on its hind-legs, like a bird, and +yet hops on its tail; where the mole lays eggs, and has a duck’s bill; +where there is a bird with a broom in its mouth instead of a tongue; +where there is a fish, one half belonging to the genus _Raja_, and the +other to that of _Squalus_; where the pears are made of wood, with the +stalk at the broader end; and where the cherry grows with the stone on +the outside.’—(Field’s _New South Wales_, page 461.) + +In striking contrast to all the above-named instances of rediscovery, +is that fact furnished by some Assyrian bas-reliefs—that is, that the +lion, or at least the Asiatic species, has a _claw_ in the tuft of +his tail. This fact, which, strangely enough, was disputed in classic +times, although forty years before the birth of Christ, Didymus +of Alexandria discovered it, had been quite overlooked by modern +naturalists. Soon after the finding of the sculpture, Mr Bennett, an +English zoologist, verified the observation. + +Homer’s famous story of the battle between the frogs and the mice is +doubtless a political satire. That the story was originally suggested +by actual observation is not an unreasonable fancy. Homer may even have +seen the mimic campaign for himself, for it is but a tradition that he +was blind. In a recent number of _Nature_, a correspondent states that +he saw a short time since several mice pursuing some frogs in a shed. +The alacrity of the reptiles rendered the attacks of the mice futile +for some time. ‘Again and again the frogs escaped from the clutches of +their foes, but only to be recaptured, severely shaken, and bitten.’ +They were at length ‘overpowered by the mice, which devoured a part of +them.’ + +The first scientific expedition on record is one in which Aristotle +was sent by Alexander the Great (more than 300 B.C.) for the purpose +of collecting subjects for a History of Animals. In this enterprise he +met with both the paper and the pearly nautilus; for in the _Historia +Animalium_, he says, after describing different forms of Cephalopods, +which no doubt abounded in Asiatic seas: ‘There are also two other +kinds of polypes which are in shells, the one [that is, the paper +nautilus] has a shell which is not naturally adherent to it; it feeds +very frequently near the land, and being cast by the waves on the sand, +the shell slips, and it dies; but the other [the pearly nautilus] +is in a shell in which it exists after the manner of a snail, and +outwardly extends its arms.’—(_Scaliger’s translation._) Nothing was +added to this account during the dark ages that succeeded, nor even +till some time after the revival of literature. No further information +respecting the nautilus was obtained until the discovery of a living +specimen early in the eighteenth century by Rumphius, a Dutch merchant +and naturalist, resident at Amboyna. His drawing of the soft parts +separated from the shell was greatly valued for more than a century +before another specimen was found, although the shells were cast ashore +in comparative abundance. This specimen was sent to Professor Owen, and +formed the subject of an elaborate memoir by him in 1832. It may be +said to have been the first to confirm the history of this remarkable +organism given more than two thousand years before. + +Here, then, we have another instance of modern research simply +verifying that which was an ancient discovery. + +It is even said that the stereoscope, which is Professor Wheatstone’s +invention, was known to Euclid, and minutely described by Galen, +the physician, sixteen centuries ago; moreover, it was still more +completely defined in the works of Baptista Porta in the year 1599. +As for photography, its discovery is by common consent referred to +Daguerre, who announced it to the Academy of Sciences in 1839. This +beautiful art has, however, been found clearly described by M. Jobard +in his _Nouvelles Inventions aux Expositions Universelles_, 1857, taken +from a translation from the German three hundred years ago. + +An ancient gold coin _recast_ is, after all, the same precious metal; +even so, truths long lost are, when found, restamped by human thought +and made current again for the world’s good. How few are privileged, or +have the genius, to enrich mankind with an original discovery! + + + + +BY ORDER OF THE LEAGUE. + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +Le Gautier followed the footman into the drawing-room, where Enid +was engaged with some visitors—three tall showy-looking girls, with +an extremely vivacious mother. Le Gautier stood looking out of one +of the windows, and noticed with satisfaction their intention of a +speedy exit. For some moments the visitors remained chattering, and +then, after a profusion of compliments, accompanied by much laughter, +their voluminous skirts were heard switching down the broad staircase. +It has often been a matter of speculation as to whether a man can be +in love with two women at the same time; but without going into this +delicate question, it is possible to imagine a man with a penchant for +two women, though the experiment probably would be attended with great +hazard and danger. Le Gautier forgot the dark-eyed Marie, as he gazed +upon Enid’s fairer charms. + +‘You have heard nothing of Maxwell?’ he asked after a pause in the +desultory conversation. ‘A strange thing he does not write. Many men +would imagine that such a thing is not altogether an accident; there +are occasions when a little absence from the gaze of man is desirable, +Miss Charteris.’ + +‘Many men, as usual, would be wrong,’ Enid answered coldly. ‘You should +not shield your want of charity by these generalities, Monsieur le +Gautier, though perhaps you have derived benefit from these absences +yourself, you seem to understand the subject so thoroughly.’ + +Enid was angry at his cool insolence, and replied to his want of taste +by a little plain language herself; and her random shaft went home. + +‘You are severe; but really, while sorry for Maxwell, there is +something in it which is comforting to me. Can you not guess what I +mean?’ + +Enid Charteris, though guileless and pure as woman can be, had not +mixed with the great world for nothing. She had had suitors enough to +know what a proposal was, and above all things she dreaded one from +this man. Some instinct told her he would be a dangerous enemy. ‘You +speak in riddles,’ she said calmly. ‘I have not been educated to the +language of diplomacy. Pray, explain yourself.’ + +‘Then I must be more explicit. Maxwell’s absence rids me of a dangerous +rival. Now he is away, the path is all the smoother for me. Need I tell +you, Miss Charteris—Enid—that I love you? Surely you must have known +that for a long time past. While another was in the way, I sealed my +lips; but I can restrain myself no longer now.’ + +‘It would be affectation not to understand you,’ Enid replied with a +calmness that boded ill for Le Gautier’s success. ‘I am sorry to hear +it. If you are wise, you will not put me to the pain of a refusal.’ + +‘I will take no refusal,’ Le Gautier burst out passionately; ‘for I +swear that if you are not mine, you shall wed no other man. Enid, you +must, you shall be mine! You may look upon me coldly now, but the time +will come when you shall love me well enough.’ + +‘The time will come when I shall—love—you?’ The bitter scorn in +these words stung Le Gautier to madness, stirring up a desperate +passion in his veins, now that the prize seemed like slipping from +his grasp. He fell at her feet on his knees. ‘Hear me!’ he exclaimed +passionately—‘only listen to me, Enid. I have vowed that you are the +only woman I have chosen—the only girl I could really love. Such love +as mine must win a return some day; only try; only give me a little +chance of hope.’ + +‘If you are a man, you will rise from that absurd position. Who am I, +that you should kneel to me? You must take my word for it; and if you +have any consideration for my feelings, you will change the subject.’ + +‘And this is your absolute and final decision?’ + +‘Yes, it is my absolute and final decision.’ + +Le Gautier rose to his feet, pale but smiling, and there was a darkly +evil look upon his white set face. When he spoke again his words were +cold and incisive. ‘Consider, before you wilfully make an enemy of +me.’ He uttered the words with a low sibilation. ‘I have made you an +offer—the highest compliment I could pay, and you have scornfully +rejected it. The next favour you ask from me you may seek for on your +knees.’ + +‘And to what purpose, sir, shall _I_ ask a favour from _you_?’ + +‘For your father,’ Le Gautier answered quietly, though his tones were +deep and earnest. ‘You have guessed that Maxwell has gone away on a +dangerous mission. Why should not Sir Geoffrey be chosen in his turn? +And if so, who can save him? I, Hector le Gautier, and no other man.’ + +‘And by whose evil counsel has my poor father been dragged into your +infamous Brotherhood?—By yours alone! He would be a happy man now, if +he had never known you’—— + +‘On the contrary,’ Le Gautier interrupted, ‘I tried to save him. He has +joined on his own wish. You do not credit my words. Go and ask him now +if my words are not true, and that, if it is not his dearest wish that +you should become my wife.’ + +‘He might think so,’ Enid answered haughtily; ‘but he does not wish it +in his heart. Monsieur le Gautier, if you are a gentleman, you will +cease this discussion. The subject is painful to me.’ She stood there, +looking at him coldly and scornfully. + +But her very iciness only served to increase the warmth of his passion. +‘I cannot!’ he exclaimed. ‘I will not cease! For five years, ever since +I first met you at Rome, I have never ceased to love you. Bid me do +anything in reason; ask me any favour; but to forget you is impossible!’ + +‘I am sorry for you,’ Enid said gently, touched a little by the ring of +genuine passion in his voice—‘I am sorry; but it cannot be. I do not +break my pledges so lightly, even if I wished to do so.’ + +‘Which you do not,’ Le Gautier bitterly remarked. ‘I do not care. +I am desperate now. You despise and scorn me; but I will not be +rejected thus. If you will not be my wife for my sake, you must for +your father’s and the honour of your house.’ He stopped abruptly, for +standing in the room was Sir Geoffrey, his face pale, and his whole +aspect downcast and degraded to a pitiable degree. + +Enid turned to her father eagerly. ‘Did you hear these words?’ she +asked. ‘Can it be possible that you—that I—that the honour of our house +is in any man’s hands? Can it be your wish, father, that I—I—should +form an alliance with Monsieur le Gautier? Speak, and show him how +mistaken he can be!’ + +But Sir Geoffrey never spoke. His head sank lower upon his breast. +For the first time, he realised the sacrifice he had imposed upon his +daughter, and so he stood there, an English gentleman no longer, but a +poor enfeebled, shamefaced old man. + +A wild feeling of alarm took possession of Enid as she saw this thing. +‘Why do you not speak?’ she demanded. ‘What cause have you to hesitate +in indorsing my words?’ + +Still the baronet never spoke, never raised his head. + +Enid ran swiftly to his side and threw one arm round his shoulder. +She could feel the spasm that struck him as he encountered her touch. +‘Father,’ she asked in a dull even voice, ‘does your silence mean that +he is right?’ + +‘Yes, my dear child; he is right. There is no alternative.’ + +There is a providence which helps us in such times as these, a numbness +of the senses that for a time deadens pain. Enid’s voice was very +calm as she turned to Le Gautier, standing there trying to disguise +his triumph. ‘I do not know what all this means,’ she said. ‘I do not +understand whence you derive your power. I cannot think now. For his +sake,’ she continued, pointing to her father, ‘I consent.’ + +Le Gautier sprang forward; but she repelled him with a glance. + +‘Listen to my conditions,’ she continued. ‘I have said I consent; but +I warn you that if there is any loophole for escape from you, I shall +take it. You are going away, you say. Nothing must be done till your +return, and then the contract shall be fulfilled. Now, go.’ + +When Lucrece entered the room a few moments later, she found her +mistress lying unconscious upon the floor. Looking out of the window, +she saw the slim figure of Le Gautier disappearing in the distance, and +smiled. He was smiling, too, as he walked away. Nothing remained now +but only the final interview with Marie, and to regain possession of +the lost moidore. A few weeks at Warsaw, and then—— + + +CHAPTER XV. + +Maxwell had been gone a week now, and no tidings of him had reached +England, save one letter to say he was in Rome. As Le Gautier turned +away from Grosvenor Square, his heart one glow of triumph, he +determined that, come what may, the artist should never see England +again. When he returned from Warsaw, he calculated that, through Marie +St Jean’s assistance, all information concerning the League would be +in the hands of the police, freeing him from any further bondage, and +throwing all the odium and danger on her. Full of these schemes, he +arrived at his lodgings. A telegram was lying on the table. He took it +up mechanically, and tore it open. The contents were terse: ‘Visci died +this morning from heart disease.’ Le Gautier was wild with rage. Here +was a pretty combination, he thought. Nothing now to detain Maxwell +in Rome. The victim had fallen by a higher Hand than that of man, and +Maxwell was free. + +As a Head Centre of the Order, Le Gautier wielded much power, and even +now he did not despair, with the command of nearly all the desperadoes +in Rome at his command. He had only to get Maxwell arrested in Rome +on some false charge and carried to the mountains; and there—after a +little delay and a packed meeting of the League—shot. Desperate men +such as Le Gautier, especially with such a prize in their grasp, do +not long hesitate over such a trifling matter as a human life, and he +trusted to his own good luck and native audacity to pull him through. + +It was getting dark the same night as he despatched a telegram to Rome, +and then turned in the direction of Fitzroy Square. He was as eager now +to see Isodore as he had been to encounter Enid in the afternoon, and +looked forward not only to a pleasant evening but a remunerative one. + +She did not keep him long waiting in the drawing-room ere she sailed in +all smiles and welcome. She was looking radiantly beautiful to-night; +there was a deeper flush on her face, and a glitter in her glorious +eyes not usually seen there—signs of a loving welcome, Le Gautier +imagined in his egotistical way. There was, besides, a warmth in her +manner and a gladness in the pressure of her hand which inspired him, +and sent an electric thrill coursing through his veins. + +‘You are looking more transcendently lovely than usual, Marie!’ he +exclaimed with a fervour unusual even to him. ‘Every time I see you, +there is some additional charm in you to note.’ + +‘It depends upon whether the observing eye is a prejudiced one,’ she +replied with a caressing smile, which brought him at once to her side. +‘You say that now, Hector. How long will you continue to think so?’ + +‘As long as I have power to think at all—as long as memory serves me. I +shall remember you to the last day of my life.’ + +‘I believe you will,’ Isodore smiled bewilderingly. ‘And yet, strange +as it may seem, the time will perhaps come when you will wish you had +never seen my face.’ + +‘You are more than usually enigmatical to-night, Marie. You are a +puzzle to me. I do not even know who you are. Tell me something about +yourself, and why you are living in this solitude here.’ + +‘No; not to-night; but, as I have often promised you, I will tell you +some time. I will tell you who I am before you go away; and then, when +your curiosity is satisfied, you will leave me.’ + +‘Never!’ Le Gautier exclaimed passionately. ‘Leave you!—the only woman +I ever saw that I could really love. Leave you, Marie! How can you +entertain the bare idea!’ + +He would have approached her nearer, but she waved him gently but +firmly aside. The distance she kept him fanned his passion all the +more. ‘Tell me something about yourself,’ she said. ‘That is a topic +which never fails to interest me. How about the League, this Maxwell’s +journey? Has he accomplished his mission yet?’ + +‘He is not likely to, now. Visci is dead!—Gracious powers, Marie! what +ails you? Are you ill?’ + +Isodore uttered a sharp exclamation, and then reeled forward in her +chair. Her face was white and drawn, her lips trembled. Gradually her +bosom ceased to heave so painfully, and she turned to Le Gautier with +a white wan smile, though he could see the fan still trembling in her +hands. ‘It is nothing,’ she said with an effort. ‘I am subject to these +attacks of the heart, and any news of sudden death always affects me +so.—Do not look distressed; it is past now.’ + +‘There is nothing in the name to cause you any distress?’ Le Gautier +asked suspiciously. + +‘I have heard the name before, if that is what you mean. Tell me all +you know of this Carlo Visci.’ + +‘I did not say his name was Carlo,’ Le Gautier observed, somewhat +sharply. ‘I can tell you nothing more. When I reached home this +afternoon, I had a telegram to say he was dead.’ + +‘And this Maxwell, what of him? I suppose he will return home now?’ + +‘He has been somewhat dilatory in obeying orders. No; he will not +return. He will be detained at Rome for the present.’ + +‘Tell me why you hate this Englishman so.’ + +Le Gautier started. ‘How do you know I hate him?’ he asked. ‘I have +never said so.’ + +‘Not in so many words; but in gesture and look, when you speak of him, +your actions are eloquent, my friend. He has crossed your path. Ah, +well, I like a good hater. Maxwell will suffer yet.’ + +‘Yes,’ Le Gautier exclaimed involuntarily, ‘he will.’ + +Isodore rose and walked to the piano, where she sat for a moment +striking the chords idly. ‘When do you go to Warsaw?’ she asked. + +‘I have six days remaining to me.—Marie, the time has come when we must +no longer delay. The pear is ripe now; all my plans are matured. I have +only to hold up my hand and the League will vanish.’ + +All this time, Isodore played on softly, musingly, the music serving +like the accompaniment of a song to force the speaker’s voice. As he +stood there, and she answered him, she never ceased to play the soft +chords. + +‘Then you have everything prepared?’ + +‘Yes, everything is ready.’ He drew a low seat to her side, and seated +himself there. ‘All the names are made out, the whole plot prepared.’ + +‘And you propose to hand them over to me. It is a great compliment; and +I suppose I must take them. I would run greater risks than this for +your sake and—my own.’ + +She took one hand from the ivory keys and held it out to him. Drawing a +packet from his pocket, he gave it to her. She thrust it in her bosom, +and ran her fingers over the keys again. + +‘All is there, I suppose,’ she asked, ‘down to the minutest detail, +everything necessary to betray the League and pull it up root and +branch? You have taken good care to shield yourself, I presume?’ + +‘Of course.—And now, to talk of more pleasant things. You know I am +going away in a few days; and when I return, I shall expect to find +myself perfectly free.’ + +‘You may depend upon me. I will do all I can for you.’ + +Le Gautier looked up sharply—the words were coldly, sternly uttered, +but the quiet placid smile never left her face. + +‘How strangely you speak! But oh, Marie—my Marie, the only woman I ever +loved, you will stand by me now, and help me, for both our sakes! Look +at me, and say you will do what I ask!’ + +Isodore looked down, smiling brightly. ‘Yes, I will do what you ask,’ +she said. ‘And so you really love me?’ + +‘Passionately and sincerely, such as I never expected to love woman +yet.’ + +‘I am glad to hear you say that,’ Isodore replied with a thrill of +exultation in her voice. ‘I have waited and hoped for the time to come; +but never in my wildest dreams did I look for this.’ + +‘With your nobleness and beauty, how could it be otherwise? I should be +more than a man—or less—if I looked upon you unmoved.’ + +‘Then, for the first time for years, I am happy.’ + +Le Gautier started to his feet rapturously. He did not understand her +yet; he thought the soft earnest words all for him. He would have +caught her there and then in his eager arms, but again she repulsed +him. ‘No, no!’ she cried; ‘I have not proved you yet. Let things remain +as they are till you return again to England.’ + +How strange, Le Gautier thought vaguely, that she should use words +so similar to those of Enid to a precisely similar plea. Despite his +passion, he had not thrown all prudence to the winds. + +‘You had better leave me now,’ Isodore continued—‘leave me to think and +dwell over this thing.’ + +‘But what about my badge of membership? I dare not leave England +without that.’ + +‘I had almost forgotten it in this interesting conversation. It is not +in my possession; it is in Paris. You have a meeting of the League +before you go for final instructions. Come to me after that, and you +shall have it. I am going to Paris to-morrow, and will bring it with +me.’ + +‘You are a witch!’ Le Gautier exclaimed with admiration. ‘You seem to +know as much as the mysterious Isodore, that princess who never shows +herself unless danger besets the League. If she is the wonder men who +have seen her say she is, they stand in dire need of her now.’ + +‘Beware how you talk so lightly of her—she has the gift of fernseed. At +this very moment she may know of your perfidy.’ + +‘Perfidy is a hard word, my queen, and sounds not prettily.—And now, +good-night. And you will not fail me?’ + +‘I will _not_ fail you,’ Isodore replied with the stern inflection Le +Gautier had noticed before, and marvelled over. ‘I never fail.’ + +‘A woman, and never fail!’ + +‘Not in my promises. If I make a vow or pledge my word, I can wait five +years or ten to fulfil it.—Good-night. And when we meet again, you will +not say I have belied my contract.’ + +When Valerie entered some minutes later, she found Isodore with +firm-set face and gleaming eyes. ‘My brother is dead,’ she said +quietly. ‘Poor Carlo! And he loved me so at one time. Now, he can never +know.’ + +‘Dead!’ Valerie exclaimed. ‘You do not mean to say’—— + +‘That Maxwell killed him?—No. His heart has been failing for years, +long before I left Rome; his life was not worth an hour’s purchase. But +I have no time to mourn over him now.—Let me see if I can do a little +good with my useless occupation. I start for Rome to-morrow.’ + +Valerie looked at her friend in stupid astonishment. + +‘I cannot explain to you now. Maxwell is free to return home. As you +know, it means destruction to Le Gautier’s plans, if he does. I dared +not press him too closely to-night; but Maxwell will be detained in +Rome, in all probability by Paulo Lucci, till some charge can be +trumped up for his destruction. But Lucci and his band dare not cross +me; my power is too great for that. To-morrow, I leave for Rome, and +pray heaven that I may not be too late!’ + + + + +AMERICAN TRAITS. + + +It is usual in this country to regard the Americans as a homogeneous +people, and to accept the Yankee as a fair type of the whole nation. +But this is a fallacy. The inhabitants of the South, and more +especially the descendants of the early French and Spanish colonists +to be found in the Gulf States, differ radically in their morals, +manners, and customs from the population of other sections of the +Union. It is not, however, our purpose in this paper to enter into an +extended disquisition upon the characteristics of the people of the +United States, our object being simply to touch briefly upon a few +of their more prominent traits. The Puritan element in the character +of the first settlers of New England has exercised an influence upon +social life there which has not been confined to that limited area, +but has made itself felt, in a more or less marked degree, throughout +the whole of the Northern States. The differences of race and climate +have, however, not only been obstacles to the inhabitants of the South +accepting the Puritan standard of morals, but have also prevented +the development of those traits of character to be found in the +population of other parts of the country, and which are more peculiarly +distinctive of the Americans as a people. We shall therefore limit +ourselves to dealing with those national characteristics which have +come under our observation in the Northern States. + +That submission to the will of the majority which is inculcated by +democratic institutions has exercised a marked influence upon the +social no less than upon the political life of the people of the United +States, save in the late Slave States. It has not only had the result +of preventing the development of individuality of character, but +likewise has considerably modified that obstinacy of temper and dogged +tenacity of opinion which are to be found in the Anglo-Saxon race. The +late Lord Beaconsfield on one occasion said in the House of Commons +that a gentleman who had spent several years in America had declared to +him that it was his belief that ‘the citizens of the republic were the +most tractable people in the world, and the readiest open to conviction +by argument.’ + +In the United States, the absence of that segregation of the various +grades of society which exist in Europe is evinced by the habits and +manners of the masses in that country. If the national independence of +character be occasionally pushed too far, and degenerate into offensive +self-assertion, at least it prevents any approach to servility. No +inequality of position or circumstances will induce a native of any +of the Northern States to submit to being dealt with in the manner +or spoken to in the tone which, in England, the man in broadcloth +too frequently adopts, as a matter of course, towards the man in +fustian. The late Sydney Godolphin Osborne used to relate how, once, a +respectable artisan said to him: ‘I like you, my lord; there is nothing +of the gentleman about you.’ The meaning of the speaker was undoubtedly +that Lord Osborne did not treat him in the patronising manner that +members of the higher class usually address those whom they regard as +their social inferiors. Now, no one perhaps has a keener appreciation +of the advantages of wealth and education than the American; but that +the possessor of them should feel himself justified in using towards +the man who lacks these adventitious gifts the language of a superior +to an inferior, is what he cannot understand, and which he will not +for one moment put up with. An anecdote Thackeray used to relate of an +experience of his when in the United States well illustrates this trait +of the people. While in New York, he expressed to a friend a desire +to see some of the ‘Bowery Bhoys,’ who, he had heard, were a class of +the community peculiar to that city. So one evening he was taken to +the Bowery, and he was shown a ‘Bhoy.’ The young man, the business +of the day being over, had changed his attire. He wore a dress-coat, +black trousers, and a satin waistcoat; whilst a tall hat rested on the +back of his head, which was adorned with long well-greased hair—known +as ‘soap-locks’—a style which the rowdies of that day affected. The +youth was leaning against a lamp-post, smoking an enormous cigar; and +his whole aspect was one of ineffable self-satisfaction. The eminent +novelist, after contemplating him for a few moments with silent +admiration, said to the gentleman by whom he was accompanied: ‘This is +a great and gorgeous creature!’ adding: ‘Can I speak to him without his +taking offence?’ + +Receiving an answer in the affirmative, Thackeray went up to the +fellow, on the pretext of asking his way, and said: ‘My good man, I +want to go to Broome Street.’ + +But the unlucky phrase, ‘My good man,’ roused the gall of the +individual spoken to. Instead, therefore, of affording the information +sought, the ‘Bhoy’—a diminutive specimen of humanity, scarcely over +five feet in height—eyeing the tall form of his interlocutor askance, +answered the query in the sense that his permission had been asked +for the speaker to visit the locality in question, and he said, +patronisingly: ‘Well, sonny, yer kin go thar.’ + +When Thackeray subsequently related the incident, he laughingly +declared that he was so disconcerted by the unexpected response, that +he had not the courage to continue the dialogue. + +The question, however, differently put would, in all probability, +have elicited a civil answer from ninety-nine out of a hundred of +the members of the class to which the man belonged. In fact, the +discourtesy, and even rudeness, of which some travellers in the +United States complain have arisen from the fact of their failing to +appreciate the difference existing between the social systems of that +country and their own. + +The wide gulf in culture which in England separates the upper and +middle classes from the lower orders, does not exist in America. This +has arisen from various causes. In the first place, the great bulk of +the people of the Union are much better educated than is as yet the +case in this country. The admirable system of common or, as they are +termed, ‘public’ schools which prevails in America affords facilities +for all children obtaining a sound English education without the +payment by their parents of any school fees, and at a trifling cost to +the taxpayer in all sections of the Union, and especially in the West, +where large grants have been made of the State lands in support of the +public schools. In the second place, the social status of the working +classes who are _natives_ of the United States has been raised by the +fact that the Americans are almost exclusively engaged in avocations +demanding intelligence and skilled labour. This has been owing to the +circumstance that upon the coloured population and the Irish and German +immigrants have devolved those coarse and irksome occupations which +have to be followed by a portion of the inhabitants of other countries. +To give one instance of this alone, it may be stated that rarely is a +native American citizen, man or woman, found occupying the position of +a domestic servant in any of the Atlantic cities. + +The wages, too, commanded by artisans and mechanics averaging nearly +double those of the same class in other countries, it follows, +necessarily, that vice and crime—the inevitable concomitants of a state +of society in which the condition of the mass of the lower classes is +but one step removed from absolute indigence, as is the case in most +European countries—are not nearly so prevalent in America. In the New +England States, where the foreign population is small, there is not a +country in Europe—possibly with the exception of Holland—where there is +so little crime. Few persons, indeed, are aware how much the foreign +element in the community, in many of the States, contributes to the +statistics of the offences which come under the cognisance of the +criminal tribunals. In the State of New York alone, seventy per cent. +of the infractions of the law are committed by the Irish, whilst the +fair ratio of this class in proportion to the whole population would be +a little less than twenty per cent. + +One of the most marked characteristics of the Americans is their rooted +determination to resist any legislation which shall recognise any class +distinctions in the community. Of course, no one contends that the man +of wealth, education, and culture is not the superior, in one sense of +the word, of him who lacks these. The equality insisted upon is simply +this: that no class of society shall make the circumstance of enjoying +these adventitious advantages a ground for the members of it basing a +claim to be a separate caste, possessing rights and privileges—fenced +in by law—denied to the bulk of their countrymen. This sentiment found +expression in the opposition which the proposal met with, a few years +ago, that persons in the Civil Service of the Federal government should +be irremovable, save for misconduct, instead of being turned out of +their places after every change of administration, as had previously +been the case. It was argued that fixity of tenure of office would +have the result of creating a bureaucracy, the members of which would +come in time to regard themselves as a privileged class. That these +apprehensions were unfounded, experience of the practical working of +the new system of government patronage has proved. But the very fact +of the objection having been raised at all shows how sensitive public +opinion was on the subject. + +One noticeable feature of American society is that in none of the +Northern States does an officer in the army or navy enjoy the social +status that he commands in all European countries. Holmes, in _The +Autocrat of the Breakfast Table_, has commented upon this trait of his +countrymen. He says: ‘It is curious to observe of how small account +military folk are held among our Northern people. Our young men must +gild their spurs, but they need not win them. The equal division of +property keeps the younger sons of rich people above the necessity of +military service. Thus, the army loses one element of refinement, and +the moneyed upper classes forget what it is to count heroism amongst +their virtues. Still, I don’t believe in any aristocracy without pluck +as its backbone. Ours may show it when the day comes, if ever it does +come.’ + +The opportunity for young men of the wealthier class proving their +manhood came sooner than Holmes anticipated when he penned the above +remarks; for less than three years later, the civil war broke out, +and then this class were not slack in responding to the call of their +country for their services. Numerous instances occurred of young +men reared in luxury—unable to obtain commissions owing to their +want of military training—shouldering muskets in the ranks of the +Federal armies; and their patriotism received due recognition from +their fellow-citizens. But in time of peace it is the members of the +community who are engaged in those pursuits best remunerated who are +held in the highest estimation—a necessary result of a condition of +society in which wealth is the standard by which social position is +measured and defined. The girl who in the French song exclaims, ‘Oh! +que j’aime les militaires!’ utters a sentiment which as a rule finds no +echo in the hearts of the American fair. An odd illustration of this +fact came under the observation of the writer when he was resident in +New York. A lady—whose brother had been educated at the government +Military Academy at West Point—gave, in all seriousness, the reason +why this gentleman, after graduating, had not accepted a commission in +the army, in these words: ‘He had a higher ambition than to be a mere +soldier, so he has become a dry-goods merchant.’ + +In New York, and indeed in all the larger Atlantic cities, a class has +sprung up of late years which affects to look down upon the political +and social institutions of their country. Mr Howells, in his novel _A +Woman’s Reason_, speaking of one of the Upper Ten, says: ‘He saw what +a humbug democracy and equality really were. He must have seen that +nobody practically believes in them.’ This sentiment may accurately +reflect the opinions of a limited class, but it is an absolute fallacy +to assert that such views are generally entertained. On the contrary, +they have not to any appreciable extent permeated the people at large, +and there is not the slightest likelihood of their affecting the +national life or changing its standards. + +In closing these desultory observations upon some of the characteristic +traits of the Americans, the writer may state that they are based upon +personal observation during a residence of several years in the United +States. + + + + +COUSIN GEORGE. + + +IN TWO CHAPTERS.—CHAP. I. + +Mr Nicholas Smethby lived, in pretty easy circumstances, at a town some +thirty or forty miles distant from London, from which metropolis he had +retired on leaving off business. His profession had been, nominally, +that of an accountant; but he had seldom troubled himself greatly +about accounts, and had not received many commissions to investigate +them. He had really been a speculator in stocks and shares, in a small +but profitable way; and while he lent but little of his own money +in loans, had made a great deal of profit as agent, or ‘middleman,’ +between those who wished to borrow and those who were able to lend. So +Mr Smethby had lived in a circle in which it was necessary for him +to have his wits about him, and in which a somewhat decided hankering +for gain was likely to be developed; yet in this he was perhaps no +worse than most of his neighbours; while, ’cute as he was, he was not +a bad sort of fellow, take him altogether. He was pleasant and social +enough in his family circle, a pretty large one, but reduced, as far as +his own household was concerned, to one daughter, Harriet, the other +members having married. Two of these had settled in the neighbourhood +of Valeborough, the town referred to; while Mr Smethby had long been +a widower. He had no other relations, that he knew of, and, as he was +wont to say when speaking on the subject, he did not want to hear of +any. His cousin, George Styles, was the last he had had much to do +with, and, ah!—Mr Smethby would exclaim at such times as the subject +was brought up—he did not care about any more like him. + +‘Twenty years ago, sir,’ he would explain, ‘he called on me with a +cock-and-bull story of his being in trouble and wanting to get to +Australia; and I was fool enough to lend him twenty pounds. Yes, sir, +lent twenty pounds to a man I did not care two straws for, and had seen +barely a dozen times in my life. What was the consequence? Why, I never +heard any more of him or my twenty pounds either, and don’t know to +this day whether he went to Australia or not. I should decidedly say +_not_. That is all I know about my relations.’ + +It must be owned that it was at the best a selfish kind of +cheerfulness, which was derived from the belief that he had no kith or +kin out of his own household; but Smethby was rather a selfish man. He +certainly was too fond of talking in this strain. + +It happened that, towards the close of a bright June day, Mr Smethby +was at a railway station some two or three miles from his residence. +To aid in identifying the town, we may say that there was another line +which ran through or at least close to it; but from the station in +question, an omnibus plied to Valeborough, and it was for this vehicle +that Mr Smethby waited on the little platform. + +‘We shall have a wet night, I expect,’ said a voice in his ear. + +He looked round, and saw a sailor-like man, whom he had already +noticed, and who was scanning the horizon in a sailor-like manner. +Mr Smethby made a fitting reply to this remark, and a desultory +conversation ensued. The expected omnibus now coming into sight as it +crossed a rise in the road at some distance, Smethby instinctively +shifted his valise a little nearer to the gate. The man good-naturedly +helped him, as he was close to the bag, and exclaimed, as he saw the +label upon it: ‘Smethby! It is odd that I should see that name to-day, +for it is not a common one.’ + +‘I do not think it is often met with,’ said Mr Smethby. ‘But what is +there odd in your seeing it to-day?’ + +‘Well, perhaps not much,’ replied the man, with a smile; ‘but I was +talking about that name a good deal yesterday, and for weeks before.’ + +‘Indeed! May I ask how that was?’ said his listener. + +‘I have just come from Australia,’ returned the sailor. (Mr Smethby +could not help growing suddenly attentive at this.) ‘I landed yesterday +at Gravesend, and bade good-bye to an old chum. Ah! he was a good chum +too! Five years had I worked in the next claim to old George, as we +called him. His right name was George Styles.’ + +‘George Styles!’ exclaimed Mr Smethby.—‘But I must apologise for +interrupting you.’ + +‘He had done well—better than any of us,’ continued the sailor. ‘Some +folks said he was worth a quarter of a million of money; but I never +believed that; about half the figure would be nigher. He said he had +no friends in England he cared for now, except one Mr Smethby. That +is why the name startled me. He was always talking about him. It was +on purpose to see him he went on to London with the ship; he lives +somewhere in the City.’ + +‘O—h!’ said Mr Smethby. This was a long-sustained syllable, the +gentleman having a curiously complicated rush of thought just then. + +‘Yes, he lives in London; and I think old George means playing a rare +trick on him,’ said the sailor, whose smile broke into a laugh here. +‘He used to say what a game it would be to go and pretend he was poor +and broken down, so as to see who were his real friends and who were +not. It is my belief he will do it too; and when I go back to London, +I’ll try to find him out, to hear all about it. Ha, ha, ha!’ + +The omnibus drew up at this moment; and the sailor, knowing their +conference must end, touched his cap and drew back. + +‘A—was this George Styles really so rich? I ask, because your story has +interested me,’ said Mr Smethby hurriedly. ‘He must be a droll fellow!’ + +‘Rich! Why, I’ve seen with my own eyes the banker’s receipts for the +best part of a ton of gold of his, first and last,’ returned the +sailor; ‘and that was only a part of his luck. His last words to me +were: “Bill”—my name is Bill Brown—“Bill, as long as I live, you shall +never want a friend.” Nor I shan’t, I know.—Good-day, sir.’ + +Mr Smethby entered the vehicle, and had a silent, thoughtful ride to +Valeborough. The sailor’s conversation, helter-skelter and rattle-brain +as it was, had furnished him with much food for thought; and finding +that his son was at his house, when he arrived there—this son was +married and settled at Valeborough—he immediately took him, with Miss +Harriet, into council. During his narrative, repeated exclamations of +astonishment broke from his hearers. + +‘Why, father,’ cried his daughter as he finished, ‘this must be your +cousin George; and you are the Mr Smethby he is looking for.’ + +‘Of course I am; I saw that at once,’ replied her father. + +‘But what is to be done?’ asked Mr Joe, the son. ‘You have left London +for years; he may be looking about for you till doomsday, and be no +nearer finding you.’ + +‘I suppose he will go to my old address. The people there know where I +am, and will send him down,’ said Mr Smethby. ‘I expect that is how it +will be.’ + +‘I hope so, I am sure,’ continued his son; ‘otherwise, we may lose a +splendid chance.’ + +Smethby could not help admitting the possibility of this, which seemed +to disturb him a good deal, yet nothing could be done to avert it. + +‘We must be careful to show him every kindness,’ said Harriet. ‘After +having been away from England so long, he will feel pleased at’—— + +‘Leave me alone,’ interposed Smethby, with a nod and a wink, which +meant much. ‘I flatter myself I can see my way here pretty clearly. I +only hope he comes, that is all.’ + +Mr Smethby would have written to his successors in London, asking them +to give his address to any inquirer; but he abstained, partly because +he felt sure they would do this in any case, but chiefly from the +danger that his request might be mentioned to his cousin, and so show +that he, Mr Smethby, had a knowledge of his arrival in England. + +No days in the lives of Mr Smethby and his family had ever appeared +so long as each of the next two or three which followed their little +family interview. The suspense was—as the elder gentleman pronounced it +to be—‘excruciating;’ but it came to an end in time. + +Mr Smethby was in his front-garden in the afternoon, trying to occupy +himself; but his mind was busy on a subject very different from botany, +when, happening to look up from his flower-beds, he met the eyes of +a man who was watching him over the fence, as this man stood on the +footpath. He smiled when he met the glance of Smethby, who actually +recoiled in his astonishment; for although he had been thinking without +cessation of his cousin, yet it was like an electric shock in its +suddenness to look round and find the very man face to face with him; +for this was, must be, he felt, George Styles. He did not know him, +had no recollection of his features; but the bronzed, bushy-whiskered, +bushy-bearded man, dressed something like a sailor, yet not to be +mistaken for one, who smiled at him across the garden fence, was his +cousin, there could be no doubt of that. + +‘Well, Nick, old fellow!’ began the stranger; ‘I see you know me, +although it is many years since we parted.’ + +‘Why, it is George Styles!’ exclaimed Mr Smethby, with an assumption +of surprise and ‘gush’ which did him infinite credit, and of which he +felt secretly proud for a good while. He seized the other’s hand and +wrung it over the fence with a prolonged heartiness, as though he could +not bear to relinquish it. ‘My dear old boy, how glad I am to see you!’ +he resumed, as soon, it appeared, as his feelings would allow him to +speak. ‘Come in. How did you find me out? But never mind that now. Come +in! I shall have a thousand things to talk about.—This is Harriet; the +only unmarried one now; she was in arms when you went away, so I don’t +expect you to remember her.—Now, Harriet, let us have a cup of tea; and +put the best we have in the house on the table to-day, if we never do +so again.’ + +‘You are almost too kind, Nick,’ said the other, and there was really +a little catch in his voice as he spoke. ‘I did not expect—indeed, I +don’t deserve such generosity. I think I had first better run down to +the _Railway Tap_ and bespeak my room there, for I hope to stay three +or four days at Valeborough.’ + +‘Three or four days!’ exclaimed Mr Smethby; ‘bespeak a room at the +_Railway Tap_! I don’t mean to part with you, now I have found you +again, under three or four months; and if you do not make this your +home for everything, I—I—I’ll never forgive you.’ + +Miss Harriet, in an equally gratifying strain, indorsed these +sentiments, at which Styles was evidently affected. + +‘I did not expect—could not have hoped for this,’ he returned; ‘and +seeing that I have returned a—a poor man’—the awkward stop he made, ere +he could get this out, amused Smethby—‘it is so kind of you. If it will +not cause any inconvenience, I will stay here a little while, and I +will do anything I can to repay your generosity’—— + +Here he was interrupted by the good-tempered laughter which such an +idea excited, and the evening passed off merrily. + +Mr Joe and his wife looked in—by chance, as they explained; as did Mr +Brooks and his wife—formerly Miss Susy Smethby—who came also by chance; +the result being that there was quite a jovial party, and that Mr +Styles received the warmest invitations to become a frequent visitor at +the house of Mr Joe and at that of Mr Brooks. + +After this night, too, there was unwonted pleasantry at Mr Smethby’s, +for not only his family but some of the neighbours were constantly +dropping in, and it was wonderful what an interest they all took in +the gentleman from Australia. The latter was very guarded—kept up his +character well, did him great credit, Mr Joe said. But no one can avoid +an occasional flaw, and one or two were detected even in him. He was +wont to deplore the hardships which unsuccessful men suffered in a +colony—in fact, he did not like to enter on any detail of his painful +experiences—never would do so. + +‘Your hardships do not seem greatly to have injured you, George,’ his +host would answer; ‘you look a good ten years younger than your age; +and many a man who has never been fifty miles from London shows the +wear and tear of toil and worry, of which you complain so much, more +than you do.’ + +‘Ah! but it is the future!’ Mr Styles would say, when such a debate +arose—he would say it with a sad shake of the head—‘it is the future +which preys on my mind, what I am to do for the rest of my life.’ + +It was difficult for Mr Smethby, knowing so much as he did, to listen +gravely to such arguments as these; but he was grave, and his manner +encouraged Styles to confide in him—after a fashion. + +He soon showed an interest in speaking of certain Australian +investments which it appeared some friend of his thought highly of; a +shallow ruse, not likely to deceive such a man as his cousin. Styles +further mentioned that a gold-miner whom he knew had put ten thousand +pounds into one of these specs less than two years before, and he could +now sell out for thirty thousand any day he chose; but he was too good +a judge to do that, as in another two years the present value would be +doubled, and then, perhaps, he might be tempted to realise. This same +miner, as he had heard, held five or six other investments, nearly all +as good, and was in expectation of hearing news which would enable him +to employ the other half of his capital, which was now lying idle—only +making a paltry three per cent.—quite as well. All this Mr Styles had +heard from his friend. + +All this amused Smethby, who read his visitor the more thoroughly in +proportion as the latter sought to envelop himself in these far-fetched +disguises. No additional proof was needed to satisfy Smethby; but the +evidence was in a manner forced upon him to expose most completely the +absurd trick which his cousin was attempting to play off upon him. + +Harriet found a letter on the floor of their visitor’s room: it would +have been expecting too much from the feminine, or perhaps from any +temperament, to suppose she would not read it. Its contents were so +interesting, although exceedingly brief, that she showed the note to +her father. It was from a firm in London, a stockbroker’s evidently, +referring to some inquiry from ‘George Styles, Esq.’ as to the purchase +of shares to the amount of twenty thousand pounds, in the Bodgamaree +mines—the very speculation that Smethby had heard his cousin refer to +in their last conversation as being in great favour with the unnamed +gold-miner! The shares were low at present, the letter said, and could +be bought at about eighty per cent., so that a little over sixteen +thousand pounds would be sufficient. + +‘That settles it, then,’ said Smethby. ‘Be sure to put the letter back +where you found it, Harriet; and mind what I told you the other day. +Play your cards properly, and I am sure you will win.’ + +This utterance was rather obscure; but his daughter understood it well +enough to induce her to pout and frown a little, and to move with what +is generally described as a ‘flounce.’ + +‘Ah! it is all very well,’ said the gentleman; ‘but you ought to know +better than to dream of allowing a quarter of a million of money to go +out of the family.—Who is Robert Crewe, I should like to know?’ + +This speech would have been, to a third party, equally obscure with +that which had gone before; but as we do not wish to have any mystery, +we may explain that, almost from the first, Cousin George had appeared +much impressed by Harriet’s good looks, and had shown her attentions +which gradually became more marked. He was five-and-twenty years older +than the girl, it was true; but as he had himself said to Smethby, a +man ought to be a good deal older than a woman, when they marry; and +when a man had been abroad, knocking about the world best part of his +time, he then knew what a home was, and felt the want of a young and +cheerful wife. + +All this Smethby had pointed out to his daughter before; but was +shocked to find—for he really considered her a sensible, clear-headed +girl, as a rule—that a ridiculous friendship with one Robert Crewe, a +doctor’s assistant in the town, blocked the way of this new road to +wealth and position. + +Robert Crewe! Smethby had not ordinary patience with the idea. He +admitted that he had known of, and in some sort of way approved, or, +rather, had not forbidden this intimacy—it was in this roundabout +manner he now described his conduct—and the young fellow, in his +place, might be well enough; but to compare him and his miserable +gallipot and sticking-plaster prospects, with George Styles, was enough +to put any man out of temper. Robert Crewe, forsooth! + +Yet, with all this natural indignation and in spite of this sarcasm, +Miss Harriet could not quite make up her mind to renounce the young +doctor; but it might come in time. + +That very night—after the discovery of the letter, we mean—Mr Styles +on his return broached two subjects which were strongly suggestive, +especially when his hearers were behind the scenes to a degree he did +not suspect. These hearers were only Mr Smethby and his daughter. It +was a quiet night, such as delighted Mr Styles; he really appeared to +enjoy himself pretty well under all conditions; but he declared this +evening that a snug little family chat was sweeter than anything else, +to an old wanderer like himself. Port, sherry, and claret were at +hand; for while Smethby was, as a rule, strictly economical, so that +wine rarely appeared at his table, his hospitality to his cousin led +him into a freer display of such luxuries now, than of old. But the +taste of Mr Styles was simple—old-fashioned, he said; and he drank +scarcely anything but cold brandy-and-water, to which he was remarkably +partial. It was over a glass of this innocent beverage—always mixed +half and half, at which, even in his bloom of hospitality, Mr Smethby +winced—that he spoke of the subjects indicated. He referred to a friend +of his—it was odd how satisfied he seemed with this shallow artifice, +and how often he resorted to it—who was about to buy a small property +near London. This property was at Richmond—only a mere toy, a little +villa, with coachhouse and stables; a pretty conservatory, with a +couple of acres of land—that was all. It was freehold—his friend would +have nothing else—and it commanded the prettiest view on the river. + +Now, what was Miss Harriet’s opinion? Did she prefer living in the +country outright, or near London? What did she think of his friend’s +choice? Harriet hesitated, and her colour went and came; but Smethby +spoke up for her, and said that, like every other young girl, she would +prefer living near the great metropolis, with its theatres, its balls, +its parks and the like.—O yes! of course. Harriet but feebly echoed +this opinion, which was repeated and enlarged on by Smethby. + +Later in the evening, when the elders were alone, Styles brought up his +friend again; it was, as before, in reference to an investment, and Mr +George said how he wished his cousin had a little money to spare, as he +knew—his friend knew, that was—of a chance for doubling and trebling +every penny invested. + +Smethby, with his usual good-tempered laugh—he was always +good-tempered, when with Styles—said that for all George knew he +might have a trifle by him. On hearing this, his cousin expressed his +pleasure, and said that his friend was going to invest nearly twenty +thousand pounds in the spec. Such figures were beyond Smethby, as that +gentleman owned; but one, or even two thousand, he might command. In +short, ere they parted that night, he had resolved to remove his cash +from his deposit account at the town bank and join this friend in his +speculation. + +Styles was pleased to hear this; and when Smethby said he should like +to see his friend, laughed, and confusedly said he would tell his +cousin more about him soon. + + + + +ECONOMY OF FUEL. + + +Mr Hull, a celebrated geologist, has calculated that there is still +a quantity of coal in store in England and Wales sufficient to +afford a supply of one hundred and twenty millions of tons for about +five hundred years. This would be a cheerful estimate, if we could +cordially and unquestioningly accept it. But, unfortunately, we cannot, +other competent observers having affirmed that the coal deposits of +this country will be exhausted in less than two hundred years. We +would, therefore, urge with all earnestness, that the people and the +government should pay more especial attention to this vital subject +than they have hitherto done. + +Of course, there are two chief points on which any interference could +be effectual: these are, the exportation of coal, and the wasteful +processes of mining now in vogue. The former of these involves the +great question of free-trade, and the right of each coal-proprietor to +sell the produce of his land and labour at the best possible price. The +latter is even a still more difficult thing to meddle with, and must, +perhaps, be met rather by the provisions made on the part of landed +proprietors, when leasing their subterranean property to practical +miners, than by anything government can do. At present, the proprietor, +having a life-interest in his estate, desires to obtain from the mines +the largest amount of the most valuable coal at the smallest working +loss. The result is, that vast quantities of inferior but yet valuable +material are left in the pits; quantities that would do something +towards meeting the growing consumption in this kingdom. + +Selfish, narrow-minded people might exclaim: ‘Oh! there will be quite +enough of coal to last us our time. We don’t expect or want to live for +ever; therefore, we won’t bother ourselves about the economy of fuel.’ + +Let us remind such unpatriotic mortals that our manufacturing +and commercial interests rest upon our supplies of coal as their +foundation-stone. Our commercial rivals across the Atlantic possess +magnificent coal-fields, that are practically of indefinite extent. +Exhaust _our_ coal-fields, and their supremacy will become complete. It +behoves each and every one of us to think of the future of our country +and of the interests of those who come after us. + +Perchance some cynic may say: ‘What has posterity ever done for me? Let +posterity take care of itself.’ + +‘Very well,’ we reply; ‘let posterity do for itself. Let us only be +influenced by selfish and non-altruistic principles, and think only of +ourselves. The question is, how can we put money into our own pockets +by using less coal than we do?’ + +First, we can do so by using proper grates. Down to the time of Count +Rumford, the modern world of coal-burners never thought of the true +theory of caloric in connection with grates. Burners of wood had not +tried to be economical; they did not expect to be warm on more than one +side. When their bodies were scorched and their eyes smarted, they had +what they bargained for. Rumford appeared as a new teacher; he laid +down the principles of heat and combustion with admirable clearness, +and flooded England with grates of his favourite type. But in spite of +the teachings of the Count, coal-fires of to-day are as dirty, chilly, +and as wasteful as ever. + +The waste of coal in Britain is positively disgraceful. One hundred +and twenty millions of tons are consumed every year. Of this, one half +might be saved by the adoption of improved appliances. About thirty +million pounds sterling might thus be kept in our banks, instead +of being turned into cinders and smoke. The pall of smoke and fog +that broods over London contains in a single day fifty tons of coal! +The fact is that we burn coal in house-fires on an entirely false +principle—that is, on the principle of a blast-furnace, letting cold +air pass through the centre of the fire, to blaze the coal rapidly +away, and hurry the heat and half-burnt gases unused up the chimney. +We have to go back to the good old principle of the embers on the +earth, when the hearth was, as it is at the present day in many Irish +cottages, a true ‘focus,’ a centre of accumulated heat. We must, then, +return to truer lines, and make our fireplace again a ‘focus’ or ‘well’ +of stored heat, into which we put our fuel, first to be distilled into +gas, which, rising at a high temperature from its hot bed, meets the +air gliding towards the chimney, and bursts into flame, communicating +heat to the firebrick back and to the room. Then, when all the gases +have been burnt off, the red-hot coke remains, and burns away in the +bottom of the grate at a slow rate, yet radiating abundant heat into +the room. + +This desirable end is gained by using Mr Teale’s ‘Economiser.’ The +‘Coal Economiser’ is simply a shield of sheet-iron which stands on the +hearth, and rises as high as the lowest bar of the grate, against which +it should fit accurately, so as to shut in the space under the fire. +Any ordinary blacksmith can make the ‘Economiser.’ It is applicable to +any range, whether in the cottages of the poor or the mansions of the +rich. Those who wish for greater elegance can have it made of steel or +brass. Its chief purpose is to cut off the under current, and to keep +the chamber under the fire hot. + +Count Rumford affirmed that seven-eighths of the heat was carried up +the chimney. Heat is wasted in three ways: by combustion under the +influence of a strong draught; by imperfect combustion; by the escape +of heat through the sides and the back of the fireplace. By using the +‘Economiser’ all this is altered. If there is plenty of heat round the +fuel, then but little oxygen will do. But burn coal with a chilling +jacket, and it needs a fierce draught of oxygen to sustain it. High +temperature does not imply complete combustion, for in making gas, +coke is left. When the ‘Economiser’ is applied, the fire burns with an +orange colour, for the stream of oxygen is slow and steady, and the +coal undergoes complete combustion; consequently, there is an entire +absence of cinders, and only a little fine snuff-like powder falls +into the ‘economised’ chamber. Smoke is also conspicuous by its absence. + +In a recent lecture delivered at the Royal Institution, Mr Teale +mentioned several additional points about the structure of fireplaces, +which tend to the saving of fuel. (1) As much firebrick and as little +iron as possible should be used. Iron absorbs the heat, and chiefly in +directions in which the heat is least wanted. Firebrick retains and +accumulates heat. (2) The back of the fireplace should lean or arch +over the fire, so as to become heated by the rising flame. The heated +back sends forth abundant radiant heat into the room. ‘Milner’s’ back +is a capital arrangement; so is the Nelson ‘Rifle’ back. (3) The bottom +of the grating should be deep from before backwards. (4) The slits in +the grating should be narrow; this prevents small cinders from falling +through. (5) The bars in front should be narrow. + +If the foregoing instructions are attended to, there will be an +enormous saving of fuel. Soot and smoke will be diminished, and there +will be no half-burnt cinders. + +The late Sir William Siemens was an ardent advocate for the use of gas +as a heating agent. At the British Association of 1882, he said: ‘The +time is not far distant when both rich and poor will largely resort to +gas, the most convenient, the cleanest, and cheapest of heating agents, +and when raw coal will only be seen at the colliery or gasworks. In all +cases where the town to be supplied is within, say, thirty miles of +the colliery, the gasworks may with advantage be placed at the mouth, +or, still better, at the bottom of the pit, whereby all haulage of +fuel would be avoided, and the gas in its ascent from the bottom of +the colliery would acquire an onward pressure sufficient, probably, +to impel it to its destination.’ No doubt, if this scheme could be +realised, we would all be deeply indebted to the great man who first +suggested it. More than one half of the coal now consumed would be +saved by its adoption. At present, we must be content with the old +order of things. + +It is astonishing, however, that so few people employ gas instead of +coal as a cooking agent, especially in summer. It secures an immense +saving of labour, not to speak of its superiority over coal in respect +to coolness. In the hot summer days, cooking with a coal-fire in an +ordinary range is a tremendous trial to the poor cook. The kitchen +is like an oven. What a difference if gas is used! The moment it is +no longer required it can be turned off, and the temperature of the +kitchen is soon lowered. By using a gas-stove, no coal is required +during the summer. It is less expensive than coal. Of course, care must +be taken to have it turned off directly it is no longer required, and a +proper economy exercised in its use. Mr Fletcher, of Warrington, a high +authority on gas for cooking and heating purposes, says: ‘The cost of +gas, even if wastefully used, must be considered not only as regards +the saving of coal, but also, what is far greater, the saving in weight +of meat roasted, which is considerable, and the reduced wear and tear, +waste, dirt, and consequent labour. Taken altogether as affecting the +total housekeeping expenses, gas is cheaper than coal for cooking +at any price not exceeding twelve or fourteen shillings per thousand +cubic feet; coal being, say, twelve to fourteen shillings per ton.’ The +majority of people, however, pay very much less for their gas, and more +for coal; in which case, gas will be much cheaper than coal. + +Asbestos heated by gas makes a suitable fire. It is cleanly, quiet, +free from dust, and convenient; and it can be turned on or extinguished +in an instant. + +Enough has been written to show that economy of fuel is not merely +theoretical and fanciful, but that it is practicable and worthy of +earnest attention. + + + + +THE SIGN OF THE _RED INDIAN_. + + +Just on the outskirts of the seaport and garrison town of Chubleigh, +in the south-west of England, stands a little old-fashioned hostelry +called the _Red Indian_. How it came by its name is involved in +obscurity. The antiquity of the inn is undoubted, and a tradition +is current in the district, that during the unfortunate Monmouth’s +rebellion it was used as the temporary head-quarters of Colonel +Kirke. In its back-garden, a wooden seat is still shown to visitors +on which that bloodthirsty officer, surrounded by his ‘lambs,’ is +alleged to have sat in judgment, and thence ruthlessly consigned to +the gallows scores of the unoffending rustics of the locality. From +time immemorial, the _Red Indian_ has been in the hands of a family +named Slade. The present proprietor, though, generally speaking, as +deliberate in manner as John Willet, is yet apt to be garrulously +communicative in talking of his inn and its interesting historical +associations. Above the rustic porch over the door there is fixed a +large, rudely carved, wooden figure of a savage holding in its hand a +tomahawk. The Indian’s nose was long ago knocked off by a well-directed +stone thrown by some mischievous urchin; his original coat of paint has +peeled off, and large cracks are visible, which run the whole length +of the figure. Altogether, this Indian is as disreputable-looking a +sign as a traveller might perceive throughout the length and breadth of +England. Nevertheless, it is in connection with this dilapidated timber +savage that the writer obtained, from the landlord of the _Red Indian_, +materials for the following story. + +When the present century was in its infancy, the son of the then +proprietor, and grand-uncle of the present landlord, was engaged in +the capacity of boatswain of a privateer, which had been fitted out +with the object of preying on the French merchant service. In the +Mediterranean, the privateer captured a large vessel, which in part was +laden with the product of the labours of a Parisian curiosity-hunter, +who had been despoiling ancient Grecian temples, with the object of +supplying the virtuosi of the French metropolis with antique sculptures +and bronzes, and thereby securing a large profit to himself. The +privateersmen were greatly disappointed at not finding specie, and what +they considered marketable merchandise, on board the Frenchman, and +attached but little value to the battered though priceless bas-reliefs +and statues. Boatswain Slade took a great fancy to a life-sized bronze +gladiator, which he considered would prove an acceptable addition to +the attractions of the back-garden of his father’s inn, and managed, +for a few shillings, to effect its purchase from the captain. + +Shortly after the glorious victory of Trafalgar, the privateer was +paid off at Chubleigh; and the boatswain conveyed the statue on shore +to his father’s inn. The gladiator was placed on a brick pedestal, +flanked on either side by two rusty carronades; and the bareness of +the surroundings was relieved by the artistic disposal of a number +of huge shells which the boatswain had brought from ‘foreign parts.’ +The host of the _Red Indian_, however, was soon struck by the idea +of making the figure a sign for his hostelry. He had but little +sentimental regard for the rich green mould of antiquity, so, with +execrable vandalism, carefully scraped it off the statue, and had the +gladiator painted a bright scarlet by a local artist, who took payment +for his work in the old ale for which the hostelry was famous. This +operation performed, the metamorphosed gladiator was removed to a +prominent position in front of the inn door, and for years did duty +as a Red Indian. Its brilliant appearance was a perpetual source of +gratification and delight to the host and his numerous customers; while +inquiring strangers were proudly informed that it had been captured +from the frog-eaters. Once a year the extemporised Indian received a +fresh coat of paint; and save when its head was decorated at times with +a disused tin pail or an old hat by some facetious individuals, it was +not otherwise interfered with. + +At the close of the year 1815, Chubleigh was _en fête_ in connection +with the disembarkation of the 31st Regiment of Light Dragoons, which +during that year had performed doughty service at Waterloo, and which +had just returned from the occupation of Paris. The piping times of +peace had again returned, and, naturally enough, the officers and men +who had assisted to destroy the power of the once dreaded ‘Boney’ were +the objects of popular pride and enthusiasm among the inhabitants of +the town. When the regiment settled down in quarters, invitations to +the houses of the principal townsmen were showered on the officers, and +each vied with the other to entertain these heroes of Waterloo. + +The younger officers, several of whom had left school to join their +regiment in Belgium, gave themselves prodigious airs; but no one +considered himself of so much importance as a raw young Connaught-man, +a cornet named Mike Macnamara. Mike, a warrior of about nine months’ +service, created great amusement both in the officers’ mess and in +the houses to which he was invited by boasting about the number of +Frenchmen whom he had placed _hors de combat_ in the late short but +eventful campaign. His bounce together with his extreme simplicity +rendered him the butt of his brother-officers, and he was in +consequence the victim of numerous practical jokes. In these days, and +for many years subsequently, rough horseplay and the perpetration of +the most uncomfortable imaginable practical jokes were characteristic +of the spirited gentlemen who officered the regiments of British +cavalry. Those of our readers who took the trouble, some years ago, to +wade through the evidence at the Tichborne trial, will remember the +description of the ruthless tricks played on the simple undoubted Roger +by his brother-carabineers. At the present day, military practical +joking is somewhat out of fashion, and any games that may be played are +curtailed of their former disagreeable proportions, and have assumed a +comparatively mild character. + +Cornet Macnamara’s room was the favourite arena for a display of the +ingenious tricks of his facetiously inclined brother-officers. Thistles +and dead cats were placed between his sheets; trapfuls of live rats +were let loose in the apartment; the nuts of his iron bedstead were +unscrewed, so that when the poor fellow turned in, the framework of the +couch tumbled to pieces and landed the mattress on the floor, while at +the same time he was douched by a tub of water from the shelf above, +which was fastened with cord to the mattress, and upset simultaneously +with the collapse of the bed. On such occasions Mike was naturally +wroth, and expressed himself as anxious to call out the offenders; but +despite his utmost vigilance and caution, he could never capture his +tormentors. + +Late one evening, a party of revellers from barracks were passing the +_Red Indian_, when they espied the vermilioned gladiator. Nothing +would satisfy them but to feloniously remove the statue and return +with it to quarters—a work of considerable difficulty, as the figure +was heavy. Arrived thither with their load, some one suggested that it +should be placed in Cornet Macnamara’s room; and this idea was hailed +with general enthusiasm. A scout was despatched to the messroom, in +order to keep watch on Mike’s movements, and give the alarm in case +he should appear on the scene. With great labour the gladiator was +hoisted to the top of the staircase of the officer’s house; and Mike’s +room door having been forced open, the jokers placed the statue in +front of his dressing-table, on the top of an inverted iron coal-box. +The staircase at the time was in process of being whitewashed, so the +officers obtained possession of a tub of the mixture, and smeared the +‘Red Indian’ a dirty white; then taking the sheets from Mike’s bed, +they hung them about the figure, turning it into a respectable-looking +ghost. Afterwards, the officers dropped one by one into the messroom, +and joined a group who were listening with great amusement to a +new-fangled story which was being retailed by Macnamara regarding his +prowess at Waterloo. + +Mike, after clapping an additional two Frenchmen to the previous grand +total of the number who had fallen by his sword, as narrated in his +tale of the previous night, left the messroom in order to proceed to +his quarters, whither, in a minute or two, he was stealthily followed +by the whole of the officers, who anticipated great fun from the +consternation of their victim when beholding the ghastly apparition in +his bedroom. Mike gaily entered the apartment, singing a love ditty of +his native land, and began to fumble for his tinder-box. After several +attempts, he at last managed to light his candle, and of course at +once perceived the ghost. The cornet was filled with the superstitious +notions of a certain section of his countrymen, and started back nearly +overcome with terror. ‘Ye saints in glory! what’s that?’ he cried; +then leaving the room, he plunged madly down the staircase, and rushed +yelling across the parade ground in the direction of the messroom. In +his headlong progress, poor Mike did not observe a party of two ladies +and a gentleman, who happened to be the colonel, accompanied by his +wife and daughter, who had just returned from a dinner-party. Mike ran +full tilt against his commanding officer, and knocked him into a puddle +in the barrack square. The ladies screamed loudly; and the colonel, +with many objurgations, got on his feet and confronted his assailant. + +‘You—Cornet Macnamara!’ he angrily exclaimed. ‘What do you mean, sir, +rushing about like a madman at this time of night? Consider yourself +under arrest, sir.’ + +‘Faith, colonel,’ answered the unfortunate Mike, ‘I am very sorry, +sorr, but I did not percaive ye. But, sorr, I wint up to me room just +now, and as I hope for salvation, I found the divil in it, wid a big +white shate wrapped round him!’ + +The irate colonel at once surmised that another trick had been played +on his subordinate; so he sent the ladies home to quarters, and then +called loudly for the sergeant of the guard with a file of men. + +When this detachment of the guard appeared on the scene, the colonel +ordered them to follow him to Macnamara’s room, where, by the light of +the sergeant’s lantern, he showed the trembling cornet that there was +nothing supernatural in the character of the figure that had frightened +him so much. He then, under the circumstances, relieved Mike from +arrest and proceeded home. + +Mike waited until the commanding officer and the men of the guard were +clear of the staircase, and then slid the gladiator off the coal-box. +He edged the statue to the top of the stair, and by main strength +toppled it over the banister; and an instant later, with a loud crash, +the gladiator was smashed into fragments on the flagstones of the +lobby, four stories beneath. + +It is needless to say that there was great anger and consternation +in the breast of the worthy host of the _Red Indian_ when, next +morning, he awoke and found that his cherished statue had mysteriously +disappeared. It was not long, however, before he obtained a clew to its +whereabouts, as a customer informed him that late the previous night +he ‘met a lot of milingtary chaps carrying summut’ in the direction +of the barracks. This ‘summut’ Mr Slade shrewdly conjectured was his +‘Red Indian;’ and he at once wrote to the regimental quarters to make +inquiries into the matter. + +When the poor landlord discovered the gladiator in its fragmentary +state, he became most angry and abusive; but was somewhat consoled when +an emissary from the mess informed him that the officers would make +good the damage, and requested him to inform them by letter next day +the price at which he valued his statue. The landlord then procured +the services of a passing cart and had the pieces removed to the inn. +After a long consultation with his wife, he decided to assess the +damage at ten guineas; and by way of making the most of the business, +communicated with a marine store-dealer in town, intending to sell the +smashed gladiator as old metal. + +The colonel made the most strenuous though unavailing efforts to +discover the practical jokers, and roundly abused the whole of the mess +for their treatment of poor Mike; but after a while, the affair passed +off in a general laugh. + +Affairs, however, were speedily fated to take a turn which caused the +implicated parties to laugh the other way. A large vessel arrived in +the port of Chubleigh from Alexandria, which had among her passengers a +celebrated London virtuoso, who, some months before, had been induced +to pay a visit to Egypt by reason of the excitement produced in +antiquarian circles by the discoveries of the celebrated Belzoni. This +gentleman was posting to London when his chaise broke down opposite the +_Red Indian_, and he entered the hostelry while the vehicle was being +repaired. After partaking of a little refreshment, he took a walk in +the garden, and his eye caught the fragments of the gladiator, which +had been shot in a corner while waiting the arrival of the marine +store-dealer’s cart. Having elicited the story of the statue from the +host, the antiquary submitted the pieces to a most careful examination; +and despite the whitewash and coats of paint with which the figure +had been adorned, he recognised it as a specimen of the work of the +renowned ancient Greek sculptor Lysippus; and in answer to the excited +inquiry of the astonished landlord, appraised its value at six hundred +pounds! + +Having, at the host’s urgent request, given a written opinion on the +matter, the virtuoso departed on his journey, and then Mr Slade hurried +with his certificate to a Chubleigh attorney, in whose hands he placed +the matter, with instructions to leave no stone unturned to recover the +full amount from the officers. + +Words could scarcely express the chagrin of the purloiners of the +gladiator, when the colonel of the 31st Light Dragoons read at mess +the contents of the letter he received from the legal adviser of +the landlord of the _Red Indian_. The commanding officer further +significantly hinted that the implicated parties would have to uphold +their reputation as officers and gentlemen by paying the amount +demanded, or run the risk of being cashiered. + +At first, the jokers were inclined to dispute the claim, and invited +the opinion of an expert; but that authority, when he had inspected +the figure, corroborated the London man’s decision, with a further +assurance that the statue was cheap at the money. + +Cornet Macnamara, with reasonable show of justification, stoutly +declined to pay a farthing of the six hundred pounds. It was, however, +with a very bad grace, indeed, that the sum was subscribed by the +interested parties; and served as a valuable lesson to them to modify +for the future their spirit of mischief. + +When Mike discovered the identity of his tormentors, he sent a +challenge to each, and an arrangement was come to by which a +representative was selected by ballot to meet the Irishman. The old +trick of leadless pistols was resorted to; the combatants fired three +shots at each other without any perceptible result, and then the +seconds interfered, and declared honour satisfied. + +A Jew purchased the fragments of the gladiator from the officers for a +few guineas; but the wily Israelite well knew that a genuine Lysippus +is almost as valuable broken as whole. He had the pieces skilfully +rejoined, and disposed of the statue to a local virtuoso for a large +sum, who in turn bequeathed it to the Chubleigh Museum. + +With part of the money the lucky landlord of the _Red Indian_ received +for his gladiator, he invested in a wooden figure, which did duty for +a sign equally well, and which he placed above the porch out of the +reach of predatory officers, and where, as has been mentioned, it still +stands, battered, cracked, and mouldy. + +Shortly after the episode of the gladiator, the 31st Light Dragoons +were hurriedly despatched to Lancashire, in order to quell the bread +riots which had broken out in that county; and the actors in the comedy +just narrated were heard of no more by the good folks of Chubleigh. + +A little more remains to be told of the statue by Lysippus. We must +come down to 1851, the year in which the Great Exhibition was held in +Hyde Park. A middle-aged Frenchman landed at Chubleigh from Havre on +his way to London, and while taking a walk about the town, entered +the _Red Indian_. The landlord, who had profited so handsomely by +his statue, had years before gone to his rest, and his son the +ex-boatswain, then an aged man, reigned in his stead. The Frenchman +was interested in learning that his host had taken a share in the old +war, and after a time, he had narrated to him the whole history of the +statue. + +‘Vat vas de name of de vessel you took?’ he eagerly asked. + +‘The _Hercules_, sir.’ + +To the landlord’s astonishment, Monsieur leant back in his chair and +indulged in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and recovering himself, +asked to be directed to the Museum. Having reached that establishment, +he was not long in picking out the Lysippus, of which the learned in +Chubleigh were so proud. The Frenchman put on his glasses and examined +the gladiator’s toe-nail, and then gave vent to another guffaw, which +speedily brought round him the officials of the establishment. He +asked to see the secretary; and when introduced to the presence of +that functionary, exclaimed: ‘Begar, sir, dat gladiateur is no more a +Lysippus dan I am de Czar Nicholas of all de Russias. My oncle, who die +ven I vas a leetle boy, keep vat you call a foundree in Athens, and +have casts, or _replicas_ you call dem, made of all de antiques. He den +put dem down a sewer until dey get a green magnifique; dey look like +de real article; and he make heaps of money by selling dem as such in +Paris. Your gladiateur is one of dem!’ + +‘But, my dear sir,’ asked the astounded secretary, ‘how are you going +to substantiate your statement?’ + +‘Come wit me,’ said the Frenchman; and the twain proceeded to the +statue. ‘My oncle,’ resumed the Frenchman, ‘deal in de antique, as I +have told you; and in case he himself be cheated wit his own spurious +statues, he have a private mark. Here is dis mark—a leetle hole drilled +under dis toe-nail!’ + +The secretary communicated the purport of Monsieur’s statement to the +Museum directors; experts were called who substantiated the Frenchman’s +assertion that the work was spurious, and was no more the production of +Lysippus than an Italian moulder’s plaster-cast of Venus is the work of +Phidias. In disgust, the directors ordered the statue to be transferred +to the lumber-room of the establishment, and its description, +‘Gladiator, by Lysippus, B.C. about 324; bequeathed by the late ——, +Esq.,’ disappeared from the Museum catalogue. + + + + +ANOTHER ‘SHIP-CANAL.’ + + +Another has been proposed, although the idea is not new, but seems +to have been an old idea revived, and that is, to cut a canal from +the sea to Birkenhead Docks across the low flat country lying between +the outfalls of the Dee and Mersey, and thus getting a wide passage +which will enable ships to avoid the bar of the Mersey. Elaborate +plans have been prepared by an eminent engineer; and as the whole +scheme seems feasible, and as money for great schemes seems to be +readily forthcoming in this wealth-producing country, there can be +no reason why the ‘ship-canal of Birkenhead’ should not be carried +out as well as the ‘ship-canal of Manchester.’ It would have a great +and reviving effect on the town of Birkenhead, which by this means +may one day become an important commercial city, a rival to, instead +of a mere suburb of, her wealthy sister on the opposite Lancastrian +shore; and the expectations of half a century ago of a grand city, with +magnificent streets, and squares, and splendid commercial docks, may +even yet be realised. + + + + +THIS IS ALL. + + + Just a saunter in the twilight, + Just a whisper in the hall, + Just a sail on sea or river, + Just a dance at rout or ball, + Just a glance that hearts enthral— + This is all—and this is all. + + Just a few harsh words of doubting, + Just a silence proud and cold, + Just a spiteful breath of slander, + Just a wrong that is not told, + Just a word beyond recall— + This is all—and this is all. + + Just a life robbed of its brightness, + Just a heart by sorrow filled, + Just a faith that trusts no longer, + Just a love by doubting chilled, + Just a few hot tears that fall— + This is all—ah! this is all. + + ROSIE CHURCHILL. + + * * * * * + +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 75692 *** |