LITTELLS LIVING AGE. From Beginning, Fifth Beries, No. 2557. July 1 & 8,1893. Vol. CXCVIII. ~Volume LXXXIII. CONTENTS. THE CIIATHAM ISLANDS AND THEIR STORY. By Henry 0. Forbes, THE LAST DAYS OF AN E~ipiu~, ASPECTS OF TENNYSON. Tennyson as a Nature-Poet. By Theodore Watts, THE JOURNAL TO STELLA. By Austin Dobson THE INFLUENCE OF CLIMATE ON RACE. By J. W. Fortescue, . WANDERERS. By a Son of the Marshes,. THE WANDERERS RETURN, Fortniqhtly Renew, Blackwoods Magazine, Nineteenth Century, Longsnans Magazine, Nineteenth Century, MaemWans Magazine, POETRY. 2 I THE MERRY MONTH, MISCELLANY, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL & CO., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EIGHT DOLLARS remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually for- warded for a year,free of postage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single copies of the LIViNG AGE, 18 cents. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. 0 S 2S 42 48 57 .2 .64 The Wanderers Return, etc. THE WANDE ~ERS RETURN. ON a day a while ago, When the corn was newly carried, And the late-come summer tarried For a glimpse of winter snow, Verse of mine, in fashion sli~ht, Chronicled the swallows flight 1 Many a month has gone since then, And the land is green a~ am. Though the cuckoo will not sing Till lies very sure of spring, Tempted by this April sun Summer sends her van~uard on. Here they come with wheel and bound, Flashing down and flyin~ round, Twittering briskly as they fly, For a host of cares are theirs, Family matters, nest affairs, To be managed by and by. Since that fine September day, When they gathered on my roof, Swallow-wings have gone astray, Swallow-flights have held aloof, Far away. Where the melon-orchards lie, Where the golden orange-groves Dip to sunny plains of sea, Rise to domes of sapphire sky, There tile wandering swallow roves England yields to Italy. Happy were the fate. to follow Summer with the flying swallow; happiest he, for though he roam, He is everywhere at home. Here in England, who so well Knows our life of field and town, Looks from closer quarters down On our scheming, On our dreaming. Dwelling with us where we dwell? No ungenerous critic he But a neighbor who perceives, From beneath our very eaves, More than other neighbors see, Might embroil us with a word Were he not a friendly bird. Safer friend or more discreet Surely it were hard to meet, For in his unconscious keeping Secrets of all lands are sleeping. Could he but his thoughts unravel, He might give us books of travel Tell us how the world wags on In Bavarian Ratisbon; 1 An Autumn Flitting, Spectator, October 3rd, 1891. What unlovely purpose lurks In the czars mind or tile Turks What the sleepless Sphinx would say If she spoke upon a day; Whether Tiber ever dreams Of his old imperial streams Whether English girls or Roman Are tile truer type of woman And what Maid of Athens now Fires a youthful poets brow. These are things that move him not In so practical a bird Much romancing were absurd Here his heart is, on the spot. lie would like to know, no doubt, When the hawthorns will be out, And the May-flies all about But the thoughts that please him best Are about a certain nest, Where lie hopes, his mate and he, Some domestic joys to see More important they than we Spectator. GEORGE COTTERELL. THE MERRY MONTH. IT was the merry month, And the merry birds sang loud; The wren was in the ivy-bush, The lark was in the cloud. In all that day of perfect May There seemed no power of ill, When a hawk came sailing out of the. wood, And all those songs grew still. It was the merry month, And the woods were full of glee, The lizard on its sunny bank, The squirrel upon the tree. In all that time of lusty prime There seemed no thought of death, When a snake caine crawling out of a. nook, And fear held every breath. It was the merry month, And uever was month more fair; Lord Lovel is up in his ladys bower Singing with Lady Clare. They sang it once, they sang it twice, That song; lie seemed true lover; When a stinging word, like a blow was heard, Their merry months was. over.. Spectator. B. 2 The (i7hatharn lislancis and their Story. Fro~ii The Fortnightly Review. THE CHATHAM ISLANI)S ANI) THEIR STORY. I PROPOSE, in the following pages, to give some account of a visit to the Chat- hani Islali(ls, a small archipelago in the South Pacific Ocean. Being isolated and of little commercial importance, and still un(liscovere(l of Cook, the modern, they are rarely, if ever, visited 1w the traveller ; even those livin(r ill the colony nearest to tlien~ know little more of them than the name, and be yond that region I believe scarcely one l)~~5Oll in a liumidred has ever heard of them. The gro up consists of al)out a (lozen islets, lying five hundred miles east of Banks Peninsula in New Zea- lai~d, the largest no bigger than the Isle of Wight, and the smallest little more than bare, rocky pinnacles rising out of the sea, whither the wandering alba trosses and other ocean birds come home to nest. Ships homeward bound from antipo(leaml ports, southing to the ever eastwardmoving Trades with which to round the horn, may run close past theni without sighting them, for the fogs from the Antarctic gener- ally enshroud them from the travellers view. I fear the or(linarv tonrist would find nothing of a sensational character to attract him there. Yet these lone isles are the fragments of ami ahcient vanished land, in whose caves and cliffs the (lelving hand may gather l)roken recor(ls which, piece(l together, with their di~jecta incia bra gathered out of the islands to the south, an(l the conti- nents to east and west, tell a story of the southern seas. It tells of geo- gra~)hic ~l)5 an(l downs, and the vicissi- tudes of a fauna and flora not less full of interest and incident than the tragic histories of human inhabitants, of which these islands have also been the theatre. After I had waite(l long for an oppor- tunity of visiting this outlying group, the desired occasion at last presented itself in the beginning of 1892, and I embarked at Port Lyttelton on the 21st of January in the Kahn, the small but seaworthy steamer that keeps these islanders in touch once in three months C) 0 with the world and civilization. The journey occupies only ibout sixty hours, but over the five hundred miles that sel)arate the two lands runs a very cross-sea, on which I can promise to any omie longing for a life on the ocean wave, an experiemice that will go a very long way towards satiating his (le sires in that direction. Like all things else, our sixty hours of misery were finally ticked off, an(l at sunrise of the 24th we found ourselves under the lee of the land in the western hemisphere, on a rippleless sea, and beneath the bluest of skies. Ahea(l lay two low islands, aj)parently slopimig towarols each other into the passage lietween which we were s teanhi ng. As we approlchie(i nearer, the two islands resolved themn selves into the higher northern and southermi weste fly extending horns of Wharekauri (as the natives call, the lar~est member of the group), con miected by- lower lamids formin~ the enclosing bayle ted arch and eastern h)oun(lary of Petre Bay, in which our anchorage lay. Running east and west along the northern horn could be seen a chain of pyramidal hills, evidently 01(1 volcanic cones, which, though not ex eceolimig seven or eight hundred feet in height, assumne(1, on account of the lowness everywhere of the surrounding lands, the aspect of mountains. The southern horn, the highest part of the islanol, sloped gradually up towarols the south, without presenting any ohistine tive summit. From much I had heard I expeete(l to find the Chatham Islands a wild, bleak, and gemiei~ally uninviting sl)eck of lami ; insteaol, I 1)ehield from the deck as we ran close along the southern shores of the bay, broad forest patches of that deep (lark line that belongs to evergreen trees, broken by cultivated fields aimol wi(le sheeppas- tures, with here and there the charac- teristic woolshed, marking the settlers homestead, of which often omihy a glint could be caught from amid embower ing creepers and scarlet geraniums. Bathed as the whole landscape that morninw was imi the sunshiine of one of the most h)elfect of days, it seemed that to be exiled here out of the cam-c and The Ohatham Islands and their Story. confusion of the worhl, could not be altogether an insupportable durance. My hol)es rose that I might find here another such Arcadia as that charinin~ outoftheworld retreat in the Indiaii Ocean, the Keeling Islands, which I have described elsewhere. here, how e~er, the larger sl)1)ere, the greater scope for independent action, and the different human elements, have evi- dently interacted differently, and I found on close acquaintance with the islands no such harmonious patli archate ; here we had simply a chip of the colony of New Zealand tloate(l off into the Pacific. Rounding a bold headland, whose alternate beds of bright red and yellow form a conspicuous l)lazc of color in the landscape, we (lropped anchor a few yards off the shore in front of a. l1i(~l1 cliff, beneath which, on the beach, stOO(l all that represented the town of Waitangi a particularly cold amm(l un- inviting l)ul)liclmouse, calling itself a hotel, and a less imj)osing weather board structure incor~)orating the resi (lent magistrates court, the postoffice, an(l time jail. As the approximate (late of our arrival was known, the shrill screech of our siren as we drew near al)l)rised the exi)ectant PoPulation of our l)resence. so that by the time the Kahn dropped her anchor, quite a crowd, to join which others could be seen hurrying fmomn all sides, had col- lected on the beach to w-atch our (us emi)arka.tion and learmi the news we brought, for the arrival of the steamer is a real event in the lives of these l)eol)le which few who have not lived for a time so cut off from the world can realize. The (1ate of my visit nearly coincided with the centenary of the discovery of the islands. It had been intended to celebrate this event with various festiv- ities during the month of January ; but the intention had to be al)amidoned, for through out time island the influenza ciA demic, not regarding their isolation, ha(l at.tacke(l almost every inhabitant . and the natives very fatally so that there was no energy left among them to carry out their ~)mogmm me. Through the kindness of Mr. Chud leigh, one 6f the Chatham island run holders who chanced to be in New Zealand at my del)arture, and of Mr. Kinsey, of Christchurch, I had brought introductions to most of the settlers, so that I found a l)leasant welcome among them, an(l was hospitably in- vited by Captain 1100(1, one of the oldest residents and largest proprietors in Wharekauri, to make his house my headquarters. From him and from several of the neighboring residents, ea~)ecialiy Mr. Alexander Shand, who visited me several times during the first few days when I was slowly recov- ering from the effects of my sea voyage, I received a great (leal of very interest in~ inforumation. Mm. 1100(1 imad taken part in some of the more stirrin~ events in the islands histor, wimile Mr. Shand, who was bormi tlmere, is perhaps time only living authority on time language and traditions of its now nearly extinct original inhabitants. Time C iiatlmamn Islands were discov ered by Lieutenant William l3rou ohton of ~ his I3rittannick Majestys brig Chathamn, when parted by a storm from the Discovery on the way to Otaheite from New Zealand. The Dis covemy and the Cliathamn were then con- veying the expedition sent to exl)lore the north-west coast of North Amnerica, un(ler comman(l of Captain Vancouver. We displayed the Lmnon flao time 0 lieutenant reports, turned a turf. an(l took possessiomi of time island, wimich I name(l Cha.thmamn Ishammd (imm hommor of the Earl of Chathamn), in the name of imis Majesty King George time Timird, tue 29th of November, 1791. his visit was of short duration, for as time na- tives, who had never seemi a slAp h)efOre, lost one of their mmumber in resisting his lamiding, lie was ammxious not to be the cause of further troubles to them, and so line left hastily without being able to gain munch information about his new annexation, lie (lescribes time natives line sa~v as a elmeerful race, numerous an(l healthy, full of muirthi and iauahter dressed in sealskins or muats, and coura- geous enough to resist hAs landing. They called themselves Tuiti, so Dief 4 The Chatham Islands and their Story. 5 fenbach tells us, but the name by I this service the whole of the present which they are best known now, an(l site of Wellington City, to-(lay worth the term by which they speak of them millions sterling, for that block of land selves, is Moriori. Some years after was the recompense they first offered. their discovery, the islands becamc the The relatives of that officer, I suspect, rendezvous of the English and Amen rather regrct now his inability to fore can sealing and whaling fleets in the see the future. The number of Maoris South Pacific a disastrous circum- eager to emigrate to the Chathamn Isl stance in the history of the natives. ands was found too large for the Lord These vessels had from time to time Rodney to accommodate at one time among their crews number5 of Maoris so, to insure the vessels return for (the natives of New Zealand), whom those left behind, the mate was de they had engagedi in various capacities tamed in New Zealand as a hostage. in that colony. About the year 1834 it The Lord Eodney landed hicr first load so happened that there were serving on of immigrants, numbering live hundred board one of these whalers which bad ~ on the 17th November, 1835, touched at Wharekauri, the chiefs of and in December following the captain two Maori tribes who were then occu completed his enforced contract by put pying the district where the city of ting the remaining four hundred on Wellington now stands, and who, hay shore at the same port. These well- ing been diriven thither from their an armed and powerful intruders seeni to cestral iegions by the more powerful have walked boldly ashore, and, un Waikato tribe, were living in much (us opposed, l)artedl the land among them, content. What they saw during the and enslaved the Monioris, glad to find voyage greatly impresse(l on eally full of lcai them, and that the country was r their return they dilated to their people kai, or eatables, as they had been told. on this island to the eastward teem In 1840 the group was visited by the ing with land and sea birds of all kinds, New Zealand Companys agent, Mm. mutton birds in crowds in holes in the hanson, in the Cuba, accompanied by peat, andi albatrosses innumerable in Dr. Dieffenbach, the celebrated natural the outlying rocks, with fish abundant ist, who after~vards wrote a history of along the coast, and eels swarming in New Zealand. This observer recor(ls the lakes. On the landi there were for that the Morioris, who a few years be ests of karaka-trees, while the inhab- fore likened themselves to the koriari, itants were iiumerous, l)d)ssessedl of no or flaxstalks iii number, or to tIme young weapons, and ignorant of how to fight. of the wild grey duck on the great This was evideimtly to theni all in their lagoon, bail at the (late of his visit diejected frame of mmdi a land much to decreased to less than ninetxr soul shy be desired and eagerly to be covetel, their five years of slavery. Thicy are but one which they conbi little hope to tIme laborers, he says, amid l)ortcls of reach in their own canoes. Fortune, their masters, who have no notion of however, seemed to favor them by anything like mnoderation in the labor sendlino at this juncture a yes ~ exqct so 4i~i- 1~~edi backs trading Lucy ~dh uuccia~ sel, tIme Loriil Ilodiney, to their very bent almost diouble, and emaciated dioors. They saw their d)~)~)ortunity paralytic limbs with (hiseasedi lungs, are audi took ailvantage of it. Enticimig the the ordhinary lot of these illfated captain to Somnes Island on l)retence of wretches. The Kaupepe, as the Mon treating with him for a freight of flax oris called their oppressors, hail nut lying there, they madie him a prisoner, only used thiem as beasts of burden, but and under threat of death cd)mpelledi as their stalled cattle. The (lying rem him to agree to transh)Ort them to the namits of the race still tell of that dread Chiatham Islands. On their si(le they ful time whemi as many as fifty of their bound thmemnsclves to supply the ship at ancestors were roast e(l imi a simugle oven their cost with a full freight but the and ~xhcn tIme ghastly sight of the shore captaimi might have had in payment for laid out with the (leadi boihies of their 6 The Ghatharn Islands and their Story. men, women, and children, sometimes each of them a grant of land, with im for a length of a quarter of a mile, plernents and see(l, had been made to might be witnessed. The few Morioris begin an agricultural life on the island that still survive may almost be counted where they must continue to live, the on the fingers of the hands. The news was received with what looked Maori population is also fast decreasing like the silence of respect. One old through disease and drink. Still they chief alone spoke, and in the stately own a number of farms, and derive fair manner, and with the inscrutable coun- profit.s from the export of wool, and tenance, for which the Ma.oris are dis- from the curing of young sea-fowl tinguish ed, lie replied The words mutton birds and albatrosses whose of our master are excellent. Not a inexhaustible nesting-places on the sur- word or a gesture of dissatisfaction was roundin~ rocks they yearly visit for the expressed or evident, and indeed so purpose. little was auy such feeling among them The interest of the island annals cul- suspccted, that the garrison was with- inmates in the exciting episode of the drawn almost immediately to New Zen- escape of the rebcl Te IKooti and his land, only a man or two being retained fellow-exiles. Sitting within sight of to look after tlic undismantled redoubt, the scene of the occurrence, I recalled with, it is difficult to belicve, sixty the narrative, told me by an actor in stand of arms and fourteen thousand the drama, with the keenest interest, rounds of ammunition practically un- and I believe the story will bear re- guarded within it. As the troops sailed peating to my readers. away out of the bay it was a peaceful At the close of the first Maori war a picture on which their eves rested number of the leaders in the rebellion, the deserted redonbt facing theni on among whom Te Kooti was the most the top of the cliff over against the important and dangerous, were ban- amichoro~ge, the Union Jack fluttering at ished to the Chathamn islands under its pole, and the apathetic Hauhaus guard of a small English garrison. Te squatting iound it on the gronnd, watch- Nooti, besides being a chief of high ing with unsuspected interest this, to rank, was also the recognized head and them, momentous (leparture, while on revered high priest of the Ilanhan reli- the beach the usual crowd of Euro- gio n, a fanatical bastardy of Christian- peans and natives had congregated to ity, which had taken and still retains a speed the parting vessel. I had been strong hold on the Maori miiind. After on a visit to New Zealand,~ to continue a short period of stricter surveillance, in the graphic words of Mr. Chudleigh, these prisoners were, on accommat of and returned here on board the Rifle- their docile bearing, gradually treated man, on her voyage subsequent to the with less a.n(l less rigor. Their con- removal of the garrison. As we dropped timined exemplary conduct brought them anchor a boat, manned by Hauhaus, wider privileges, till they enjoyed the was as usual brought alongside, in liberty of the whole main island during which was a youth with whom I had the day, having only to present them- long been very friendly. Although lie selves within the redoubt at nightfall well knew that WTaitang was not the their imprisonment being indeed port for my station, lie, with an in little more than a forniahity. After a sistance I could not understand, begged few years of this apparently quietly permission to land my belongings, accepted exile, the government deter- which I refused to give, for the vessel, mined, against better advice, to grant as I pointed out to him, was going them their full liberty, but without the round to my own port next day in the right to return to New Zealand. Ac- ordinary course. Better take what cordingly they were assembled together, you can, sir, there are many dangers in and on the (hecision of the government the bay, lie repeated. I agaimi de- being communicated to thiemn that they dined, but changing my mind, I sent were once more free men, and that to himn for my handbag in which was a The Chat/tam Islands and their Story. considerable sum of money. Just say the word, sir and have the rest with you, he urged once more, as he ihanded it over the side. If I could then only have caught his meaning! But I was quite unsuspicious, and my well-wisher, evidently privy to the con- spiracy that had beea formed, dared not be more explicit. Next day, while occupied iu the court-house with Captain M check- ing the ~overnment accounts, one of the long-shore loafers staggering in from the public-house called out to us, Youd better see whats going on at the redoubt, if youre wise men Knowing the fellow we oidered him out at once. Very well, he hiccuped as lie took himself off, dont you blame me for not telling you. Something in the mans face struck me, and I sent the interpreter to see if anything was taking place. He presently hastened back to say that the Hauhaus were in possession of the redoubt. We both hurried out just iii time to see the En- glisli flag coming down and Te Kootis being run up the flag-pole under a salute of musketry. Captain M rushed to the redoubt in the hope of staying the revolt, but as he approached, he was repulsed by a volley out of which he escaped with only a scratch. I ran to the shore to find the master of the Rifle- man and order him to slip his cable and keep off and on the coast, for if the vessel were safe the Ilauhaus could effect very little. The boatmen, who were Hauhaus, without actually refus- ing, began excusing themselves from taking him on board. As a matter of fact everything had been well planned and the Rifleman was already in posses- sion of the rebels. As I was disputing with them a harmless volley was fired from the redoubt, evidently the signal for action. In a moment more the master of the Rifleman and I were on our backs fighting and struggling. For- tunately the Hauhaus were so excited tha.t they scarcely knew what they were really doing. While they thought they were assisting each other, they were in reality struggling more with each other than with us, and the scuffle if it had not been so serious would have been intensely ludicrous. We were trampled on, kicked,and rolled over and over till our bodies were black and bruised and covered with dirt. Finding in this scrimmage a bare leg ucross my mouth, I lost my temper an(l fastened my teeth well in it. Our contest, however, was too unequal to last long and we were both finally overpowered and with our hands tied to our feet we were laid on the beach. My little ebullition of tem- per all but cost me my life, for the fellow whose leg I had bitten was not unnaturally very furious, and having possessed himself of a rope, he en- noosed my neck and with his foot against my back did his I)est to strangle me ; but I fortunately managed to re- lease one hand and thrust it between the rope and my head. My assailant then with his foot on my face attempted to dislodge my arm, but I had got my fingers so well between my teeth that his efforts resulted only in the tearing of their sinews. Finding it impossible to strangle me lie next seized the coulter of one of the ploughs lying on the beach and intended for the use of the Hauhaus, and lunged at my head. Luckily the Maoris have a habit of brandishing a weapon before striking, and I was able to dodge several of his blows. While lie was swingiug it in the air for what I felt must be for me the last time, I saw his hand seized and a revolver presented at his face by one of his own peOl)le, who, having seen the attack from the redoubt hastened to my rescue; for it appeared that strict orders had been given by Te Kooti that none of the officials or European resi- dents should be injured in person. My cords were cut and I was carried bleed- ing to the courthouse. A few minutes later a company of the rebels, as well drilled as our own troops, was marched up by Baker, a handsome half-caste, one of Te Kootis lieutenants, and I was conduete(l to jail, where I found many of my fellow-islanders already lodged. This man Baker was the most intelligent and the cruellest of all Te Kootis officers. He had received an excellent education in one of the mis- 7 8 sion schools, he could speak and write English with remarkable accuracy, and he was imbued with an iniplacable hatred of the race to which his father belonged. On coming into my wool- shed one day, some months previously, I found him laughing with the shear- ers. On inquiring what was amusing them, he replied, with boastful inso- lence, Oh I was just telling them about the chirping birds I killed in llawkes Bay during the war. I found in one house two dead women they had been friendly to the whites with two gore-cove red infants sprawling over them crying to be fed. I took them up and rapped the backs of their heads in, and cast their bodies to their dead mothers. Just as lie finished speak- ing Captain M came in, and I re- marked, This is the wretch who killed the infants in Ilawkes Bay during the war, you remember. He has just been boasting of it. My friend said noth- lug, bnt turned on him a glare of scorn a look which strange to say was to prove fatal for the half-caste on a future day. On my way to prison I observed a dark object l)eing washed up and down on the beach by the sea and drew the attention of my guard to it. It turned out to be the master of the Rifleman, who had been left bound on the shore and forgotten till the rising tide had reached him. He had just saved himself from being carried out to sea by digging his finger-tips into the sand as each wave receded, and when brought to join us in prison lie was all but done for. Te Kooti and his friends had expected to find a considerable sum of money iii the government chest, but they were singularly (hisappoilited ; but if they carried away little in coin they were, tliaiiks to the carelessness of the government, well armed and animuni tioned. Their search over, they lost no time in embarking on the Rifleman, whose mate and crew were impressed to steer them for a (lesigliated port in New Zealand. Before the vessel had got well clear of the coast they encoun- tered a heavy adverse gale. In their jeopardy and terror of failing in their escape, they cast lots who should be The Cliatham Islands and their Story. sacrificed to the spirits of the ocean. The lot fell on a near relative of T~ I(ooti, and, as it was not a time to re- spect persons, the order was given to throw him overboard, and he was ac~ cordingly cast into the sea and perished. There is little doubt that the favorable wind which soon after sprang up was credited to the offering they had made. The news of the arrival of the rebels on the coast of the North Island of New Zealand soon reached the government, but the parties of troops sent out against them were unfortunately too small, an(l a few successful resistances of recapture by Te Kooti, who had, it is said, really iateiided to retire quietly to the west coast, encouraged him to break into open hostilities, in which he wa~ quickly joined by large nunibers of his fornier companions-in-arms. This was- the commencement of the second Maori rebellion which cost the colony 4,000,- 000 sterling to re(luce. Te Kooti a.nd his halfcaste lieutenant, Baker, ter- rorized a great part of the North Island, moving from place to place, commit-- ting frightful enormities wherever they appeared, and were pursued by the queens troops at a great disadvantage through the forest-clad and river-inter- sected country. The history of the conflict is well known ; but I may follow Bakers fortunes to their close. Hay- ing raised a picked company of English- hating Maoris, he attired himself and them in the queens uniform, a cnn- nina disa uise in which he succeeded in approaching undiscovered close up to and in decimating more than one party of governmeiit troops. The following is one of his many daring atrocities. having learned that a party of Maori women, friendly to us, were to rendez vous with food for one of our native companies at a whare in the forest, he repaired thither with a couple of coin- h)anions to receive them, dressed ~as an English officer. And when these poor women, without a suspicion of the de- ception, carried their burdens into the whare, lie closed the door upon them. One woman at a time was passed out to his companions and swiftly murdered with the chiihdreii that some of thieni 9 The Clhathctrn Islands and their Story. carried. When the ghastly deed was unsuspected evidence was a portion of completed, the dead bodies of the a skull of a bird brought thence amid a women, each with her child and the collection of beach d~bris to inc in New food she had brought laid on her breast, Zealand a few days previous to my sail- were piled by the side of the door, ing by a visitor from Wharekauri in on which he inscribed, Food for the deed, the obtaining of this bone was brave Arawas on their return. A few the means of hurrying me off. I was ts collector, Mr. days later Captain M himself was fortunate in en~aIn~ hailed by Baker under the name of one XV. I-Iawkins (who was returning on of the English officers known to be out board the Kahu), as guide and comnpan- after the rebels. MI , somewhat sus- ion during my visit. A good observer, picious of the spokesmans idemitity, yet and an excellent horseman and earn- seeing that both officer and men were paigner, familiar with every foot of the in the queens uniform, and that he had islands, he proved a most valuable as- been hailed by name in perfect English, sistant. decided to advance to an interview. My first excursion was made to the Before setting out, however, he gave sand-hills in Petre Bay. It was a beau- should mnornin~ after a iii orders that his movements be tiful ght of rain when closely watched, and if they saw him Mr. hawkins and I set out on horse put his hand on his revolver, or drop l)ack. Our road for some miles passed suddenly to the ground, they were to along an avenue in the woods which fire straight on the party regardless of lay some distance inland from the shore, himself. On approaching within a bordered with elegantleaved matipos short (listance of each other Captain (Myrsiac chatharnica), dark - fohiaged M recognized in a moment the eyes hare/ca trees (Corynocarpus lccrigata), he had so sharply scrutinized in the loaded with handsome clusters of large Wharekauri wool-shed. He gave the olive-like berries, and lcorimikos with agre e(l-on signal, and at the same in- their purple, bottle-brush flowers, a stant a volley from his mcmi cut down bushy species of veronica a group of the most of the rebels. Baker himself plants which here attain to great size and was severely wounded, and though he are peculiarly characteristic of the New lingered for some days, lie succumbed Zealand regionthe stately represen before he could be adjudged the might- tatives of the lowly blue speedwehl of eons reward of his crimnes. Te Kooti, our own hedgerows ; while the thou- having succeeded in evadin~ in the sand-shaded crannies of the limestone forest shades and among friendly tribes crags that cropped out amuong the trees every attemnpt to capture him, was were busked with masses of the fresh eventually pardoned by the crown at est fern fronds. We ro(le rapidly in the close of the war. He still lives harmony with the crisp, clear morning, execrated throughout the laud, and still and niy eager hopes were heightemmed a prophet and chief, lie is to-day, even by the exhilaration caused by our stir- in his old age, one on whom the gov roundings ; for the umidulations of the ernmnent requires to keep a watchful road or the numiierous breaches in the saudhills between us and the shore con eye. The main object of my visit to the stantly gave and took from us charming Chatham Islands was to search their pictures framed imi foliage of the cx- geologically recent sand-hills in quest pansive bay omi our left, whose waters, of remains of nuicient bird forms of overarched by the cloudless azure, were which unsuspecte(l evidence had come of a deep blue very characteristic of the to my knowledge, and to explore the 01(1 Chathamn Island seas, au(l had just mo- Moriori kitehien-middens in the hope tion enough fromii the softest of zephyrs of ascertaining whether the extinct to play with the sunbeamus, and ruffle moa, or any of the other characteristic into sparkling foam as they rolled gently birds of the mainland, had ever lived up in semiiicircles on the yellow beach. in this neighboring archipelago. This or rose and fell against the deep rust- The Ohatham Islands and their Story. colored walls of the hirh bluff that, some four miles from the anchora~c, breaks the long curve of the Waitangi l)each. Beyond this striking buttress the shore continues in an unbroken sweep for eight miles, over which we had many a splendid gallop. From the waters edge the shore rises rather rap- idly into sand-hills sixty to seventy feet in height, si iciving down gently land wards. They are much breached by the wind, and here and there are topped with a stunted scrub which is rapidly disappearing. Along these eight miles of shore and cliff lay the hunting- grounds I had come specially to search in the hope of obtaining confirmation of my belief, based on the fragmentary cranium l)icked up l)y my guide, that here at one time, though now extinct, there lived a species of l)ir(l, which, if this outlying island should prove to have been its home, would be of much importance in helping to solve the many difficult problems in the geographical distribution of life which this sin~ular region l)Ieseilts to the student. IIavin~ dismounted and tied our horses to a branch beneath the shade of a tree, we descended to the shore and began our eager hunt along the slope l)etween the waters e(l(re an(l the top of the sand hills, over which were strewn seabird bones, the skeletons of, at a very mod- erate computation, hundreds of thou- sands of albatross, penguin, petrel, cormorant, an(1 all kinds of waterfowl, none of them distinguishable from spe- cies now living. We wan(lered up and (lowli for a long time without findina any of the bones of Which I was in quest. At length, however, I was ar- rested, on the higher part of the slope towar(ls the base of the sandhills, by ol)serving at my foot, surrounded by some of the l)rincipal bones of the skel- eton, the protruding point of a skull, unmistakably of the same species of l)ir(1 to which the fragment I had exam med in New Zealand belonoed. The bones were lying in situ, embedded in a hard, pink sand out of which it required some care to extract them without frac- ture. When disinterred they l)rove(l to be almost as perfect as if macerated in a laboratory. Among them were the missing portions necessary to identify the bird with certainty, and these placed beyond all doubt the correctness of my assumption that the bird which in re- mote times had lived here was a rail of large size, all but identical with a spe- cies of wood-hen named Aphanapteryx, hitherto known only from the far- distant Mascarene Islands, by portions of its beak and limbs. It may be remembered that on the f3th of August, 1 SOS, the shores ot Peru, Ecuador, and Bolivia were vis- itedi by a disastrous earthquake, by which scores of cities were overthrown and thousands of lives destroyed. So violent was the quivering of the earth that great crags were toppled from the pinnacles of the Andes, and the ocean heaved imito waves of such height that their undulations swept across the whole of the Pacific Ocean. Forty- eight hours after leaving the American coast these hinge rollers reached the longitude of the Chatham Islands, and broke with (lisastrous force on the shores of Petre Bay. These waves, of which there were at least three of greater magnitude than the others swe in on , pt the Waitangi beach, washing many- yards of the sand cliffs away, breakino through tIme compact belt of karaka and eke-eke trees that clothed them, and had for generations proteete(l them agaimist tIme inroads of the sea andi the force of the wind. The latter of these agencies has (luring the last twentyfive years con- tinued ceaselessly to widen the breaches then ma(le in the hills, and has already broken (iowa and carried away into the country beyond stratum after stratum, in some places down to the limestone rocks underlying time sand. TIme hills in a few places, however, still present an unbroken face, where the succession of the strata can be seen as they,existed before the tidal waves (listurbed the scene. The belt of wood on the crest of the sandh ills, formerly unbroken along the whole length of the shore, stands on a band of dark vegetable soil, whose depth indicates that a long period of time has been necessary for its accu- mulation. Beneath this bed lies a see- 10 The Cihatham Islands and their Story. 11 ond of more oi less friable sea-sand, oven. The stones, evidently brought several feet in depth, either an old from some (listance, as there were no elevated sea-beach or a drift from a basaltic rocks near, were all fire-marked, more seaward shore. Supporting this and unmistakably those over which stratum is a third, in some places thirty food had, in the usual Polynesian man- to forty feet thick, of hard, pink-colored ner, been cooked ; all about the spot sand (not sufficiently consolidated, per- were indications that a great feast had liaps, to be designated sandstone), and taken place, for the bones of seals, it is in this bed alone that the bones of whales, fishes, ducks, swan, parrots, the extinct birds, now being uncovered pigeons, hawks, and swamp-hens had by the wind, seem to be entombed. contributed to it, as well as more than Our search was rewarded by finding the one aphanapteryx. Though this oven remains not only of the aphanapteryx, had been dug in the pink sand-bed, it is but those also of a tall coot and a large highly improbable that it was an uncov and peculiar raven-like crow (Palceoco- ered interstratification; but rather that rax moriornm) equally unknown to have it had been long ago in an already de- existed in any part of the New Zealand undated surface of that bed, which had region. On the shore but not em- been covered and uncovered perhaps bedded, so far as I could ascertain, in many times by sand drifted from the the hard, pink sand, because they have shore. It undoubtedly proves, how- probably (lied out more recently I ever that these now vanished birds found bones of several other birds of were contemporary with a people on the mountain parrot (Nestor rotabilis), these islands, who employed the Poly- the lesser owl (Spiloglanx Nbvce-Zea- nesian method of cooking, aiid used, landice), the small hawk (Ilarpafero ), as blubber knilves, flint flakes (a few of and of the welca or wood-lien (Ocydro- which were found by us in association inns anstrcdis), which are now living in with the remains of their feast) iden and characteristic of New Zealand, but tical in form with those the Morioris till long extinct in the Cliathiam Islands. recently used. They lay in association with remains of My fnrthier purpose in visiting the Dieffenbachis wood-hen (Cabales diet- Chathaiii Islands was, as I have said feabachii), a bird so rare that since 1840 above, to discover, if I might be so for- only three specimens have been ob- tunate, whether those characteristic tamed (of which two are in the British birds of New Zealand, the moa (Dirwr- Museum and one is lost). This bird, nis), the kiwi (Apteryx), and the wood- now quite extinct in the larger island hen (Ocydrornus) had ever lived there. of the group, is confined to a rocky islet This last I had already been successful a little distance off the coast. The in discovering. I knew from various genus is unknown even in New Zea- sources that the Morioris had a tradition land, and occurs iiowhere else till Lord of a great bird they called the poUwa. Howes Island, lying to the north-west Mr. Shand also had, with much kiiid- l)etween that colony and Australia, is ness and trouble recounted to me all reached, where another solitary species that they themselves knew, and de- lives. Both here arid afterwards on the scribed to me the exact localities where eastern coast I found bones of that sin- they say their forefathers trapped and guhar lizard the Spheaoclon pieictatum, or killed those wonderful birds. To these tnatara of the Maoris ; the unique spe- places, therefore, excursions were next des of a peculiar order of ancient pedi- undertaken in great hope and expec- gree, now on th)e very verge of extinction tancy of success. and confined to a single small island One of the most striking features of off the northern coast of New Zealand. Wharekauri (the largest islan(l of the As we advanced along the beach a low group, as will be remembered) is the mound surmounted by a heap of dark number of tarns and lakes it possesses. stones attracted our steps. It turned The most extensive of these, named Te out to be the remains of an old Moriori Whianga, occupies the greater part of 12 the low central region of tbe island, and on its eastern side is separate(l from the sea only by a very narrow bar of sand, which every few years, when the lagoon becomes surcharged by the rivers which feed it, is carried away, an(l the water rushes out till the lagoon attains a certain level, wben the sea again silts up the opening. The west- erii side of this lake is bounded by cliffs of limestone of Pal~ozoic age, on which lies a bed, in some places fifty to sixty feet deep, of friable polyzoa, con- ta~ning sharks teeth and ecliiIlo(lerlu spines of species belonging to the tran- sition period between the secondary and tertiary el)ochs (the cretacco-tertiary of the New Zealand Geological Survey Reports). Along the margin of this lagoon, and at a short (listance from the shore, so their traditions run, the Mon oris dug deep holes, into which the pouwa was driven, and, when inextri- cably bogged, it was clubbed to death, and then dragged ashore to the cookinr~ pits. At every one of the indicated places we succee(led in finding 01(1 ovens, the sites of camps or the re- mains of feasts, which were, as usual, birds, molluscs, and fishes. At one spot at least we found grim proofs that the feasters did not always confine themselves to the aforementioned diet, for I gathered several human limb- bones, and a couple of grinning crania, with in each an ominously suggestive hole in that region of the skull where an additional eye would have proved of such inestimable value to a race so cruel and treacherous to each other as our own. To my great dis4pointm cut, our extended excavations rewarded me with 110 boiie or fragment of a bone of the pouwa or of the apteryx. Yet from the circumstantiality of the account of the poawa in their traditions, and of the narrative I listened to a little later from Tapu, one of the oldest surviving chief men of the Morioris (whom I found living in a poor house-cluster at the sonth-east corner of the island), I cannot resist the conviction that the po{twc which, if it was anything, must have been a species of rnoadid actually live on these islands. Tapu lYw Chatham Islands and their Story. was an intelligent old fellow, with ~ very Jewish countenance, and highly developed frontal processes. The polLwa, lie said, lie a big bird ; he die 00 two hundred, three hundred year - (this estimate of tune is an acquiredi European Phrase) lono time ago. I see his bone stick up in Te Whanga, where Morioris camp long time back. Mc young fellow father of me tell me Moriori make him hole in water, (inive him poflwa in, hammnem- him (lea(l, and roast him. His bone I see him stick in hole in mud in lagoon water. Oo big, all same as cow ; lie eat plenty grass swim [floating on] lagoon water, Moniori call koko. It is, of course, impossible to describe in wor(ls Tapus gestures and expressions but no one who heard him could (lonbt that lie had seen large bones in the lagoon, an(l that their origin hind been explained to him by his father. In the kitchenmidden that produced the human remains there were thou, sands of swan bones of the same sl)ecies as that I had gathered by the side of the oven on the Waitangi beach. This lake was, therefore, probabhy their chief home, whither they must have resorted in enormous numbers, for in some local- ities they appear to have beemi almost the sole food of the people. That the swan, now in(higenous only to West Australia, South America., and the noithi of thie northern hemisphere, had in past timimes beemi also a native of New Zealand was unknown till the previous year, when it was (liscovered (luring mny excavation of a cave micar Chiristehurch, which, by the lamidslip of a hinge portiomi of the hill at whose base it was situated, had been closed from timiie immemorial, andi has from this circumstance afforde(I irrefragable evidence of the contenij)o raneity of the moa with the Maori, in contradistinction to another race sup- posed to prece(le thiemu. The Maomi fishierfolk (as the implements found prove thieni to have been) who occupied the cave (from which, perhaps, they escal)e(l only just iii time to save them- selves from being entombed) fed on the swan and on the rnoa, and cast their bones side by side into the refuse-heap The Chatharn islands and their Story. in front of their door to await the future. Neither in New Zealand nor in the Chatham Islan(ls is the swan now indigenouS, and, if we may judge from the fact of its being totally unknown to the Maoris, a people who have handed (lowli in their traditions a minute ac- count of everything that they used as food, and are entirely silent about the swan, its disappearance from both lands must go back to a very distant (late. ~Within recent years the Australian 1)lack swan (Cheaopis atrata) has been introduced into New Zealand, and has already mult iplie(l with ext raordinarv rapidity, showing tha.t the climate and foodsupply of its adopted country are eminently suited to it. The cause of the total extinction, therefore, of the ancient swan (and other birds also) in its natural home appears at l)iesent in- explicable. Disappointed in our delvings in the iniddens of the lowlands, there still remaineol for investigation untouched heaps at the base of the high cliffs of the southern coast, and thither we next directed our stel)5. The hill olistricts of the southern regions are uninhabited and quite houseless except for a small shepherds hut on Mr. 1100(1s pioperty, at the highest l)ait of the island, and this lie very hi ndlv place(l at our sei wice. With an extra horse added to nur cavalcade carrying l)iovisions for four or five days, we starte(l under a. threatening sky, and, travelling south- ward, climbed slowly up for the greater l)art of a day through country of a very remarkal)l e character. Without a guide well acquaiI)te(l with the district it would be in~ipossihle for a stranger to travel across it with safety. The whole surface of the island, though not so much on the lower parts, is one vast l)eat moss many feet in depth. There are no discernil)le paths, and ap~)ar ently no obstacles to ones riding anywhere in a straight line ; yet in fol- lowing my guide I found we veere(l to all points of the compass and were constantly wandering widely from the direction of our destination to escape being bogged. There appeared to my inexperienced eye nothing to indicate the harder giound safe to travel over from treacherous bogs on both hands, over which neither horse nor pedes- trian could saf clv pass. 1-lorses born on the island, however, exhibit a wonder- ful sagacity in regard to surfaces which will not carry them, and many of them can be trusted to discriminate where it is unsafe to tread when the rider is unable to tell. The surface of the wetter bogs in the many extensive de- pressions of the ground presented won- derfully rich sheets of color from their carl)et of moss, of bright green, yellow, and pink, and their endless intermedi- ate shades, quite making up for the absence of flowering plants, of which the sterile in oorland piohices amid its stunted bracken few species except a sweet, pule white gentian (Gentiana soxosa), a lowly violet with scarlet her iies, an(l a l)uiPlc sundew. Higher up, ho~vever, the slopes became more sh rubclad and we passed through fields of kikitere, a tall, shrubby member of the Compositw, covere(l with large pur l)le and white aster-like flowers, and through brakes of broad-I caved (Ira cophylhum 5 a.n(l brightly berried leuco pogons, the austral representatives of our heathis, ami(l which the splendid arborescent ragwort (Seaccio iomti) of the Chathani Islands displayed its golden (lomes gorgeous even beneath a gloomy sky. As we reached our destined shelter on the Awatapu cliffs a mizzling mist caine down with its chilling ctam pn ess, and what with the sombre green of the dripping lichen an(l mosshung tie es standing ghostly around, the solitude and silence of the reoion broken now and then only by the harsh screech of a mutton bird, and the deepening dusk, the landscape, which all the way had worn a cold and uninviting countenance, now grew as dismal a.n(l rcl)ellent as can be con- ceived. So that when ~lie time came we were not sorry to stretch ourselves on the floor within our blankets before the roaring fire we had taken good care to make, and abandon ourselves to the sleep of the tired and dejected. When we awoke in the morning we un- barred the door to a fresh-born scene 13 14 the Awatapu of yesterday had un- dergone transfiguration. The (lull leaden sky had vanishe(1, the last scrolls of mist were dissolving into space, the grey-heard lichens were dotted with glistening beads, the ake-ake trees, whose foliage yesterday stoo(l reversed to the northwest wind in a cold an(l shivering attitude, were this morning fluttering their silver under-sided leaves to the sou-wester beneath a bright sun and a blue sky, so that the woods where they were abundant looked starred with flowers. Instead of silence the noisy home sparrows who had already discov- ered this distant habitation, and had, of course, packed every cranny with their nests, were lustily chirruping ; the ad- jacent shrubberies were full of the exquisite notes of the bell-bird (Au- thorois mela eocepliala), the sweete st- throated of all the Antipodean songsters, the booming of pigeons and the warble of Vhe white-cravated tai. As for soli- tude the fantails (Rhipidioa), those most trustful and winning of all the feathered tribes, I care not in what land, came fearlessly circling round our heads, an(l perching within touch, played hide and-seek from behind their fan-like tails which they spread and close untiringly, uttering the while their low, cheery chirp ; they even fol- lowed us along the forest paths, flitting by our side from tree to tree, as if offer- ing their own bright companionship and happy in ours. The kitchen-middens of our quest were situated on the shore beneath the cliffs some (listance along the coast, and were accessible only by a more or less steep descent, where a river had some- what sloped down the almost sheer basaltic precipices. On these high sea- walls, free from marauding sheep and pigs, grows the richest vegetation on the island ; they present an unbroken sheet of verdure from their summits down to the verge of the water. From the front of the cliff there projected in one place a narrow seaward buttress, a splendid coign of vantage clear of the line of the land, to be reached, how- ever, only by wary steps and careful grasping of the trees, whither I could The Ghcttham Islands and their Story. not resist the temptation to scramble t~ view a scene from xvhich nothing that coul(l increase the gratification of the eye or the miud seemed absent the chief of many pictures of unwonted beauty which from time to time I caught in the island in hurr ing from hunting ground to huntingground, but which, though ever bright and vivi(1 to myself, [ can scarcely hope to (lescribe in words which will not appear extravagant and superlative to the calm reader, even if I in(hicate merely its sun oiii1in~-~ Tb~ in a cloudless sky lighting up a dccl) sapphire sea, from which rises in mas- sive stateliness a solid wall of foliage of the darkest green, lit here and there by a clump of the golden ragwort or a patchi of purple veronica; the blue waves circling round the off-lying rocks in snowy rings and rolling on in endless tides to break in rainbow-tinted spray against the black, unverdured line of rocks that belt the shore seven hundred feet below the eye ; to southiward, across a rippling strait, rise fantastic islets of bare, columnar rocks, and still beyond stand out the rugged crags and flat-topped heights of Mangare and Ranginuria, dimly limned through a mellowing haze aga inst the sky ; low down by the waters level sail sooty l)etrels and black-billed gulls, or red beaked terns speed past the face on flashing wings; high overhead the mag- nificent native pigeon, toying with the strong up-draught of the breeze against the cliffs, wheels in the blue. These are the mere elements of the fair scene which the reader mnust imagine for himself. Scrambling down the river- excavated gal) we eventually reached the shore, and (liscovered with little trouble the 01(1 cooking-places of the Morioris by the great heaps of paw~ (Haliotis) shells they had left. Long an(l arduous was our search, but no poUwa or aphanapteryx, kiwi, or swan bones and indeed little of importance rewarded our exertions. It was evi- (lent that none of these birds had lived in this region. Grey ducks, which probably then as now crowded the neighboring tarns, fish, molluscs, an(L echiai (or sea-eggs), formed the only The tiJhatham Islands and their Story. food apparently of the frequenters of this rugged, rocky beach. I was once more sorely disappointed. It was some compensation, however, to have seen growing here in its own home that noble plant, the sole species of a genus confined to this island, which goes by the very inappropriate name of the Chatham Island lily. The sheep are very fond of its leaves and the pigs of its roots, so that in all places which these animals can reach it has disal) peared. It loves the roughest boul- dered beaches and thrives best when it has to push its head up through feet of rotting seaweed within the wash of the tide. It is well named noble, for its straight stem, four to five feet in height, after giving off magnificent broad, deep green, rhubarb-like leaves, expands in many heads of the darkest blue flowers, so unmistakably recalling the forget-me- not that it has received the scientific name of Myosotidiwai nobile. From Awatapu we descended to Owenga, on the shores of hanson Bay, in the hope that there I might be able to add to my collections. I obtained, however, only a few bones of the taa- tara, and of some of the same extinct birds as I had gathered on the Waitangi beach, showing that these species were probably distributed over the whole of the island. From Owenga I had hoped to reach Rangiauria, the next larger member of the archipelago, but unforeseen circumstances unfortunately interfered, and my investigations in this interesting island consequently ter- minated here. If, however, I have been unsuccessful in obtaining evidences of the former existence in these islands of the rnoa except the circumstantial statement of Tapu and the Moriori legends or of the kiwi, I had at least been able, by the discovery of the remains of such characteristic forms of New Zealand life as the teatara and the weka, the mountain parrot (Nestor notabiiis), and the owl, which could not have crossed the Chiatham Islands must have been unite(l by continuous land. Such facts as the presence of the same species of woo(1-hien in the far-south Macquarrie Islands as in New Zealand, and the occurrence of a species closely related to Theffenbachs rail of the Chathain Islands in Lord Howes Island (which lies between New Zealand and Austra- lia), with much such like zoological and botanical evidence, wI ~ich space will not permit me to detaii, go to prove that New Zealand is but a big fragment of a large vanished continent, which not only included the Macquarrie, the An I ipodes, and other neighboring Antarc- tic islands, but, as Mr. Wallace in his Island Life ~ has suggested, stretched northward by Lord Ilowes Island l)ei haps to join with the northern end of eastern Australia, in those (lays a long, narrow continent, of which Tasmania was part, but with much ~)rol)abihity not its southernmost termination. Readers of that curious old book, The Voyage of Fran9ois Leguat of Bresse to I{oderiguez, Manritius, Java,, and the Cape of Good Hope (recently republished by the Hakhuyt Society), will remember that during his sad dur ance in the Mascarene Islands in 1691 that philosophic Iluguenot, in re cording with much circumstance all that he suffered and all that lie saw, gives us a minute account of their fauna, and among other birds he describes the wood-hens (Gelinotes) as being fat all the year round and of a most del- icat tast. Their color is always of a bright grey, and theres very little difference in the Plumage between the two sexes. They hide their nests so well that we couldnt find em out, and consequently did not tast their Eggs. They have a red List (border) about their Eyes, their Beaks are straight and pointed, near two inches long and red also. They cannot fly, their fat makes em too heavy for it. If you offer them any- thing thats red, they are so an~ry that tbey will fly at you to catch it out of your Hand, and in tbe beat of the combat we had an opportunity to take them with ease. five hundred miles of sea without other aid than their limbs afford, to confirm The bird to which Legnat refers is un- more strongly the botanical evidence doubtedly identical with one described that in ancient (lays New Zealand and in a State paper found in thme Ministry 15 16 fhe Citatham Islands tmd their Story. of Marine, at Paris, entitled Relation descriptions, and secured his name an (le PIle Roderigue, writteii about 1730. honored J)lace among reliable histo- In this paper it is (lescril)ed as a bird rians. The bones of this large wood of the size of a young lien, which has the hen were found so associated with those feet and beak ied. Its foot is a little like of the great extinct flightless pigeon of that of a curlew, excepting that it is sli~htly the same island, known as the solitaire thicker and not quite so long. Its plumage (Pezopheps Soldaria), as to prove the is spotted wi Thite and grey. They gen- contemporaneity of the two birds. The erahly feed on tile e~gs of the land tortoises solitaires nearest relatix e is the famous which they find in the ground. . . . They dodo (Didas ineptas), also a hinge flight- have sniahi pinions without feathers, on less ~rou which accouiit they cannot fly but on tl~e ~ ud pigeon, which lived in the island of Mauritius ninety-five miles other hand they run very well, distant. In the account of his stay in The remains of a bird discovered by Manritius Leguat records seeing geli- Messrs. Strickland and Melville in 1845 notes. or wood-liens, resembling those iii the cave earths of R.oderiquez (mate- lie had seen in Roderiquez. In 1865 rial which was largely augmented some Sir Edward sent from Manritius to his years later by the collections of Sir brother, Professor Newton, in Cam- Edward Xewtoii), were conclusively bridge, among a quantity of dodo bones proved, on examination by Professor exhumed from the Mare aux Songes, Milne-Edwards, to belong to a species close by Mahseburg, a few limb bones of the BailkUe or water-hen family of and a highly arched lower jaw of a birds, resembling the wingless rail (tile bird which was then, and continued to weka or woodhien) of New Zealand, h)e, unknowii till the year 1868, whiemi amid like that bird incapable of fligi it. Herr you Franenfeld discovered iii the At the piesent day there does miot hiarchinient cohhectioa in the private exist in Roderiquez any bird having the library of the emperor of Austria a least resemblance to the ocydromi (or painting of the dodo, and by its side a woodliens), or the other species of tile tall bird, remarkable for its long-pointed same family ; but all the osteological and arched beak, whOse plumage was characters agree very well with thie of a umiiforni reddish color, similar in mdea that can be formed of certain birds character to thiat of thie flightless birds, which inhabited thus island in great such as thie kiwi and weka of New Zea numiibers two centuries ago, amid whiichm hand, and like them, with very- mdi Leguat noticed umider the name of geli- muemitary wings and shiort legs. He at notes. They also resembled the wekas ommee recognized thie emiiperors Painting of New Zealand by a phiysiologica.l to be a representation of the bird whose peculiarity. If you offer them any- bones had h)een discovered in Mauritius thing thats red they are so angry that imi associatiomi with those of the dodo, they will fly at you. Thie wekas of and without (louh)t i(lentical with thiat New Zealand are remarkable for thieir referred to by Leguat as the gelinote lie fearless inquisitiveness, th iroughi whiichi had seen thiere. On this bird Franen they can be caught with surprisiuig ease feld bestowed the mianie of Aphanap- by a med rag dangled at the end of a teryx, the very same genus to which stick. Fmomii this peculiarity of the belong the bones which I dtmg out of the qelinotes Miliie-Edwards designated the pink sands of thie Chiathmamii Islands. new genus he formed for their recep- The gelinote of Mauritius is hardly dis- tion E~ythromachus (hostile to red), tinguishiable, exeept in size, fromn the amid namned the species Erythrornachas aphanapteryx of the Chiathiani Islands, Legnati, in honor of thie Iluguenots, lands separated by niore than one hun- whose narrative was held in much dis- dred and txventy degrees of longitude. credit till the irrefragable evidence, Indeed the hatter is mnore nearly related (hisinterred after two hundred years, to the Mauritian gelinote than that is esiabhished the tmustxvorthiiness of his to the gelinote (or Erythrornachu.s) of observations and the accuracy of his Roderiquez, a neighboring island of 17w Chat/tarn Islands and their Story. its own group, not two degrees away. They were all of them heavy birds, devoid of functional wings arid per- fectly incapable of swimming half round the world, yet Manritius and the Chatham Islands are the only two spots on the globe in ~vhich the aphaaapteryv is known to have lived, and at present there is no evidence that the Whare- kauri species inhabited New Zealand. Along with the great pigeo~ and the aph aaapte ry~c there lived, in Mauritius, so Lcguat tells us, water-hens, which are as large as fowls ; they are black an(l have a large white crest on the head. And among the aphaoapteryx remains brought thence there occurred other bones which Milne-Edwards has determined to belong to a tall species of coot, which he has named Fulica iiewtoai, doubtless the water-hen re- ferred to by Leguat. Strangely enough, I gathered also on the Waitangi sands, as I have narrate(l above, the bones of a tall coot in association with the Wharekauri aphaoapte ryx, so closely related to Newtons coot, as to be scarcely possible of differentiation from it, except perhaps by its somewhat larger size. After a careful study of all the remains from the different Masca- rene Islands as well as all that has been written on the snbject, Professor Ne~v- ton and his brother find the deduction that the solitaire of Roderiquez and the diodo of Mauritius, much as they eventually came to differ, sprang from one and the same stock, so obvious that they can no more conceive any one fully acquainted with the facts of the case hesitating about its a(l0l)tiorl and there was once a time, they are com l)elledl to believe, when Roderiquez, Mauritius, Ilourbon, Madagascar, and the Seychelles were connected by dry land, of which they are now the stir viving portions, just as Nev Zealand and the islands around it are but the unsunk fragments of a greater land, as I have shown on a previous page. And now, continuing the train of reasoning adloptedi by so excellent an authority as Professor Newton, there can be but one deduction from the occurrence in past times, 1)0th in Mauritius and in the LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXXIII. 4262 Chatham Islands, of a heavy flightless bird so nearly related to each other as the gelinotes of these distant regions prove to be. There must have been a continuous land sut face between the larger areas which have been shown above to have with much probability existed in ancient times in the Indian Ocean arid in the western Pacific. Not only were the aphaaaptery~v and the coot common to the t~vo hands, but there existed also in both, though now extinct ,giga ntic representatives of the ostrich tribe the dinornis or moa of New Zealand and the cepyornis of Mada- gascar birds without doubt sprung from a common stock. So also we might, if space permitted, show that in South Africa, in the soutbermi lands of South America, in temperate Australia and Tasmania, as well as in the An- tarctic islands, there live or have lived forms of aninial and vegetabhe life, very close of kin to each other, com- mon to two or to more of these widely parted regions, yet withiout any kin so near on the northern sidle of the equa- tor. It is impossible to doubt, there- fore, that in southern latitudles there must hmve existedl a lanidi on which the common ancestors of all these forms lived, and whence they couldi ~hisperse in all directions. This lost continent, I am eonstrainwdl to believe from evi- denc~ which space does not on the l)resent occasion permit me to adduce, lies in part beneath the southern ice cap, audi it apl)roachiedl to d)~ includedi the Antarctic islands, as well as cx- tendled north~x ard to nnite with the southern extremities of South America, perhaps with Africa, arid with the Masearenie, the Australian and New Zealand comitirnental ishandls. The coni- paratively shallow depth of the cir- cumpohar seas strongly supports the probability of this supposition. In the days, however, when the ancestors of the plants andi animals now living or whose fossils prove their former exist- erice in these far-separated countries, had thieir common home in thus An- tarctic continent, it was a land, not buried under ice, but smihing under a bright and genial climate and clothed 17 is with a vegetation sufficient for the sus- tenance of a large and diverse fauna. We know that such climatic Conditions must have existed in the Antarctic area, during the height of the glacial age in the Northern Hemisphere. The inhabitants of this genial land lived, multiplied, spread abroad, and, through lal)se of ages modified by their sur- roundings and the latitude of their homes, graduated into many diverse species, till the creeping on of the gla- cial age in the southern hemisphere compelled them gradually to migrate further and further northward. In this as in all migrations, there perished doubtless many strange forms of that land which we shall probably never know ; the members of some of its groups, such as the genus aphanapteryx, would seem to have split into parties, which, travelling by divergent roads, finally arrived in regions so far apart as Mauritius and the Chathani Islands, unaffected by the varying climates and surroundings they experienced, being of an ancient dominating type others, again, travelling together by single route, or dying out on other roads, are therefore found only on one of the northern continents. It is unlikely that the north peninsulas of the An- tarctic land were ever conteml)ora- neously united with all the northern continents, as the singularly uneven distribution among them of their fauna and flora indicates. The union was probably now with one region, now with another, and indeed it is possible that the Antarctic extensions may have never joined directly with any part of the great continents as we now actually know them. To trace, how- ever, even roughly, the direct roads, or to locate the drawbridges, and the leaping-stones, which the many eleva- tions and subsidences of this volcanic region have made and broken for these passing migrants, or to reckon the inn- tations and combinations of their open- ing and closing, or to follow the flow and flux, the expediting, the retarding, or the perishing of the northward- bound pilgrims, are problems too com- plex to attempt now. Nevertheless the The Last Days of an Empire. existence of an austral continent ex- tending into far southern latitudes, however unable we may be to fix its l)oundaries, is undoubtedly necessary to explain the (listribution of life in the southern hemisphere, and account for no more singular instance of dis- connected distribution than the occur- rence of the aphanapterya2 both in Mauritius and in the Chatham Islands. If I have been able to convey to the reader of this account of my visit to Wharekauri but a fraction of the inter- est, the charm, and the excitement of keen expectancy which every yard trav- ersed, every sand-hill and refuse-heap explored, aroused when any moment might disclose still more remarkable forms of life than any already gathered, with all the light their (liscovery might shed on the past ; or some impression of the delight that the scenery on every hand afforded me, neither the rea.dei~ nor the writer of this paper will have cause to be dissatisfied. HENRY 0. FORBES. From Blackwoods Magazine. THE LAST DAYS OF AN EMPIRE. I. I MADE her acquaintance one after- noon on my return from court. She was sitting in my verandah with her sister, an old friend of mine, the wife of a Burman magistrate, and we had. tea together. She was very pretty, with round fair cheeks and brown eyes, with flowers in her hair and gold ban- gles on her wrists, and her face soft- ene(l as her sister told me she had been maid of honor to the queen during those last (lays when the empire fell into dust. I had often wished to hear more of that tragedy. Of the declaration of war in November, 1885, of the advance of the river column under Sir Henry Pren- dergast, of the fighting at Minhla and the subsequent collapse of all resist- ance, and of the surrender at Mandalay by the king when he could have re- treated further north and prolonged the war almost indefinitely, I had of The Last Days of am Empire. course hear(l a great deal. The papers had been full of letters from special correspondents, official reports had been 1)rintcd and books published, till of the acts of our officers and of the reasons for their acts nearly everything wras known. But of the acts of Burmese government we knew little, and of the reasons for those acts almost nothing. It crumbled into dust beneath a stronger power, and of the causes of its fall we beard scarcely anything. The Bur nese empire had no special correspond- ents, no newspapers, no makers of books. No one has stood forth to tell the world the other half of that tragedy, the losers half ; so it is only known partially, a.n(l therefore incorrectly, as told from one standpoint, that of the victors. Yet of all but bare facts an enemy can hear but little. As an enemy he is expected to desire naught l)ut evil news of his focs, and that is all lie hears. Those who could tell him the truth think he would not care t~ hear it. Let him wish to be impartial as the sea, he cannot, while the strug- gle lasts, have the grounds for a sound judgment. Yet however grotesque the error, however cruel the ignorant state ment, however mistaken the conclusion that might be publislle(l, it must remain uncorrecte(l, and go down to the world as history. The king might be called a (iruilken ruffian, the queen a blood- thirsty virago, and there was no an- swer, no defence. To the bitterness of defeat was added this bitterness of misunderstanding, for the truth is hard to come at. Perhaps, I thought, I may hear from this girl somnethiiig of those (lays in November 1883 She was in the palace, if not an actor, yet with the actors md she must have seen it all. I will ask her to tell me. II. You wish to know, Thakin, about the palace? I was in the palace four years till the king and queen were taken away by the English. That was in our era 1247, or, as you count it, 1885: I will tell you if you like. A Burmese title of respect like sahib. .1 did like, and I heard many stories from the little exinaid of honor to the queen, told sometimes at the well as we sat on the steps while the maidens passed for water in the golden even- ing ; sometimes at my Ii ouse, when the ladies honored me by coming to after- noon tea, or at a pw~A when we were bored with the actors, an(l the summer night was too hot for sleep. Of what she told me, so much as relates to those last eventful (lays, I will try to give you as much as l)ossible in her own words, though in the translation many of the pretty turns of expression must be lost, and all the sometimes coquet- tish, sometimes earnest, but always charming manners of the speaker ; the deep woe in her eyes as she spoke of the calamities that had overtaken the queen, and the smile on her red lips as she told of some childish escapade. My father [she began] was a Chinese contractor, as ~0LI know, Thakim, and he built the great round tower with tIle wiudimig stair at thc southeast of the palace. lie has never yet been paid for it, but that cannot be helped now. I entered tile palace when I was elcven years 01(1, four years before the war, and was OilC of tile queens maids of honor. You know, Thakin, the king had maids of honor too, but I was 0110 of Mebyas maids, and after a year or two I was made to carry 11cr gol(l box of tobacco and cigarette papers an(l roll them for her; for you know the queen did not smoke our great Burmese che roots, but cigarettes such as you smoke. TIlere were many maids of honor. Some were the daugllters and sisters of Shall chiefs, a.Il(l some were relations of ministers and governors. Tiley were kept in the palace, I think, so that tile princes and governors shoul(l not rebel. Yes It was pleasant in the palace then. I had a ~00lll with another mai(l of Ilonor. At first it was Ma E Mya who was with me, but she got into trouble. She took a lover and ~as punished. Perllaps some time I may 2 A performance of a play or a dance. The queens. 19 The Last Days of au Empire. tell you about her. Afterwards it was Ma Shwe Tha. It was l)leasant in the palace. There was not much to do attending on the queen, and she gave us dresses often beautiful dresses with gold an(1 silver embroidery and we had the gardens to play in, and there were many (lances and performances. No we were not allowed to speak to young men ; but I was very young then, and I did not care. The Thakin laughs and says it is not so now Why should lie laugh ? Is there any harm in loving ones own sweetheart ? Has the Thakin no sweetheart in his own country who loves him ? lie shakes his head ; but I)erliaps some time there will be such a one, an(l then the Thakin will not laugh. It is true that in the l)alace many people were killed, but are not many l)eol)le killed in other countries ? When plots are made against your king are not the plotters killed ? And they were always plotting in the palace. The queen was very kind to me. Whicii she liked any one she was very kind to her ; but she was very proud, and wished to rule the kingdom through the king, and she hated any one who tried to come between her and the king. The Thakin has seen her photograph, but lie cannot tell how like a queen she was, and hi ow beautiful she looked, and how she did everything for the safety of the king her husband and the glory of the kingdom. She was not cruel, Thakin, because she liked to be cruel but because she could not help it. When all the kings brothers were killed after the king came to the throne, was it not necessary ? If they had not been killed would there not have been rebellions and wars, and the whole country destroyed ? I have heard Mebva say so many a time. The Tha- kin remembers the Mingoon rebellions against the 01(1 king? If the Min~oon Mintha I had been killed, how many hun(lreds of lives would there not have been saved The queen would not allow the king I ~Iint-lia (prince). to take any other wives. It is true there was the lesser queen, but Mebyn did not mind her, for she was of no ac- count ; but the queen was afraid of any one coming between her and the king If the king loved one of the queens mai(lens, the queen was oblb~ed to give her to the king, but after six months or a year the girl would disappear. Yes I suppose she was killed. The queen was afraid of any rival between herself and the throne she had given her hus- band. The Thakin looks upon it with different eyes from ours. He is shocked; hut would it be better that the king should have seventy children, as Mindoii his father had, to raise up troul)le in future ? have English queens never killed their rivals, or En- glish kinos allowed their wives to be execute(1 ? No, T hakin, I (10 not think these thinas rirht they are very terri- ble ; but (loes the Thakin ever consider the reasons ? There was no punish- ipent the queen could give save (heath. Imprisonment was only (leathi ma(le a little longer and a great (leal harder. There were no jails with high brick walls, such as the English government have raised all over the land. The jail was but a woo(len hut, and the prison- ers were kept in wooden stocks, and the heat was (lea(lly in the low hut crow(le(l with prisoners. i)cath were much l)referable, Thakin, to such im- prisonment, es~)ecially for a woman. We did not ~o out of the palace much. Sometimes I went and staye(l a week or a month with my mother, but the queen did not leave the l)alace. The Thakin wants to hear what I know about how the war began I will tell him what I know. There was a great talk of course, long before the war began, about the timber company, and about the French ; but I did not understand it, and I (10 not remember it. Then a letter came up from the English government saying that if the kiiig (li(l not (10 certain things the En glishi would attack him. I was at the Council that was held upon what the answer should h)e. I was atten(hing on the queen, and she sat beside the king, and there were l)resent the Kinwun 20 The Last Days of an Empire. 21 and Taingda ministers and others. in tl]is matter ? and the minister bent You know the chamber in the l)alace, forward on his knees aiid spoke Thakin, with the pillars all gilded to The king my lord knows that I, his the top and golden bosses on the red slave, have travelled to far lands, an(l ceiling. It looks ont on the white have seen India an(l France and the courtyard where the water-tassel leaps country of the English. I, his slave, in a basin, and allabout the floor of the have seen the armies of the English chamber were rugs and mats of many and of India, and my lords army can colors from Franee, and on the walls not fight them. Let my lord, therefore, were great mirrors in which you see re- keel) peace for yet a few years till his flected half the room itself, and the army is better trained audi there are ministers in their state robes audi the more cannon, and till my lord has allies king. The king and queen sat on the among the nations of the West. If my dais at one endi, audi the ministers king wonldl send an answer to these shekoed before them, hiding their feet English that their requests shall be fnl in their silks, as is the court custom. fihledl, then, if it be uceessary to fultil The queen was very angry when she them, if it can be done slowly, and readi the letter, andi she wantedi the king meanwhile preparations can be made, mnake l)nt the audi in few years ther to diecidle at once to war a e may be war king Saidi he must have a Council, andl and snecess, but not now. consi(ler of the matter in dlue form. So The queen was very angry with the the letter was readi alondi to the Council Kin~vnn Mingvi for his adlyice. She by one of the clerks, andi the kino askedi always hiatedl the Kinwun mdi if he hadi the Council what the answer shouldl be. not reecivedi an or(her fromn the old king The Taingdla Mingyi,1 who was a tieree giving him exemption from the ninety oldimali he is now a prisoner in Indlia, nine formus of (leath, the queen wouldi Thakin saidi it was necessary to muake have tried to kill him long ago. She war upon the foreign dlevils, andi dirive was very angry, andi as I sat behindi her them into the sea. Has not the king, I couldi see her shiver all over, and her he said, mnany thousands of brave sol- cigarette went out because she breathed diers who can defeat these heretics audi so fast she couldi not smoke it, audi she diestroy thiemn ? 1-lave not these En- reachedi back to me for another. The glish taken from the king the kingdoms king dlidi not say anything ; lie only us of Arracan audi Pegu, andi shall not our tenedi to what the ministers said. mighty lordi, the ruler of all elephants, Then the Illethinatwinwun and other the king of kings, reconquer those ministers spake audi urgedi the king td) countries which the great Alompra make war. They spoke of the I mumor adi(ledl to the kingdlom of Ava ? has tals of the Kings Guard, who were not the kings armny been trainedi by tattOOedl with eharmns and muadie prd)d)f foreb~ners, and is not the kings palace against bullets audi swd)rdl-cuts, audi that full of guns amidi ammunition ? Let iiot they couldi withstand the English troops the great king allow these animals to with ease audi (lestroy them. They told impose coudhitions upon his powel. Let the king how a Clilnaman hadi invented the king issue his Ordlers, audi the En a mirror with which the suns rays ghish devils shall be utterly dlestroyed couldi h)e retheetedi on the enemy audi 11e saidi a great (heal more than this, their army utterly burnt up. So they Thakin, but this is the meaning of it all pressedi the king to make war, but all. the king only listened, audI the talk The queen was glad when the Taingdla went on for the timne it would take the spoke, for her mind audi his mind were sun to sink from the zenith to that roof. one, andl she snilledi at the king Then Each minister as he spake raise(i his the king saidi to the Kinwun Mingyl, head and hooked up, and as he finished What dioes the Kinwun Mingyi adivise droppedi it on his hands. Then at the end the Kinwun Mingy i spoke again, 1 Miugyi (minister), and advised the king to keep peace. 22 The Last hays of art Empire. Did not one of mv lords ancestors bent 11cr head on her hands and she who has now rcttlrne(l to heaveti make cried, arid tile tears ran (lown t1lrou~1i war upon tile English, all(l hc lost Aria 11cr lingers and dropped off her un~2S. can ? And another of my lords an and I conld hear her sobs low (lown in cestors made war and lost the kingdom her throat. We were all very much of Pegu. Let my lord hearken to his afraid, for we had never seen her civ servant, and hot make war lest he lose before, and it was very terrible to see a Ava. queen weep in a Council. The minis The kings mind was bent towards ters were all bowed forward with their tue Kinwun Mingvi, for lie was a very Claspc(l llahl(ls 1)efore them on the mat clever 01(1 man, and tile king knew that and their faces to the ground. There his a(lviee was good. But when the was n~ sound in the great chalilber save queen looked in the kings face ailil saw tile l)lasii of the water in the basin he was inclined to listen to the Kinwna without and the how sob of tile quecli. Mingvi, shc was very wroth, and she The king sat quite still thinking, and lie bent forward and l)ut her hand on the looked at the qneeii and then over the kings sleeve and si)oke, and hier voice nlillisters in their bright silk (Iresses was clear like a silver gong in tue great and white fillets till hiis eye fell on the chamber. I, too, the kings wife, Kinwun Milhgyi, the wise 01(1 minister have something to say to the king n~ xvhiom his lather had hionore(l. Then lord on this matter. Is my king a ser- he looked away through the great golden vailt of these foreigners, that lie should columns to the white courtyard where suffer tilis thing? the sun was shining and to tile green She stol)l)e(l a moment, and whica sue trees in the gardens. The queen stopped went on the words came slowly from crying, and hooked up at the king and hier lips as dro1)s that fall froni a tree said, By my lords leave I will leave after rain. Better it were to hose the tile Council. But thie king put his Golden kingdom than to listen to orders hand on her shoulder, for lie loved her like a slave. Is iiiv hor(1 in his palace much, an(l sa.i(l, Stay yet a moment. to h)C but as the govern or of a province Then lie turhie(l to the ministers and who does this and that at tile comnlan(l Sai(l The order hias fallcn. It shall of a. greater than lie ? Mv lord is a be war. Let the proclamation be made great king, and his sword is sharp. lIe out ilow, without delay, in the Council, shall reply with its edge to those who and an answer be written to these En contemn llim. Sooner shall we (lie gush to say that the king of Ava, the with our soldiers thian live with chains lord of lords, and of the white dc of words about our iiecks. But there is phants, (loes not receive orders from nothing to fear. The brave soldiers, foreign hicretics, aiid their (leliiahi(ls are thie Immortals, shall S00~ conquer the refused. enemy, and drive him into that black Thien the king rose from the dais and sea whence he came. Let the Taingda turned towards his own allartalents, Mmgvi command an(l lie shiall l)rcvail. and the queen followed, nn(l we fol- Then she turned from thic king and lowed the queen. I saw her face as looked at the Kinwun Mingyi, and her she went, and it was quite white ; but voice grew full of scorn anti hate. As her eyes were red, and there were blots to tile Kinwumi Mingyi, lIe 15 old and of tears on her scarlet (Iress. She afraid. He is not a mall, a mimlister, looked guad amId yet sorry. I hooked but a woman ami 01(1, 01(1 woman. h)ack as we went out and saw the Kin Look my maidens shall bring even wun Mingyl going away. Ilis face was now a l)etticoat, that lie may dress as very sad, an(l lie was ashamed ; but becomes his words, and when lie goeth the other ministers were merry, and forth from the kings presence the langiled at him as lie went. world shall know him for wilat be is. Ah, Thakin ! I shIall always remnem- The queen stopped speaking, and she ber that Council, but I cannot tell it you was silent for a moment, and then she all word for word. How cnn a child The Last Days of an Empire. 23 remember everything? All I have When the best actress had danced, told you is true, but I fear I tell it and had sung a beautiful song to the badly. queen of how great and gracious she Very soon after that tbe war began, was, like the full moon beside the king, and the queen went often to Councils her sun, and how the people loved and with the king, and troops were sent feared her, and of how the foreigners from Mandalay down to the frontier; were like the night that wished to but of this the Thakin knows much darken the kingdom, the actress was more than I do, for I only know what I called to the front of the steps where heard in the palace, and a great deal of the queen sat, and the queen sent her this I forget, and a great deal was not by me a golden bangle and a message true. There was a great stir in the pal- to s~y that the actress had sung well, ace in those days, and many ministers but that soon there would be more to and others went away, but the Taingda sing about thaa the capture of two Mingyi did not go. ships. I went down and gave her the Then came news of the fighting, and bracelet, and repeated the queens mes- one evening a messenger came to the sage aloud, so that all might hear it. palace from Minhla with a letter for the When all the people round saw the Council, and I heard that there had bangle and heard the message a mur- been a great fight between steamers mur ran through them as when the below Minhia, and that the English wind blows in the trees. The king too steamers were defeated and two of gave a present to the chief actor, and them taken. The Thiakin knows this money to be divided among the other was not true; but every one in the actors; and all night long the music palace believed it, and the queen told sounded in the palace, and the light of us of it herself and said it xvas true, torches was so bright outside that you A great pw~ was ordered in the pal- could see almost to the top of the great ace on account of this victory. It was golden spire with its seven roofs, the held in the porch before the southern centre of the universe. face. The king and queen and princes After that for two or three days came and ministers sat np on the space before more messengers. Sometimes they the large room whose walls are of glass spoke of victory, and sometimes they panels enclosing flowers. The Thakin said that the foreigners were being knows the room, for it was afterwards allowed to ascend the river some way, the mess - room where the generals so that the river might be blocked be- messed, and the Thakin has played hind them, and thus they might be whist where we sat. It was a great caught in a trap and utterly destroyed. pw~, and the actors in the play made There were all sorts of rumors in the speeches on the greatness of the king palace, Thakin rumors of defeat and and queen and the army, and that the loss, and that our forts had been taken English would soon be driven away. and many men killed; but no one dare It was very beautiful to see the dancers tell the queen of these rumors, and dancing dressed in wonderful clothes always she spoke of victory, and de- of silver and gold that the queen had dared that the foreigners were being given them, and to see the crowds of destroyed, and she told us all to hook the soldiers and the other lower people glad and rejoice in the glories of the of the palace sitting below round the army, and she gave us new dresses actors listening to the songs. Down to wear. But sometimes when the below it was very bright, with all the queen thonght no one could see she did torches and other lights ; but where not smile, bnt looked sad and old, ah the king and queen sat there were not much older than before ; and some~ many lights, only you could see the times she would be cross, and speak to diamonds glitter round the queens us angrily, and suddenly change again neck, and the golden bangles shine as and laugh. When she was with the he moved, king she always looked happy and con- The Last Days of cm Empire. fident, and spoke to him merrily of how they would go in state to Rangoon when it was couquercd, and see the ships and the vast ocean. One morning early the queen went out to walk in the gardens on the north of the palace, and she called only one maid of honor, myself, to follow her, and forbade the rest ; so I went behind her with the golden box of tobacco and the cigarette-papers. You know the gardens, Thakin, where there were ca- nals and l)onds of water, and long ave- nues of trees that wound to and fro, and you crossed the canals by little bridges, and climbed up little hills where there were rocks and ferns. It was very cool there in the early morn- ing in November, when the mist hung like a soft veil on the water, and the flowers were covered with dew, and the queen was fond of walking along the canals and watching the fish swim to and fro. From the garden you could look at the palace with its red and golden walls, and the curved roofs of the audience-chambe is, and above all the great tower gleaming in the early sunlight, and throxving out a myriad sparkles froni the tiny mirrors let into the gilding. By the gardens at one end is the white B6ddhi pagoda, and there is some open ground there where the children of the palace officials used to play. The queen went to this end walking slowly nuder the trees, and stopped behind a great tamarind-trunk, and beckoned me to her side ; and she looked beyond, and there were many children playing by the water rnnnin~ and laughing, and tIm little boys at football. Then she ordered me to go and call one of the children to come to the tamarind-tree, but not to say the queen was there. I went and called a little girl I knew, about eight years old, the daughter of one of the secretaries, and the child came to me and took my hand, and we went to where the queen was standing alone behind the tamarind-tree in the shadow. When the little girl saw the queen she was much afraid, and wished to run away, but I told her there was no fear, that the queen wished to give her a l)resent, so the child stood with me before the queen. Then Mebyn, the queen, told me to ask the child what she heard her par- ents talking about in the evenings before the lights were lit, and I coaxed her, and she said her parents talked of the fighting, and how our soldiers had run away, and that the foreigners had taken Minlila and killed many Burmese, an(l that they were a(lvaucing up the river. She also said that her parents talked last night that it would be neces- sary to bury all their gold and silver, audi that her mother had told her she would have to give up her gold bangles to be buried, for that wicked foreigners were coming to Mandalay, and would steal them all. You will understand, Thakin, that the child did not tell it all like this ; but bit by bit, with coaxing amid care, she 101(1 all she knew, and she crie(l a little at the end, because she did not wish to give up her bangles to be buried. While little Ma Than was speaking the queen did not say any- thing. She only listened, and her face grew white and her eyes grew large in her face. When the girl had finished the queen gave her a gold jexvel from her wrist, and bade her tell 110 one of what the queen had asked her, only to say that the queen called her and gave her a jewel. And she ran back to her friends, and I called another. Alto- gether I called four children, and they all told the queen the same that their parents talked of defeat and loss, and two said that their parents were going to run away from Mandalay when the Enalish came in a few days. When they had finished, the queen went away slowly, and I followed her. As she left the tree she said to me You hear what the children have said. They are too young to have learnt how to lie. It must be all true. It is the nilnisters and generals who diare not tell me the truth. But you who have heard what they said, forget it, and dare not to say a word to any one of it. Then she went down the garden, an(l she looked so sad, ah, so sad It is 24 The Last Days of an Empire. terrible, Thakin, that when an enemy is advancing to destroy a great kingdom the queen can only hear the truth from children who are too young to have learnt how to lie. Of all the ministers and generals she had raised into power, of all her thousand servants, whose lives lay in her hand, there was not one to tell her truly of the ruin coming up the river. She, the great queen who had through her husband the king ruled the Burmese nation and the Shan princes, who had sent hundreds to death and given to hundreds ~~ower and wealth, whose palace was full of gold and silver and precioris stones, had no one to help her in her trouble. I was only a little girl, Thakin, and I could not understand so well then as I can now, looking back. but I was very sorry for the queen. The queen walked back through the arches of the trees, and near the west entrance she saw the king come out and go towards the gardeii pavilion. When she saw him she walked on quickly, and came up to him and asked him aloud if there were any new victo ries of the troops reported this morning. Her voice sounded gay, and she laughed, and all the sad look had gone from her face. All that day and the next I had fever, and could not go to atteil(l on the queen ; l)Lit the third day in the morn- ing, as I was lying in my room sick and hot, and my mother, who had come to the palace wheii she heard I was sick, was bathing my forehead, there was suddenly a great commotion in the pal- ace, and the sound of people running to and fro and talking. My mother went. out to see what had happened, and left me alone. I was frightened, for I could not tell what had happened in the palace. Perhaps there was a rebellion or some one being killed outside. I dra~ged myself to the window and looked out into the gardens. I could not see any one in the gardens, for the (lay was hot ; but as I stood there and listened at the window there caine up on the breeze a low, soft sound like thunder far away in the Shan Moun- tains, and after a minute it came again and again. I did not know what it was, and as I could not see what was the matter, for my window only looked on the gardens, I lay down again, and soon my mother came in. I asked her what the trouble was, and said I had looked out of the window but could see noth- ing. My mother asked if I had heard no soun(1, and I sa.id, yes ; a sound as of thunder far away. Then my mother told me it was the great gulls of the English steamers firing a.t Ava, which, as you know, Thakin, is not far away from Man(lalay, down tile Irrawa(ldy. The king and the queen did not know till they heard the guns that the En- glish were so near, and now there was terril)le confusion. All that night there was no rest in the l)alace. When I woke up now and then I could hear mcii shouting and moving in the guar(ls, and my room companion di(l not return save for a few minutes, when she told inc the king amid queen and tile ministers had been sitting long in Council, and the Taingda Mingyl tried to persua(le the king and queen to flee to Shwebo, but the Ijinwun Mingyi persuaded the king it would be better to remain in Man dalay an(l await the arrival of the English. I asked Ma Shwe Tha what she would do if the English came, and she said she would stay with the queen. Early in the morning, while it was not yet light, Ma Shwe Tha caine ai~ain and said she was so tired she wanted to sleep, and she asked me to go to the queen, and as my fever was now gone, I got up and went to the queen. She was sitting in one of her rooms looking out on the ~arden where it was still dark. There were but few maids of honor there, and I thought they must have gone to sleep ; but another girl said they had left the palace in the night, for there was great disorder, and the guards were not kept as before. I sat behind the queen for a long time and she made nO sPin. She was thinking, Thakin, of all that was to hap- pe~~ when the sun that was now send- ing little ripples of light across the sky should have reached the zeuith, and 26 The Last Days of an Empire. the English soldiers should have ar- nothing, but my throat choked with rived. Yoa must remember, Thakin, sorrow. So we sat there till the sun that we did not know the English then, had come up and the gardens were full that they were merciful, and their sol- of light. diers obeyed orders. Perhaps the queen At last the queen rose from her seat thought that she and the king and all by the windows and passed through the who were in the palace would be dead chambers and the corridors till she before the sun set. came to the courtyard below the round Once she took up from her side a tower, where the lookout is the same long, keen dagger with a carved ivory tower which my father built. We all hilt and gold mounting, and looked at it followed the queen to the courtyard, long. I was afraid, and whispered to and when she came to the foot of the another maid of honor that the queen tower she ordered Ma Shwe 11mm to call would kill herself, but she said, Do to the sentry on the tower. Ma Shwe not be afraid. The queen cannot do ham called, and the sentry looked over it. I could not know then why, but and asked what it was. Then the queen now I know. As long as the king her told Ma Shwe Hum to ask the sentry husband lived she could not kill her- what he could see on the river, and the self ; for if she died and he lived, per- sentry said he could see many steamers haps, hereafter, he might love some coming up and approaching the landing- one else, and she could not bear to place. You know, Thakin, that from think of that. As long as the king her the top of that tower you can see husband lived she too would live to all Mandalay city, and over the huge keep his love to herself alone. Living brick walls to the outer town, three ~r dead, she would be the only one miles of houses to the river, and the the king loved. The queen was very great Irrawaddy, two miles broad and proud, and for her pride she would more, fiowin0 between Mandalay and have died; but her love was greater, the grey Sagaing hills. You can see and for her love she lived, many other things from that tower, the There are not many women love like great Shan Mountains, like a wall, and that, the Thakin says. The Thakin the green plains beneath them, but at does not know. He is not married, this time the sentries only looked to the so how should he know? I hope he west. never will know 1)0w many there are. The queen waned, and ordered that Mebya put down the dagger and the sentry should call down from time sighed, and turned for a cigarette. I to time what he saw. Presently the quickly rolled one up and gave it to se~try called that the steamers were her, and when she saw it was I that making fast to the shore at the steamer- gave it she said, So, Ma Them Me, it landing, and that crowds of the city- is thou? Thou hast not fled, then? I folk were watching them. The queen heard my little maid of honor was ill asked if there were any firing, and the with fever. Is the fever gone? I sentry answered no! said that I was now well, and that I Quickly as the news went through would never leave her if she would the palace, secretaries and others came allow me to remain; but the queen and stood at the end of the courtyard shook her head and said that I and the and listened, and there was .a great other younger maidens had better leave crowd ; but near the queen there was the palace before the foreign troops no one except us. I do not know where entered it. Who can tell what may the king was. I had not seen him that happen? she said; and I should be morning. There was a long wait, and sorry that any harm should come to any the queen asked again if the sentry saw of my maidens; but I, the queen, must nothing. Then the sentry said he saw stay with the king. troops landing soldiers with horses When the queen gave an order no and cannon, and still more soldiers, and ~ne could answer or disobey, so I said that they were beginning to march up The Last Days of an Empire. the long, straight street that leads to the city gate. When the queen heard this, that the foreigners were at last marching through the streets to the kingly city, she real- ized that all was lost. Perhaps before this she had some little hope, but now it was all gone. The Golden Kingdom of Ava was destroyed, an(1 the king and queen with it ; and who could tell what might not happen 1)efore the sun dipped behind the Sagaing hills ? Suddenly she threw herself upon her face on the white pavement, and her hair fell down about her face, and she wept. When the people near saw this they all went away, and no one was left in the courtyar(1 except the queen and the maids of honor. The queen raised herself on her knees and beat her breasts with her hands, and cried aloud that she, only she, had brought ruin on the king and the country. It is I I, the queen that have brought to (le- struction the king my husband, whom I love It is I, I alone and again she threw herself on the white pavemeiit and beat it with her hands, an(l her whole 1)odv shook with sobs. We did not know what to do, Tliakin. We were all heartbroken to see our queen like this, but what could we do ? Half as long as it takes a pot of rice to boil, the ciucen lay thus on the flags of the courtyard in the shadow of the tower, but it seemed like a year. At last the queen rose, and a maid of honor knotted up her hair and arranged her disordered dress, and she went away softly to her own rooms on the west side. There the queen took a bath, and we attended her and dressed her, as she hade us, in a crimson silk skirt, with waves of silver on it like the waves of the sea, and a jacket of fine white cambric like a morning mist; and in her hair were fresh roses, and round her neck was the great diamond necklace. On her arms were bracelets of gold with rubies in them, and her face and throat were powdered with fresh thaaaka. Her face had become finite calm and quiet, and no one could see traces of tears, or guess how she had cried in the courtyard; but as we dressed her we could see on her beauti- ful fair breasts the red marks where she had beaten them in her despair. When the queen was dressed she ate some food, and when she had finished she said she would go to the king. She ordered several of the younger maids of honor to leave the palace at once, but some of the older ones and the prin- cesses were to stay. When the queen ordered me to go I asked to stay with her ; but she would not allow it, and she gave me a gold ring with a ruby, the same I now wear, Thakin, and gave presei~ts to the other maids, and went away to the king. I went back to my own room, an(l found my mother wait ing there, and with her I left the palace and xvent home. Just as we got out- si(le the city gates we heard a curious sound, like rippled thunder, coming up the street. We went into a house and looked from the verandah, and saw the English troops come marching up. Each soldier put down his foot at the same tune as the others, and this was what made the sound. I had never seen soldiers march like that before. The soldiers went on, and there were many of them, and they entered the city gate across the drawl)ri(lge over the moat. As you know, Thakin, the king and queen were taken pri~o~~e~s in the pavilion in the garden, but I was not there. Did I not see the queen again ? the Thakin asks. Yes. I saw her once more before she went to that place across the great water where the king and she are prisoners of the English queen. The king and queen were to be taken in one of the steamers and sent to Rangoon, an(l we heard when they were going, and we ~vent down, I and my mother, to the steamerlanding to see. By this time the people were not afraid of the English troops, for they found they did not hurt any one who did not fight against them, and the streets were crow(le(l with people. The king and queen were in one of those bullock-carriages that were used in Mandalay before the horse-gharries were introduced by the English. The 9- 4 Aspects of Tennyson. bullock-carriages, as the Thakin knows, were only four feet high from the floor to the roof, and you sat on mats on the floor, not as in an English carriage. In front of the kings carriage were mounted English soldiers and others, and then came the kings carriage with mounted men at the sides, and other carriages with princesses and a few maids of honor ; then more soldiers. The procession moved slowly, for the road was bad, and the dust swirled in clouds about the carriages. The peo- l)lc crowded in the streets, looked on in silence, except that now and then a cry rose a(~ainst the soldiers. Were the people sorry ? Yes, Thakin, they were very sorry. Perhaps he was a. had king ; but lie was our own king, and we un(lcrstood his ways, while those of the English government are to us as strange as the ways of the gods, for no one can tell what they will do next, or why. When the carriage arrived at the steamer-landing the king and queen got out and stood at the foot of the gang- way of planks laid from the bank to the steamer. The officer signed to the king to walk up the gangway, which was coveredi with matting ; but the king held back and looked on the crowds of people round. Perhaps, Thakin, lie was hoping for some help at this last moment ; perhaps lie was loath to take his foot from his kingdom, never to touch it again. Then the officer grew impatient and signed again, and the queen went for- ward and put her hand in that of the king, and led him up the way to the steamer, as a mother leads her child ~lien lie is lost and afraid. So they went on board the steamer, and my queen was gone from me forever. In a few minutes the steamer let go her moorings and stood out in the great river. I watched and watched from the bank till I could not see the steamer any more, for it ~vent fast down-stream, amid my eyes were full of tears. Perhaps, Thakin, she was not a good queen. I cannot judge of such things, but she was always kind and gracious to me, and I loved her. Even now, though seven years are past, the people cannot believe time king and queen are gone forever. Only yesterday, I was asked whether they were not in the Shan Mountains, and would again return and restore the kingdom. My qucemi will never return again, never never s~e agaimi the golden turrets of her palace and the pleasant faces of her people. Only the great strange sea before her, and the memory of what has been to tear at her heart forever. From The Nii~eteenth Century. ASPECTS OF TENNYSoN. V. TENNYSON AS A NATURE-POET. AMONG the ninny and various as- l)ects of Tennyson which can occupy time critics attention, nomme is miiore fas cimmatilig than that which shows the poet as a delineator of the beauties of nature. Amidi surely this aspect of his ~enius will come upon us with a pathetic l)o~ver omi the day when these words will gppear in print, the first Mayday that we have known without his pres- ence among us to mnake sweeter the sea- somis sweetmiess. His lovely pictures of England in summer, in autumn, an(l in winter show that, like Chaucer and like Shake- speare, lie loved Emigland all the year round ; yet lie loved her most in this very mnonthi, whemi oni English lanes, to use his own words, are white with mnay ; when the cuckoo, who hi~ms already begumi to tell ~ his na.mne to all the hills, is in his best and freshest voice ; when, far ovemhicad, time skylark can scarce get out his notes for joy, an(l whemi by the time skylark nmmd cuckoo have begun to get tired tIme nightingale takes up time music, and carries it on ; while the mimigled breaths of piimrose, violet, amid celandine rise hike a perfumiied mist, a visible incense, towards the sunset, and the stars begin to shine through the branches of the dingle. But who shall write adequateiv of Tennyson as a nature-poet? In poet- 28 [Lennyson as a Nature-Poet. ical criticism, to bring any poet Un(ler a classification is extremely difficult ; in the case of Tennyson, whose genius is so many-sided, it is almost impossible. Yet, as regards the various methods of confrontin nature characteristic of the various poets, it may be convenient in the present cssay to divide all poets into the thrce following groups ; though we must always l)ear in mind that, as the meml)ers of one group ~are constantJy seeming to pass into another, no inva- ilable line of demarcation can be drawn between them. First, poets who, whether from orig- inal impulse or from the influence of the artistic methods of their time treat nature sim~)ly as the background of the human story. Secondly, poets upon whom nature irocluces a kind of ecstasy that may be called Sufeyistic, an ecstasy resulting in a rapturous hymn to her glory, rather than in a vivid picture of her features. And, thir(lly, poets whose impulse is simply to paint the features of nature in every detail of their beauty, using the bnma.n story merely as an artistic raisom 4~tre for an objective representation of nature, or at least a representation as objective as the me(iium at the com- mand of an artist whose material is words will allow. In trying to find Tennysons place among these groups, it is here proposed to consider him in relation mainly to those English poets who imined iatelv jirececled him, and whose methods in all things were inspired, more or less, l)y the neoromantie temper the poets who form what has been called by Mr. Stedman The Georgian group, though it will sometimes be necessary to olance for a moment at the more l)rominent Victorian poets now living, such as Mr. Swinburne and Mr. Wil- ham Morris, by way of illustration. Restrictions of the space at our com- mand neeessitate this restriction of survey. To institute a proper eompar- ison between Tennyson and Browning~ would alone require a separate artiqic another artiele would be requiredl in~ ~order to institute a comparison bet~reen Tennyson and Wordsworths illustrious pupil, Matthew Arnold, and another to institute a comparison between him and the line of living poets from Mr. Fred- erick Tennyson (iowa to the present hour. And as to Tennysons relations to the Greek and Latin poets, even if there were room here to give these relations more than a hurried glance in passing, there would be no need to do so after Mr. Herbert Pauls study of them in his brilliant contribution to this series last March. With regard to the first of the three classes of poets in(licate(l al)ove, those who, always feeling that The proier study of mankind is man, use nature merely as a background for 5OIflC dramatic picture, Homer, Dante and Chaucer belong to this class no less clearly than (10 ~schylus, Sophocles, and Shakespeare. We call Homer an epic poet, said Mr. Gladstone in Chamberss Encyclop~dia, but he is instinct from h)eginning to end with the spirit of the drama, while we find in him the seeds and rudiments born of its form. An admirable criticism While in the art of ~schylus and Sophocles the scener is of necessity left mainly, if not altogether, to those sister-arts which pure (irama calls in to aid that illusion which is th~ poets quest, in the art of I-Joiner the descriptive pas- sages always advance the dramatic ac- tion ; or, if they (10 not actually carry it on, Homer always takes care that they shall seem to be doing this. So dramatic is he almost more dramatic than the dramatists themselves that there is not in either of the two epics any descriptive passage so apparently written for its own sake as that descrip- tion by Sophocles of the groves he loved. When homer makes mention of the earths soft arms, it is in connection with the human story it is to call up the pathetic picture of the unconscious Helens brothers asleep forever in those rirms. When he alludes to Laced~mon, 29 Aspects of Tennyson. 30 it is to remind us that it is the father paint for his own enjoyment and ours a hind of those dead heroes who sleep beautiful picture of mans life, when he there l)aints nature, it is merely as a back- 6 7/677 KaT& ~V ~vai~oo~ aja ground to this human picture. Had t2t O(LTO ~ the trees and rivers he loved, the Lv AaKeoaifsovt av~t, 9t2L~/ Lv warpt6t yat~. (laisics that ma(le his heart leap like a Again, in that famous passage in the childs whenever lie looked upon thern~ eighth Iliad, translated by Tennyson or the birds whose carols were so dear himself in language as divine almost as to l~iii~, lost their association with the Homers ow ii, every word of a passage human story, they would have host for so pictureslue that it might really have him much of their charm. been introduced partly to gratify the Although Tennyson does not belong poets own love of description seems specially to this group, although hi~ somehow to add to the readers expect- deep knowledge of nature prevented ance of the glorious fighting to come him from really looking upon her a~ with daylight, nothing more than the background of Of course it is impossible here to the human story, his artistic instinct touch upon the (lescriptive passages in was so true and so sure that in his nar- any of Homers successors in epic and ratives hie is as carefuh as Homer, a~ narrative art. Yet, in order to elucidate careful as Chaucer, never to let the the classification of the poets above movement of the readers imagination made, a word or two must be said about be arrested by the unnecessary obtru our own Chaucer. sion of landscape, however beautiful. The healthiest poet that has appeared in modern literature, save Walter Scott, Chaucer shows in his poetry nothing but the sweet acceptance and melodious utterance of that same spirit which informs Scotts stories in poetry and the spirit that enjoys the beauty of this beautiful world as it is. Of that beauty, however, the part played by natures loveliness is in no way the first. Ebullient as is his delight in the beau- ties of nature, when he does dwell upon them for their own sake he always takes as much care as ever Homer (lid, or the singer of the Chanson de bland, or the sagaman of the Y6hsunga Saga, not to linger so long over them as to create the impression in the readers mind that the poets own interest in his men and women has cooled. The riches and the wonderfuhness of mans life occupy his imagination as they did Homers occupy it so en- tirely that the riches and the wonderful- ness of nature, whichi in poets of the third group take the primary phace, are with him quite secondary. Though his delight is to paint pictures though of all English poets he is the most purely artistic, and cares not from what source he draws his material so that he ci~n With regard to the second group of poets, those upon whom the beauty of nature produces a vague rapture, a kind of Sufeyistic ecstasy, it may, perhaps, be safely affirmed that none of these are to be found among the Greeks. The temper, indeed, is mystical, and peiliaps it had originally much to (10 with sunworship. It is called here Sufeyistic because it reached its acme in the Persian Sufeyistic poets. But of course it is nothing more than the re- sponse to that marvellous magnetic power which nature exercises over cci- tam temperaments. In order to show what this temper really is, I cannot do better than quote the following striking verses from Ferridoddin, as given by Mr. Vaughan Joy ! joy ! I triumph now; no more I know Myself as simply me. I burn with love. The centre is within me, and its wonder Lies as a circle everywhere about me. Joy! joy! no mortal thought can fathom me. I am the nierchant an(l the pearl at once. Lo! time and space lie crouching at my feet. Joy! joy! when I would revel in a rapture, ~plunge into myself, and all things know. The late Professor Palmer considered all Sufeyisin to be the worship of the good and the beautiful, as expressed by natures beauty ; and he promised some day to sho~v that it was nothing more than the development of the primeval religion of the Aryan race. The truth seems to l)e that this ec- static temper has but little to (10 with races, but is the individual expression of certain exceptional souls to be found in several races. In Celtic poetry that hymn to May day, which, whether it was or was not written by Ossians father, as affirmed by the editor of the Transactions of the Ossianic Society, is certainly very 01(1, is full of this re- sponse to natures magnetism, and is very beautiful with its (lescription of the heath spreading out its long hair as if in delight at the blackbirds song and the cuckoos chant. The Finns and the North American Indians ha~ e not much to (10 with the Aryans, yet they seem to know this ecstasy. The poet of the Kalevala exclaims: The waves of the sea have spoken to me; the wjld birds have taught me, the music of many waters has been my master. And Mr. Leland has translated a most remarkable Wabanaki song which seems to disclose much of this same ecstasy, thou~h the human lovepassion is no (loubt mingled with it. Come, my moo serge, let us go up that shining mountain, and sit together on that shining mountain; there we will watch the beautiful sun go down from the shining mountain. There we ~vill sit, till the beautiful night traveller arises above the shining mountain; we will watch him, as he climbs to the beautiful skies. We will also watch the little stars following their chief. We will also watch the northern lights playing their game of ball in their cold, shiny country. There we will sit, on the beautiful moun- tain, and listen to the thunder (Ba- dankac) beating his drum. We will see the lightning when she lights her pipe. We will see the great whirlwind running a race with betchi-vesay (squall). 3 There we will sit on that beautiful mona tam, an(l watch the little stars in their sleepless flight. Among English poets, Coleridge dis- played a good deal of this temper, an(1 Wordsworth had much more than Cole- ridge, as may be seen from the follow ing example The sounding cataract 1-Jaunted me like a passion. I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts, a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the li,,ht of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, - And the blue sky and in the imulad of man A muotion and a spirit which imapels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Keats, too, in the Ode to a Nightin- gale, passes gloriotisly into this mood. l3ut, of course, it is to Shelley among English poets that one naturally turns when the Sufeyistic ral)ture of the na tureintoxieate(l poet comes nn(ler dis- cussion. An essay might be filled with examples of Shelleys ecstatic hymns to nature and about nature, full of a Sufeyism such as is surpassed in no literature, and such as was never equalled until the appearance of Mr. Swin I )urne, upon wh omn Shelleys mantle. in this respect seems to have fallen. Indeed it would be (lifficult to say which is the most overflowing with the qmiahity under discussion, Shelleys Ode to the West Wind and the Ode to a Skylark, or Mr. Swin- burnes nature-lyrics~ from the cho- ruses in Atalanta down to his latest poem. Of this temper Tennyson sho~vs nothing ; for such iml)assione(l a(1 dresses to nature as occur in Maud are inspired by a lovers passion for his mistress, and have nothing to (10 with the Sufeyistic passion of the nature- intoxicated poet. Nor is there any sign in his poems that before he can assim- ilate the beauty of a landscape and make it his own he has to translate the mental image of it into poetic dictiom and metre, as Weber had to translate~ TennysOn as a Nature-Poet. Aspects of Tennyson. his mental image of a landscape into the language of absolute music. With regard to the third group of poets, those who give us pictures of nature that seem l)ainte(l for their own sake, whatever might have been the real iml)ulse of any one of the ancient poets (whether Sophocles in the ~dipus Coloneus felt the impulse to go on de- scribing his beloved groves, or whether JEschylus in the Prometheus felt the impulse to make a picture of the dimpling dccl), or in the Agamem non felt the iml)ulse to pursue his marvellous description of the sultry sea), as a matter of fact, it is only the poets of the modern world who have exhibited in any great (legree the im pulse to linger over the l)ea.uties of iia- ture until the human interest of the poem is weakened. For, lovely as are the descriptive touches of Theocritus and his follo~vers, they cannot be said to arrest the (lra1matic action ; they make it move a little more slowly, that is all. In the modern world, the country that has produced William I3rowne and James Thomson, William Wordsworth and John Clare, stood at the hea(l of all others in the matter of (lescril)tive poetry, even before Tennyson came. But have not the very words, Ten- nvsoii as a Ilaturel)oet, a magic in them ? I think they will carry the mind of many a reader of this review far away from the dust and noise of the London season, to that wellremem bered (lay when first he revelled in the delights of Tennysons English idylls, reading the precious little green volume, l)erhal)s, un(ler the elms of an English home, as he lay, a direamy boy, on the grass, undisturbed by any soun(l save the birdvoices from the Cilcket, the yaw of the homing rooks sailing to~vards the spinney, the low of a cow knee- (leep in the rivershallows ohitterino- (rol(len at one moment at the next rosy, or the crunching sound of teeth crop- ping and tearing the daisie(l grass be- side the brook, as a feeding horse (Irew nearer and nearer with lazy stamp of foot an(l swish of tail, while Twilight poured On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep. To sax- that, as a painter of the beau- ties of nature for their own sake, Ten- nyson stands before all the Georgian poets is, no (loubt, to utter a bobi saying, for it is to put him in this respect above very great masters in this line al)ove the l)oet who wrote The Prelude, The Excursion, an(l the lines on Tintern Abbey ; above him who wrote Christabel, above him who wrote the ode to a skylark, above him who wrote the Ode to a Nightingale. In depicting landscape, whether by the painters art or the poets, there are always two matters for consideration the contour of the land and the life, vegetable and animal, that clothes it, and it is necessary to bear in mind that the poet who takes a first l)lace in rendering one of these t~vo elements of a lamidseape will sometimes take only a second place in rendering another though, of course, there is no psychological necessity xvhy this should often ha~)pen. In delineating the contour of the land, Tennyson allows himself a free- dom of composition unknown to the art of Wordsworth. It is this as much as anything which lends that brilliance to his pictures which is one of their chief characteristics. These pictures are flashed, not U~OH the muental per- ception merely of the readier, but upon his very senses. The muethod is legitimate enough, as Coleridge, ju(hging from his own dhescriptions, would have allowed; hut Wordsworth would not have sanc- tioned it. For while Wordsworths one desire is to paint the contour of the landi before him with the same accuracy with which Tennyson paints vegetation, Tennysons diesire is to seize the characteristic features of the lan(ls outline, an(l exercise upon them that artistic composition of which he is so great a master. The composition of the landscape in Coleridhges Kubla Khan is scarcely more bold and more triumphant than is the composition of some of Tennysons quiet pictures. 32 Tennyson as a Nature-Poet. And yet so consummate an artist is he that the effect is that of realism. It is the exercise of this composition in rendering the scenery of his native county which has so often proved a stumbling-block to writers like Mr. G. M. Napier, the Rev. A. J. Church, Mr. Cuming Walters, and other charm- ing writers, who, in their love for Ten- nyson, would fain localize his pictures. As the author of Nature in Books, Mr. Anderson Graham, well says, how- ever, When he sang the song of the brook he was not celebrating the clear and rapid streamlet that glances past Tetford with a ripple like a smile just breaking into laugh- ter but the summer setting of his immortal burden the fairy forelands, the sailing blossom, the fresh wet ferns belongs to a flat country. The truth seems to be that, plastic as is the poetic temperament, apt as it is to recall those special a.spect~ of nature by which in childhood the poet was surrounded, there is sometimes an an- cestral strain in human nature which is stronger than any environment, giv- ing a man an instinctive passion for mountain scenery, or for woodlands, or for the sea, irrespective altogetlwr of birthplace associations. And as to Tennyson, so masterly is his hand in J)ainting nature, that it is not so easy as is generally supposed to say what kind of landscape he paints best. The perfection of his descriptions of Lincolnsliire scene iv should not blind us to the perfection of his other descrip- lions of nature, where the scenery is of a very different kind. In the power of calling up imaginary landscape he never had an equal, save Coleridge, among English poets. Had lie been as familiar with the loveliness of the Pacitic islands as herman Melville or Mr. Louis Stevensoii, it is difficult to imagine how he could have described it more gorgeously than lie has done in those marvellous verses to Milton : Me rather all that bowery loneliness, The brooks of Eden mazily murniuriag, And bloom profuse and cedar arches Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean, Where some refulgent sunset of India LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXXIII. Streams oer a rich ambrosial ocean isle, And crimson-lined the stately palm woods Whisper in odorous heights of even. And it is equally difficult to imagine that, had he hiniself undergone Enoch Ardens experience on the cora.l island, he could have given us a picture more vivid, and at the same time more true, than this The league-long roller thundering on the reef, The moving whisper of huge trees that branch d And blossomd in the zenith, or the sweep Of some precipitous rivulet to the wave, As down the shore he ranged, or all day long Sat oftemi in the seaward-gazing gorge, A shipwreckd sailor, waiting for a sail: No sail from day to day, but every day The sunrise broken into scarlet shafts Among the palms and ferns and precipices; The blaze upon the waters to the east The blaze upon his island overhead The blaze upon the waters to the west Then the great stars that gI obed themselves in Heaven, The hollower-bellowing ocean, and again The scarlet shafts of sunrise but no sail. More won(lerful still is the fohlowino picture of a city on a distamit mountain- side, as viewed through the desiccated air of a trol)ical desert country, where objects at an immense distance are seen dwarfed, as though the observer were looking through the wrong end of a telescope : lie seems as one whose footsteps halt, Toiling in immiieasurable sand, And oer a weary sultry land, Far beneath a blazing vault, Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill, The city sparkles like a grain of salt. As regards his exercise of composition in landscape, if we compare that passage in The Prelude ~ where Wordsworth paints the moon rising over Snowdon with one of Tennysons bits of moun- tain scenery, we shall see the funda- mental difference between the methods of the two poets : For instantly a light upon the turf Fell like a flash, and ho as I looked up, The Moon hung naked in a firmament Of azure without cloud, and at my feet 4263 33 Aspects of Tennyson. Rested a silent sea of hoary mist. A hundred hills their dusky backs upheaved All over this still ocean; and beyond, Far, far beyond, the solid vapors stretched, In headlands, tongues, and promontory shapes, Into the main Atlantic, that appeared To dwindle, and give up his majesty, Usurped upon far as the sibht could reach. Not so the ethereal vault; encroachment none Was there, nor loss ; only the inferior stars Had disappeared, or shed a fainter light In the clear presence of the full-orbed Moon, Who, from her sovereign elevation gazed Upon the billowy ocean, as it lay All meek and silent, save that through a rift Not distant from the shore whereon we stood, A fixed abysmal, gloomy, breathing-place Mounted the roar of waters, torrents, streams Innumerable, roaring with one voice! Heard over earth and sea, and, in that hour, For so it seemed, felt by the starry heavens. Here the charm of the description depends very much on the fact that we feel it at once to be an actual transcript of nature. Now, let us first compare the passage with a landscape written by Tennyson in the Pyrenees, and pub- lished in 1833, a landscape displaying as little attempt at composition as is dis- coverable in Wordsworths lines There is a dale in Ida, lovelier Than any in old Jonia, beautiful With emerald slopes of sunny sward, that lean Above the loud glenriver, which hath worn A path thro steep-down granite walls be- low, Mantled with flowering tendriltwine. In front The cedarshadowy valleys open wide. Ten years afterwards this same land- scape appeared transfigured by the hand of the greatest master of composition that has ever appeared in English poetry. And now compare all the three with each other : There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier Than all the valleys of lonian hills. The swimming vapor slopes athwart the glen, Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine, And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars The long brook failing thro the clovn ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea. Behind the valley topmost Gargarus Stands up and takes the morning: but in front The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal Troas and Ilion s column d citadel, The crown of Troas. No doubt it is hill scenery, and not mountain scenery, that both poets give us here ; the true atmosphere of the mountains above the belt of vegetation is a very different thing. Shelleys description of the Eagle-baffling mountain, Black, wintry dead, unmeasured; without herb, Insect, or beast, or shape, or sound of life is not without this atmosphere ; and the same may be said of Byrons lines in Manfred : Ye crags upon whose extreme edge I stand, and on the torrents brink beneath Behold the tall pines dwindled as to shrubs In dizziness of distance. Byron on several occasions showed that he had a real imaginative sym- pathy with treeless, herbless peaks and glaciers, and, had his physical infirmi- ties allowed it, he might have brought into poetry the true magic of Alpine scenery perhaps the one thing in landscape still left for the poet to achieve. Save in the modest Words- worthian way, the poet is not often a mountaineer. And it is to be feared that our contemporary knights of the alpenstock would not get much enjoy- ment out of the mountain atmosphere, even of Shelley and Byron. The man who could keep his head at the Dent du G~ant, or ascend the Matterhorn from Breil by aid of Maquignazs rope, or accompany Mr. Crawford Grove along that narrow ribbon of path, a few inches wide, winding upwards, corkscrew-wise, round the mountains very top, with an abyss yawning thou- sands of feet below, could hardly b~ 34 expected to feel much of a thrill from the wor(l-painting of the boldest moun- tain bard. It is not the Matterhoin, as I have once before hinted, but only- Par- nassus, that you can effectively climb in dreams. Perhaps, indeed, the delight of gaz- ma in the distance at the mighty vistas of mountain scenery has but little to do with the passion for mountaineering, which is entirely modern. Not, of course, that the knight of the alpen stock is without the poets love of na- tures beauties ; but then, his first passion is to climb. The steeple-jack of Parvati, the Lady of the Hills (who becomes Natura Beaigaa or Na tioa 2lfaligna according to the strength or the weakness of the feet that climb), the mountaineer, alone knows nature in her most secret lairs, and, knowing her, he must liee(1s worship such might as hers ; but first and foremost lie is a climber. In the same way that the spectacle of Epsoni iDowus on Derby Day is a mere (iream-picture to the h)usinesslike member of the ring, and in the same way that the fairy-like love- liness of a salmon-river is a mere (Ireampicture to the true salmonfisher, so the dazzling vistas of beauty to be seen from lofty mountain peaks form but a (Iream-picture to the climber, whose btisiness it is to keep up with his guides. The passion for the glories of mountain scenery is of so recent a birth that there has scarcely been time, as yet, for the true mountaineer-poet to be evolved. Wheu nature shall have joined in one and the same man the pectiliar gifts of the contemporary mountaineer with the vision and the factilty (livine, the spirit of the moun- tains will find a voice in poetry. But even apart from the hopes we may have that some of our younger poets may import the true mountain atmo- sphere into poetry, Teiinyson himself has shown how rash it is to say that any tom de force is beyond that mar- vellous Poxver, a great poets imaainn~ tion. Already, however, as much space as ~an be here afforded has been given to 35 the subject of the contour of the land iii descriptive poetry. With regard to descriptions of the life, vegetable and animal, that clothes the land, it is here that the poetry of England is far richer than any other l)oetry. How, in(heed, should it be otherwise, seeing that the English poet has for fatherland the one country whose beauties in regard to her vege- table garment seem most to glow with the very breath of natures life. It is not till we have seen the loveliest spots in Europe that we are fully able to en- joy the peculiar loveliness of England it is not until we have (Irtink our fill of the grandeur of Continental scenery, not until we have tasted the awed rap- ture which come5 upon the soul in the mountainfast nesses of the Alps, that we really understand the witchery of England that entrance(l Tennyson more au(l more with every year that passed over his head, the witchiery of this England, which he has left more be- loved than ever lie found it. Yes, indeed though ever since the time when Chaucers Elf queue with hira johy coinpagnie Danced full oft in many a ~rene ine(le, (1o~vn to the moment when his oxvn purple glens replied to The horns of Elfiand faintly blowing, England has seemed to her poets the natural (lomain of natures more benefi- cent forces, the real home-park of Oberon and Titania, the real play- ground of all the goo(1-~)eo~)le of A Midsummer Nights Dreani Tenny- son has left her more beloved than ever lie found her. But what is the cause of the peerless beauty of Tennysons England? Does it lie iii the gentle contour of the land ? Scarcely so, for there are large sweeps of landscape just as gentle and just as undulatory in Italy and in France as in England. If we study Tennyson well, especially if we study him in this beau- tiful month, and among such surround- ings as those indicated in the opening words of this essay-, we may learn the secret of Englands witchiery we may learn that it lies largely in the peculiar Tennyson as a Nature-Poet. 36 beauty of the vegetation with which the laud is clothed, a vegetation which Mr. Wallace declares to be, even as regards rich masses of color, far above the Sl)len(lors of tropic vegetation ; and we may learn also, that this beauty conies in a large degree from the useful trouble of the rain.~~ Bet~veen English i~ien and English trees and grass and flowers there is a peculiar sni j)athy. It is not in trop ica.l and subtropical countries only that the vegetable world seems, even in its llap~)iest moments, to be opl)ressed by the dread of the more cruel forces of nature, such as the eye of the sun in his fierce and l)itiless moods and the cruel breath of the wind, which are waitinr the one to 1)urn it up, the other to shatter it. Even in the temperate climes of Con- tinental Europe the vegetal)le world .:eems to have a kind of ancestral remi ]iiscence of that terror of the sun and wind which tropical vegetation shows or, at least, it (loes not seem to be tasting so true an enjoyment of exist- ence as vegetable life seems to enjoy in England, whose hottest wind is in sonic degree cooled, and whose bitterest bliz zar(h is in some (legree ten)l)ere(l, by the protectiiig breath of the genial sea. It is not only the liberties of England ihat, as Douglas Jerrold use(l to say, arc preselxe(1 in brine. The (lelicate air and the moist breezes that she owes to her seas lend the brilliant living green to her grass ami(l leaves, and the soft and peaily bloom of living glow to the coml)lexion of her flowers. In other words, it is the very quality of our cliiuate which foreigners P11(1 umi comfortable that makes, not only every flower, but every leaf an (1 blade of grass, seem to enjoy the air it breathes. Even i)efore science had shown that to draw the line between conscious animal life and what is called unconscious veg- etable life is impossible, there was a sort of halfrecognition in the human imud of a sentience in l)lalits. And if strong as the bond of mutual enjoy ment, aced we go far in search of an exl)hanation of that great link of affec- tion i)etween English people and the flowers and trees a.nd grass of En- gland? Perhaps, indeed, the ellief source of the fascination of country life for En- glishmen, l)erllal)s the reason why the final goal of every English gentleman (whatever in term c (hate ambitions may distract him for a time) is to retire to some old Locksley hall or Moated Grange, and become, as far as his head gardener will allow him, a cultivator of trees and flowers, lies in the fact that the vegetation of the 01(1 place seems coliscious of ills h)resence, seems to knoiv him an(l welconie him. Some will, n~ doubt, smile at this as an idle fancy. It cannot be (lenie(l, however, that froill Chaucer down to Shake- speare, from Shakespeare down to the present day, befween the PeoPle and the vegetation of England the link hias been uncommomihy close. It cannot be denied tllat, while the poet of otller coniltries often (fllougll, of course, not always) speaks of flowers and trees ilild ~rass as beautiful l)ictules, pait of a still larger picture tile Enalish poet never sl)eaks of tilem in this way, but sl)eaks of them as I)eautiftll creatures tilat ilave a comiscious enjoyment of life akin to his own. From Tennyson with his Groves that looked a paradise Of blossom, over sheets of ilyacliltil That seeille(l tile Ileavens iipbreaking tllro tile earth, up to Silakespeare witil his Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take Tile winds of Marcil with beauty, tilen up agaill to Chaucers loving cle scril)tiomls of thle English flowers, espe- cially of tlle daisy, tile poet makes the vegetable world share in hiis cii joymnent. Nov we mioht TO further still ; we in most Continental countries, perhaps muight go right up to the earliest of all in all, tile ~egetah)le world seems to be our nature-lyrics, the lovely Cuckoo conscious of the insecurity of its joys, Song of thle first half of tile thirteenth if there 15 110 OOlld of sympathy so century, where the mllea(l blows, the Aspects of Teiu~yson. Tennyson as a Nature-Poet. seed grows, and the new wOo(l But as lie grows this, among other of s~)rings iii an enjoyment as conscious as the faculties of the poet, comes in an(1 that of the cuckoo, the lamb, and the buck. Summer is icumen in; Loud~ sing, cuckoo Groweth seed, and bloweth mead, And springeth the woo(l new. Sin~, Cuckoo! Ewe bleateth after lamb Loweth after calv~ cow Bullock sterteth, bucke verteth Merrie sing, cuckoo. Cuckoo, Cuckoo. And, notwithstanding all that has been done in this line since Shake- speare and the Elizabetlien l)oets, es- pecially by Wordsworth and Keats, Tennvsonacknowledgetl to stand at the head of English poets as a paititer of the vegetable world of England has, let inc repeat once more, left En- gland more beloveti than ever he found her. Hundreds of such lines as The twinkling laurel scatters silver lights. Their broad curved branches, fledged with clearest green New from its silken sheath, ai(ls, strengthens, and enriches his po- etry. This, however, was not the case with Tennyson. 1-us eye was as true wlieii lie wrote Mariana in the Moated t-~raii~e as ~vhen lie flashed upon us the concentrated pictures of his latest volume. A lover of the vegetable life of En- gland could not fail to be also a lover of the streams, the lakes, the meres, and the brooks, that (10 so much to foster that life. Tennyson shares Words- worths dclv~ht in the effects of hiaht anti shade upon fresh water. He has perhaps, nothing equal to X\ordsworths The swan on still St. Marys Lake Floats double, swan and shadow h)ut thieii lie ~ivcs us in The long light shakes across the lakes a picture which can never be forgotten. And in the use of the plural levels, in this description in the ~ Morte dAr thur of a lake under the wintry moon, lie achieves a veritabl~ miracle of real- istic picture He, stepping down By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock, Caine on the sliming levels of the lake. might be quoted to show that so true is Tennysons eye for the vegetable gar- ment of England, that a naturalist might cuter in his notebook any of his descriptions of it, with entire confidence that it cotul(h never be impeached a statement that cannot be made concern- ing many an observer whose aim is merely scientific. And here, did space l)ermit, a very re mai kable cli aracte risti~ of Tennv- son5 might be touched upon. The biologists tell us that the history of the And if Tennyson is great as a painter proguess of organisms, from the primi of the trees, the grass, and the flowers tive condition to the more complex of England, lie is great also as a painter structures, can be traced by the broader of the beautiful creattires that hive and broader division of sense from among them ; thotighi here, perhaps, sense. As a rule~ it is perhaps the other English poets arc at least his same with the growth of poets as paint- equals, especially poets like Words ers of nature. At first the sense of worth, Scott, aiid Matthew Arnold. music, the sense of color, the sense of As a rule, perhaps lie is more apt form, seeni so blended that the power than any of these to treat animal hifc a-s of seizing upon physiognomic details, part of the landscape, but in doing so which the prose writer can very earl y lie is second to none. command, seems to be beyond the poet. In painting birds lie is especially lie is great whenever lie touches a river, greater still whenever lie touches a brook. To I~in~, indeed, a brook is almost a~ much a living thing as the trees that overhang it, the cresses that live under its streani, and the fish that glide over its gravelly bottom. 37 38 happy. And no one has given us a picture of fish in a stream so lovely as the famous one in Enid Like a shoal Of darting fish, that on a summer morn Adown the crystal dykes at Camelot, Come slipping oer their shadows on the sand, But if a man who stands upon the brink But lift a shinin6 hand against the sun, There is not left the twinkle of a fin Betwixt the cressy islets white in flower. This is finer than even Keatss pic- ture of the bream in Arno Where Arno s stream Gurgles through straitened banks, and still doth fan Itself with dancing bulrush, and the bream Keeps head against the freshets, and is scarcely equalled by William Morriss description of the bubble- makino l)ream. There is one poetic way of approach- ~ng the animal kingdom which must always be mentioned when the poetical treatment of the lower animals is under consi(leratioil 4 certain playfully hu- morous xvay, which for convenience may perhaps be said to express the mood of Burns. Not that Burns was the first wJio knew this mood, but he who wrote the lines to a field-mouse takes his place as its greatest master. It is the mood in which the poets humor sheds upon the lower animals the sunshine of a love that is none the less deep for being playful that hu- mor which Uncle Toby generally sheds upon human kind, but which he can sometimes throw upon a blue-bottle fly. Oddly enough, the txvo nineteenth- century poets who have inherited most of Burnss mood in regard to the lower animals are two who, in other respects, are unlike him, and are also the oppo- sites of each other Miss Christina Rossetti and William Barnes. Next to these comes Miss Ingelow ; indeed, she might almost be ranged alongside them. There is room here for only one instance of the quality indicated, and it had better be taken from the Dorset- shire poet, whose admirable poems are too much neglected just now. Aspects of Tennyson. A yellow-banded bee did come, An softly pitch, wi hushiin hum, Upon a helm, an there did sip, Upon a sway~n blossoms lip: An there cried he, Ay, I can zee This blossoms all a-zent vor me. There does not seem to be anything in Tennyson answering to this sweet method of entering into the conscious- ness of a field-mouse or of a bee by means of the dramatic insight that springs from a playful humor. If, however, this really is so, the lack is compensated for by his attitude towards what may be called the heroic side of the lower animals. There have been noble poems about the dog his intel- ligence, his courage, his fidelity to man but never one, perhaps, equal to Tennysons Owd lioa. And of one thing we may be always sure, that in describing animals, as in describing everything in nature, he never fails, either in accuracy of essential knowl- edge or in accuracy of nomenclature. How much of this incomparable exacti- tude in painting natural objects is the result of an inherent love of nature, and how much is due to the scholarly training through which his mind has passe(l, it might be difficult to say. For, of course, in gauging the strength of th~ nature instinct of a poet so schol- arly as lie, it is necessary to take into account the scholars passion for exact- itude. Without saying that Tennyson had the learning of Milton or of Ben ,Tonson, it may be said that his mind showed more of the scholarly habit than has been shown by the mind of any other English poet. Whatsoever ob- ject, either of nature or of mans art, might be brought before him, he would confront it with that trained eye for seeing truly which characterizes the scholar. Hence, it is not only wheii put into comparison with poets who, however great, are proverbially inac- curate poets, for instance, like Victor lingo, who, in his Travailleurs de ha Mer, restores the great auk, and en- (lows him with wings long and strong, and sets him triumphantly sailing like the stormy petrel on the blast, and per- forms many another miracle of the like Tennyson as a Nature-Poet. kind in what may be calle(l poetical zoology but even when compared with the best observers of nature Ten- nyson seems to be almost the only one who necer goes wrong. When we see that so true an observer as Barnes, to whom we are indebted for so many pictures of bird-life as accurate as they are lovely, will sometimes seem to put into the missel-thrushs nest the eggs of the song-thrush, forgetting that the texture of the nest of the song- thrush is a web of woven roots mixed with moss, and. is lined with a cup modelled, as Clare would describe it, of wood and clay, we cannot but marvel at Tennysons infallibility. Nor does he ever, l)y any careless departure from a severely accurate nomenclature, allow the reader to infer an inaccuracy of image in the poets mind where, per- haps, no real inaccuracy exists, as is so often the case with poets whose mac- curacv is that of nomenclature merely. To him a swallow is a swallow, a martin is a martin. Never is the name of the one given to the other. And this is of more importance than the reader may perlial)s imagine. When, in the Day Dream, he tells us that outside the enchanted palace Roof-haunting martins warm their eggs, a picture is at once called up of the snowwhite throats gleaming at the little doorways of the ne4s of the guests of summer, the templehaunt lug martlets of Shakespeare. To use the word swallow and the word martin indiscriminately, as almost all poets but Shakespeare and Tennyson do, is to damage the effect of the l)icture in the same way that would be done by a pai~ter who should try to make blue produce the effect of blue-green. Had he said Roof-haunting swallows warm their eggs, though the added xvs might have increased the alliterative music of the line, the readers imagination would have been baffled by conjecture. No sooner would the ruddy throat and the long forked tail of the true swallow have formed a picture on the readers 39 eyes, than the martins throbbing throat of burnished silver, and shorter tail, would have come, and both swallow and martin would have got mixed up in one blurred picture. A very interesting illustration of Tennysons passion for accuracy of nomenclature may be given here. Some time ago a friend of his, when touching upon the probable effect of the growth of science upon the nomencla- ture of poets, made the following remark: To call a rook a crow, as a good English poet once did, showing thereby that lie did not know that a crow is no more like a rook, either in appearance or in habit, than a horse is like a zebra, will, in a hundred years from this time nay, in fifty years be an unpardonable sin. Of course it had never entered the writers head to glance at the superb line in Locksley I-lull where the generic word crow is used in describing the leader of the rookery. But he received from the poet a most interesting letter, in which the following words occur : In my county, an(I, I believe, all thro the North, rooks are called crows. The many-wintered crow in the line to which you allude is the old rook. I didnt wish to use rook twice in the same sentence. I was driving with a friend some years ago in Derbyshire some rooks flew by us. He said to me, Why do you make a crow lead the rookery? I answered, Ask the driver what he calls those birds. The driver, when asked, immediately replied, Crows, or rather Ciaws. Yet this exactitu(le has in it nodi ing of the laborious cataloguing which we see in lM)ets of the school of Eras- mus Darwin, an(l sometimes even in Wordsxvorth. As an artist, indeed, Tennysons instinctive skill in the selec- tion of details is worthy of the deepest attention. It came to him as a mere l)oy. Even when lie wrote Mariana in the Moated Grange he knew by in- stinct that, inasmuch as the literary artists medium is not truly objective, like that of painting and sculpture, but 40 entirely symbolical and subjective, his details must never seem to be painted for their own sa1~e,as in the plastic arts, but must be supposed to exist for some ulterior purpose ; that, just as iii narra- tive poetry details must seem to be in tro(luced as necessary I)arts of the action (otherwise the poets own imagination will appear to have cooled), so in de- scriptive poetry details must seem to exist because the sentiment underlying the description appears to be exl)ressed by these details. On this point some of the most admirable descriptive poets will sometimes go wrong. The delightful idyllist quoted above is not always l)erfect in this matter of selection. Take, for instance, the fol- lowing lines in the lovely poem, Milk~n Time Twer when the busy birds did vlee, Wi sheen~n wings, vrom tree to tree, To build upon the mossy lim Their hollow nestes ronnded rim The while the zun, a-zink~en low, Did roll along his even~n bow, I come along where wide-horn d cows, Ithin a nook, a-screend by boughs, Did stan an flip the white-hoop d pails Wi heiiiry tufts o swing~n tails. Here the very fact that the wide- horned breed of Hereford cows is so common in Dorset as to be almost uni- versal, and the very fact that the hoops of the pails in Dorset, made of wood, are white, and unlike the metal hoops of some other parts of England facts which have been advanced in defence of these details would have prevented Tennyson from using the compound adjectives given in the above quotation, for they seem to be used with a self- conscious purpose apart from the senti- ment of the poem they seem to be here in order to make poetry compete with the plastic arts. As a painter of cl3ud-scenery and other a~rial effects, Tennyson must very likely be set below certain other nine- teenth-century poets. Here Scott is great, Wordsworth greater, and Shelley an(l Hugo greatest of all. To Shelley, movement was almost a necessary qual- ity of all natural beauty. Moving wa Aspects of Tennyson. ters, moving clouds, and the winds that move them, were his tielight ; and with all his love of forest-scenery, the woods in order to be thoroughly enjoyed must be swaying to the storm. The uncer- tainty an(l vague outline of all cloud pageantry had for Shelley a peculiar fascination. There are natures to whom the appeal of cloud-scenery is stronger than that of the loveliest landscape but though Tennyson was not one of these, he used to lie omi his back on the Down at Farringford or on time lawn for the pleasure of seeing the cloud-scenery. And at Aldworth, once, when he was rejoicing in some marvellous skypline nomena, he was (leeply interested in an account a friend gave him of a man who, having after years of toil accumu lateti a large fortune and become the owner of two or three country-houses, woul(l on a Sumiday afternoon in sum- mer take a chair and sit for hours in his stabicyard, closed in by buildings from any glimpse of the surrounding country, in order to watch the clouds overhead and the swallows (larting and skimming underneath them. This hav- ing been the mans Sundayafternoon recreation whemi a poor boy, as line sat in a little bricked court in London, he had learnt that the best way to enjoy cloud-scenery is to be shut away from the other beauties of nature. Time Rainbow ~ song in l3ecket shows how he knew and loved that most fascinating of all aPrial phemiomena, the rainbow. In describing it, how ever, he has never equalled indeed, who has I Byrons superb description of a rain- bow at sea in Don Juan. There is in Tennysons Sea Fai- ries a passage a rather ambiguous one which would seem to allude to one of the loveliest of all visions, which may sometimes be seen in a small lake, and in a slowly muoving stream like the Ouse, and even sometimes on the smooth sands of the East coast, whemi they are covered with a thin surface of sea-water a reflected rainbow. And the rainbow forms and flies on the handi Over the islands free; And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand. Tennysou as a Nature-Poct. A poet so sensitive to every mood of nature as Tennyson could not fail to write admirably of the wifl(l. Mrs. Ritchie tells us that when lie was no iiorc than five years old he was once caught and swept along by the wind down the rectory garden, crying as he was hurried past, I hear a voice thats speaking in the wind ; and Mr. Arthur Waugh has some extremely in- teresting and suggestive remarks upon this. It was his first line of poetry, and the idea was not to leave him for a moment. The sound of the storm has always had a voice for Tennyson, as (lear in later years as when it first whispered to his babyhood. Still, the grcat laureate of the wind is Shelley. This brings us to a sublime natural object which Tennyson painte(l with the hand of a masterthe sea. Though in those mountainfastnesses which only the mountaineer of otir own time has dared to scale nature has hidden herself away from the poets, she has from the earliest times met them face to face upon the sea. Nor have they failed to make the most of these encounters. As regards the an- cients, however, inasmuch as they looked upon salt water, not with love, but with (lrea(1, their pictures of the sea must needs lack that glow which, what soevcr the subject may be, nothing btit a deep sympathy can lend to the artists hand. With regard to the modern world, it is curious that the great. Italian poets have given us so few first-rate pictures of the sea, considering what sailors the Italians were, and considering the enor- mous extent of the coast-line of Italy. Herein they have to take rank behind the I~ortuguese poets, and especially behind Camoens. It is obvious why the finest poetical pictures of the sea should be English it is by no means obvious why the finest of these pictures should be by Shake- speare, a midlander full of the Teutonic passion for the wild-wood, who could never have seen the sea as a child, and 41 who in after-life could scarcely, one woul(l think, have had more personal exj)erience of a sea-storm that comes to him who has crossed the Channel though, no doui)t, a Channelstorm can be fierce enotigh. In the opening of The Tempest the salt seawind seems to blow through the dialogue whilc in l~ericles the readers im- agination is taken captive by the very Spirit of the Sea. As a description of sea-waves lashed by the wind, the famous lines in 1-lenry IV., part II., stan(l at the hea(l, perhaps, of all poetry as regards. the rendering of that mingled (lelight of the senses, sieht and hearing and touch, which can be only experienced (luring a storm at sea. Coleridge, how- ever, is stroI1(~ here. We know how I y roils vivid descrip- tion of a storm at sea. was built upon what Moore calls a enriotis research through all the variotis accounts of ship wrecks upon record. And would it not be interesting to find and piece together all the descriptions of ship- wrecks and of storms at sea which may have served as material for the great. niarine l)icttlres of Shakespeare ? With regar(l to Shakespeares l)icture of billows lashed by the wind, there seems to be nothing in our ~)oetry to be set in comparison with it until we (ret. to the famnotis passage in Tennysons Elaine As a wild wave in the wide North-sea, 0-reen-ghim inering toward the summit,, bears, with all Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies Down on a bark, and overbears the bark, And him that helms it. In a general way, however, it is not so much in painting the open sea whose billows uiever knew a shore, as in paint ma the sea within sight of land, that Tennyson is most happy. llere, as elsewhere, we may always feel confident of one thing his de- scriptions are true, as true as those of a mmattmrahist. No generalities about dark-blue ocean, emerald-green billows, would satisfy him. In describ 42 ing water, whether fresh or salt, his adjectives of color are never used, in ~he conventional way of so many poets, for mere ornamentation, but are used for a classification as true as that of the man of science. Just as it would be impossible for him to use the word blue in relation to the emerald-green waters of the Rhine (as so many have done), and impossible for him to use the word green in (leseribing the blue waters of the Rhone, so it would be impossible for him to use the word blue in relation to these Xorthern seas of ours where the intense saltuess which, in warmer latitudes, makes the water blue, is con- stantly being diluted by the meeting of the Arctic ice-water from latitudes above, and so rendered green-gum- mering as Tennyson paints it. In the following (lescription of the waves l)reaking on a table shore by moonlight the realism is quite as won- derful as the beauty The crest of some slow-arching wave, heard in dead night along that table-shore, Drops flat, and after the great waters break Whitening for half a league, and thin them- selves, Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud, From less and less to nothing. I seem to have scarcely begun to treat Tennyson as a nature-poet, and already- my allotte(l space is filled. No critic who tries to (10 justice to any true poet ~an avoid feeling a deep dissatisfaction at the result of his attempt. Therefore I do not hope to satisfy othersI do not hope to satisfy those who will turn to these remarks of mine and read them ~n account of the beloved name that hea(ls them. Every reader will recall his own favorite bits of Tennvsonian description, and be angry at not finding them (iwelt upon here. Yet that very injustice towards myself will not be unaccoml~anied by a deep pleasure ; for will it not be another proof of Tenny- sons hold upon all readers another proof of what I have before affirmed, that, in his case, an entire nation loved the man this side idolatry THEODORE WATTS. From Longnians Magazine. THE JOURNAL TO STELLA. A DIM light was burning in the back room of a first floor in Bury Street, St. Jamess. The apartment it illumined was not a spacious one ; and the furni- ture, adequate rather than luxurious, had that indefinable lack of physiog- nomy which only lodging-house furni- ture seems to acquire. There was no fireplace ; but in the adjoiiiing parlor, partly visible through the open door, the last embers were dying in a grate from which the larger pieces of coal had been lifted away, and carefully range(l in order on the hobs. Across the heavy, high-backed chairs in the bedroom lay various neatly folded gar- ments, one of which was the black gown with pudding sleeves usually worn in public by the eighteenth-century clergy- man, while at the bottom of the bed hung a clerical-looking perixvig. In the bed itself, and leaning toward a tall wax candle at his side (which, from a faint smelt of burnt woollen still linger- ing about the chamber, mtist have recently come into contact with the now tuckedback bedcurtain) was a gentle- man of forty or thereabouts, writing in a very small hand 111)011 a very large sheet of paper, folded, for greater con- venience, into one long, horizontal slip. lie had dark, fiercelooking eyebrows, a slightly aquilimie nose, full-hidded and rather prominent clear bltie eyes, a firmly cut, handsome muouth, and a wide, massive forehead, the extent of which, for the vnomnent, was abnormally exaggerated by the fact that, in the energy of composition, tile furlined cap he had substituted for his wig had been slightly tilted backward. As his task proceeded his expression altered from time to time, nOw growing grave an(l stern, now inexpressibly soft and tender. Occasionally, the look almost passed into a kind of grimace, resemn- bling nothing so munch as the imitative motiomi of the lips which one makes in speaking to a pet bird. lIe continued writing until, in the distance, the step of the watchman, first pausing deliber- ately, then passing slowly forward for a few paces, was heard in the street The Journal to Stella. The Journal to Stella. below. Past twelve oclock ! caine a wheezy cry at the windo~v. Paaaaast ~wehvce oclock ! followed the writer, dragging out his letters so as to repro- duce the speakers dra~vI. After this lie rapidly set down a string of words in what looked like some unknown tongue, ending off with a trail of seem- ing hieroglyphics. Nite, ~iown deelest ~sollahs. Nite dee litt MD, Pdfrs MD. Rote POf, poo Pdfr, MD MD MD 17W FW 17W Lele Lele Lele Lele michar JiIiD. Then, tucking his paPer un- der his pillow, lie poPPed out the gut teriur cindle and turnina round upon his side with a smile of exceeding sweetness, settled himself to sleep. The 1)crsonage thus depicted was Jonathan Swift, doctor of tlivinity, vicar of Laracor by Trim, in the dio- cese of Meath in the kingdom of Ire- land, and prebendary of Dunlavin in ~t. Patricks Cathedral. He had not been long in London, having l)ut re centlv come over at the suggestion of I)r. William King, Archbishop of l)nb- liii, to endeavor to obtain for the Irish clergy the remission (already conceded to their English brethren) of the first fruits pa.val)le to the crown ; and he was writing off, or up, his daily record of his doings to Mrs. Rebecca Dingley and Mrs. Esther Johnson, two maiden ladies who in his absence from the Irish capital, were tem~)Orarily occupy- ing his lodgings in Capel Street. At this (late lie must have been looking his l)est, for lie had just been sitting to Popes friend, Charles Jervas, who, having 1)ainted him two years earlier, had found him grown so much fatter and l)etter for his sojourn in Ireland that lie had volnnteere(l to retouch the portrait. lie bad given it quite an- other turn, Swift tells his correspond- ents, and now approves it entirely. Nearly twenty years later Alderman IBarber presented this very picture to the Bodleian, where it is still to be seen anti it is l)esides familiar to the collector in George Vertues fine en- 1 Sollabs, Sirrabs MD, Stella, or My Dear, but sometimes 5tella-cliu-Dingley; FW, Farewell, or Foolish Wenches; Lele is doubt- ful. ~ravin~ But even more interesting than the similitude of Swift in the ful- ness of his ungratified ambition are the letters we have seen him writing. With one exception, those of them which were printed, and garbled, by his fatu- ous namesake, Mrs. Whiteways son-in- law, are destroyed or lost but all the latter portion, again with the exception of one, which Ilakesworth, a more con- scientious, though by no means an irre- proachable, editor, gave to the world in 1766, are preserved in the MSS. Depart- ment of the British Museum, having fortunately been consigned in the same year by their confederated publishers to the safe keeping of that institution. They still bear, iii ninny cases, the little seal (a classic female head) with which, after addressing th em in laboriously legible fashion ~ To Mrs. Dingley, at Mr. Currys house, over against the Rani iii Capel Street, Dublin, Ireland, Swift was woiit to fasten up his periol ical despatchies. Several of them are written on quarto paper with faint gild lug at the edges, the ~)retty small gilt sheet to which lie somewhere re- fers but the majority are on a wide folio page crowdeti from to1) to bottom with an extremely minute and ofteii abbreviated script, which must have tried other eyes l)esitles those of Esther Johnson. I looked over a bit of n~y last letter, lie says hiiniself on one occasion, and cotlld hardly read it. Elsewhere, in 0110 of the letters now lost, lie co tlLitS til) 110 fewer than one hundred and ninetynine lines ; and iii another of those that remain, taken at a vellttlre, there are on tie first side sixty niiie hues, making, in the type of Scotts editioll, rathcr more than five octavo pages. As for the little language which produced the facial contortions al)ove referred to ( \~hien I am writ big in oti r language I make up my mouth, just as if I were speaking ), it has been sadly mutilated by Hawkes worths relentless l)eul. Many of the passilges which lie strtick through were, with great ingenuity, restored by the late John Forster, from whom, in the little pictul~e at the beginning of this paper, we borrowed a few of those re 43 44 The Journal to Stella. covered liiero~lv1)hs. But the bulk of home. their ~ hu the Treaty of Utreeht was pre ~e babyisms and clear l)aring. Of all this, however, One (liminutives are almost too intimate rather overhears thati hears. In Swifts and particular for the rude publicities gallery there are no portraits & la Cam of type. Dans cc ravissant op~ra eron with swee~)ing robes ; at best there quoii aj)j)elle lamour, says Victor are but thumbnail sketches. No hugo, le libretto nest presque rien ; where have we such a finished full and it for amour we read amitid, length as that of Bolingbroke in the the aphorism, it must be admitted, is Inquiry into the Behavior of the not untrue of Swift~s famous special Ministry ; no~vhere a seathing satire code to Stella. like the Verres kitcat of Wharton There can, however, be no (loul)t of in the seventeenth Examiner. Nor the l)leasure with which Swifts corn are there anywhere accounts of occur mumeations must have been welcomed rences which loom much larger than by the two ladies at Capel Street, not the stabbing of harley by Guiscard, oi occupied, as was the writer, with the the duel of hamilton aiid Moliun. Not ceaseless bustle of an unusually busy the less does the canvas swarm with world, but restricte(l to such minor (uS tigures, many of whom bear famous sil)ations as a little horse exercise, or a names. Now it is Anna Augusta her quiet game of ombre at Dean Steriies, self, (ii iving redfaced to hmOun(l5 in her to the modest accompaniment of claret onehorse chaise, or yawning behind and oranges. Swifts unique and won her fansticks at a tedious reeel)tion derful command of his mother tongue how it is that pure trifler harley, has never been shown to such advan dawdling and temporizing as lie (hoes in tage as iii these familiar records, bris Prior, thing with proverbs and folk lore invented ((ci hoc, with puns good ami ea, quothi the Erle, but not today, bad, with humor, irony, common sense, or spelling out the inn Signs between and playfulness. One caii imagine w ithi Kew amid Londomi ; now it is Peter what eagerness the large sheet must boronab, the ramubhingest hying rogue have been unfolded, and read miot all omi earth, talking deep politics at a. at once, but in easy stages by Mrs. barbers, l)iepamatory to starting for the Dingley to the impatiemit Mrs. Johinsomi, worlds en(l with the morrow ; now it for whom it was l)rimiiarily intemided, but is Mrs. St. Johmi, on her way to the whose eves were too weak to read it. Bathin, beseeching Swift to watehi over Yet, to the modern stu(lent, the Jour liner illustrious husband, who (like nal to Stella, taken as a whole, scarcely Stella !) is not to be governed, a.ii(1 ~x ill achieves the success which its peculiar certaimily make hilmusehf ill betweemi busi attributes lead one to anticipate. It ness and Burgundy. Mamiy othiers pass remains, as mnust always be rememn an(l rel)ass Congreve (quaiitum mu bered, strictly a journal with a journals tctus I), a brokemi minian, but cheerful, (lefects. There is a lack of connected though almost blind withi cataracts. interest ; there is also a superfluity of growimig on his eyes Prior, with hiol dietail. Regarded in the highit of an low checks sittimin at g solemnly the historical l)ieture, it is like hiogarthis Smyrna receiviming visits of ceremony, March to Finchiley ; thic crowd in or walking in the Park to make hinimn the foreground obscures the central self fat, or disappearing mysteriously actiomi. It treats, indleed, of a stirring oii dlil)lOmflatic exl)e(hitid)mins to Paris audi a momnentous timne, for ~)Owcr was grave A(hhisOn rehearsing Cato, and chinangiming hands. The Whiigs had given somnetimnes uminCatonically fuddled place to the Tories ; adroit Mrs. Mashinamn Steele bustling over Tathers and had supplanted Mrs. Freemnan ; the Spectators, audI governed by his Great Captain himself was falling with wife ninost abomiiinably, as bad as Marl- a crash. Abroad, the long Continental borough ; pastoral Philips (with war was dwindling to its close ; at his red stockings), just arrived from~ The Joarnal to Stella. Denmark ; clever, kindly Dr. Arbuth- not, the queens favorite physician, meditating new bites for the maids of honor or fresh chapters in ~ John Bull ; young Mr. Berkeley of Xii- kenny with his Dialogues against Atheism in his pocket, and burning to make acquaintance ~vith mcii of merit ; Atte rbury, finessing for his Christ Church den nery. Then there are the great hdies Mrs. Masham, who has a red nose, but is Swifts friend ; Lady Somerset, the Carrots of the Windsor Prophecy, who has red hair, an(l is his enemy sensible and spirited Lady ]icttv Ge rmainc ; the Duchess of Grafwn (in a tootaoge of the last reign) ; Newtons niece, pretty Mrs. Barton ; goodtempered Lady harley, hapless Mrs. Ann Long, and a host of others. And among them all, unhasting, unresting, filling the scene like Coquelin in LEtonrdi, comes and goes the figure of Parson Swift himself, now striding fullblown down St. Jamess Street in his cassock, gown, and threeguinea periwig ; now riding through Windsor Forest in a 1)orro~ved suit. of light camlet, laced with red velvet, and silyer buttons. Sometimes he is feasting royally at Ozinda~s or the Thatched I-louse with the society of Brothers ; sometimes (lining moderately in the City with Barber, his printer, or Will Pate, the learned woollendraper sometimes scurvily at a blind tavern upon gill ale, bad broth, and three chops of mutton. You may follow him wherever he goes~ whether it be to Greenwich wit Ii the Dean of Carlisle, or to i-laml)ton with Lord Treasurer, or to hear the nightingales at Vauxhall with my La(ly Kerry. lie tells you when lie buys books at Batenians in Little Britain, or spectacles for Stella on Ludgate Hill, or Brazil tobacco, which Mrs. Dingley will rasp into snuff, at Charles Lillic the perfum- ers in Beaufort Buildin~s. lIe sets down everything his maladies (very specifically), his mu isadve ut ures, econ- oniles, extravagances. dreanis, (lisa p pointments his totmon, tiaior, ire, voluptas. The tirnor is chiefly for those dogs the Mohocks ( Who has not trembled at the Mohocks name ? ) the ira, to a considerable extent, for that most exasperating of retainers, his manservant Patrick. It has been said that the Journal to Stella contains ito finished character sketches ; but so many entries are in- volved by the l)eccadilloes of Patrick that after a time he begins, from slicer force of reappearance, to assume the lineaments of a ~)crsonage. At first he is merely a whicedhi ug, good-lookimig Irish boy an obvious Teague- lander, as Sir Thomas Mansel calls him, lie makes his debut in the third letter with the remark that the iabble here [i.e., in London] are much more inquisitive in politics than iii Ireland, an utterance having all the air of a philosophic reflection. Being, how- ever, cmmdowe(l with fine miatural apti hides, lie is speedily (lemorahized by those rakes time London footmen. Patrick is (hrtink about three times a week, says the next record, and I h)ear it, and lie has got the better of me but otie of these days I will positively turn him off to the wide world, when nemme of you are by to intercede for him, from which we must infer that Patrick was, or had been, a favorite with the ladies at 1)ublin. lie has an- other vice iii Swifts eyes lie is ex- travagant. Coals cost twelvepence a week, yet he piles up the tires so reck- lessly that his economical master has laboriously to 1)ick thiemii to h)ieces again. Still he has a good heart, for lie buys a linnet for Mrs. Dingley, at a per- sonal sacritice of sixpence, amid iii direct op~)ositio1i to his mnasters advice. I laid before him the greatness of the sum, an(1 the rashmiess of the attemnpt showed how immiliossible it would be to carry him safe over the salt sea but he wouki not take mny counsel, and lie will reliclit it. A miionth later the umihiappy bird is still alive, though growmi very wild. It lives in a closet, where it makes a terrible litter. But I say mmothin~ I amu as tame as a clout. This rcstmaimit is the muore notable in that I~atrick himself has been for ten days out of favor. I talk dry and 45 The Journal to Stella. cross to him, and have called him friend three or four times. Then, having been drunk again, he is all but discharged, a~nd Mrs. Vanhomrigh (a near neighbor) has to make the peace. He is certainly trying; he loses keys, forgets messages, locks up clothes at critical moments, and so forth. But he is accustomed to Swifts ways, and the next we hear of bun is that, intoler- able rascal though he be, he is going to have a livery which will cost four pounds, and that he has offered to pay for the lace on his hat out of his owii wages. Yet his behavior is still so bad that his master is afraid to dive him his new clothes, though he has not the heart to withhold them. I wish MD were here to entreat for him just here at the beds side. Then there is a vivid little study of Swift bathing in the Thames at Chelsea, with Patrick on guard of course quite perfunctorily to prevent his masters being dis- turbed by boats. That puppy Patrick, standing ashore, would let them come within a yard or two, and then call sneakingly to them. After this he takes to the study of Congreve, goes to the play, fights in his cups with another gentlemans entleman, by whom he is along the floor upon his face, which looked for a week after as if he had the leprosy ; and, adds the diarist grimly, I was glad enough to see it. Later on he enrages his mas- ter so much by keeping him waiting, that Swift is provoked into giving him two or three swingeing cuffs on the ear, spraining his own thumb thereby, though Arbuthnot thinks it may be gout. He [Patrick] was plaguily afraid and humbled. That he was more frightened than repentant, the sequel shows. I gave him half a crown for his Christmas box, on condi- tion he would be good, says Swift, whose forbearance is certainly extraor- dinary, and he came home (Trunk at midnight. Worse than this, he some- times never comes home at all. At last arrives the inevitable hour when he is turned off to the wide world, and he never seems to have succeeded in coaxing himself back again. Yet one fancies that Swift must have secretly regretted his loss; and it would, no doubt, have been edifying to hear Pat- rick upon his master. There is one person, however, for fuller details respecting whom one would willingly surrender the entire Patrickiad, and that is the lady in whose interest the journal was writtenr since Mrs. Rebecca Dingley, notwith- standing the many conventional refer- ences to her, does no more than play the mute and self-denying part of pro- priety. But of Esther Johnson (as. she signs herself) we get, in reality7 little beyond the fact that her health at this time was already a source of anx-- iety to her friends. The journal is fuR of injunctions to her to take exercise7 especially horse exercise, and not to attempt to read Pdfrs ugly small hand, but to let Dingley read it te her. Preserve your eyes, if von be wise, says a distich manufactured for the occasion. Nor is she to write until she is mighty, mighty, mighty, mighty, mighty well in her sight, and is sure it will not do her the least hurt. Or come, I will tell you what; you, Mistress Ppt, shall write your share at five or six sittings, one sitting a day and then comes PD altogether, and then Ppt a little crumb towards the end, to let us see she remembers Pdfr ; and theii conclude with something hand- some and genteel, as your most hum- ble cumdumble, or, & c. A favorite subject of raillery is Mrs. Johnsons spelling, which was not her strong point, though she was not nearly as bad as Lady Wentworth. Redieulous, madam? I suppose you mean ridiculous. Let me have no more of that ; it is the author of the Ataiwntis spellin~. I have mended it in your letter. Elsewhere there are lists of her lapses bussiness for business, irn2nagin, merrit, pharn phi ets, etc. But the letters seldom end without their playful greeting to his dearest Sirralis, his dear foolish Rogues 2 his pretty, saucy MD, and the like. As his mood changes in its intensity they change also. Farewell, my dearest lives and delights I love you better than ever, if possible. . . 46 The Journal to Stella. 47 God Almighty bless you ever, and make Walter Scott or Mr. Forster), married us happy together. I pray for this by the Bishop of Clogher in the garden twice every day, and I hope God will of St. Patricks I)eanery. For one hear my poor, hearty prayers. In an- thing which is detachable from the net- other place it is God send poor Ppt work of tittle-tattle and conjecture en- her health, and keep MD happy. Fare- cumbering a question already sufficiently well, and love Pdfr, who loves MD perplexed in its origin is that Swifts above all things ten millions of times. expressions of esteem and admiration And again, Farewell, dearest rogues ; for Stella are as emphatic at the end as I ani never happy but when I think or at the beginning. Some of those in the write of MD. I have enough of courts journal have already been reproduced. and ministers, and wish I were at Lara But his letters during her last lingering cor. It is to Laracor, with its holly illness, and a phrase in the Holyhead and its cherry-trees, and the ~villo~v- (liary of 1727, are, if anything, even walk he had planted by the canal he more poignant in the sincerity of their had made, and Stella riding past with utterance. We have been perfect Joe to the Hill of Bree, and ronnd by friends these thirty-five years, he tells Scurlocks Town, that he turns regret- Mr. Worrall, his vicar, of Mrs. John- fully when the perfidies of those in son ; and he goes on to describe her as power have vexed his soul with the one whom he most esteemed upon conviction that for all they call him the score of every good quality that can nothing but Jonathan, he can serve possibly commend a human creature. everybody but himself. If I had not. . . . Ever since I left you my heart has a spirit naturally cheerful, he says in been so sunk that I have not been the his second year of residence, I should same man, nor ever shall be again, but be very much discontented at a thou- drag on a wretched life, till it shall sand things. Pray God preserve MDs please God to call me away. To an- health, aiRI Pdfrs, and that I may live other correspondent, speaking of Stellas far from the envy and discontent that then hourly expected death, he says, attends those who are thonght to have As I value life very little, so the poor more favor at court than they really casual remains of it, after such a loss, possess. Love Pdfr, who loves MD would be a burden that I beg God Al- above all things. And then the letter mighty to enable me to bear ; and I winds off into those cryptic epistolary think there is not a greater folly than caresses of which a specimen has been that of entering into too strict and par- already quoted. ticular a friendship, with the loss of Upon Stellas reputed rival, and which a man must be absolutely miser- Swifts relations with her, the scope of able. . . . Besides, this was a person this dispenses from dwelling, of my own rearing and instructing from paper us Indeed, though Swifts visits to Miss childhood who excelled in every good Yanhomrighs mother are repeatedly quality that can possibly accomplish a referred to, Esther Yanhomrigh herself human creature. The date of this (from motives which the reader will no letter is July, 1726; but it was not until doubt interpret according to his per- the beginning of 1728 that the blow sonal predilections in the famous Va9ies- came which deprived him of his dear saf rage) is mentioned but twice or thrice est friend. Then, on a Sunday in in the entire journal, and then not by January, at eleven at night, he sits name. But we are of those who hold down to compile that (in the circum- with Mr. Henry Craik that, whatever stances) extraordinary character of the relations in question may have the truest, niost virtuous, and valu been, they never seriously affected or able friend that I, or perhaps any other even materially interrupted, Swifts person, was ever blessed with. A lifelong attachment to the lady to whom, few passages from this strange finis to a year or two later, he was, or was not a strange story, began while Stella was (according as we elect to side with Sir lying dead, and continued after her AUsTIN DoBsoN. The Influence of Climate on Race. funeral (in a room to which he had she had been is not quite easy for a moved in order to avoid the sight of the modern admirer to realize from the liht in the church), may be copied dubious Delville medallion, or the land- here. Never, he says, was any of equate engraving by Engleheart of the her sex born with better gifts of the picture at Ballinter, which forms the mind, or who more improved them by frontispiece to Sir William Wildes reading and conversation. . . . 11cr ad- deeply interesting Closing Years of vice was always the best, and with the Dean Swifts Life. The more accu- (~reatest freedom, mixed with the great- rate photogravure of the latter given in est decency. She had a gracefulness Mr. Gerald Moriartys recent book is somewhat more than human in every much more satisfactory, and so mark- motion, word, and action. Never was edly to Esther Johnsons advantage as SO happy a conjunction of civility, free - to suggest the further reproduction of (loin, easiness, and sincerity. . . . She the portrait in some separate and acces- never mistook the understanding of sible form. others ; nor ever said a severe word, but where a much severer was deserved. She never had the least absence of mind in conversation, nor was given to interruption, nor appeared eager to l)ut in her word, by waiting impatiently till another had done. She spoke in a most agreeable voice, in the plainest words, never hesitating, except out of mo(lesty before new faces, where she was somewhat reserved ; nor, among her nearest friends, ever spoke much at a time. . . . Although her knowledge, from books and company, was much more exteiisive than usually falls to the share of her sex, yet she was so far from making a parade of it that her female visitauts, on their first acquaint- ance, who expected to discover it by what they call hard words an(l deep discourse, would be sometimes (lisap- pointed, and say they found she was like other women. But wise men, through all her modesty, whatever they (liscoursed on, could easily observe that she understood them very well, by the judgment shown in her observations as well as in her questions. In the foregoing retrospect, as in the final birthday l)O~1~5 to Stella, Swift, it will be gathered, (l~vells upon the Intel- lectual ri~ther than the physical charms of this celebrated woman. To her mental qualities, indeed, he had always given the foremost place. But time, in 1728, had lon.g since silvered those locks once blacker than a raven, while years of failin~ health had sadly these have grown up, to the type of altered the perfect figure, and dimmed I This article was sent to me in May, 1892. ED. the lustre of the beautitul eyes. What Nineteenth Ce tury. From The Nineteenth century. THE INFLUENCE OF CLIMATE ON RACE. Is it not remarkable that in this much-exalted nineteenth century we should still be so utterly in the dark as to the effects of climate on the human organization? We English are inter- ested,if ever a people was, in obtaining some knowledge of the subject, being masters, for the present at any rate, of countries situate in almost every degree of latitude. Yet we know nothing whatever certain about it, an(l we seem even to be in conspiracy to ignore it. Like most Englishmen, I have read abundance of papers about imperial federation, federation of the English- speaking peoples all over tile world, and so forth, all of which seemed to l)roceedl oil tIme ~e priori assuamptions, first, that the Anglo-Saxon can live and thrive more or less all tile world over; secondly, that he is bound, to whatever climate he may be transplanted, to re- maul very mtlcll time same creature as lie is in the British isles. Nay, there are cloctrioaoe enthusiasts who go still further ; who assume that, if a certain nuamber of Englishmeml be sent to a continent imi tIme torrid zomme, the native races are boumid to assimilate them- selves, in defiance of the traditions of centuries, andi the sun under which 48 The Influence of Climate on Race. 49 national character which is peculiar ous; but Canada can hardly be consid- only to our own little islands. ered apart from the United States, This last, of course, is an extreme whether (as good judges assure us must case. More sober men do recognize be, aad as seems most natural) she be- that in the tropics at any rate the Eu- comes part of the United States or not. gush are subject to climatic disadvan- The United States, as we know, have tages, and cannot compete on equal their negro problem to face, and the terms with colored races. It is ad- wisest American heads are puzzled as mitted that there the English white to its solution. For it seems certain must be a small minority, overwhelm- that, in some of the Southern States at imigly outnumbered by the colored races, any rate, the negroes are out-breeding al)oIi~iual or imported. For the whole and to that extent displacing the whites, system of white supremacy in the trop- through favor of the climate. Let us ics is, in fact, artificial. The colored pass, then, to the Capc Colonies. These raccs. whether African, as in Barbados, certainly cannot be considered as safe or East Indian, as in Mauritius, increase from colored competition, being no more and multiply. The whites are kept on than a white tag, indeed a few white their feet by constant importation of hairs, in the tail of a black contiuent. fresh blood from the central breeding Australia? More than a third of it lies establishment in the Old Country, and within the tropic of Capricorn; but of ])ropped by British men-of-war and this more hereafter. Tasmania would British bayonets. If any one be seep- answer the purpose, but that its prox- tical a.s to the damaging effects of a imity to Australia binds its fate so tropical climate, a disbeliever in the closely to Australias. Let us, there- degeneracy of Englishmen from purely fore, fall back on New Zealand. climatic causes, let him go to the oldest New Zealand is reckoned, and I be- and healthiest of our tropical posses- lieve justly, to be the most English sions Barbados. There lie will see place out of England. Not that in re- some people known as the mean- spect of latitud~e it would occupy En- whites, men au(l women of blood as glands place if transferred to this pure as his own, whose progenitors hemisphere ; far from it. The point of have lost through poverty the luxuries England nearest to the equator is 5O~ and advantages which, with constant distant from it ; the point of New Zea- infusion of fresh blood, alone keep the land remotest from the equator is less whites ahiv~ there. He can notice at than 4S~. In fact it is rather Italy the sante time for it will be brought thait Ein~land. New Zealand has been home to him without mistake the settled i~or little mno~e than fifty years, insolence which the consciousness of (luring which period fresh blood has physical superiority has bred in the de- been constantly streaming in from the scendants of the African slaves. Old Country. She possesses, also, the This is one extreme among our so- eminently l3ritish attribute of insular- called colonial possessions that where- ity. It is therefore no great wonder in the numerical inferiority of the that she should be far more English whites is accepted as inevitable. Let titan, for instance, New S~uth Wales. us pass on to consider colonies better But the people are nont ~he less un- deserving of the name, wherein the dergoing a rapid process of alteration climate gives the transplanted English- are becoming, to coin a word, dis- men a better chance Canada, the Eughished in respect of mental char- Cape Colonies, Australia vast tern- acteristics. As to purely physical tories, all three Tasmania and New changes it is impossible to say anything Zealand; and let us choose one which detinite ; and yet t~fter short experi- embraces the other extreme wimere, ence one becomes alive to the fact that in fact, the white man need not dread there is something in the make and competition from a colored race. Which shape of tite New Zealander bred and hall it be? Canada is the most obvi- born which renders him in a great LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXXIII. 4264 .50 The Influence of Climate on Race. degree distinguishabic from the Briton but one single small point, and think of bred and born, of the same age. Some- the revolution that would be wrought times the difference is indefinable, and, in our national character by such a indeed, imperceptible, by any but a change as the certainty of fine weather practised eye. Sometimes young New in its season. The matter sounds insig- Zealanders betray their native origin nificant, but it is not. Distrust of the by that length and slenderness of form weather is deeply roote(1 in the En- which has gained for vo nag Australians glish mind, and is very (hitheult to erad the name of corustalks. The phys- icate from it. We remember Marryats ical precocity of these transplanted En- quartermaster, when be came back to ghish is admitted on all hands, and the fogs of the Channel from the West must, no doubt, produce its effect; but Indies: This is what I calls some- whilst I should hesitate to ascribe to thing like. None of your d d blue them physical superiority over the na- skies here. But the born and bred tive English, I should be still more loth New Zealanders have faith iii the blue even to hint of physical inferiority. A skies of their country, and enjoy a new physical difference which i~ accentuat- sensation, a source of pleasure un- ing itself rapidly is to be found in what known to their forefathers a delight is known as the colonial twang, in in existence for its own sake. When speech. It may be a small point; but they lay themselves out for pleasure will anybody explain to me why the they can do so without fear that the ele- transplanted Englishman makes his meats will spoil it ; they cease to take language sound so hideous to native it sadly, after the manner of our race, English ears ? I can understand the or to gulp it (Iowa greedily for fear it hazy, nasal drawl of the over-heated should be dashed from their lips, be- Barbadian; but why the nasality of cause they have confidence that they America? Why, again, should Aus- can enjoy it at leisure, and sip it to tralasia have grown to speak, with the (Iregs. Life is brighter and happier aggravations, the hideous cockney dia- to them. They cease to be restless, lect (quite of modern date, judging by gloomy, and anxious, and become Sam Weller) which converts a into cheerful and light-hearted, more like a quasi-diphthongic y? Why should the southern races of Europe. South Australians speak of their native Another and a far more important country as Sth Stryhia? Why, in change is wrought by exemption from spite of the efforts of fathers, should the hardships of a severe winter. Our children English, Scotch, and Irish friends in the Antipodes boast of the all tend in New Zealand to use the same superiority of their climate, and, so far abominable corrupt pronunciation ? as the amenities of life are concerned, Does it cost them less effort? If not, they have, no doubt, every right to do what excuse is there fov it? so Warmth is certainly far pleasanter But we must leave this uncertain than cold, and even excessive heat, ground for the easier field of the influ- such as is known in Australia, is, I ence of a change of climate on mental fancy, preferred by most men to exces- habits and character. For such infin- sive cold. After all, a great deal of ence there is ; how should there not heat may be got through pleasantly be? Our national English melancholy enough by the simple process of lying is proverbial, and is attributed, with still in the shade, provided you can good reason, by our lighter-hearted afford to (10 so. But to lie still in the neighbors across the Channel, to our cold means nothing less than death. It eternal leaden skies, fogs, and other must, however, be borne in mind that damp, depressing atmospheric coadi- it is not the pleasantest climate that tions. Remove these conditions, change necessarily turns out the finest men. the climate as in New Zealand to that of A hard winter is a great Teutonic in- Italy, and can we expect the Englishman stitution. lt is a great teacher of stub- to remain the same creature? Take born endurance, providence, industry~ The Influence of Climate on Race. and other virtues, as ~vell as of a cer- taili crude but valuable brutality. It carries with it, for example, the cer- tainty of physical discomfort, perhaps death unless care be taken to provide plenty of fuel and warm clothing a very profound and pregnant circum- stance, if one takes the trouble to think it out. It is rather remarkable, if we consider it, that though the Teuton has had hold of a good deal of southern Europe, and even of North Africa, in his time, he has left little, if any, per- manent mark thereon. We accept as sufficient reason for this the statement that the conquering Germans became lazy, indolent, and enervated in the Sunny South, and succumbed to the very failings that had rendered the na- tions which they vanquished so easy a prey to them. In other words, their national character was, if not corrupted, at any rate changed ; and though, doubtless, other influences conspired to work this transformation, yet the cli- mate always lay behind to admit these, to encourage them, and to strengthen them. Now, I am far from urging that the Ne~v Zealander is corrupted by his climate ; but I do say that he is changed by it quite probably for the better, l)ut it may be for the worse. And with each succeeding generation the national character in New Zealand will diverge further from its English prototype. Already the dominant characteristic in New Zealand is a certain joyous frivol- ity, a cheerful assurance that everything must either be all right or come right of itself sooner or later, and that mean- while nothing really matters very much. There is no hard winter to bring home to l)eople the consequences of extrava- gance, recklessness, and neglect of work as in England; and therefore the penalty paid for them is much lighter. Her people will be as, indeed, they already to a great extent are cheer- ftml, warm-hearted, pleasure-loving, and optimistic ; exempt from the English melancholy, and probably, also, lacking the English restlessness, earnestness, and, in the north, perhaps, energy. They will wean themselves from Brit 51 ish traditions, British aspirations, Brit ish habits of thought, and evolve substitutes of their omvn more in har- mony with their environment. Thus the gulf between them and the Old Country will widen more and more, until the two become perfectly alien to each other in character and feeling. There is nothing to (leplore herein. It would be as reasonable to lament that the deciduous willows imported from England are practically evergreen in the north of the colony. We should not forget that difference does not necessarily mean inferiority in national character any more than in religion; French and English, heterodox and orthodox, being after all mere varia- tions on the theme of You and I. The one test of a nations superiority, moral and physical, is war ; and that test New Zealand, from her exceptional advantages of po3ition, ought to be sl)ale(l for some time yet. We have now touched briefly on sam- ples of the two extremes to be found in our empire the country wherein the climate works against the white man and for his colored rival ; and that wherein it gives him an equal chance, if not superior advantages against col- ored competition. There remains a third class that wherein the colored races have a sure advantage over a part of the territory, and the whites a pre- sumably good chance over the r~main- der. Such a country is Australia. The continent, though it runs down to the 40th degree of latitude, runs up also to the 10th ; and though at a high estimate perhaps two-thirds of it lie without the tropic, yet the country is essentially a hot country. It is the summer, not as in England the winter, which is the season most fatal to (white) human life ; and this is a highly significant fact. The height to which the thermometer can rise in the Australian summer is proverbial; and were it not tha.t the heat is dry there would be small chance for the English race at all. As it is, the transplanted English claim that they can work out of doors even in the northern districts that is, those nearest to the equator, 52 without loss of energy. Nor is this claim to i)e lightly disputed; for he would he a very rash man who would doubt the energy of the men on the North Queensland cattle-runs, for in- stance ; and indeed of the country as opposed to the town population of Australia generally. But though dry heat may not have the immediate potency of damp, we are quite in the dark as to its cumulative effect when llnl)alanced by a severe winter, on suc- ce~sive gen erati( )n s of transplanted Anglo-Saxons. To this we have abso- lutely no clue. Statistics exist for so short a period only, that no just result could be deduced from them; while the constant influx of fresh blood is a coin- ph cation which upsets all calculations. We gather, however, as far as birth and death rates go, that Australia is an eminently healthy country as compared with Europe generally ; though it will not, in this respect, bear comparison with New Zealand. An unfavorable climate is apt to manifest itself in the matter of infant mortality ; so it is not surprising to find that South Australia and Queensland, the two hottest of the Australian provinces, show the largest rates in this category ; an unenviable supreiriacy which is ma.intaine(l by their metropoles, Adelaide and Brisbane. It is noticeable, also, that in the class of deaths from atrophy and debility, which are almost entirely confined to very young children, the Australian rates are almost twice as high as those of New Zealand, so far as can be ascer- tained ; Queensland having, for some reason, ceased to return deaths under this particular head. It is significant, too, that the proportion of deaths per one thousand births is higher in Mel- bourne and Sydney than even in London indeed the government statis- tician of New South Wales goes so far as to say that the high death-rate among children in Sydney forms a pathetic commentary on the civilization of the colony. But in truth the whole busi- ness of the reproduction of the species does not show Australia in its best light. In Victoria, for instance, there is a steady diminutiot~ in the proportion of like Influence of Cli te on Race. children horn to a marriage, which the officials can only trace to the increas- ing desire of married women to evade the cares of maternity ; ~ and the same tendency is to be observed in all the provinces except South Australia. These little statistical stra~vs give us a faint idea which way the wind is blow- ing in Australia ; though it would not he right to accept them as very trust- worthy, still less as infallible indica- tions. It must never be forgotten, in the first place, that ahout a third of the whole Australian population is huddled into four metropolitan towns ; one of them, Melbourne, holding no less than forty-two per cent. of the whole popula- tion of the province of Victoria, or close upon half a million souls. Town life is proverbially less healthy than life in the country, as we in England have but too good reason to know; hut, from one cause or another, judging from the case of Melbourne, town life seems to be far more fatal as compared with country life in Australia than in the 01(1 Country. Even the Victorian government statis- tician is struck by the enormous difference in the death-rates of the town and country districts; accentuated as it is l)y the fact that medical assist- ance is always difficult, and often im- possible, to ol)tain in the remote country stations. It may be assumed that the same influences that cause the popula- tion to gravitate towards the towns in Great Britain, the Continent of Europe, and the United States are at least equally cogent in Australasia. But in Australia it seems reasonable to think that positive distaste for the life in the country has contributed more than in other countries to attract populations to the towns. With all its freedom and all its undeniable fascination, up-country life in Australia is apt to he a yery hard one. Australia does not enjoy such gifts from nature as New Zealand. It is a thirsty land where heavy destruc- tive droughts are followed by heavy destructive floods ; where, to use the phrase of a great admirer of Australia, one year in three is unproductive. It requires some courage to face the pros- pect of severe work and hardship ; still more to encounter it with the chance of loss, possibly of ruin. Men, of course, (10 face it, and such men are the back- bone of Australia ; but if we are to believe an eloquent writer, they face it with a stoical pessimism and little hope. Corning do~vn into the towns, towar(ls which in three of the provinces all rail- ways converge, there is no hard winter, that eminently Teutonic stimulus, to make a man work to keep himself warm. And, indeed, the combined action of a lovely climate and a ~lo- rious constitution ha.s brought things to such a pass that the Melbourne unem- ployed refuse work in the country even at a wage of Ts. a day. I cannot but think myself that the Australian climate, by (lisinclining men to hard work, has very greatly favored the sys- tem, or rather theory, of administration which has brought the four eastern provinces almost to bankruptcy. The legal enforcement of an eight-hours day in Australia was recently defended to an English audience on the ground that the climate made it iml)erative. Now surely it is rather a reflection on any climate that it should in a free country entail the necessity of penal restraints lest men should work too hard. As a matter of fact, the farmers, graziers, and others in the country work far more than eight hours a day, and yet show a healthier record than the townsmen, as well as a healthier appearance. But. in truth town life is apparently so enjoy- able for its own sake in Australia, that it seems to deprive men those who are misleadingly called the working men of all enterprise and ambition. It has generally been assume(l by econ- omists that every employee hopes some day to become an employer ; but those working men appear to have no such asl)irations. but to seek rather to stereo- type a class of employees who shall never do more than a certain number of hours of work or receive less than a certain rate of wage, which class, with its privileges, it shall be the special function of the State to maintain and to l)rotect. Again it must be remembered that 53 the heat of Australia is not all dry heat the rainfall is heavy enough, rou0hly speaking. on the east coast, and grows less and less as the centre of the conti- nent is approached. Where the heat is damp its physical effect on the trans- planted Anglo-Saxon is far more marked than in other parts of Australia. In- deed, a critic, very friendly to Australia generally, remarks that on the east coast, from Sydney nortli~vard, the (Ic bilitating effect of the climate may be seen, and that it is perhaps sufficient in Sydney to destroy great activity in work. Certainly the people of Sydney wear in summer a limp, parboiled ap- pearance ~)ainfnlly resembling that of the degenerate whites in Barbados ; but whether the resemblance is more than skin-deep is another question. The east coast from Sydney northward is, however, a very comprehensive term, embracing, in fact, two-thirds of the eastern coastline with the city of Bris- bane and the minor Queensland ports, such as Cooktowu and Townsville, and it brings us on to a (lebatable land, and a very large question. It is curious to remark how hyster- ically nervous is the Australian (lemoc- racy over the admission of any alien race to the continent; the provinces varying in shrillness of outcry against them according to their proximity to the equator. Queensland, which coin prises a huge extent of tropical terri- tory, is the loudest ; New South Wales, the next to it, is nearly as loud ; South Australia an(l Victoria are rather less so. South Australia, xvliieh runs from north to south of the continent, has of course a large trol)ical territory to the northward ; but the northern territory is virtually a distinct though subject l)rovince. It cannot be (lenie(l that the Australian animosity against colored races is perfectly natural. It is gener- ally atti ibuted exclusively to the work lug mans yumxjtmdice against cheap labor and indeed it is doubtful whether the antipathy has any other conscious mo- tive ; but it is more tItan probable that there is an unconscious and instinctive (lrea(l of any race which is more at home in a hot climate than the Anglo- The Influence of Climate on Race. 54 The Influence of Climate on Race. Saxon. The Australians have also the ing to be leaders of thought, vho have fate of the Southern States of the Union by their speech and action rendered it before them, and have noted the warn- impossible that the experiment of the ing given by the negro problem. With- employment of white labor in tropical out attempting to defend slavery, it agriculture should be fairly tried. seems but fair to acknowle(lge now that So, without losing faith (a.s he assures the motive of the South in striving to us) in his conviction, though it contra- bind the negroes to the servile state (licts all experience, that white labor was no more than the instinct of self- can cope with the cultivation of the h)reservation. how many Americans sugarcane in the tropics, Sir Samuel were there that thought the Civil War Griffith has carried a measure for the would produce as its principal results readmission of Polynesians. the negro problem, and the dan~er of a While Sir Samuel Griffith was prepar- war of races ? But if the white man ing his manifesto of recantation, Sir chooses to engross a vast territory Thomas Playford, the premier of South wherein the climate is unfavorable to Australia, visited India to negotiate him, he nuist take the consequences. with the Indian government for the im Some years ago Queensland boldly l)O1tation of East Indian coohies into faced the realities of her position and that province. Now, as both these importe(l colored labor for the sugar- premiers went enthusiastically with Sir plantations an industry from which Henry Pa.rkes in 1SSS in his impas she expected, and still exl)ects, great sione(l protestatioiis that Australia results. The laborers thus imported should be reserved for the British were Polynesians, as to whose merits type, their conversion is a little re for this particular work there seems to markable. But it is easily accounted be some conflict of opinion. Two main for. The interests of the working causes, however, conspired to put an pol)ulation have been kept too exchu- en(l to this system firs ~, siveiy in view in all rue ~ aIl(l scandals of the Pacific labor traffic ; provinces, and one principal result (not an(l, secondly, the jealousy of the white mentioned by Sir Samuel Griffith) is the working man. Accorclin4v in 1885 the Australian public (lebt. Great is bank- l)reniier, Sir Samuel Gmithth, fixed a ru~)tcy, says Carlyle ; no falsehood, term when this importatiomi of Polv did it rise heavenhigh and cover the nesians should cease. lie summarized world, but 1~ankruptcv will 0 his objections against colored immigra- sweep it (lown and ne day make us free of it. tion as follows Great also, we may add, is impecuni 1. That it tended to encourage the osity, which threatens to become bank creation of large landed estates owned ruptey ; for this, too, h)CCls the scales by absentees, to the prejudice of settle from mens eyes and forces them to meats by ~vorking farmers, face truths ~whichi they have dehiber 2. ~ It led to field labor in tropical ately blinked an(l avoided. It is all agriculture being looked down upon as very well for Sir Samuch Griffith to degrading and unworthy of the white attribute the impossibility of obtaining race. white labor for the North Queenslan(l 3. The permanent existence of a sugar-plantations to the speech and ac- large servile h)Opulation amongst Aus- tion of this man or that ; but the true trahians, not, admitted to the franchise, cause lies much deeper, and is summed is not compatible with the continu up in the wor(I climate. The delib auce of Australian free political institu- crate l)ohicy of closing the continent to tions. colored races, at the cost of ailowino And now, last year, Sir Samuel Grif the tropical territory to lie fallow, has fitly has discovered that ~among the been early defeated by impecuniosity. Working pOpul8tion, whose interests he Somebody must be found to do work in had perhaps too exclusively in view, this territory ; white men will not, can- there has arisen a body of men, claim- not do it, so colored men must. The Influence of Climate on Race. 55 According to present indications the longer it is continued, the firmer its future of tropical Australia seems likely basis and the more inevitable its per- to be committed to East Indian imumi- manence. Everything now points to grants. The supply of Polynesians is the importation of East Indians into far from inexhaustible ; African negroes northern Australia. are not to be obtained; Chinese are not Then arises the question, How far only an abomination but a terror to the would such a race spread down over Australians. East Indian coolies are the continent? And this is extremely abundant; and their exportation from difficult to answer. On the one hand India is not only permitted but organ- we have the metropolitan populations, ized. The government of India is ex- fully a third of the whole, disinclined tremely jealous for the welfare and for hard work, bent upon the enjoy- good treatment of these emigrants; and ment of an easy and comfortable life, the most elaborate enactments exist for and seeking to crush competition by their protection in their new homes ; restraint both upon immigration and so that they very soon gain ideas of natural increase. The metropolitan self-respect and independence which towns are situated in, so to speak, the were quite unknown to them in India. rainy fringe of the continent, where the There is no more ludicrous contrast heat, become damp, tells more agaiiist witness any one who has seen it the white mans energy than in the than that between the Madrassi coohie parched interior. On the other hand, just disembarked in a strange land, the we have the country population, agri- incarnation of abject pliancy, aiid the cultural and pastoral, extending inland same individual two years later. They from the coast, sparser and sparser as it bring with them, of course, their habits leaves the rainfall behind it. A recent and traditions, notably the practice of writer on Australia does not hesitate to hoarding and lending to their fellows at say that the types of man bred on the extravagant interest and so many of more or less watered Pacific slope and them grow rich, at any rate for a time, the arid interior are totally (histiuct and occasionally even important. and indeed it is no more than one These are the people with which, for should expect. Nor are we surprised good or for evil, Sir Thomas Phayford to hear that the lattcr is the better seeks to develop the tropical territory type ; more vigorous, more enduring, of South Australia. Whether he will stouter-hearted. From which the obvi- be able to fulfil the conditions imposed ous conclusion is, that, broadly speak- by the Indiami government is another ing, the district which offers the white question. Free political institutions, man the best return for his work, is especially as understood in Australia, precisely that which is most enervating are no good guarantee for the safety of to him physically. On the Queensland a competing race. What ought to be sugarcane fields, which form an cx- (lone is clear enou~hi. Em~gh~~i~d ought tremue case, the white man has aban- to take over tropical Australia, and doned the attempt to work in the damp govern it as a part of our Asiatic em- heat. pire, to which, indeed, it really be- There are also other complications to longs ; this, however, unfortunately, be considered first, the desperate seems to be out of the question. But struggle still in progress between cap- whatever may be done, the establish- ital and labor ; and, secondly, imupeen- ment of a colored race in that territory niosity. As if tIme uncertainty and can hardly l)e avoided much longer. It tyranny of the climate were miot of itself is impossible to fix a term (luring which far too powerful an agent in driving the colored immigration may l)e permitted. people down into the towns, the Aus- and at the end whereof it shall cease ; trahian governments, far from striving for, as has been discovered in Queens- to stop the influx, have for the most lan(l, if once established it cannot be part (lone all they can to encourage it. overthrown without ruin; and the They have also demoralized the work- 56 The Influence of Climate on Race. ing classes by leading them to look cases shifted hair ground to other always to the State for employment and European countries, where labor is employment at hioh W~.(r~~ erectino an cheaper and than in Enland tuhrn~ artificial standard of comfort, any re- they are less hampered by trades unions, lapse from which is regarded as social factory acts, and other institutions degradation. The funds by which this doubtless very excellent, but, unfortu- standard was maintained are now nately, extremely expensive. There is stopped ; and more than that, the piper no reason why they should not go still to whose music the Australians have further to the eastward and use cheaper danced for so long remains to be paid. labor still. Now what if Australia Who is to pay him ? Not I, says should anticipate the rest of the world the working man, if it is to be at the in the employment of Asiatic labor ? cost of social degradation ; and his She has a climate which would suit a point of view is perfectly intelligible. colored race, and yet, in some parts at Whether he will alter his opinion or not any rate, give the whites as good a remains to be seen ; certainly he will chance. What if she were to work up not if he can help it. But more work all her wool and sugar with colored must be done by some one if the present labor, for instance, and employ no difficulties are to be successfully sur- other, so far as possible, on any indus- mounted. Queensland and, apparently, try? The Australiami democracy would South Australia have faced the prob- never permit it, I shall be told. It is lem, and propose to solve it by the es- never very safe to predict what democ- tablishment of a servile population. racy, and especially such a (lemoclacy Will other provinces find it necessary as that of Australia, will or will not (10 to follow this example ? More improb- but let it be observed that in Queens- able things have happened. We know land it has already permitted the in what the tendency of modern civil- troduction of Kanakas. And why? izationis. M. Le Roy Beaulien has Simply to keep up or try to keep up the summed it up in a terse sentence rotten fabric of State socialism, which. Tout le monde fait l~loge du travail is tottering to its fall ; in other words, manuel, et personne nen veut plus. to keep the white man in ease an(l coin If everybody is to enjoy a high standard fort by the labor of the colored. The of comfort, and not to (10 too much work other provinces are in exactly the same for the same and this, with its con- trouble ; and South Australia appar noted independence, seems to be the ently wishes to adopt the same remedy. bone of contention between labor and If the experiment succeeds two things capital in Australia the object can be are likely to happen first, that capital obtained by the employment of ser- will migrate to the provinces, where it vile labor, can get colored labor, cheap and trust- This is one solution of the labor prob worthy ; and, second, that all the men lem in Australia. I have no doubt that who have been living on the loans of it will be scouted as ridiculous and im- the confiding British investor will like- possible ; but perhaps it may not be so wise n~igrate to the north and live in utterly impossible after all. An emi- comfort on the labor of the colored nent French economist has l)Ointed out man. That the white man so l)ampered that the day may not be very far ahead and softened will degenerate physically when Eastern competition will wrest I have no doubt whatever; for he will its industrial monopoly from the West, grow idler and idler, and less and less an(1 that a series of unpleasant sur inclined to the physical exertion that prises may be in store for our sons and alone can keep him in vigor. In the grandsons. Already we feed ourselves southern provinces the burden of de- partly with Indian wheat ; and Man- fraying the cost of State socialism must chester cotton manufacturers have fall on the country party that is to taken alarm at the rivalry of Bombay. say, the working as Oh)posed to the labor Our capitalists have already in many party ; but whether it will submit to it IVa ixierers. for long is another question. The struggle between the two will be in- tense, and perhaps prolonged ; but as to the ultimate issue there can be little doubt. Australia will have to abandon her attempt to keep abreast of the front rank of nations in modern civil- ization. But there will always be the competition of the colored race in the north, and the temptations to avoid it by employing colored labor. This com- plication will be incomparably more formidable in Australia than in the United States, because the Island Con- tinent is virtually all subtropical, except where it is tropical a great advantage to a colored race. Lastly, if any one should deny that the white man has his climatic limits let me point to the fate of the Roman civilization in North Africa. Surely, in all our dreams of federation, we should be wise to remember that there are such factors as climate and Asiatic competition. J. W FORTESCUE. From Macmillans Magazine. WANDERERS. BY A SON OF THE MAE5IIE5. A WhALE had been seen several times, spouting as it passe(l up and down the open channel opposite my native village on the coast of north Kent, and efforts had been made to drive the great creature into shalloxv water, so that it might be stranded and killed, but all to no purpose. At last, under the direction of a notable 01(1 sea-dog, xvho went by the name of Dick the Whaler, the feat was accomplished, to the great mortification of those who had tried but failed to do the business. Some of Dicks partisans and admirers, in order to commemorate the eveiit requesteol oiie of his friends who en- joyed the reputation of being a regular dabster~ at verse-making, to compose something worthy of the occasion, in order still further to humble the pride of the other leader. The poet was supplied with a bundle of quill pens, plenty of ink and paper, 5T and, besides these, two large, dumpy bottles of ager mixter, so called. After two (lays had elapsed a deputation went to see what he had succeeded in producing. This was received by the wife, who told them that the work was proceeding well, but they must not worrit him. On the fourth (lay she let them know that they could now~ come up for the verses. With all the gravity befitting the situation these were handed over tha.t evening ; the poet also contributing a tune which he had composeol to suit them. They be gan as follows There cummed unto our coast a whale, A very bi~ whale indeed, Tothers couldnt catch un, But we did, Hip, hip, hip, hooray Our village was not critical, and th~ verses were snug auiol roared through the quiet streets to the inspiriting ac- companiment of a drum and a key bugle. Whenever I hear of a stray visitant,. some bird or other that is unusually uncommon, the first line of that absurd. composition is apt to recur to my min(l. The nightcrow, xv hitetopped hem, or night-heron, we are told by a recog- nized authority of the present day, was recorded first in May, 1872 ; but it had beeui to my own knowledge shot fre- quently without the fact being noticed. Like the bittern it only reacheS us to be shot. Early impressions are verx~ lasting, and having been birdstruck even as a youngster, I remember as though it had only takemi place yester- day, how old Craft brought in from the marshes, where lie had shot it, the finest ni~hit-hieron that had been seen by us. That xvas long before the year 1872. As a rule 01(1 Craft xvas very commu- nicative as to his luck, but on the par~ ticular afternoon to which I refer he stoool before the bar of The Royal An- chor, with his gun and a bunch of birds, in a (leci(lc(lhy glum state of mind. The worthy landlord chaffed him about it, asking what ailed him ? Had he seen a wreck? had he run out ot o clucks with white feathers in their beaks, cuttin most owdacious capers on the water, tossin their heads up, quackin an spinnin about in most onairthly fashin. Josher watched em fur a time, then he shot em. That ere co~~i~an,to keep tothers from cummin to shoot there, though it waunt nowhere near the landmarks fur the coy, had clipped their wings, put feathers in their beaks, an turned em out there, to scare fowl away, the heathen! If lie dont ha done cutting them capers hell find his coy raised, an lie wunt want it done more an once, we reckins. Dc- pen(1 on it, Craft, twas a coot that warmint had figgered up with apern- strings. These remarks only made Craft feel indignant. Had any on em sin him in specks ? had any on em sin him fed with a spoon, or led about by his little gal ? No one replying to these questions, he heft his bunch of birds, seized his gun, and went out, stating in the most emphatic manner that, He would hey the creeter, if twas in the mash ; if he raised the coy over it. Perhaps I might as well explain what raising the coy means. The ducks come into the decoy or decoys as the ease may be froni open waters early in the morning, leaving it to feed again a.s evening draws near. It is when resting in the decoy that they are coaxed Wanderers. ager medicine ? Had his pigs cut their throats, swimming down the creek again? This last allusion referred to what was usually a dangerous topic to touch on, but a.s the questions were fol- lowed up by a glass of his most per- tickler offered free of cost, and as the landlord usually was ready to purchase any fowl that 01(1 Craft wanted to sell, ihe reference to a tussle he had had, in nightshirt and cap, with his cantanker oiis swine was allowed to pass. Now, then, Craft, what ails ye ? he was asked again, as he put down his glass. Well, I shot and missed him, was the laconic, but vague rel)lv. Surel~-, ye aint pulled on that ere new coylnan, have ye ? The coyman referred to was the man in charge of the great duckdecoy. No, twas a bird ; I never sin one like it afoie. This statement reaching the ears of the customers in the bar-parlor (birds concerne(i every one in various ways), out they walked to hear about it. Wet ul), Craft, an yarn it off to us. I was comm over the last mash afore you gits to Stangate creek, when lip gits a 1)ird somethin bigger an a coot, with x~li ite feathers ahangin down his back. I got a bit flustered, seem as twas most onusual like, an missed him. Twas a trick o that ere furrin up one of the decoy-pipes and get cap- heathen o a covman, Craft, said the tured. Extreme quiet must be main- landlord, you may (he penci on it. Hed tamed if the capture is to be a fortunate catched one o them ere cat-seratchin one, for it is absolutely necessary that coots, an tied his missuss apern- the fowl should never leave the decoy- strings roun its neck. pond except of their own accord. To A add ed one of his chums, be frightened off a few times would them crc heathens frum the shires is ruin the working of it all, and heavy most fit to (10 any outlandish work. l)enahties are incurred by wilful disturb Josher here reckins as hell pull a ance. To raise the coy was the stroke-oar in coymans boat afore long. worst threat that any of the more dar- Twas only last week he ~vent down ing spirits could venture on in the to the long sl)lash for to git a couple o marshes, for the decoy was generally ducks ; tis a good place for em, you respected as sacred. know. Well, there ~vaunt a sign o one In from the marshes l)roudhy walked about above or below, lie couldnt Craft on the day after the conversation mak it out nohow, fur hed niver missed I have related, with the strange bird, seeing on em, if lie didnt git em. It its beautiful head-plumes lovingly ar~ reglar dumbfounded Josher ; and pres- ranged on the dark neck and shoulders. ently out from the reeds cums a couple Craft was triumphant ; he marched 58 Wanderers. 59 to The Royal Anchor and showed his him, cleared all up. I have seen ducks bird ; the news spread, and thither all and pigs doing the same thing ; these the choicest spirits flocked after him, creatures 011CC did nearly all our sani- What bird ~vas it ? No one knew, but tary work, so far as the streets were it was universally set down as a concerlle(l ; but it did not keep the Trencher o some sort. Then one of cholera from the place. It came, and them suggested that the bird should be tile ravens came in adx ante of it; but shown to Mr. Grind, the lawyer, who why they did so remains a mystery that was supposed to know everything. This conld never be accounted for by those was done, but he said that lie had never of us who escaped that horrible visita- seen such a handsome bird before, and tion. It is not the least use trying to (lid not in the least know what it was. account for everything in the matter-of- Then as a last resource they sent for fact manner in which things are usually Dick the Whaler. He looked at it, disposed of at the present time. I have turned his qni(l, rubbed his chin, and thought it all over, but to no purpose spoke If its feet was webbed-like, I know only that when the scourge left but they aint, I should fancy t~vas one the place the ravens were seen there o them ere piugin [penguin] things, no more. fur some o they outlandish things has With the fler~e and hardy Scandina- top-knots ; but this ere is afore my vian sca-rovers the raven was a bird of recknin. After this sage utterance note, though for what purpose he was the i)ird was given over to the care of used by them we have no record left to the host ; all settled down to make tell us. It has been conjectured by themselves comufortable, and Dick had those whose deep research into histor- to tell over again how the whale was ical matters give their views great l)eaclied. In the small hours two fig- weight, that the ravens (of which two tires were seen going homne a little Liii- varieties existed then as now, the black steadily, full of whales, top-knot hems, and the black-and-white raven) were and mixter. carried by these rovers in their war Can you tell me where your fine ships, to be turned out when on their raven was procured ? I asked a man exploring and plundering expeditions. who ~vas walking up the street with one They watched the flight of the bird, and tucked under his arm like a rooster. if it did not return, they sailed in the From Sussex~ lie replied. The same direction, feeling certain that hand friend that sent himii to me said that a of some kind must lie where the raveii few pairs lingered there yet. had made for. That fierce race of sea- This was some years ago. I fear they kings evidently knew far more about may have been rooted out by this time. the real nature of the bird than we (10 This fine, handsome bird is one of our at the presem~t time. wanderers ; fromn the ei~rhiest time lie With the l)art the raven played some has been an object of consideration, have associated the Greenland, Iceland, and all have credited him with super- and ~s orwegman falcons, the noble gyi human intelligence, and regarded him falcons, as they are called ; but the as a bird of evil omen. This to a cer- raven is well known to have been an tam extent is not a matter of wonder, important factor, though a mysterious for lie is one of natures scavengers, one, in all their high-handed proceed- and where lie thinks his services are ings. The pied raven belongs to the required there lie ~vihl be. TIe may now Farde Isles, and is called after them. be considered as practie~Uhy banished If the Scandinavians were originally from England ; though lie would comiie of Asiatic origimi, the record of the again if folks would let h~imn, but they ravens having been used by Noah no will not ; he is outlawed, and a price (loubt must have been handed down to put on his head. In past times, when them. We have no authority for this l)eoPle threw objectionable matter into theory, beyond the bare probability to the streets, he, with the kites to help which slight historical fragments point. Wanderers. 60 In past times the bird no doubt owed his life in some measure to the belief that ancient members of his race fed the Prophet Elijah. Where the i3ible formed the only literature of the household, and it was read and acted on in a literal manner, it is no wonder that this bird went free. Some of the quiet women of our coasttheir types are now only seen in paintings when they spoke were listened to with re- spect, for they would wrestle in spirit, as they called it, with the head of the house until he was full of it, and gave in. If it had been shown to thi~m, as they would say, that a certain thing should not be done, as a rule it was left alone by the men-folk. The last ravens nest which was liar- ned, to my knowledge, was upset by sonic one hired for the job, and not by the person one might have expected to do it. If it was supposed that ill luck would thus be diverted from the latter I cannot say. One thing is certain, the man that gave the order for the ravens destruction has been dead for years, while the man who harried the nest is alive still and hearty, although nearly seventy years old. Last summer he climbed up one of the finest trees in the district, like a squirrel. The late E. T. Booth, whose match- less collection, which lie generously- left for the public benefit, shows his ardent search for the beautiful feath- ered creatures that are to be found in our island, has a good word to say for the raven. Writing in 1876, after a visit to Perthishire, lie observes Few, if any, of these ravens [refer- ring to sonie lie saw there] had been bred in the immediate neighborhood, having in all probability crossed the hills from the northern countries or the western islands. At that tiiiie of year they were perfectly liarniless on the ground, preying only on xvouuded game or hares, and, as they always left that quarter before breeding-season, the ir visits were beneficial rather than other- wise. And again lie says They were at all times so eager to make a nical off the dead game with which we baited our traps, that I have known between two and three hundred cap ture(l in a single season ; not that we wished to destroy them, but positively they insisted on getting into the traps. we were forced to keep set in order to check the increase of more destructive vernnn. I have quoted from this high an- thionity because sonic, I know, have considered me a little one-sided and en thiusiastic in pleading, as I still hope to do, for the preservation of some of the creatures in our country. Fortunately I do not stand alone in this. If ever a man studied the habits of births impar- tially, it was E. T. Booth. The raven has interested nie at all times ; not that my chances of studying him have been numerous, but I have made the most of those I hiadi. That he admirably fills the place for which he was formed, no one that has seen hilni caii doubt. He is, I think, the closest feeder of any bird I am ac- quainted with. Waste not, want not~ is evidently the principle lie works upon. One might say of him as the iie~ro said of the shark, ilini berry clean feeder, sah. That grand birdi the cob, or great black-backed gull, whose wings extend five feet four inches, feeds on the same dicadi body at tinies as the raven, sidle by side, Odins bird and the sea-vulture. This bird wandlers ; audI it is a curious circumstance that the pure-lookiiig sea bird should be credited with far greater power for mischief than even the raven ; yet such is the case. They go over thie sanie kind of hiuntin~-grounds, feed on thie same kindi of food, living and dead, and get trapped with the sanie baits. Owners of grouse-moors, I concludhe, if thicy hiadi their choice, would prefer to be visited by the raven. sooner than by the cobs. As the gull flaps along his keen eyes detect the dicadi and wounded birds heft after shoot ing. Down he swoops, and on the prey he gorges like a vulture ; not on car- rion, but on game. The next day he returns to find some more and then others, seeing him making off in the s~ me dhireetion day after day, follow in the same course, for they know food is Wanderers. to be had of some sort. So that after a time a couple of pairs will hunt the moor regularly. As the swallowing capacity of these birds is enormous, they are shot or tral)pe(l so soon as possible. I have seen the col) in many l)llces, an(l in all weathers, looming o~it through a sea- fog, resting on the sands in fine weather, and beating about when it is rough. lie is a bird that you will not forget after you have once seen him. With our coast people he used not to be a favorite. When the small gulls left the ti(le for the fields they looked for rough weather ; but it might pass over, and they hoped it would. I3ut when they saw the cob on the flats they were sure of it, and pulled their boat.s up on the beach. It is curious ho~v perfectly innocent creatures should, by some folks, get inevital)ly associated with the causes of misfortune. The bird only obeys his nstinct& of selfpreservation in coining on the flats for a time ; but the very fact of the creature being one of the means of warning them of the coming storm, cause(l it to be regarded as some- thing uncanny. I should like to see him agaiu where I have watchle(l him in past years ; but he will come there no more in my time. Where he wan (hers it would be hard to say. The cobs eyes are very different from those of the raven ; but they see much more than YOU can fathom, and they have the look of old, exl)crience(l eyes. That beautiful bird, the wax wing, wrongly cal led the Bob emnian chatte rei, for it is really a very quiet creature, visits us Iromn time to time ; some have l)een shot recently. It would not inter- est my readers to give the (Iry (letails of their visits as they have occurred, so I leave them out of the question. This bird is a very remarkable one, with its line crest and the red wax-like tips to the tail and some of the wing-feathers but although they are such lovely crea lures, a few years ago they caused no little uneasiness in places they visited in some way or other they got to be associated with coming trouble of a vague nature. 61 Red berries are sure to attract these birds, particularly those of the wild rose and mountain ash. As the waxwing is a voracious feeder, it is far more con- cerned about its stomach than its safety, and suffers accordingly. I have lately seen an account of one that allowed a miserable creature to get so close to it that when he fired he almost blew it to pieces. Our shores are certainly not hospitable ones for wanderers. The nutcracker, that curiously spotted bird that looks like a jackdaw and wood p9eker blended into one, visits us, but it is very uncertain in its appearance. Some birds keep only to places where the supply of food is confined to certain limits, an(l this bird appears to be one of these, having a decided l)reference tor fir woo(ls. That it has l)een killed in Scotland is not to be wondered at but it is a rare visitant~ l)lown over, probably much against its will, from more northern countries. Nothing surprises me more than the general ol)inion concerning the flights of rare visitors. Frequently I have been asked where are the real homes of some of the wanderers that reach us, and I have answered to the best of my ability ; but it is very (lifficult to determine the rcal home of 1)ir(ls that are certainly known to have several in the course of a year. Our most common l)ir(1s are forever on the shift, hundreds in a place for a few days, and then gone again. Ilow (10 they fly, thousands of miles some of them, without resting ? They do not do this ; but they do not stay here. Would you, or could you, walk one hundred miles, or half that distance, without resting ? Certainly not, the i(lea would be ridiculous. And the birds could no more keep on flying for thousands of miles than you could keep on walking your fifty or a hundred. They must rest, and they (10 rest where they cAn, on their journey. If you get a map you will see if it is not l)ossible for them to (10 this after leaving En crland How long would it take swift- winged birds to cross over to France, and from there to other places ? The various works published on l)irds, our own, British birds particularly, give 62 Wanderers. more or less detailed accounts concern- boxes of splendid bird-skins home for lug the killing of some of these wan- their sisters, as well as drawings by na- derers ; but all rare birds, so called, do tive artists of the birds that the boxes. not get into the hands of l)reserveLs or contained. When these drawings were collectors. In my young days I was in carefully traced off, the result was very close touch with men and lads that superior in all respects to the work of sailed the sea in all directions ; these our local genius. were well acquainted with the birds As I said before, the boys had little they saw on the water, an(l upon the to do with the affairs of their parents. distant shores they visited. They had from the confidential point of view their own names for them, but that did and fine young fellows, men every inch not alter the birds in the least. As of them, were classed as boys. And I they were fishermen and fruit-boat men, can assure my readers that this sort of a few only of the hatter, their chances thing has not yet quite died out along- of observation were endless. Boys the foreshores. Those lads who had were rigidly excluded from the coin- visited foreigii shores were eagerly pany of men in our community, and all sought out by the fowler when they the wondrous information (as it ap- reached port. From morning to night. peare(l to me then) was given me by they yarned away about birds, question- lads who sailed with their fathers, sup ing, com paring, and wondering ; for the plemented a.t times by a sight of the lads had seen birds as they were com~ bird-skins ; for all the vessels carried ing and going that the fowler had only fowling-guns. They knew how to skin seen on the shores. Practical natural the birds and to prepare them ; not for history would be fully discussed, sitting bird preservers, but for ladies muffs on the sides of a turned-up whale-boat. and for feather capes tippets as they I think that, if it could be got at, the were called at that time. list of unrecorded birds that have vis I have seen very fine feather capes ited us would far exceed those re- made from bird-skins brought home by corded ; for the reason that some of them, and also some feather work of a them are very much alike, and when. very novel character. The local artist shot for food they have been plucked would be coaxed by one or two clever and eaten without questioning. If txv~ ladies, always single ones, to (Iraw the or three geese were procured and the figure of some bird or birds on a sheet crew required them for (linner, no mat of the finest paper they could lay their ter how rare one, or the lot, might be, hands on, after it had been properly it would have required far greater stretched on a board. Often they could powers of persuasion than could be not decide how the bird should be employed at that time of day to pre drawn; a week or fortnight would pass vent them from being cooked. over ; then as a rule they would pick The greenshank, in general form and out the first sketch that had been habits like the redshank, save for its shown them. As these preliminary green legs and larger size, is one of studies afforded some very pleasing those wanderers that travel at express afternoons and evenings, time was iio t speed. It is not such a common bird considered. The drawing having been as its red-legged relative. Like the made, the bill and feet were painted, as green sandpiper it is seen, when on well as a background. Thieui with hlight, in spots suitable for resting; aiid strong gum they fixed the feathers from like the former bird, the greenshank, it the skiiis, a kind of feather-tiling it follows the line of the hills that have was, beginning naturally at the tail and moors near theni ; the wilder they are, fiuiishing at the bill of the bird. I have the better for the bird. But even in seen very beautiful examples of this l)haces that are not likely to be dis- kind. The East Iiidia Company was a turbed it does not stay; it only rests power in the land then, and some who and moves on. sailed in their magnificent ships brought I have seen the bird, and I have also Wanderers. 63 seen diffei~nt accounts of its habits by The regular wanderers come now, as VariOUs ~vritcrS ; no two being alike, they have done from time beyond rec- yet all true. One simple fact may be ord, but not to the same places. The remembered by those who are from cir- bittern, little bittern, whooper, and cumstances forced to draw their knowi- golden oriole, would nest in England, I edge of birds from books, namely that think, if they were permitted to do so. one and all, from the most common to Recently, birds have passed over the the rarest, can and diadapt themselves Surrey hills and woodlands in the night to surrounding influences. With sonic time, from north-east to south-west, that few exceptions which I need not refer by their trumpet notes told plainly what to here, birds that are not niolested are they were ; rare birds so called, who perfectly fearless. have found out fresh haunts where Some writers have stated that the they know they are safe. greenshank is one of the most difficult The little stint, or lie might be called birds to study, or to get within shot of. a dwarf sandpiper, a delicate creature, Why should any one want to shoot it ? six inches in length, is a feathered Another states that lie has lifted a wonder. After breeding in Siberia, greenshiank off her nest, out on the these little mites dash away to Africa open nioorhand, more than once. This and India; they also visit our own gentleman, when fowling in Suther- shores in considerable nunibers. They landshiire, passed in his punt within look like small ox-birds~ dunlins. One thirty feet of thousands of those wary writer who has seen as much, or I niay birds, the oyster-catchers; from never say more of rough weather, watching having been disturbed, they were per- the arrival and departure ot wanderers, fectly fearless, and they took no more than generally falls to the lot of one notice of him than they would of a seal observer, has cahled thieni fighters, floating by. lie did not fire at the and a very appropriate term it is. birds ; we have his word for that. Beside nie, as I write, are the wings Seals are far niore numerous than of the curlew, snipe, sanderhin g,and they are supposed to be by the general the common gull. The first three show public. They can be seen mixed up at a glance that they were fornied for with the young of sea-birds ; sonie of long continuous flight. Their journey, these jabbering and squalhing because we know, is broken like that of other the young seals have usurped their wanderers, but they go a vast distance resting-places. Floating by, in calm before they break it. The wings of the weather, your glass will show you this gull are after a different fashion, being and more. formed to enable the bird to beat to Within a few miles from London, and fro, now here and now there, and as travelling goes now, the gannets in to tack about. The divers proper, their seasons can be seen flying and sprat-hoons or sprat-divers, have short, plunging with almost chock-work regu- stiff wings; but, when fairly in flight, larity, following the shoals of fish out they would shoot past any gull like over the sand-bar. It is a dangerous rockets. place that sand-bar; some of those who With a few words about those large last visited it have not the least desire wanderers, the grey geese, I must to repeat the trip. If these sanctuaries close. The name is used as synony- did not exist, our waters would soon be mous with stupidity, yet nothing could lifeless. Happily they do, and to them be wider of the niark; for our domestic the feathere(1 wanderers come in count- goose is by far the most sagacious bird less hosts, as they have ever done. we have in a state of domestication. Those seen on the shore-line, great as As to the wild geese, all who know their numbers may be, are really only anything about them practically, will the fringe, so to speak, of the vast con- agree that the bump of cautiousness gregations that resort to the sanctuaries has with them reached its fullest devel- of the dreaded sand-bar. opment. lVanderers. The brent, or black geese, are sea- geese, awl these keep to the tide. The grey geese I have mentioned include the grey lag, the bean, and the pink- tooted goose. Unless by good fortune ~ specimen is procured on the spot, it is ~iliuost iln1)Ossible to tell with a glass to which of the three species geese belong, when feeding in the fields. I have seen small gaggles at times, but though one could tell that they were wiid grey geese, I have never been allowed to get near enough to tell which variety they were. If a specimen is i~ioeured, it by no means proves that the gaggle it was shot from were all of the one species. The eastern counties are, from the na- ture of the wide open spaces found there, far more favorable grazing grounds for them than any that could be found in the southern districts. Those birds I have seen were probably tired out stragglers that had dropped from the main body when on flight, to go forward again when thoroughly rested. Punt-fowlers rely on brent geese for sport and profit when fowling oil the tide. They do at times, in most extraor(linary and exceptional circum- stances, get a shot at grey geese, but not very often. For these go to feed out in the great open spaces, flying out to the sands and sand-bars to rest and sleep, where there is not the least chance of getting at them. The grey geese are far more plen tiful in Scotland and Ireland than in England. This we have no cause to regret, for the birds graze very closely; and when they visit young crops it is a very serious matter, for they feed in the most systematic manner. Having very l)oxverful wings, great distances to them are as nothing in going out to their feeding grounds. To see them, if you did not know a little about their move men ts, you might think they were resting somewhere in the immediate neighborhood, but you would be de- eeive(l, for their restingplace might be twelve or twenty miles away. Even in their nesting-habits the wan- derers are to a certain extent contradic- tory, for the grey lag goose breeds in the moss hags of the moors. Curlews, golden plovers, and dunlins nest on the open moors, at the time when the linnet sings froni the tangle above them. At that time you can hear the crow of the grouse-cock, the whistle of the plover, and the pipe of the dunlin ; they are all there when their season comes round. Being early breeders, they are rea.dy to go before the hinnet has got his first brood out in the yellow broom. Great birds come shrieking and wheeling about, beating in all directions, except where their young are squatting. These are curlews. There is not the least necessity for this, but they seem to (10 it just to keep up the character which has been given them, that of guardians of the moors. Pno~xoTIox FROM THE RANKS. We doubt the wisdom of laying down a hard and fast rule. The young muaii who is so determined to be a soldier that he will even make a fight for a commission by ser- vice in the ranks, must necessarily have merit, or he would drop the banle. Is it altogether wise, at a time when recruiting is slack, to close the door to a body of young soldiers who under a proper system would no doubt acquit themselves cred- itably, and who under any circumstances merit encouragement? There are two sides to most questions, and there are two sides to this. Looked at from all points of view, the order strikes us as being one of those which would have been better left alone; for it has to be remembered that the old soldier is far better off as a warrant officer than he would be with a combatant commission in these days of eiiforced retire- ment for age, and that this rank was spe- cially introduced for his benefit. If any combatant commissions are given nowadays to the ranks, they can only be accepted by young men. It is an absolute injustice to an old non-commissioner to place him in a position of extreme difficulty from which he must be expelled in a few years, with a position to maintain on a miserable pit- tance. Army and Navy Gazette.

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Fifth Series No 2558 July ~ 1893 From Beginning Volume LXXXIlI. a Vol OXCVIII. CONTENTS. I. OUR FIRST AMBASSADORS TO RUSSIA. By Julian Corbeft II. AT TIlE SIGN OF THE PANTUFFEL, III. IS THE UNIVERSE INFINITE? By Robert Ball IV. THE SCILLIES AND THE SCILLONIANS, V. ADDISCOMBE: THE EAST INDIA COM- PANY S MILITARY COLLEGE. By W. Broadfoot VI. Dn. NANSEN AT HOME. By Mrs. Alec Tweedie, VII. THE BALTIC SHIP-CANAL, THE NEW MEMNON, AfacmiUans Magazine, Temple Bar, Fortnightly Review, Cornhill Magazine, Blackwoods Magazine, Temple Bar, Nature, POETRY. 66 I FUGACES ANNI, MISCELLANY, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL & CO., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EIGHT DOLLARS remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually for- warded for a year,free of postage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single copies of the LIVING AGE, 18 cents. 67 77 90 100 109 115 . 127 66 128 66 THE NEW MEMNON. WHEN with hammers of iron Cambyses had broken The statue of Niemnon that sang to the sun, And the desolate marble no longer gave token That twilight was ended and dawn had begun, The priesthood who long had been punctual and choral To wait on their god as the stars waned away Turned about in their beds while the clouds flushed auroral, Or droned in the desecrate temple of Day. So the slow wave of fashion ebbed down from the wonder, And worshippers failed at the bountiful shrine, Where never the shock of the sun aroused thunder, Or music welled forth from the stone un- divine; Yet, when all had deserted, one chieftain came creeping Through reeds and through grasses where Memnon lay bare, Night after dull night, when the priests were all sleeping, Came yearning and dreaming, and would not despair. To him, so the tale runs, one morning when slender The naked beam flushed on the shattered white stone, A word came in message, so thrilling, so tender, It sobbed like a harp-string that dies in a moan; My son! all is done, all is done ! and so ended; He fell on his face, and, by gift of the god, In the growing blue blaze of day, African, splendid, His heart sank as cold as the granite he trod. Ah ! so may it be with all of me thats mor- tal, If ever that tyrant, the World, should destroy The wonderful image which stands at my portal And sings to my spirit of hope and of joy; The New .2llemnon, etc. When the rose-flame of thought on that marble illusion Rings music no more from its sensitive heart, When Ive waited and watched, and the faithful delusion Sighs forth a farewell, and I feel it de- part; Ah! then in the gloom of my broken ideal. In the concave moon-shadow away from the sun, When the horrors of earth are grown rugged and real, By some fortunate stroke may my coil be undone; Ah! better to pass to the sullen dumb hol- lows Where sounds never jar on the ear of the dead, Than to learn that the air which my destiny follows By some trick of a huckster is fostered and fed. Athennum. EDMUND GOSSE. FUGACES ANNJ. O MY love, my Queen of May, The light of youth is gone. Thy balniy tresses gather grey, Thy rosy lips are wan. Will thy true eyes alter yet, And their nuptial smile forget? O my love, will time deceive, Will he wither true love so? There is more in love, believe, Than the silly nations know; More in love, when bloom is dead, Than the rose-wreath round his head. O my love, and if thou need Harbor when the north winds blow; If thy tender footprints bleed On the flints among the snow; Love will raise a sheltered cot, Where the ice-blast enters not. O my true love, we are wise; When snow whitens all our land, Underneath the cloudy skies We will travel hand in hand; Since we have not far to go To our rest beyond the snow. LORD DR TABLEY. Our First Ambassadors to Russia. From Macmillans Magazine. OUR FIRST AMBASSADORS TO RUSSIA. THE story of our earliest relations with Russia is one so fraught with in- terest for us now t~at it is a wonder it should be so little known. It is a story Itill of adventnre and romance, and were it not for the untimely shadow that fell upon it from the more dazzling achi~veiuents of Drake and his compan- ions, it would have a high place among tile treasured tales of our boyhood. For Muscovy was our first great discovery. Till we, by a strange and unheardof way, found out where she mx hidden behind the barriers with which her anxious neighbors were cram~)ing her alarming growth, and taught her how to turn them, she was isolated from Europe. That we should ever izrow to be rivals was a forecast beyond tile most fantastic dreams of visionaries and so by a startling iiony of fate it was England who first welcomed Russia to the West. It is tile story too (in the way of a sub-plot) of tile first conquest of British trade, and worth tile telling were it only for the millor characters, forgotten Elizabethans, who pass tile stage with the incomparable strut of that time, and display themselves very gallantly, trading and fighting pirates in English vessels U~Oll tile Caspian Sea, driving tileir way into tile wilds of Asia by the very routes which ilave beell coin pletehy opened only in our own days, and bearding on his tllrone tile most atrocious tyrallt in Ilistory. It was when Edward the Sixth was king tilat it began, as England awoke at last to the Renascence. Until then, in spite of all the efforts of the Cabots, English conlmerce Ilad never really roused ilerself to tile new era tllat Columbus had made; and wilen at last she opened her eyes and, silaking off the fetters of the Hanseatic League, sat up to look about her, it was to find ilerseif too late. Every avenue was closed. Westwards the Indies were in the hands of Spain; eastwards tiley were grasped by Portugal; the Mediterranean was almost impassable for Barbary pirates beyond was tile Levant fast held by Venice in ulIholy compact with the Turk ; all(l northward across tile Baltic all(l its sister seas stretched tile mighty Ilatisa. powerful enough even in its (lecay to scare away rivals. Still it was clear some new outlet must be found, for English goods were in little request among our neighbors. So On a day certain grave merchants of London met to find a remedy. Sebastian Cabot, wIlo happened to be in town, was in- vited to attend, that they Illight lay: tileir (liffleulty before him. They had observed, SO tiley sai(i, how the wealth of the Spaniards lild Portingales was alarvellonsly mere ase(l by the discovery and search of new tra(les, and they had determined to try tileir luck. Did he, tile renowned cosmographer, happen to know of any new tra(les or countries which were not yet searched or discov- ered ? Did Ile know ? Had lIe Ilot been dreaming, thinking, persuading of noth- ing else through fifty yeals of ilational deafness aiid lethargy ? Without Ilope now of outshlinillg Columbus he lIad reached tlle age of seveiily-tive to see Ilis great discovery in tile hands of Spaniards, an(l here at the eleventh hour was his opportunity. From day to day, with tile fire of youth renewed, the great geographer l)onred into the ears of those hard-headed citizens the secret of the passage to Cathay by the nortll-east ; and at last, with the notes and maps tilat were the fruit of ilis life of labor and disappointment, he pro- duced conviction. A syndicate was formed, and three ships were bought and equipped. The command was given to tile famous Sir Hugh Wil- loughl)y, proto-martyr of Arctic explo- ration, a man whose knightly figure and tragic death have overshadowed the fame of his more capable and no less heroic lieutenant, who was the real leader of the quest. This was Richard Chancellor, a follower of Sir Henry Sidney who all along had warmly fos~ tered the project and obtaincd for it the countenance of his playfehlow the king. So high was the reputation Chancellor had already won for hlimself as a trav- eller in Africa and the Levant, that it 67 68 Our First Ambassadors to Russia. was considered no small assurance of it was to the golden towns, and too success when Sidney was willing to soon they learnt the truth. It was not part, as he said, with the services of so Cathay, the people sai(l, and their king tried a friend an(l excellent a servant, was not the great Chain they had It was on the 24th of May, 1553, that never heard of Quinsay and Cambala the three ships dropped down the but it was a (liscovely brilliant enough Thames amid a scene of great enthu- to cover all Chancellors cares. For the siasm. Each was provisioned for cigli- country was called Muscovy and the teen months and bore a letter from the kings name was Ivan, and Chancellor king in Greek, Latin, and (livers other had found a secret way to the mys~eri- tongues, with a tine a(ldress To all OUS lands which the Hansa had guarded Kings, Princes, Rulers, Judges, and with such successful jealousy. Governors of the earth, and all other Without hesitation he determined to having excellent (lignity on the same in winter where he was and explore the all places under the universal Heaven. interior. After vainly trying to get the With this vague direction they sailed consent of the wondering officials he away for Wardhouse, the present grew impatient, an(l without waiting for Vadoc, on the extreme north of Nor- authority boldly set out on a sledge to way, where was a fort and tra(lingsta find the capital. Before him had sped tion frequented by northern merchants, a messenger announcing the arrival of There, some two months later, Chan- a strange nation of singular gentleness cellor put in, but it was alone. In a and courtesy, an(l crc long he met with gale he had l)arte(l company with his a bearer of letters from the czar which consorts an(l he was never to see them turned his adventurous journey into a again. Deprived of his guidance, their triumph. At Moscow he was received lot was to wander about those (lesert with all the pomp amid splendor of seas till every man of them was a frozen which that baibaiic court with its By- corpse. It was in vain Chancellor zantine veneer xva.s capable. Though waite(l for theni to rejoin, and in spite Ivan had beeii on the throne for twenty of his forlorn condition, all(l all the years he was still a young man, an(l terrors which certain Scots lie met under his Queen Anastasias gentle there painted of the dangers before imitluence had iiot yet fallen into those him, lie resolved to procee(l alone, bloodthirsty frenzies which were soon Determuining either to bring that to to earmi hmini the surname of Terrible. pass which was intended, or else to (lie His kingdom already stretched from the the death. frontiers of Livonia and Lithuania to So he kept on his course to the Siberia, and lie was even then engaged unknown parts of tIme world, and sailed iii the conquests of Kazaii and Astra so far, Over a huge and mighty sea khami which were to exten(l his borders ~vhierein was no night at all, but a to the Caspian. A wise and sagacious continual light and brightness of the monarch still, lie was (loing his best to sun sliming clearly thereon that lie brimig the influence of the West to canie at last to a certain great bay. It tame his savage empire. I3ut Poland was the White Sea lie had found, and and the Hamisa, in a visiomi of what the as lie lay his head southiwaid aimd saw young giant on their borders was to be, it still stretching before him lie knew it deiiie(l hiini all assistance in art or craft for that place where, as time dreaming or miiatcrial, and rigorously barred him science of those days taught, the sea from the Western po~v~rs. trended (lown to Cathay- and the mimighity It is easy then to picture his exulta cities of which Marco Polo had told. tiomi at the appearance of the Eimghishi At the bottom of the bay they fouiid the oii his coasts. All through the winter river they had learned to expect, and Chamicellor was royally entertained at landing there, with the straiige skill Mosco~v, and imi the spring, so soon as those 01(1 muarimiers had, they eagerly the navigation was open, lie was sent questiolie(l the natives to know how far oii his way with a Promise of large Our First Ambassadors to Russia. 69 1)rivileges for his employers and an in- vitation from Ivan to Edward for an ambassador to come out and negotiate a treaty of commerce. The sensation which Chancellors glowing account of his achievement aroused was profound. At the earliest moment he was sent out again with a~ents both for the ciown and for the merchants in his company. At home high and low vied with one another in a1)planding a discovery which bid fair to eclipse the fame of Vasco da Gama. A com~Miny was founded nuder the rosiest colors. All the great officers of State took shares, and l)iocL1r~(l from Philip and Mary a charter incorporating them and their less exalted partners by the sounding title of Governor, Con- suls, Assistants. fellowship and com monaltv of the Merchant Adventurers by Seas and Navigations for the dis- covery of lands, territories, isles, do- minions, and seignories. Such was the birth of the famous Muscovy Coin- pany, or, as it was then commonly called, the Company of the New Trades, which was (lestine(l to make an era in the history of commerce by finally 1)reaking up the monopoly of the ilansa, and to l)C for many a. long year to come the focus of Anglo-liussian diplomacy. The enthusiasm was reasonable enough. Far and wide it ~vas bebeve(l that the problem of a short route to Cathay, to which the (liscovery of America was due, had received a new solution. By this time men ~vere t1sed to wonders. It was held to be only a matter of a few years for a practicable route to be opened, and thoughtful men in Venice., which was then the centre of the overland trade from the East, began to anticipate with anxiety a wonderful change and revolution iii this our l)art of the world. It was lonr th~re fore before the company entirely lost sight of the original purpose of their incorporatioli ; but after the first excitement had cooled the practical men of business were in the main more bent on fostering the promising bird in their hands than huiitin~ for those that might be left in the bush. To this end their agents were busy establishing a factory at Vologda, the great mart of the Dwina, and working for a concession from the government. Xillingworth, their chief agent, sue- ceeded, by his fine manners and the sl)leihlors of his five-foot golden beard, ~ producing so good an impression on Ivan that he not only granted the priv- ileges required, but resolved to send under the care of Chancellor a high officer of Vologda, one Ossip Nepeja, as ambassador to the English court. Not for the first or last time, however, the heavens frowned on the alliance. The autumn 1)roved tinusually stormy the ship in which Chancellor and Ne l)eja sailed, after battling with adverse gales for months, was dashed to pieces in Pitsligo Bay ; and the heroic Chan- cellor, who held that a man of valor could not commit a more dishonorable p~rt than for fear of danger to avoid an(l shun great attempts, was lost in trying to get the ambassador ashore. Nepeja, who might have been better spared, was saved, together with some half of his suite ; but it was only to fall into the hands of the Aberdeenshire wreckers. Shipwrecked crews iii those days could look for little mercy ; and, after suffering unspeakable indignities and being robbed of everything he pos- sessed, lie was only rescued at last at the urgent representations of the com- pany t.o the Scottish court. Such was the ominou5 greeting that befell the first Russian envoy on our coasts. Everything of cotirse was done to restore the stolen goods and sup~)lant the (hisagre cable impression. The Scot- tish government comforted him with a splen(lli1 reception. Two hundred gen- tlemen rode ~~ith him to the Border, an(l thence he was conducted to Eon (hon in state l)y the companys emissa- ries, where he was received ~vith all the 51)lendor of which royal and civic hos- pitality was capable. TIe became the lion of the season. For months he was feted and feasted, and all to such good purpose that early in the year 1557 a treaty of commerce was signed. So, with unprecedented courtesies eclipsing everything he had seen in Scotland, Our First Ambassadors to Russia. the ambassador was dismissed, charged with letters very tenderly drawn from the king and queeii to the czar, and with royal gifts to delight him, includ- ing (strangest of love-tokens !) a pair of lions. An expedition on a greater scale than had yet been attempted was ready to carry him back, and the choice of its commander, now Chancellor was gone, was a matter of the gravest concern. Not only was it perhaps the richest of its kind that had ever left our shores, but dangers were looming iii the East. The company was finding itself a factor in European politics. Rumor sai(l that Poland and the ITansa were taking alarm at the new tra(le, and an attempt on the ships was known to be contein- plated. The ambassador, too, had not proved the guileless barbarian the mei- chants took him for. We (10 not find him, they wrote out to their agent, now at the last so conformable to reason as we thought we should. And above all was wanted a man to whom could be entrusted the great project that the company had now formed for endeavoring to penetrate to Cathay overland. Forto nate lv there happened to be in London a man in every way equal to the (hitheult task. This man was Anthony Jenkinson, one of the least nnown and most successful of English l)ioneers, a man h)lessed with an iron constitution an(l a courage aiid tenacity of purpose that were in- domitable. and yet so tempered by tact and sweetened by winning manners that perhaps no man ever possessed in a higher (legree the nameless power of commanding the love and respect of Orientals. To him the fleet was com- mitted. and without mishap he carried it through to the iD~vina. Proceeding with all speed to Moscow he met with a most flattering reception an(l a h)olitical situation of which he knew how to make the most. Bent on a desperate effort to burst through the barrier which shut him from the Baltic the czar had declared war against Livonia. His troops had already crossed the frontier ; and he was prepared to go far to win the favor of a power which could supply him with war material. The company had seized the occasion in the usual way. They had already begun what we should now call a tra(le-gun l)Usiness, and among other merchandise that Jen- kinson brought out was a consignment of a hundred shirts of mail, such old things, new scoured, it was afterwards explained, as no man in England would wear. But the czar made no complaints, and not omily granted Jen- kinson the passports he desired, but also commissioned h mi as iml)erial agent for sun(hmy affairs of his own. It was of course impossible that the l)loj- ect could succeed. After a journey filled with the most diverting hazards by land amid sea he succee(ie(l in pemie trating to I3okhara, but it was only to convince himself that the coumitry was much too unsettled for trade. It is a marvel, saxs he, ~ if a king reign there above three or four years. Yet lie did not return empty. Besides com- mercial information of the highest mo macnt, lie brought back in his train a nuniber of ransomed Russian subjects and envoys from Bokhiara, Balkhi, and other khanates. The czar was de- lighted. Jenkinson was taken into high favor, and in recognition of his services he was able to obtain still larger l~rivileges for the English com puny. Among themn was the might to trade into Persia and the adjacent states, and thenceforth for many years the English flag passed to an(h fro imi an mm nal voyages upon the Caspian. Mean while the political situation had made a large stride. Ever since Ivans grandfather had wrested fromn the Hansa their great colonial emnporiumn at Novgorod, Narva, on the Gulf of Fin- lamid, had become the Constantinople of the l3altic. Hitherto tIme Easterhings had succeeded in retaining their hold, but (luring Jenkinsons absence Ivan had pushed his invasion to the sea Narva was in his hands, and Russia for tIme first timne had taken her place as a European power. Blind to the tremen- dous significance of time event England hastened to grasp the hand her new friend was holding out, and a squadron 70 Our First Ambassadors to Russia. sailed for Narva. But there were oth- ers more far-sighted. Lubeck, Ham- burg, and Dantzig, the leading cities of the Hansa, together with the still un- conquered towns of Livonia, at once, as their custom was, placed themselves under the protectorate of Poland, now at the zenith of its power, and infor- mation reached the company that the league meant to stop the new trade. Equally determined the English iner- chants persisted. So soon as their ships appeared in the Baltic they were seized and carried into Dantzig. Eliza- beth, ever ready for the lesser forms of retaliation, retorted with an e rnba.rgo on the Pantzi~ers in England and de- manded an explanation. It came from Sigismund of Poland. He declared the ships had been seized by his orders for attempting to enter Narva in defiance of his prohibition, for attempting in fact to run the blockade. Elizabeth thereupon raised the embargo, and Si- gismund released the captured vessels. But still the English government sat uneasy under the prohibition, and strove by every shift to drive Sigismund from his position. Conscious alike of his danger, his right, and his power, Sigismunds reply was as (lignifie(1 as it was firm. English merchants, he said, might have access and welcome to any port of his, but never would he permit his l)arbarous enemy to draw through Narva the resources of Western civil- ization ; and in words that to us, who know the end, have a deep pathos that is almost prophetic, he tried to open the queens eyes to what she was doing towards the destruction of all Chris- tian and liberal nations. We that kno~v best, he says at the close of his appeal, and border on him, do admon- ish other Christian princes in time that they (10 not betray the dignity, liberty, and life of them and their subjects to a most barbarous and cruel enemy. For now we do foresee, except other princes take this admonition, the Muscovite, puffed up in pride with those thinrs that be brought to the Narva, and made more perfect in warlike affairs with engines of war and ships, will as- sault this way on Christendom to slay 71 and make bound all that shall with- stand him ; which Cod defend. But England could think of nothing but the chink of the roubles and the development of her marine. So fast in fact grew the trade that in 1566 the company, finding itself so seriously hampered by independent merchants using the new route, obtained an act of Parliament confirming its monopoly of the whole of the Russian trade, whether by the Baltic or the North Sea. Jenkinson was sent out to obtain corresponding privileges from the czar, and with him he took not only a cordial letter from the queen, but, regardless of the fears of the Baltic powers, a number of experts and artisans whom she was despatching for the Russian service. The mission was almost too successful ; for in the following year Jenkinson was able to bring home, be- sides an exclusive eharter in the com- panys favor, two envoys from the czar. They were merchants, but under the guise of their calling were concealed instnictions to make overtures for a formal alliance, and to invite the queen to send out her great messenger. Nor was this all ; Jenkinson himself was entruste(1 with a message too high an(l secret to be committed to writin~ or even to the envoys ears. What it was is not entirely certain. Some con- temporary historians had no doubt that it was an offer of marriage, which Ivan is known to have had in his mind a little later if not then. But that it was so there is no direct evi(lence except this, that when afterwards lie grumbled at the queens having referred his secret to her Council instead of negotiating directly with him, she explained co- quettishly that she had taken that mod- est course by reason of her maidenly state. Whether this proposal was made or not, it is certain that Jenkii~son brought another as secret and romantic. It was to the effect that in case either sovereign should be driven from his or her kingdom, each should find asylum in the dominions of the other. Ivans infatuation was growing embarrassing. Then, as now, nothing was further from the wishes of the English gov 72 Our First Ambassadors to Russia. eminent than to l)e entangled in any English ships. To get the concession general alliance, an(l yet it was clear renewed on a firmer and wider basis that if the trading privileges already without coninutting England an inch obtained were to be preserved, it was deeper thaii she had already gone, was now impossible to avoid sen(ling a Ran(lolphs real business ; but against formal embassy. Ivan had specially the frenzy of the exasperated tyrant he desired Jenkinson to return with Eliza was armed with nothing better than beths answer, but so annoyed was she the fine steel of modern (liplomacy and a.t the embarrassment his success had a silver cup, whose lack of intrinsic raise(l that she was resolved not to let value he was characteristically in him go back. his reward for so much structed to supply by expatiation on its patience, courage, and skill was that artistic merit. And yet in spite of a with which Elizabeth was wont to reception so cold tha.t for a time lie was crown her ablest servants, and on his in fear of his life, lie at length suc head was visited the trouble for which ceeded in obtaining aii audience of the the impossible position that she as czar, and so cleverly did lie exercise his usual had taken up was only to blame, art that the following year lie brought So lie fell into disgrace as a man too back a concession larger than anything zealous in the interest of the czar, aiid the company had enjoye(l before, aiid was put out of the way with a comriiis that without having comniitted himself sion in the navy, further thaii to escort home aii amnbas The importance which the govern sador charged by Ivan to lay his strange ment attached to the mission is marked ideas officially before the queen. He bx the highi reh)tltatioii of thie maii to seems, hi()~~e~~er,to hi ave lcft Ix aii un(her whom it was finally entrusted. This the impression that these i(leas would was none other than Thomas Randolph, be favorably received, and Savin, the the hardheaded (hil)homlatist oa whioni new ambassador, carried with hini a Mary Stuart had beeii speii(hiiig her readymade schiemiie for aii offensive smiles in vain, an(l who recently hiad and defensive alliance. To this Ivan, been expelhed from Scotland for hiis with a savage impatience of Western masterly and unscrupulous hiandihing of (hipholiiacy, (lemali(he(l a categorical aiid the tortuous intrigues ot her rebelhiotis peremptory answer ; but after negotia subjects. Withi hum went a brilliant tions whichi hasted thie best part of a stiite, including the poet Turberville, year the English govermimnent succeeded who was his secretary, ai id who seems in (hismissing their unwelcome visitor, to have spent mtich of his time bewail apparently content with vague assur- ing his exile in detestably versitied aucts of the quectis good-will. They letters to Spenser and other literary were l)iObabhy not serious for a mo- frieiids. For the barbarous surround- meat ; but lvaii was. I-Ic had even ings of the court, the paganism, say- begun to store treasure at Vohogda, and agery, and shiamiieless vices of the a large flotilla ~vas being prel)ared to country he could not sufficiently ex- carry him and hiis riches at a moments press his disgust ; and, hike the oilier iiotice down the IDwina to the English Englishmen of the time who hiave left ships. On them, for the hour of his pictures of the degraded life they found iiee(l, his eyes ~vere now more firmly there, lie seenis to hiave been particu fixe(l thami ever by an exploit with which larly repelled by the women, iiot so the whole Baltic was ringing. niuchi that they painted their faces, as The companys agent had written that they did it so badly. It was imideed home for thiirteeii ships to transport the no pleasant task that Randlohphi hiadl goods that hind accumulated during the before him. Ivan, furious at the delay embargo in the companys warehouses his warmiithi encoumitere(l, aii(l suspect- at Narva. So large a fleet could only ing the reason why Jeiikinson had not quicken the aharmiis of the Baltic powers, returne(1, hind taken oceasiomi to stis an(l the kiiig of Sweden, having unsuc pend the colieessioii and arrest the cessfully protested by a special envoy Our First Ambassadors to Russia. against the Russian trade, resolved to take the law into his own hands. But on the Spanish main John Hawkins had just been demonstrating the new art of commerce sword in hand, and the fleet sailed armed and organized like a naval force. William Boroughs, who afterwards rose to the highest ranks of the service, was appointed captain-general, and boldly entere(1 the Baltic to fight his way to the Narva quays. Till the very mouth of Narva Bay was reached nothing appeared to dispute his passage, but off the Tyters islands a blockading sqnadron of six privateers was sighted. In vain they attempted to escape. Boroughs gave chase, and after a short action suc- ceeded in capturing and destroying five out of the six ships. Thus Savin re- turned to find Ivan in his hunger for a navy more eager than ever for English help, and, in order to turn his masters wrath from himself, he seems to have persuaded him that his reception had been little better thaii an insult. The queen had not kissed the cross on Ivans letter before she opened it ; she had handed his ambassador over to two members of the Council, and in various other ways had offended the barbarians (lignity. Such excuses sorted but too well with Ivans growing ill-humor towards the queen. Not only had his special request that Jenkinson should come back with Savin been ignored, but no one had been sent in his place and what was still worse, the sailors whom his agents had enlisted l1ad been refused permission to leave the country. It was a moment when England, threat- ened by an overwhelming coalition, needed every man she could call her own. But this Ivan ignored, an(1 under the weight of so much prox ocation his unstable temper broke down. Taking advantage of some irregularities on the part of the companys agents he once more cancelled their concession, and sat down in his passiomi to write a furi- ous and insulting letter to the queen. Rude as it was, it had the desired effect. In alarm for the trade which had now become almost indispensable for the supply of material for the dock- 73 yards, the government saw there was but one thing to be done. They seat for Jenkinson, acciedite d him amnbassa- dor, and (lespatched him to coax ivan back into an easier temper. After the treatment he had received a less devoted man might well have refused the office, for Ivans temper was likely just now to be a hard thing to soothe. Famine and the plague were raging in his dominions ; the S~vedish war was on his hands, and the Crim Tartars had just swept down upon his capital and burnt it to the ground. It is a matter of no surprise therefore that Jenkinson lauded to find he was too late, a.n(l that the czar, having been l)elsna~led that his 01(1 favorite had played him false, was swearing to have his life if ever he caught him ~vithtn his reach again. In vain they implored him to turn back. I determined with myself, lie says with the true ring in his words, which so stirs us to the men of that time, rather to put my life into his hands, and by the providence of God to prosecute the charge committed unto me. than t.o return home in vain. And on lie went with his life in his hand th rough the plaguestricken coun- try, expose(1 to the insults and violence of the savage officials, till after delays and rebuffs innumerable he gained the presence of the exasperate(l madman lie had come to cajole. At the first interview it was practically ov.er. The favorite was favorite again; the que ciis explanations were accepted and at a subsequent audience Ivan promised almost all that was asked. But still lie could not forgive the queen for having preferred the interests of boors and merchants over his own princely and secret affairs, and with dignity en onghi lie refused to reopen the question of the alliance. But as for the merchamits, for his loving sis- ters sake, and the desire she had to be friends with him forever, he would for- give them and forget his displeasure. But if the queen our sister, he burst out at the end, hind not sent thee, Anthony, unto us, God knowethi what we should have done to them. No mission could have been more success- Our First Ambassadors to Russia. fully executed, and it is pleasant to think that unlike most men who served Elizabeth, Jenkinson was now al)le to rest from his labors and look back upon his adventurous career without regret. Thus, says , being weary and growing old I am content to take my rest in mine own house, chiefly com- forting myself in that my service hath been honorably accepted and rewarded of her Majesty and the rest by whom I have been employed. But cleverly and completely as Jen- kinson had done his work, it was not long before the czar was again uneasy. As the load of atrocities under which his conscience was pinched grew in bulk, the spectre that seems ever to stand before the Russian throne grew more distinct. Ivan lived in dread of assassination, or of some sudden np- heaval of his desperate people; and tormented by suspicion of every one about him he began to brood again over Elizabeths objection to confirm their secret arran~ement by oath, till he worked himself into a passion of mis- trust and wrote another angry letter reiterating all his 01(1 complaints. Not even in the far-off asylum of his rest- less dreams could he now see a safe retreat, and afraid to rule and afraid to fly, he had taken the extraordinary step of handing over his throne to a Tartar khaa, while he himself, with the bulk of his treasure and the most devoted of his court, retired, like Louis the Eleventh, to a Plessis-la-Tour which he had made for himself to the north of Moscow. It was in this con(lition that he was found by the diplomatic agent who was sent to learn his grievances; but al- though the messenger selected was the man of his choice, Jenkinsons old in- terpreter Sylvester, he could not en- tirely win the trembling tyrant from his alarm. Ivan complained still of Elizabeths guarded replies, of her haughty refusal of his offer to shelter her in case of need, and vowed that if she had only dealt with him as frankly and cordially as he had hoped, his whole kingdom should have been at her feet as though it had been her own. On Sylvesters return no time was lost in sending him back with a soft answer. but this lie was destined never to de- liver. For no sooner had he set foot on Russian soil than he was struck dead by lightning, and his papers were con- suined. Gods will be done, was all that Ivan could say when they told him; but the tragic news gave a deep and lasting shock to his superstitious nature. His health was breaking; his enemies were closing in upon him; the Crim Tartars were stirring for another raid; Stephen Bathori of Poland was threatening Moscow; the Swedes had at last succeeded in shutting him from the Baltic; and now Heaven itself seemed in league with them to bar with its thunders the only channel from which he could get the sinews of war. In his dire need he once more turned frankly to the shy sea-queen, sent for one of the chief agents of the company and induced liii~~,in order to save the next spring voyage, to attempt to carry overland his offers and his requests. The man who thus undertook the desperate mission of l)iercing the lines that environed the czar was Jerome Horsey, another of those remarkable prototypes of our Chives and hastings which the Muscovy Company called forth. Apprenticed as a lad to the company, he had succeeded in so far ingratiating himself with the Russian officials that he was already able to ex- ercise considerable influence with gov- ernment. The danger of the attempt was no secret. Ivan with pleasant frankness told him plainly lie should not know what he carried, lest under torture he might reveal it; and in pres- ence only of his chief secretary and the messenger the czar concealed in the false side of a three-penny brandy-flask the letter he had written to his royal sister. So prepared Horsey set out, and after a number of romantic adventures and hairbreadth escapes succeeded in carry- ing his precious bottle to the court at Richmond, where through the good offices of his distinguished kinsman Sir Edward Horsey, captain of the Wiglit, he was able to present his letter to the 74 Oa~r First Ambassadors to Russia. 75 queen in person. Her princely nostrils, send to Ivan an ambassador to explain always sensitive to evil savors, were the difficulties that stood in the way of offended by the smell of spirits which what he asked ; but naturally enough Horsey hoped he had disguised ; but in nobody quite liked the task. It was all other respects she was so delighted first offered to a son of the Earl of Bed- with Ivans message and the romantic ford, but Ivans ferocity was now so journey of its bearer, that she made well known that he prudently declined Horsey an esquire of her body. Be- the honor. It was, however, accepted yond the urgent request for the ~varlike eventually by Sir Jerome Bowes, the stores which Ivan needed the exact most picturesque figure in all the story, tenor of Horseys instructions are un- a hot-headed, hard-riding Border knight known ; but there can be little doubt of grim humor, rough tongue, and ready that he came to prepare the ground for rapier, whose stoutness of heart and the proposal the czar was about to make pride of race would have carried him for the hand of a kinswoman of Ehiza lightly before the devil himself. But, beth. At all events in the Spring the beyond a fine presence, these were his Muscovy fleet of thirteen tall ships only qualifications for a piece of diplo- sailed for Russia, carrying with them macy in which the intrinsic difficulties by the queens order Horsey an(l all were likely to be rendered insuh)erable the wa.r material which Ivan had asked by the action of the anti-English party for. So formidable was the consign- that now surrounded the czar. These ment that a Danish privateer squa(lron men, who had been gaine(1 over by was hurried to intercept it at the North Ilanse and other traders, were careful Cape. But it was in vain. The En- to arrange that Bo~ves should be con- ghi shi captains sxvep~ them from their ducte(l U~ the country by officers op path an(I sailed triumphantly into the posed to his n]iSSiOn. Constant quarrels Dwina. Horsey was received with marked his journey to Moscow, and out- open arms. Ivans Anglomania rose to side the city a scene took place such as its highest point, and in the following the international vanities of that time year an ambassador was despatched to too often aroused. Four gentlemen of ask for the hand of Lady Mary Has high rank, attended by four hundred tin(~s sister of the Earl of Iluntingdon horse, rode out to welcome him with a find cousin of the queen, provi(led he civility from the czar, which after a dis found her sufficiently pretty aiid plump. taut salutation, they desired him to For a time the town could talk of receive (lismounted. Bowes bluntly nothing else. Although the lady had refused, and a long parley ensued as to recovered but recently from the small- what was to be clone. Eventually it pox the ambassador on his introduction was agreed that both parties should (us professed himself dazzled with her mount at the same time, and even then, beauty, and her friends began playfully says Bowes, There was great niceness to call her Empress of Muscovy. But xvhiose foot should not be first on the difficulties arose. To the offer of mar rround. In this spirit Bowes con- riage was attached a new proposal of tinned to act. A stalwart jealousy for alliance ; and when the lady under his own and his mistresss honor was stoo(l Ivans character, and that lie was the high line lie chose to take ; and, so themi enjoying the society of his sixth far from bending like others to the wife, she took alarm, and, in spite of bullying of the czar, lie handsoniely thie ambassadors assurance that the played the bully himself. Nothing he existing wife was an O1)staele of no could construe as a slight was suffered moment, the queen was easily per- to pass. He was forever resenting suaded, at the entreaties of the ladys something. He found the horse of the relations, to allow her to refuse on officer sent to conduct him to his official various plausible excuses the brilliant reception better than the one provided but formidable match. for himself, and he insisted on walking. It was now of course necessary to lie made a point of presenting the 76 Our First Ambassadors to Russia. queens letters with his hat on, and his left the room than Ivan broke out in only answer to the brutal threat it drew praise of a man so jealous of his mis- from the czar was to cock it defiantly tresss honor, protesting that he wishe(l and vow his mistress uncovered for no he had such a servant. Which prince on earth. To some Suggestion whoreson of you all, he is said to reflecting on the queens conduct and have cried to his confounded ministers, dignity, his argument in reply was to would have dared so much for me ! fling down his gauntlet on the floor of A secretary was at once sent round to the council-chamber and challenge any the ambassadors lodging with an ample man in Russia to fight him for his mis- apology, and the fullest protestations of tresss honor. Things culminated a.t the czars love for Elizabcth and favor last in a violent personal altercation towards her devoted servant. Next day with the czar himself. Irritated appal- the prime minister came in person to in ently past bearing by the queens con- quire into his complaints of the conduct tinned coldness and the pretensions of of the anti-English l)arty, with the result her envoy, Ivaii flew into one of his that Shalkan the chancellor, its exalted passions and told Bowes roundly that leader, was soundly flogged. Thence- lie did not consider Elizabeth his equal. forth Sir Jeromes difficulties disap Sir Jeromes Border blood was up in a peared, and his enemies had to confine monient, and, regardless of the conse- themselves to indirect operations. To quences, he swore the queen his mis- this end, as it would seem, he was in tress was the equal of any l)rince in duced one day to display his horseman Christe~doni, however great he might ship in taming an intractably vicious think himself, and a plincess well able stallion ; but so far from breaking his to make the czar of Muscovy, or any neck, as was int~nded, lie sat it tifl other who offended her, smart of his tinder the severity of his handling it nialice., Yea cried Ivan derisively. (Iropped (head beneath him. Such a. I-low sayest thou of the Freiichi kina feat was brutal enough to complete hi~ and the Spaiiish ? Marry, was the conquest of the czar, who, as the chron stout if ungrammatical reply, I hold icler says, honored and loved such a the queen, my mistress, as great as any (laring fellow and a mad blade to boot. of them both. Then what sayest Ivan was in fact entirely infatuated~ thou, the czar went on, to the eni- and not only accepted the offer of medi peror of Germany? Such is the ation which Elizabeth was tendering greatness of the queen my mistress, instead of an alliance, but announced retorted the ambassador triumphantly, his intention of sending to London a that the king her father not long since more splendid embassy than ever, aiid in his wars with France had the em- vowed that, if the queen would not peror in his pay. More fuiious than send him back one of her kinswomen to ever, Ivan could find no better repartee wife, lie would come iii person with all than to swear that, were Bowes not an his treasure and marry one of them ambassador, lie would throw him out of there. Every suit, however hopeless, doors, and Bowes, undaunted, bade him which Bowes presented, was granted do as lie liked, but warned his ferocious a commercial treaty was drafted by antagonist to beware his niistresss yen- which none but Englishmen were per- geance. Dominated as it would seem, mnitted to trade into Russia, and the like the cowardly bully he was, by the entire foreign commerce of the country unflinching courage of the Enghishinian, was thus placed in thicir hands. We Ivan in a sudden change of mood bade seem almost to have been on the brink him shortly to be gone, and Bowes, of another India in Muscovy, when with a haughty salute, went off with all suddenly all was changed, and the great the honors of the field. empire was giving thanks that Ivan the The extraordinary and well-earned Terrible was dead. result of the scene was a complete tri- Sir Jeromes enemies sprang up thick umnph for Bowes. No sooner had he around hini. Everything he had gained At the Sign of the Pantiffel. 77 was lost, and Shalkan, the flogged ehan- fifty years ago a Russian 1)roPosed to celloi, who was now OmHil)OtCIlt, sent celebrate its tereenter1ar~ with an inter him a mocking message that the English national lw)nument to Willoughby and emperor was (lea(1. Confined to his Chancjllor. But he spoke beyond the house Bowes placed it in as good a state book, not knowing how grini a joke fate of (lefence as means allowed, and ha(I in store for the ocCasion. For, as waite(l for the worst. For t~vo months every one knows, the ceremony which he was thus kept a prisoner in daily solemnized the tercentenary of our fear of his life, and then came a sum- friendship with Russia was the declara- mons to repair to court for his conq~. tion of a most l)loody and ill-advised It was given by Shalkan with sttl(lie(l war ; an(l the only monument Chancel indignities, and l)efore the fuming am br received were the scars left by a bassador was allowed to enter the l)res- hostile British squadron in that same ence of the new emperor his sword was great bay where the astonished Musco- forcibly taken from him. Not to be vites ha(l welcomed him just three hun out(lone in insolence he straightway sat dred years 1)efore. (lown, pulled off his boots, and sending JULIAN CORBETT. for his bedgown, slippers, and night- cap, vowe(l he would enter the presence so, since he mi~bt not go as a soldier. It was only- by threats of violence that From Temple Bar. lie was induced to accept the czars cool AT THE SIGN OF THE PANTUFFEL. letters and trivial present for the queen, PREFATORY. and with such reckless dehanee did he AFTER the fashion of childrens carry himself to the last, that it would storybooks, once upon a time there was seem to have been only by Horseys a man called Mildenhall at least, that exertions that lie was suffered to leave is ~vhiat people used to call him who had Moscow alive. Abandoned by the dis- only seen his name written, but had gusted English colony Bowes and his never heard it proliounce(l Milden folbo~vers set out armed to the teeth, hall, in three syllables ; for that is how and, insulted at every- step yet too for he spelt it., and of course they did not lni(lal)lc for violence, made their way at know any- better. But lie himself and last to St. Nicholas Bay. The embark his friends pronounced it quite (hiffer ation ha(l all the aspect of an operation ently ; they used to sax- with i~reat em of war, but even then they had not phasis My / and then shut (bo~vn their heard the last of him. For once safe teeth as su(ldenly as possible after on l)oar(1 lie managc(l by a daring expe war(ls ; yet tiot so su(l(lenly but that (lielit to return the czars letters and an u would also rush out aii(l escape l)leseiit on the hands of the insolent before tliey could prevent it (after the official who had attende(l him to the manner of that doughty knight, Mar coast. Iii vain they l)tirsue(l him, mion, wheti lie bolted out at the castle thinking to coml)el him to receive them gate as the l)ortetillis was in the act of back. I-Ic had marked the last point in falling, and the bars (lesceliding raZe(l the game, iiii(l sailed axvay (leri(hing his l)lutiie and ho~v about the their efforts. horses tail ?). But to continue ; as, as So eli(15 the first chapter of Anglo- I u-as saying, the whole three-syllable Russian history- and the story of the name was suppOsed to be rushing oLit men who made it. To Ilorsey fell the of a maiis nioutli with great impetu task of filling the breach which Bowess osity-, lie would let its head out an(1 then heroic diplomacy had the illluck to cleverly- bite it in two so that the rest make, an(l well lie played his part. of it never reached the open air and the With the accession of a new Anglophile light of (lay, lint being swallowed down czar a good understanding was reestab - agaiii, was kept down there to (10 duty lislied. For three centuries it continued for the next occasion. l3ut the tail, the with a cordiality so unbroken that some 1, being as it would seem not easily ~8 choked down, would struggle up and get out in a very much enfeebled con- (lition as the man opened his mouth again; aiid so the whole name sounded Myn(gurgle)l. Now the man with this extraordinary name had also an extraordinary thing happen to himself ; a young lady pulled him out of a river wherein he was drowning. She did not want to marry him (this was not extraordinary, for lie was rather old and ugly) ; lie did not want to niarry her (this was perhaps more curious, as she was young and very pretty) ; but lie lay on his back on the grass, when she had pulled him out of the water, and refused point blank to propose to her, or even to accept her hand if she offered it to him. Such was the procedure of an elderly and respectable city merchant; and the extraordinary part of the story is, that lie still looks upon this abrupt way of conducting himself as the most rational thing that he ever did in his life. I know he does, for I myself am he. But, as the story has begun to get about among my friends, and appears to be seriously damaging my reputation for sanity among them, I am anxious to explain pUl)liely, once for all, how the thing really happened. I. THE DAY BEFORE. THE Pantuffel Inn is a charming riverside hostelry, in equally charming country, not a thousand miles (by a long chalk) from London. When I say a riverside hostelry, I thank heaven (in a parenthesis) that it is not on the Thames. No, no ! the Bibble is the river; the Bibble (as I say, thank heaven) as yet unknown to cockney fame, and therefore still quiet and peaceful, haunted only by a stray fisher- man or two, or by some solitude-seeker like myself and by the herons and coots which love to splash through the reeds along the bank. Yet it is an excellent fishing locality, and the country around, heavily wooded, more charming than any that I know along the much-be- praised Thames. When I was staying down there, I was suffering from overwork in busi- ness, and the strain of London noise and bustle, and consequently wanted to be as quiet aiid undisturbed as l)Ossibhe. In the Pancuffcl gar(leiis I discovered a hinge beech-tree (lown by the riverside the branches stretched far out over the stream, which ran deep and strong be neatli them. It was peihaps rather a strange thing for me to do, but I was possesse(1 by the desire of solitude and idleness I procured a hammock and had it slung along one of these boughs so that it swung some feet above the water aii(l well out from the bank. It was a (hifficult matter to oet into the hammock in this position, but the gar- dener left me the ladder which he had used in fixing it up, and therewith I assure(l myself that the task of mount- ing into my little nest was a perfectly practicable one. I promised myself that I would spend many an hour in idle happiness in this novel retreat ; cci tainly I was very fa.r froni anticipating the excitements which would intru(le upon my proposed seclusion, or the awkward situations in which I should be involved, owing to my eccentric choice of the spot in which my ham mock was swinging. That same night there came in two young fellows, Cambridge men, to stay aday or two: Mr. Bob Tyncher to fish, so he said (his entire fishing outfit was, however, a curious one, and consisted of a very weak trout-rod, a heavy jack- line, a couI)le of salmon-flies, a little perch-tackle, aiid a box of lob-worms). His companion, Mr. Tattler, had come cos I met Bob at Paddington, y know ; and lie was lookin so much more lively than usual (he and I are up together at Trinity, you see), that I thought he must be spendin his Long Vac. pretty pleasantly; and so I told him Iud take a cut in, too, for a day or so; keep him compny, dontcher- know? So, as he was only comm down here fishin for a couple of days, and as I had got my traps at the sta- tion, waitin for somethin to turn up, why (lown I came too. Here Mr. Bob Tyncker muttered to himself something of which I caught At the Sign of the Pantz{fl~el. part to the effect that he wished to heaven he could have given Tattlcr the slip ; Tattler wasnt a bad sort of chap, but he was so confoundedly talkative, and altogether deucedly in the way, just at present. In the course of the evening Tattler came aud sat with me in the smoking- rooni, Tyneker having gone out to gron iid -bait, he told Tattler. But Tattler evidently thought his proceed- ings were growing a trifle mysterious. He dont seem very chummy just now, he complained to me ,sticking an eyeglass in his eye and staring at me through it solemnly enough, but in a halfinquiring, halfimpudent sort of way that seemed habitual to him, and that made me feel inclined to burst out laughing shouldnt wonder if lie was courtin the barmaid out in the back garden. What else brings him down here ? He aint a lishermnan, that I know. And besides, why should he ~vant to write a little note in a surrepti- tious sort of way, and slip ont with it like a burglar, if hes only gone to ground-bait? Praps thats how they ground-bait where Tyneker comes from; but they dont do it for fish, any way. And the aggrieved Mr. Tattler pro- ceeded to inform me that lie himself caine from Karatoga, New Zealand, where every one was always pleased to see a friend, lie said again, some- what complainingly. In this mood Tattler was not quite so entertaining as I felt lie might gener- ally be, and I ref red early. I deter- mnine(l to keep my little nook and hammock to myself if possible. Tattler was not a bad specimen of the genus un- clergrad., and certainly Tyncker seemed a very good specimen; but I wanted quiet and rest, and felt that talkative undergraduate society was just then not quite to my taste. II. MORNING. IT was ten oclock, and a marvellously fine August day. I had contrived to give Mr. Tattler the slip soon after breakfast (it struck me that Mr. Bob Tyncker was endeavoring to do the 79 same), had retire(1 quietly to my ham mock, and was now swinging lazily over the Bibble. The great beech-tree formed a leafy tent about inc ; the enormous steni towered ul)wards from the very brink of the river ; thousands of the roots had pushed themselves through the soft an(l crumbling bank, and were hanging (lown in matte(1 network in the water. Behind them the stream had washed away the earth how far I could not tell, for they formed a sort of fringe in front of the cavity ; but through their interstices I could see the current glancing, black and deep, right in no (1cm eath the treacherous bank. Two or three long, thin roots thrust themselves forth from the darkness be- neatli the fringe, and swung with a slow, living sort of motiomi in the stream. I began to picture to myself the fancy that they were the feelers of some cri~antic river-octopus, lying there in his den expectant of prey. I hope to goodness I shant fall out of this hammock, I said to myself with a sort of shudder, turning my at- tention with some relief elsewhere. The ol)posite bank was low, and skirted by heavy clumps of bushes then came an artificial embankment, following the windings of the river, and away beyond were water-meadows, and then gently sloping and well- wooded hills. A few minutes con- templation of the peaceful scene was sufficient to rid me of my late creepy sensation ; and 011CC more, like a snail drawing in its horns, my attention drew back to my immediate neighborhood. The tree was opened about me like an immense unibrella. On the land side the boughs hung down, many feet distant from the stem, in a semi-circle. Beneath them I had a glimpse of the old-fashioned inn gardens, crowded with rhododendron - bushes and cypresses, and, farther still, the quaintly gabled inn itself. The semi-circle of the boughs that overhung the water came much lower many of them indeed were trailing their lowest leaves in the sur- face itself. Beneath thiem a few dace moved gently along, close to the top; At the Sign of the Pantufl~el. 80 sometimes fioativez lazily in the broad sunshine OUtSi(1C ; sometimes coming iI)tO the shade, and they flicked in sport the dipping leaves as they passed. I half expected to see my friend Mr. Tyncker stroll (Iowa from the inn an(l try a fly out under the branches. But then,.on the opposite side of the river were those heavy clumps of 1)ushes, growing well out over the water ; an(l their branches, dipping into the current, were matte(l an(l bound inextrical)ly with (Irifting weeds. The stream beneath them ran (leep and slug ~ishlv there, if anywhere, were the lurking holes of great perch and I recollected Mr. Tvncker s heavy peich- tackle, and his box of lob-worms. I was therefore not at all surprise(l to see him appear su(ldenly on the other bank b~himl the fringe of bushes. Through the boughs I could see him plainly, but, as was to be expected, lie could not very easily see me. I did not waot him to see me. I ~vante(l to be quiet, and not to talk to frivolously min(le(l uli(lergraduates. So I lay quite still. I expected to see him eagerly put his rod together. and start his fishing. But he did nothing of the sort ; lie pro (lllce(l from a sidepocket an immense handkerchief, red, an(l about the size of a decently minded flag ; and then lie climbed up the steep embankment be hind him. On the top of the embank ment stoo(l a dead tree ; up this tree, with some little trouble, Mr. Tyneker contrived to climb a few feet ; and tie(l his flag to a withered branch in such a maniier that its full surface hung ex- actly at right angles to the course of the river. This l)erioimai~ce he car ned out with great caution, and lookin~ carefully around to see that lie was not ol)serve(h. Then lie crept down the bank again, sat down an(l waite(h. That is a queer way to fish I thought, rather interested. He sat, and waited, some few mo- ments then with a start lie seeme(l to recollect his purpose of fishing. He hurriedly put together his rod (that very weak trout-rod), put on it the heavy jack-line, affixed a rather staring float; then tying on a hook which seeme(l already baited, (iropped it in quietly between two bushes, and watched the float swim (lowIl and be- come fixed among the branches of the lower bush. I could scarcely believe the evidence of my own eyes I had seen, quite clearly, that already baited hook as it swung out over the water, an (1 recog- nize(l it to be nothing more or less than one of the salmonflies. What a queer way to fish ! This time being thoroughly surprised, I had almost said it aloud. But Mr. Tyneker, having accom- phished all these curious things in a very preoccupied sort of way, once more sat down at the foot of the em- bankment, and waited. lie min(led his float not a bit and, poor fisherman as I may be, I could not see why lie should mind it ; I doubt the ad- visability of fishing for perch with a salmon-fly. As the young fellow waited, he stare(I persistently down stream, as if momentarily expecting to see some one appear along the embankment. I fell to wondering over two or three matters connecte(l with the present state of things. Iii the first l)lace, how did Mr. Tyneker come to be on the opposite 5i(le of the river ? I could answer this question easily a rustic foot-bridge crossed froni the Pantuffel, just by the waterfall which sounded pleasantly ronn(l the bend of the stream, to the wooded hillside opposite. And the footpath thence led along the waterside through the wood, to the embankment beneath which my young acquaintance was fish was sitting and pretend- ing to fish. Secondly, hiow was it that lie had ap l)ea.re(l so suddenly ? If he hind come along the to1) of the embamikment I should have uioticed 1Pm before he reached his l)resent station. I inclined to believe (perhaps helped thereto by the mysterious caution of his hate pro- ceedings) that he must have crept along behind the bushes, out of sight of At the Sian of the Pantufrel. At the Sian of the Pantuffel. people who might see him if he were on the to1) of the bank. Aoain his ha ndkerchief, that great red flag of his, was on the top of the bank; people who coul(l have seen him there could certainly see his, handker- chief. Deducti6n it must be a previ- ously concerted signal of his presence. Finally, who were the. people who were expecting the signal, an(l where were they ? In one (lirection it faced the wood ; somehow I at once dis- carded the i(lea of the people l)eing there ; my conspirator ha(l himself come through the wood a few minutes ago. In the opposite (lirection- it faced exactly down the course of the river. Aha it must be meant for some one living in a fair-sized country house ~vhieh 1 110W for the first time noticed, half-amile avav in that direction, stan(ling in the midst of the meado~vs, all(l whose windows and the red hand- kerchief (lirectly faced one another. I hugged myself on the correctness of m reasoning, on noticing that some one had come through a gar(Ien gate of this very house, and wa.s n ow making HI) the mea(low to~var(ls the sional a girl (a very pretty one too, I mlotice(l as she (lre~v nearer) in a light summer (lrcss, with a scarf of dull goid knotted about her waist, and a basket on her arm suchas la(lies generally early when they go a-gathering wild flowers. She was tall and xvellshaped, and came along with a swin~in~ step that told of health an(l youth, as well as of haste. At first she had made for the em- bankment, but instead of mounting it (when she would have been visible from Mr. Tynekers station) she sud- (lenly turned a little back, and came up the mi(l(lle of the water meadow ; I ~~re5nnie with the idea of stealing a march on the young gentleman making him jump, in fact. The nu- merous little watercourses which ran in the meadov occasioned a good deal of jumping on her own part, but she took them with an ease and lightness which fairly astonished me. As Mr. Tyncker stared eagerly down stream, along the bank, and the young lady drew closer and closer, the thought LIV1N~ AGE. VOL. LXXXIII. 4266 81 of my own position struck me suddenly, arid with such violence as almost sent me flying out of my hammock.. Here was going to be a meeting l)robal)ly a stolen lovers meetingof a young lady and gentleman, and I, a respect- able elderly city merchant. ~)laying the eavesdropper It was awkward for me, but I recognized with a groan the in)~)ossibihity of escaping from my. pre- (licament. I should take at least five minutes to get out safely from my ham- mock, and in all ~)robability I should scare a~vay, am)(l l)revent the meeting of, these two young people. I had bet- ter lie still. So I (li(l. As the young lady drew in under the further side of the high bank, I lost sight of her a moment lafer, audI she was on the top, close by the (leadi tree wherefrom the re(I handkerchief wits listlessly depending in the still hea.t of the day. She peered cautiously over, (Iowa upon Mr. Tyncker. and laughed softly to herself as she noted the intent- ness with which he was watching for her (she was rery pretty !). Theii she suddenly grew serious and drew back. A moment afterwards she again Peel)e(l over the to1) of the bank, and called timidly, ~ 13oob Kitty ! ejaculated Mr. Rob Tyneker ecstatically ; and rushing up the bank, enfolded her in an emubrace which, to an elderly party like myself, would have been absolutely crushing. But young bones dont seem to feel these things as old ones would ; at any rate the young lady did not cry out (as I should have done). Presently she disengage(l herself. It was high time that she did so ; for a stout audi (by his manner of taking the watercourses) evidently elderly gentle- man, had suddenly appeared through that samne garden gate of the country house, and was now skimming over the meadows at his best pace, (lirecthy towards the young couple. Uncle ! exclaimned the girl with an accent of consternation, as she caught sight of him. I fancied that Mr. Tyncker swore vehemently, under his breath. 82 Just our luck ! he said, Its always the same I and theres no time to lose. 1 say, Kitty, run roun(I to the weir quickly youll find Tattler there. Mr. Tattler? cried the ~ii1, in as- tonishment. Yes, that wretch Mr. Tattler, as you used to call him well, lies sitting down by the weir, I think, reading a novel. Ask him to come down here as quickly as he can, and along under the bank, so that no one can see him. Ill ge~ him to take my place, and that will perplex the old man so quick, Kitty The girl, evidently nmuch frightened at the unlucky result of her little esca- pade, was fleeing hurriedly away when Bob called after her again and I say, Kitty, Ill be hanging about here all the afternoon, you know. Mr. Tattler must have been chanced upon very opportunely, for few seconds elapsed before he appeared, coming along cautiously under cover of the bank, as diiected, and quickly reached his friend. Sly dog said Mr. Tattler, digging the unfortunate Bob very violently in the ribs, so this is your little game, is it? Dont, said Tyncker viciously; but I say, Tattler, would you niin(l taking my rod for nie a few minutes ? I wont be long away. Im going round to the inn I know I said Tattler sarcastically, catching his friend another dig, ~~cry much round to the inn I Miss Kitty Dobsons Entire, cli? Oh, Bob, Bob, you are a bad lot ! I know all about it. No you dont, sai(l Bob quietly, thrusting the rod into Tattlers hands, and then hurriedly departing. And I say, Tattler, said Bob, turn- ing round when lie had crept along under the bank a few yards, an old gentleman in a rage will be here in half a minute. Hell be awfully sur- prised to find you here instead of me just keep it up a bit, old chap, will you, and dont let him know it was me, Bob Tyneker, that he saw here just now? At the Sign of the Pantuffel. Right you are, said Mr. Tattler, as readily as possible anything to oblige I Mr. Tyneker crept on, under cover, till lie reached the wood, and there dis- appeared. His friend climbed the bank, peeped over, saw the old gentleman coming, and ducked down again. The astute Mr. Tattler evidently took in the whole situation at once, and settled himself down to fish with an air of ex- pectant aniusenient. His first thought was to pull up the line, and see what bait might be on the hook. When he tried to do so, however, it a l)peared that the float was emitangled among the matte(l wee(ls and branches beneath the bush, and lie could not at once get it out. As lie struggled with this diffi- cult), lie in(lul~e(l in a some soliloquy, what (I fancy) as follows Well, I am blowed heres a rum go! Kitty Dobson down here won- der where she hangs out? A couple of days fishing! Oh Bob, Bob but your quiet fellow is always the deepest rascal out, and now hes in a holeoh womami, lovely woman, what scrapes you (10 get us into! I fancy I hear a snortimig on the other side of this old bank I doubt it is the old gen- tlenian in a rage hope it aint the 01(1 Gentleman himself. I say, Tattler, Kitty is prettier than ever I she was very niuch that way when you met her up at Cambridge last May, old chap but now / Heighio I and Mr. Tattler stared through his eyeglass at the water, iii a mocksentimuental way that convinced me, in spite of his sighs, that lie was quite heart-whole but that, on occasion, lie might well call forth the epithet of that wretch Mr. Tattler. A few monients afterwards, the old gentleman, flushed and heated to the last degree, rushed up on to the top of the bank. With great surprise I recog- - nized him; it was a Mr. Dobson, a retired city nierchiant, whom I had known fairly well in years gone by. Hello! said Dobson, breathless and angry. Hello 1 responded Mr. Tattler, without looking round, and busying At the Sign of the Pantuffel. 8.3 himself more than ever with the float he was thus sumitiarily calle(l to account :iiwl the bush. for his violence. Hello I say, repeated Mr. Dobson Another one at it he said in more fiercely, as he saw the other amaze. I made a mistake I thought ~~iy so little attention to him ; look you was some one else a Mr. Tyneker, here, sii, you you fellow there Mr. in fact, from Cambridge ; I must have Tyneker I must have a word with beeii misled l)y your wearing the same you. Come up here,. sir ! sort of clothes as he often does that To this cOmman4~Mr. Tattler paid not blue coat, and those queer checked the slightest heed. Sitting calmly at trousers (their college boat-colors, as a the foot of the bank, his knees, drawii matter of fact, is what both the young up inside his arms, almost touching his fellows were wearing). cliiii, I could see that lie was hugging Mi. Tattler saw his way to a small himself (but with an iinpcrtnibable jokc, and sacrifice.l his present advan countenance) oii the old gentlemans tage to get at it. mistake. Say on, Macdnff lie said, Tyncker, of Cambridge ? he said in a sort of stage aside. meditatively ; I think I know the Coiifound you, sir, sai(l Mr. Bob name is he a Trioitq maii, do you soil, stamping with rage, ~ will you know ? comiie up here ? and by way of en A suppressed chuckle from behind a forcing his words lie pitched a tuft of rhododendron bush in my immediate grass which happened to be lying on the vicinity betrayed to me the fact that bank, (lown at the supposed Mr. Bob Mr. Tyiicker had contrived to add him Tyncker. self as a spectator to this little sceiie, Whether the 01(1 gentl& mnan intended and that lie enjoyed Tattlers witticismn ~)recisely to hit his mnamk 1 (10 not kiiow ; immensely. but the tuft of glass caught r1~~lttlci Yes, he is a Trinity man, said thie fairly oii the back of the head. The old gentleman, recovering his wits amid small blue boating-cap (First Trimiity his anger at the sami~e timne. One of boat-colors, as I believe) which lie was those rascally undergraduates who ~o wearimig was seiit forward over his eyes, rampaging about all over the country, while the dry mould adhieming to the looking about for a pretty girl to make roots on the gmass was littered about love to. You are one of them yourself, over his shoulders and dowii the back I see very well ; I have to ask you what of his neck. you mean by your extraordimiary comi Confoumol you, sir, exclaimed Mr. duct just iiow ? Tattler im his turn, springing tip amid What conduct ? asked Tattler, holding the mod imi one hand while lie opening his eyes in geminimie amnazememd. waved the other iii eloquent exl)ostula Why, kissino miiv a ieee aii(h all the tioii, ~ what (10 you mean by this ? rest of it, if you want to know, You comiie down here, making enough shouted Mr. Dobsoii. row to scare all the fish for a mile clown But I have done nothing of the the river ; you yell at me by the name sort; dont know your niece. I say, of Tyncker, whereas I am called Tat- you are coming it rather strong, you ther ; and when I (hOnt answer to your know, expostulated Tattler. confounded blandishments, you pitch You didnt? ejaculated the old clods of earth at me. If I was a friend man, staggered by the others apparent or acquaiiitance of yours it might be honesty in what he said ; vhy, I saw (~ffercut; but, as a matter of fact, I you myself, out of my study win(low dont know you from Adam what do yonder. With a twenty-horse-power you want, sir, eli ? telescope, sir, I saw you, as distinctly This was getting the whip-hand of as I do now. l)00~ Mr. Dobson with a vengeance. Confound that fellow Bob, said The dismay with which he had been poor Tattler, aside ; heres a deuce of comitemplating Tattler was intensified as a hole hes put me in. I can only 84 At the Sign of the Pantugel. assure you, sir, that you are entirely tiously answering Tattlers leading mistaken. questions. Im nothing of the sort, said Dob- Well, sir~, (if I dont get a chain- son, as testily as ever; how could I be, pagne lunch out of old Tyncker for with a twenty-horse-power telescope? this, Im a Dutchman) that just shows My nieces back was turned towards the danger of using such terribly strong me, I know; but Ill swear that her instruments on short ranges, when you check and that blue coat of yours were aint used to em ; they make things not a haii s breadth apart, for two or look so close. Now, suppose your hiece three minutes at least. (As a matter was two yards away from me, in a of fact, the young ladys head had been direct line, you will understand side- crushed against Mr. Bob Tynckers ways, of course, it dont have this effect manly bosom for fully, three minutes ; why, of course, that powerful tele- and a dark-blue sleeve had been passed scope makes her look as if she was around her waist meanwhile and that fairly crushed right up against me. must have shown up ~vell against her Surely you. will understand that clearly light dress, through a telescope at half- enough ? It is the simplest thing in a-mile distance.) And then, con- the world, concluded Mr. Tattler, sol- tinued the old gentleman, when you emuly staring at the other through his saw me coming, you bolted down this eyeglass, and is well known to the bank, and here I find you. great astronomers at Cambridge. They You are entirely mistaken, said always take it into account in making Tattler angrily. I did not bolt down observations. Really you ought to be this bank because I saw you coming. I more careful, sir. certainly spoke to a young lady just God bless my soul ! ejaculated now, Miss Kitty Dobson I have the the old gentleman, fairly staggered. honor of her acquaintance met her A smothered roar of laughter from up at Cambridge last May. the rhododendrons, where Mr. Bob Ilow do you account for her head Tyncker was doubtlessly in raptures being against your blue coat ? put in over his friends astuteness, reached the old gentleman dryly. my cars ; but the others did not appear I tell you it wasnt said Tattler to notice it. The 01(1 gentleman was, desperately. Look here, sir, you saw in fact, staring at the unmoved Tattler mc through a telescope, you say ? as if lie were some new and curious Certainly, responded Dobson, be- type of life now for the first time coining a little perplexed, through a brought beneath his notice. I knew telescope of enormous power, too. Dobson fairly well, and guessed the Are you accustomed to the use of a truth. He had been staggered by Tat- very l)Owerful telescope, may I ask? tlers impudence and not by his astro- Nno not very ; in fact, I have noinical explanation. Tattler had made only just got it, and was trying it for a dire mistake, and I was convinced the first tune, thus morning, wheii I saw that my 01(1 friend was only seeking to you. devise a plan by which lie could hoist Just so, replied Mr. Tattler tri him with his own petar(l. uniphiantly ; I see now (saved, by This conviction became a certainty Jove, aiid get Bob out of the pickle, when the old geritlenian, after saying and keep Kitty out of a row, too) niany liandsoiiie things by way of apol- You know telescopes make things look ogy for his late behavior, ended by very much closer, dont they ? thats inviting the young undergraduate to.~ the use of eni. Fi~ instance, a church lunch, at half past one, sharp. But I five miiiles away looks only fifty yards heard TyIicker swearing to himself be- off, when you stick your telescope on to low his breath as he listened to ~n invi- it, (hOiit it ? tation which he would have given his Certainly, replied Mr. Dobson ears to receive himself, and which ap- ~aiii, still more perplexed, and incan- peared to rouse all his latent jealousy At the Sign of the Pantuffel. of his friend ; for Tattler evidently made no secret of his admiration for Miss Kitty. The old gentleman went hway towards the wood, I presume to fli~d his niece. Mr. Tyneker thereupon also took his departure in rather sulky silence and without addressing Tattler ; and Tattler himself, being evi(lently a keen and practised fisherman a oain directed his attention to the refractory float. He got it free at last, aud pulled up the line to see what bait Tyncker had been fishing with. As he drew it towards him he gave a low whistle of comical surprise ; Well, I am blo~ved. he said, as lie looked at the thing dan- gling on the end of the line ; a salmon- fly, by all thats extraordinary No wonder we didnt get a bite. What a queer chap old Tyncker is, to be sure. I think Ill take the liberty of changing his tackle and going to have a try in the weirpool with a big lobworm. As he gathered the things together and was departing, lie met Mr. Dobson coming back. Canght anything ? said Dobson amicably. Nno, said poor Tattler, hur- riedly pushing past, and concealing the unlucky salmon-fly in his hand, at the imminent risk of running the hook into his fingers, the fish dont seem on the feed here Im going to try in the weir. (Confound that fellow Tyncker !) Dobson let him pass on without fur- ther comment, for in pausing to talk the red signal which was still flying on the dead tree had caught his attention. Wonder who put that up there ? he seemed to say to himself. He managed to grasp the lowest corner, and, with a vigorons tug, down came the handker- chief. Mr. Dobson examined the cor- ners in search of a name and found one. R. Tyneker ! he read aloud, then it was that young scoundrel, after all. He stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket, and strode away with an air of determination that boded ill for all par- ties concerned in the deception of which lie had been the victim. III. LUNCH. I HAD determined to let Mr. Tyncker know that his proceedings of the morn- ing were no secret, and that I strongly disapproved of them. For in Mr. Dob- sons niece, the young lady addressed as Kitty by Mr. Tyneker (my me in- ory being jogged by seeing her uncle), I had recognized the orphan daughter of my poor old friend John Pobson. She had been a little chit of a thing when I had last seen her, but I knew she had no one in the world to take care of her now but this one old bachelor uncle ; and, if I judged rightly, she was treating him with a thoughtlessness and disobedience which rende red her situa- tion a dangerous one~ So I (letermined to speak to Mr. Tyneker very seriously give him a piece of my mind, in fact. The opportunity presently arose as we were taking lunch together. Tat- tler had started some time before to take his meal at Mr. Dobsons house in accordance with the invitation he had ieceived, and, in blissful ignorance of the reception lie was likely to meet with, had been chaffing his friend un mercifully as to the unscrupulous way in which lie intended to push his own cause with the young lady ; and Tyneker, after eating for some time in (lepressed silence, commenced to search his pockets for his handkerchief. ~ You left it, I am afraid, on that 01(1 (lead tree, I said. Tyncker started in surprise. And it has now fallen into the hands of Mr. Dobson, I continued it hind your name on the corner, I believe. The young fellow looked across at me in great dismay as I sh)oke, and then stiffened himself suddenly. May I inquire bow you caine to learn all this, Mr. Mildeiihiahl ? lie asked, sitting very upright, and pro- nouncing my name, as lie always (lid, totally wrong he a.nd Tattler had seen it in the visitors book, and accordingly pronounced it as it was written and I had been too Weak to correct them. I know all about your proceedings of this mornin~,, I said severely and. 85 86 ignoring his question, and I must tell you that I am a friend of Mr. Dobson and of his niece, and that I feel a deep interest in her welfare. Now, dont you think you are acting in a very unstraightforward manner, arranging these clandestine meetings with this young lady in this way, against the wishes of her natural guar(lian ? No, I (lont said Tynckei, still more stiffly ; the 01(1 gentleman yon say yon know all about it, so there is no nee(l for exl)la.nations may pre- vent my coming to his house, no (loubt, but I dont see why that is to prevent my seeing an(l s~)eaking to to the young lady who lives with him. Perhaps not, ~ l)ersiste(l, bent on inculcating my moral. But you are leading her oii to a course of action cvi- (lently in direct opposition to her guar- dians wishes. She may, or she may not, l)e inclined herself to act as you are inducing her to ; no (IoLlJ)t, you are the only l)elsoli in time world for whom she would coi)sent to act thus. I make no remarks about that ; still, it is a course that. no honorably mninded girl oeght to ii~1- You lie, sir shouted Mr. Bob Tvncker, starting up as lie spoke Kitty is an angel ; in the whole world there is no one so loyal an(l true as she is I beg your pardon no doul)t you mean all right, lie went on ,sobering down an(l then speaking rather miser ably, but we are very unfortunate all the world seems against us ; aii(l we have no one to advise us. Look here, Mr. Mildenhall, you seem to know so much about us, an(l von are a friend of the family, von say ; I had l)etter tell you tIme whole story, and then, perhaps, y on wont judge us so harshly, an(l might even help us a little in some way. I made a. deprecatory motion but the miserable young fellow was already launching into his little tale. I am a h)OO~ sort of fellow, I know, not worthy of her Kitty, I mean I know, but you see, she and I have hit it off somehow together a long time ago now and we have sworn never to part, and all tha:. Well, her father At the Sign of the Pantuffel. died some years ago, and left an insane sort of will, by which Kitty was to remain single till she was twenty ; and then her hand was to i)e politely offered in marriage to some fat, bald-headed old curmu(lgeoii in London, a friend of her fathers, and a confirmed bachelor an 01(1 buffer called Mynall (me, by Jove, I thought with a start of surprise, as a certain clause in poor old John I)obsons will, laughed at by me at the time, an(l long since forgotten, was thus forcibly recalled to my min(l). Is be going to urge the claim ? I asked quickly. 1 (lont know sai(l Bob, a little irritably. And theres the (hiffleultv. The old, IW)neygrubbing brute _____ (oh, haag it ; to be spoke~m. of like that !) ~ is 50 wral)l)e(1 up in his l)usiness, that I believe lie has forgotten all ah)out tIme whole matter (quite true !) has imever evemi troubled to come an(l see Kitty, she says, all these years (true, true !) and of course Kitty cant go running after him ______ Why tiot try and get time immiche, Mr. Dobson, to (10 something in time mat tet ? I asked, begimmmmimmg to feel the pricking of my conscience nuder Mr. Tv ucke ms l)lain way of speaking. There again said Tyneke i plain- tively ; we fell in love with one an- other Kitty and I did, I mean l)efore we knew anytimimig about that imisane will, an(l 01(1 Dobson got his back up about it I mean, suddenly re memubering that I professed to be a friend of thiat irteverently spoken of gentleman - Mr. I)obson got very angry al)oumt it ; h)ecatmse it seemims that if tIme directions iii tIme will are not carried out, a lot of Kittys moimey (not that we care about that) has to go to time Methi oinhists, and old Pob Mr. Dobsomi I mean hiatus tlmemn like l)oison ; and so he is too mtmchm emmgaged in keeping me out of tIme premises, amm(h trying to pre- vent me from seeing Kitty, to (ho aimy- tIming else ; but lie caut pievent it, sai(l Mr. Tyneker, rather excitedly, he hmasmmt any right to, you know ; and that is what Kitty and I both say, as if that was a clincher indeed. When is the young lady twenty? At the Sign of the Pantuffel. I asked , generous resolutions beginning to come forward in my min(l. To-day said Bob readily, and that is why I want specially to see her, to find out whether that 01(1 fellow Mynah has been down here yet. If he knew Kitty, and what aaa jolly girl she is (selecting his very superla- tive adjective from the whole stock at his disl)osal) he woul(lnt be five miii- utes overdue, I know, in spite of his money bags. My conscience pricked me more an(1 more. I spoke up, and let Mr. I3ob Tyncker know (to his consternation, I fancy) that I was that old curinu(l- geo n M nall, and that I should go an(l see Miss Kitty that very afternoon. I v~. AFTERNOON. I hAD stated my intention of to going see Miss Kitty, clearly enough, but in doing so I had no very fixed idea as to what I should do when I did see her, an(l in fact I was entirely nouplussed by the whole situation. I deterniined to retire to my hammock and think over matters in general. As I lay there, swinging lightly over the water, and with the distant soun(l of the xveir lulling my senses pleas antlv. it is not to be won(lere(l at that I fell into (lreamy reverie. 01(1 half forgotten recollections caine thronging upon me of little flaxenhaired Kitty, whom I used to torment, aiid laugh inglv ask to be my little wyfie, nearly a (lozeil years ago, a bhitlm father, my 01(1 friend John Bobson, who used to say in his sober, business way, And so she siwli be, Mildenhall, if I can hell) you, and von care to have her when she is grown tip ; of that quaintly touching clause in poor Dob- sons will, by which lie had (lone all that lay in his ~~oxvei to help me. And I, engrossed in turning over money in the city, had clean forgotten all about her I was aroused by the sound of voices, an(l looked round ; there, in the very i(leutical place where Mr. Bob Tyncker 87 had done his extremely futile fishing in the morning, he and Kitt~~ were sitting and talking. And so the old fellow and a queer old fellow he is, too, Mr. Bob was saying, will l)e roun(1 at the house this very afternoon, to see about claiming your han(l. Oh, Bob ! said Kitty, trembling. ~ say, Kitty, said Bob mischiev- ously, suppose he really wants to stick to his 01(1 idea of making you his little wyfie, eh? What shall you do then ? Oh, Bob, (Iont, said poor Kitty he has been such a bughear to me lately that that _____ that there is a (langer of a young lady shedding tears at the very mention of his name, I thought to myself grimly, for Kitty did not seem able to complete the sentence herself. Never mind, Kitty, said poor Bob, hugging her tenderly. I am a brute to have suggested such an idea. If he dont refuse to have you, why, you will just have to refuse him, you know and that will bring the whole matter to the usual way of doing things, from a young lady point of view, you see. So it will sai(l Kitty, brighten- ing up once more but Bob, then the five thousand I)otiikls will have to go to thie Methiodist chapel ; and that is just the very thiing that has been making uncle so terribly savage. Let hum be said Bob stoutly, it wont hurt us after today ; you will be free then, you see, and can marry whoever you like. And we have ~)hent.y to set up housekeeping on, be- tween us, without the beastly live thou let him be angry, if he likes. And so lie is, sir, shouted Mr. Dobson sn(ldenly, poking his hicad over the top of the bank, to thie dismay of thue young l)eol)le below (really he star- thed muic too, for in my rather dreamy state I had not seen him coming). So he is ! It would make a saint savage, to be set at defiance in thus way. 11 begin to think address- ing ~OO~ Tymucker in a voice that made me jump, and coming down the bank as he spoke. 88 Stop ! I called out, rising hastily in my hammock. Splish ! Somebody had fallen into the water. Me, by Jove, and so I began striking out lustily on all sides, ~vith hands, feet, fingers, elbows (eyelashes even, I fancy, looking back at it now I can- not exactly call myself a swimmer), stru~(tlino a way, and ge ~ ~ boots above water more frequently than my head, I am afraid (I wished I had signed my will), till I was suddenly graspe(l by the collar firmly. Keep cool, said my young friend, Bob Tyncker, authoritatively (for he it was), nimbly swimming on his back with two legs and one arm, an(l draw- ing me after him with the other. Keep cool; Ive got you all right! Cool it is ! I thought to myself, my spirits reviving as I felt myself towed along right across the river For Bob, it seems, like a retriever (lie certainly svam as well as one), would not condescend to lay me anywhere but at the very feet of his mistress. The wash from his powerful strokes kept sweeping over my face, and caused me to swallow, in unexpected gulps, a terrible amount of watei , but the encouraging cries of Mr. Dobson an(l Miss Kitty sounded above Inc (I heard them now and again, as my ears happened to get above water), an(l presently I saw branches all about me we were steering in between the bushes. There at last ! hurra an over- whelming rush of water across my face cut short my seif-gratniation ; I was fairly ~omder in fact. And the remark- ably unpleasant thought flashed upon me, that 1 was (iriving (lown under the dipping bush. But a spasmodic jerk from Tvncker brought me to the top once more, and as I gas~)e(l for breath, I heard his voice Shift for yourself catch hold of the bush Im going ! I caught the branches as hi~h up as possible, and got a glance behind me. Tyncker was not only going he was gone, driving down under the bush, having sacrificed himself to keep me At the Sign of the Pantutfel. from a like fate. I saw his face disap- pearing beneath the water; I heard the despairing cry of Kitty from the bank; and, leaving go my own hold with one hand, I thrust down and caught the poor fellows collar, and turned a remarkably wild eye to the onlookers. The 01(1 gentleman was helplessly shouting. and running to and fro ; but I saw his niece rapidly unknot.timmg from her waist that heavy scarf of gold which she had worn all (lay ; then, like a flash of fire in the sunlight, one end leaped out at me. Well thrown ! The embroidered fringe fell across the branches and over my wrist. Quick as thought I had quitted my useless clutch on the yielding twigs, and with a convulsive leap iii the water had got a double turn of the scarf about my wrist ; and, as it stretched across the palm of my hand towards the shore, I closed a frantic grip upon it. Of course I went under, but with ~ mind fully made up upon two points that nothing but (leatli should tear me from my hold on that scarf (of course not I), an(l that if ever I was to be pulled out alive, Tyncker should come too. The left hand was responsible for the first resolution, the right hand for the second ; so with both I held on as tightly as might be, and away I went under the bush. I (loIit know how long I held my breath an age, I fancy ; and then a rush of fire swept across my vision. I was gone (it struck me forcibly). A burning, exlmil arating sensation in my throat, and a sound of a voice speaking, as it seemed, many miles away. The voice drew close to me at a bound, and opening my eyes I saw some one stoopimig over me, brandy- flask in hand, and an exl)ression of horror on his face. That expression instantly vanished as he caught my gaze. This one is all right, Kitty he is comino mound fast. Here, take the flask an(l give Tvncker some more brandy ! Cheer up ; he will be all right too in a minute. Tvncker! That was a name I knew surely ? Some suspicious sounds in At the Sign of the Pant 4fel. 89.. my immediate neighborhood caused me he explained grimly, seeing how reluc- to turn my head feebly in the direc- tantly the girl left her charge in order tion whence they were proceeding; all(l to come to us. then I knew everything. Of eonrse 11cr sunny face that had been flushed we had been in the river and had beeti with the l)leasLIre and excitement of pulled out again For there on his coaxing the lucky Bob back to life, back, even as I lay on mine, lay Mr. grew white (I niuch regret to be obliged Bob Tyneker ; and on her knees beside to say) as she heard my name. It was him, bending low over Ins face, was a very 1 nnp hand that I managed to Miss Kitty Dobson. And the goldeii get hold of ali(l shake as heartily as I scarf (sadly changed for the worse) lay could. midway between us. You see that I have lost no time One glance was sufficient to assure in coming down to see on, Kitty, I me that Mr. Bob Tyneker was nearly said, holding her baud the while, and as far advanced on the road to recovery thinking it best to plunge at once in as I was myself, and that Miss Kitty In eclias res. You reachi the age of held a most exalted opinion of his hate twenty to-(hay, (lont you ? exploit ; and that she was, by words and Yes, said l)00~ Kitty faintly, and in other ways still uiiore engaging, trx-- trying feebly to get her hand away ; but ing to let him know it. They made a I still held on. pretty picture. There is something in a certain will But the old gentlemans face grew which concerns you and inc ; I want to cloudy as lie looked at it. He leant talk to you about it. over me in irritated silence, brandy- Yes ? whispered h)00~ Miss Kitty, flask in hand, and I thought it was timue still muore faintly, and with another fee to speak. Ide amid futile attemnl)t to draw her hiand How are you, Dobsoui ? I said froun mine ; would miot some other with a faiuit smile. I amii afraid you timne whemi you are (lry ? dont recognize mne in this (lragghe(l con No, uny dear, I said (I amu a grim dition, but old bachelor enough, in an ordinary Whiy so it is ! exclaimed the old way, and that hast expression slipped gentlemiian. Its Mildenhiall Why, out quite imivohuntariiv, and unust be put how do you come to be (lown hiere? I down to mny hialf-drowmied comidition), say, lie continued in a. sort of stage I would rather (ho it now. Yoti are a whisper, and with a troLubled look at very ~)uetty girl, amid a very brave and tile others ; 1 am very glad you have clever omie ; amid you have just saved comne ; Im half afraid, as it is, you are mny life w ithi your scarf, as I realize very too hate. plainly, so that you will always hold a ~ Too late for what ? I asked, try very (hear place in mny heart. And so I ing to sit up, and presently succeedimig. come to the conclusion I couldmit Why that ! lie whispered testily, help pausing a moment to enjoy her and noddimig his head in a (histurh)e(l consternation that I xviii have uiothi way in the direetioui of the vouming ing more to (10 with you or your hand, couple. Man, (lOnt you recollect you however earnestly you may offer it to were to have the first say in that sort of inc letting it go at last. I reject thing ? you emitirely, and hand you over to that So I was, I rejoimied ; and the young villain (xvhiom I hioh)e to call miiy present xvihl be a very good timue for friend for the rest of muy life) Mr. Bob beginmiing. I will speak to Kitty at Tyneker. once. It was a queer way of doing things, Good sai(l Mr. Dobson, looking no doubt, and has (as I hinve said be- much relieved at my alacrity and call- fore) occasioned a good (leal of head- ung the young lady. Come here, shaking among people who do not know Kitty ; this gentleman here wants to the whole story; but I flatter myself it speak to you. Mr. Mildenhiall, Kitty, was both neat and effectual. Is the Universe Infinite? I was very much surprised by the effect of my words upon Mr. Dobson. (But it appears that Tyncker had known him for a very long time, and had always been a prime favorite of his, while Kitty was as the very apple of his eye.) He ran hastily over to the young gentleman, where he ha(1 been left lying alone on his back disconsolately enough all this time, and shook him furiously by the hand. You hear what my friend Milden- hall says? I cordially agree with every wor(l of it ; you are an obstinate young villain you are a fine fellow Mr. Bob Tyneker ; and Kitty is the prettiest and bravest girl in the country and the wilfulle st. Mildenhall wont have her at any price, so you will have to take her yourself, and a fine pair you will make a couple of wilful young rogues. I think. continued the 01(1 gentleman, looking fondly round as lie spoke, at his niece, who stood nii(lway bet~veen Bob and me in shy uncertainty as to xx hat to do, that we ought to have a big (liuner to-night, to rub the edge off our late quarrels ; and well have up that young fellow Tattler as well. I roasted him so heavily at lunch that I should like to see how he feels non-. how Tattler had been roasted I learnt later on in the afternoon. He poked his head in at the door of the smokiu~room where I was smoking a Seen Bob Tyneker lately? he asked. ~ot just lately, I said (not quite truthfully I am afraid, for I knew per- fectly xvell where Bob ~va~ to be found at that very moment, but I felt that Tattler would be more in the way than ever, just then). He came in, anti presently spoke again. I sax-, that old gentleman that I went to lunch with today is a queer sort of customer, I think ; couldnt make him out a bit. He was jolly enough at lunchfriendly and all that; but I rather thought he was trying a little humbug on me, now and then. In what way? I asked, rather in- terested. Oh, all sorts of ways ; bout tele- scopes chieflythough; wanting to know if you could see through a brick wall with them, and that sort of thing, you know. Pm never sure, said Mr. Tat- tler, fixing his eyeglass in his eye and looking at me very inquiringly through it, whether, when people try that sort of talk on you, they are not trying to humbug you. What do you think? My dear fellow, I rejoined, I fear a little dryly, I know Mr. IJobson pretty well, and I really dont think he would try anything of the sort on any one unless, perhaps, they had been treating him previously to a little of the same thing. Upon my word, I dont believe he gra.sped my meaning. At any rate, at dinner that night at Mr. Dobsons lie showed not the slightest sign of dis- comfiture ; on the contrary, he was in what he himself called very great form, and more than once drew from poor Kitty the epithet, You wretch, Mr. Tattler ! From The Fortnightly Review. IS THE UNIVERSE INFINITE? Bisito~ BUTLER has well remarked that probability is the guide of life, antl, assuredly, if it be our guide in all l)ractical concerns, in a still more sig- nificant sense it may be claimed as the source of the greater part of human knowledge. Indeed, in a rapid survey of the field of astronomy we are tempted to affirm, not merely that the theory of probal)ility is of the utmost service to us, but that it is almost our sole method of (liscovering the truth. This will not seem a paradox to any one who will reflect that there is hardly an astronom- ical doctrine, even of the most ele- mentary kind, of which it might not be sai(l that our belief in it depends simply on the fact that its truth is, in a high degree, more probable than its false- hood. To those who are accustomed to apply the doctrine of probabilities habit- ually and, indeed, almost unconsciously, it affords the readiest touchstone by which many fallacious scientific notions 90 Is the. Universe Infinite .2 91 can be dissipated. Let me give an tion that there lay the centre of the illustration of what I mean. In the universe highly attractive to the imagi- first book about astronomy which I nation an(l l)erhaps even quite plausi- read in my l)oyliood there was a glow- ble. But the theory of probabilities at ing description of an invesUgation once upsets the whole doctrine when which at one time seemed to have at- the facts are viewed in their proper tracted a great deal of attention. I light. No doubt the theory of proba- allude to the discovery, or the alleged bilities has nothing to say against Alcy (liscovery I should rather say, of a cci one in comparison with any other star tam central sun, about which it was visible in the heavens, but what it does believed or stated that all the bodies in say is that it would be utterly p~ep~~ the universe revolved. This marvel- terous to imagine that any one of the bus centre was becomingly located in stars in the visible lirmuamucut COnh(l be the Pleiades indee(l, if I remember the central sun around which all the aright, it vas actually identified with bodies in the universe revolved. For the star Alcyone. The doctrine was summon up to your imagination the certainly a splendid and captivating one, most (listant star that can l)c seen with but it was too good to be true. No one the unaided cc. Then think of the ever hears anything about the central muinutest star that our most potent tele sun hypothesis nowadays, and that, scope can (liselose. Think of the tini perhaps, for the siml)le reason that it est stellar point of light wlmieh could stood condemned on the face of it by possibly be del)icted on the most sensi- the theory of probal)ilities. It is wholly tive photographic plate after hours of unnecessary at this time of day to at- exposure to the heavens. Think, in- tempt to appraise the value of the deed, of the very remotest star which, observations by which an astronomer, by any conceivable device, can 1)0 reui- justly esteemed for other labors, de dered Percel)til)he to our consciousness. monstrated, or thought lie had demon Doubtless that star is thousands of bil strate(l, the existence of a central lions of muiles from the earth ; doubt sun. Even if the a~)pareuit move less the light from it requires thousands ments of certain stars offered quite of years, and some astronomers have unequivocal testimnony (which, indeed, said millions of years, to span the abyss was by no means the case) to show that which intervenes between our globe they were revolving around Alcyone, and those distant regions. lint, never still it is obvious, on a little considera- thehess, there is a certain number of tion, that even this famous star could miles, eve ii though we know it not, at not be regarded as the centre of the which the remotest stars known to us whole umiiverse without (loing unwar must lie. I (10 not Shicak of the most rantable violence to all notions of prob (histant star which the universe may ability. For just look at the facts in possibly contain ; I only refer to the their due proportion. Alcyomue, no most distant star that we can possibly doubt, is a star of magnificent (limen bring within our ken. Imagine a great sbus. It may be a hundred or a thou sphere to be descrih)ed with its centre sand times unore massive an(l more at our earth, and with a radius extend brilliant than our sun. Alcyone is so ing all the way from the earth to this remote from the earth that the light last star knowable by man. Every star which now arrives at our eyes even that we can see, every star whose ex- though) it spee(ls on its way at the rate istence becomes disclose(l to us on our of one hundred and eighty thousand photographs, lies inside this sphere ; as miles a second, bias not improbably to the orbs which may lie outside that taken a century, or more than a ecu- sl)heie we can know nothing by direct tury, to reach us. The Pleiades form observation. The imagination doubt- a cluster of bright stars almost unique bess suggests with irresistible emphasis, in their interest ; and these circum- that this outer region is also occupied stances might certainly render the no- by stars and nebuhe, suns and worlds, Is the Universe Infinite? in the same manner as the interior of that mighty sphere xvhose contents are more or less accessible to our scrutiny. It woul(l do utter violence to our no- tions of the law of continuity to assume that all the existent matter in the uni- verse happened to lie insi(lc this sl)lleIe ; we nec(I only mention such a sul)l)osition l)efore we dismiss it as wholly indefensible. I (10 not now make any atteml)t to express the num- ber of miles in the diameter of the sphere which limits the extent of space known (hireetly to man. What that number may be is quite immaterial for our piesent l)urposv. But the point that I specially want to bring out is that the volume occupied by this stu pendous globe, which includes within it all l)ossible visible material, must 1)e but a speck when compared with the space which contains it. Think of the water in the Atlantic Ocean, and think of the water iii a single drop. As the drop is to the Atlantic Ocean so is the sphere which we have beeii trying to conceive in the boundless extent of Space. As far as we know it would seem that there could be quite as many of such spheres in space as there are (lrol)s of water in the Atlantic Ocean. And, in all prol)abilit, these other spheres throughout space are tenante(l by stars, systems, and galaxies jnst as ~ra1](l in themselves, just as imposing in their collocations, and just as over whelining in their inyriads as are those which lie within that one l)aiticular sphere of which alone we know any hing with certa i ntv. Provided with this concel)tion, we see at once that the doctrine of a visible central sun is an absurdity. As to whether there may be some central sun somewhere or other I can express no oj)inion, save that I do not see any reason whatever to think that such a body should exist. But we max- feel practically certain, ac- cording to all rational grounds of prob- ability, that even if there were a central sun in the universe, it would not lie within our ken. Suppose that in the wide extent of the Atlantic Ocean there was one individual diatom of a specially interesting character ; I do not mean one species with its myriad in(hividuals, but one solitary specimen of a paitien i microscopic organism, which hap l)ene(1 to flourish somewhere or other in time North or South Atlantic Ocean n.t some (1e1)th or other from the surface. Suppose that absolutely nothing further was known as to the whereabouts of this individual object, it might, for any- thing we could tell, lie beneath a mighty icefloe iii the Arctic regions it might be miles dccl) in the Carib l)ea.n Sea it mi(lht be ba.skin~ on the sum-face in the equatorial regions; it might be tosseol in the surf on the shores of St. helena ; it might be floating at the mouth of the Amazons it might be off the Cape of Good I-lope, or amid the Antarctic iceber~s Would any reasonable man who desired to obtain that unique and ext~-aordinary specimen for his collection imagine that if lie ~vent dowii to the coast of Cornwall and lifted a single drop from the Atlantic he would have such incon- ceivably good fortune as to find in it tIPs rare (hiatomn of which but a single in(hividtmal existed throughout the mnil lions of cubic miles of water which C0~l)O5C that mighty ocean ? Of course, the mere statement of such a case is sufficient to show its absurdity. But the improbability that the ardent imaturalist would secure the prize in the way I have described is not one whit greate r than the mm probabd i ty tlmt, even if there were a centi-al sun, it should lie withi~m tIme domain of our scrutiny. There is another line of reasoning l)y which the theory of probability will oftemi give us invaluable information, which is not this time merely of a neg- ative kind. There are many instances which might be taken of the l)iinciPles now to be employed. I shall, however, adopt that l)articular one which pre semits, l)elhmal)s, time greatest interest to astronomers. The question often arises as to whether two objects whichi appear to us to lie near each other on the stir face of the heaveims are really neighbors in space, or whether their contiguity is only apparent. It often happens, foi- instance, that two stars appear very 92 Is the Universe Infinite .2 93. close together through the telescope, SeXtUl)le group makes a spectacle unique an(l ~ve (lesire to know whether the t~vo in the heavens. Wherever 0 Orionis bodies are indeed allied by any bond happened to be in the sky it must nec of physical association, or whether the essarily be known as the most elabo- appearance may not be a mere acci- ratchy composed of all multiple stars. dental coinci(lcnce. The latter WOUI(l But, as a matter of fact, we find the be the case if the line joining the two wonderful star apparently occupying stars happened to be so nearly (hirecte(l the most impoSing site, in the great towards the earth that, though in real- nebula, so that the latter serves as a ity one of the stars is so much more splendid setting to the complex star. remote than the other, yet that from The appearance presented would, of our point of view the two happen to be course, be explained if it should hap projected on the same part of the sky. pen that the wondrous multiple did We are generally at fault in determin actually lie inside the nebula wherein it ing this question by direct observation, ~vas seen gleaming. But it is, fl() doubt, because it is usually impossible to find conceivable that the effect actually wit the actual distances by which the earth nessed may be accounte(I for if it should is separated from the objects, and, happen that the multiple star ~vere bil therefore, we are deprived of any direct lions of miles in the foreground, only assurance that those distances are so so placed that from our point of view far equal as to enable us to assert that we beheld it projected with the bright- the apparent contiguity is illdee(l a real est part of the nebula as a background. contiguity. 1-Icre the theory of proba Such, too, is the transhuecucy of nebu bihities will come to our a.i(l an(l supply bus material that it is at least a con reliable information of the most con ceivable hypothesis that the nebula vincing character. The illustration I might be the object which lay in the shall take is one connected with a foreground and that the star occupied a famous object. The great nebula in position billions of miles in the rear, Orion is known to be the most glorious but that from where we were situated body of its class that the heavens (lis- our line of sight towards the star coi~ l)la~. Seen through a powerful tele ductc(l our vision directly through the scope, hike that of Lord Rosse at centre of the nebula. We have really Parsonstown, the appearance of this no means of certainly knowing which grand lightstain is of indescribrd)le of these notions is the correct one. At glory when viewed by one whose pie- least, I should 5av, direct observation vious acquaintance with practical as- cannot be held to have shown conclu tronomy enables him to inform the sively that one of these doctrines is picture before him with the knowledge true and that the other two are false. necessary for its comprehension. It is It could only have (lone so when we a vast volume of bluish gaseous mate had measured the distances of both the rial with lines of infinite softness and nebula and the multiple star from the delicacy. Here it presents luminous earth. As a matter of fact we have not tracts which glo~v with an exquisite measured the (histance of either the one blue light ; there it graduates off until or the other. This is eminently a case - it is imu1)ossible to say where the nebula in which the theory of probabilities ceases an(l the black sky begins. But can be suitably applied, and the result from our present point of view I am to which it leads is of no uncertain only thinking of the nebuha as the kind. It demomistrates, bv~ a hue of nimbus of glory which surrounds the reasoning the cogency of which cannot marvellous multiple star knowil to as be impugned, that the famous stars are tronomers as 0 Orionis. This complex not standing out in front of the nebula, sidereal system consists of four bright that they are not sunk far behiind, but stars quite close together, with at least that they do veritably lie at the heart two smaller ones which evidently be- of the nebula itself, the combined ob- long to the same scheme. The whole ject forming one glorious organization. 94 To simplify the application of the argu- ment, let us assume that the visible heavens are constituted, not of hosts of stars and of nebuhe, but of one single star an(1 of one single nebula. Let us suppose that the nebula occupies an area of about o!le square degree, that is, about five times the area of the full moon, and let us suppose that from our point of view the star appears to lie within the confines of the nebula. Would it be more reasonable to believe that the presence of the star in that particular locality of the heavens was only an accidental circumstance due to the line of vision from the nebula to the star passing through the eye, or that it was due to the fact that there was some physical connection between the two bodies, in which case, of course, the star would lie within the confines of the nebula, and the contiguity would be real as well as apparent. Suppose that the star and the nebula were both planted down absolutely at random on the surface of the heavens ; then, as the nebula occupies a space of one square degree, and as there are forty thousand square degrees on the surface of the sl)llere, there are obviously forty thousand chances to one against the star happening to lie within the confines of the nebula, if the connection be- tween the two bodies were merely cas- ual and ap~)arent. For the or(linary purposes of life, when we find that there are forty thousand chances to one against a particular phenomenon oecu i~- ring we generally exclude from the realm of practical duty the supposition that the unlikely event will occur. If a sum of 150 is to be raffled by the sale of enough tickets at a penny apiece to leave a reasonable l)Lofit on the under- taking, the purchaser of a ticket builds but little hope on his chances of success. He knows that the chances against him are about.forty thousand to one. We are entitled to say that there must be forty thousand chances to one against the star lying on the nebula, unless it should happen that there was some physical connection between the t~vo. We see, however, that the star (loes lie on the nebula ; therefore, for all prac Is the Universe Infinite? tical purposes, we conclude that there must be some physical reason for this coincidence, but we can see no physical reason whatever why the line joining the star and the nebula should pass near the earth if the two objects were totally distinct. We are, therefore, forced to the conclusion tha,t t~ie star must be (lireetly associate(l with the nebula. There are forty thousand chances to one that this is the case, and, as rational people, we adopt this conclusion as the basis of our belief. This will illustrate the argument used in the actual case of the great nebula in Orion and the mul- tiple star in the same constellation. It is true that there are thousands of stars an(l thousands of nebuhe, but there is only one star so marvellously complex in its character as 0 Orionis, and there is only one nebula so ample in its mag- nificence as that in the swordhandle of Orion. But we find the unique mul- tiple star apparently located in the rich- est pait of the unique nebula. If therefore, we remember that the region of the nebula referred to is perhaps about a square degree in extent, we are entitled to affirm that there must be forty thousand chances to one that o Orionis, the star, is veritably im- mersed in the glorious nebulosity of Orion. The theory of probabilities al- lows reasonable beings to (1mw no other conclusion. The theory of probabilities is also very instructive iii the information which it gives us with reference to the existence of an invisible myriad of bodies through space which can never he (liscerned by any means at our (hisposal. It is, of course, well known that the stars, prop- erly socalled, are each of them brilliant suns, mt rinsically of majestic propor- tions, but dwarfed to comparative insig- nificance by the tremendous distance in space at which they are l)laced. These bodies are all self-luminous, and it may no doubt happen that there are dark bodies in the vicinity of some of the bright stars to which these stars act as luminants just in the same way as the sun dispenses light to the planets. But it is utterly impossible for us to discern objects illuminated in this fashion, for Is the Universe Infinite? 95 the light which they receive from suns tible proportion to it. It may well be which lie in their neighborhood would asked how we know that there is this be altogether insufficient to render them exuberant abundance of invisible mat- visible to us across the vast abyss of tei. Let the theory of probabilities space by which they are separated from answer the question. the earth. There are no doubt, certain I shall suppose that we have to deal indirect processes of reasoning bywhid~ with a lapsc of time, which for our astronomers have learned, with more present argument may be regarded as or less accuracy, something with regard indefinitely long. It can be demon to these dark stars. Thus, for instance, strated that the conditions under which it has been shown that the extunordi- a mass of matter becomes so highly nary fluctuations in the light of Algol heated as to shine with star-like radi- must be attributed to the eclipses of a ance are wholly exceptional in their brilliant star by the interposition at character. So far as our piesent knowi regular intervals of a (lark body revolv- edge goes, it would seem that the ing around it. There are also cases in brightness of any sun-like body is to be which it has lmappened that t~vo dark attributed solely to the transformation stars Imave come so near each other that in some fashion of mechanical l)OWC~ they may be almost said to have col- into heat. To take our own sun as an hided, a.nd the sudden transformation of example, it is now an assured (loctrine energy of motion into energy of light that the heat so necessary for our wel amid heat has been sufficient to announce fare is sustained by the gradual contrac far and wide through the universe the tion of the solar volume. The energy character of the event which has taken available for tramisformnation into heat place. in this process secmiis sufficient to supply But such instances are few amid far the radiation of tlme sun, not only for between, arid we should receive a very ages such as those which we reckon in erroneous impression a.s to the popuha- the human l)erio(l, but even throughout tion of the celestial regions by bodies a lapse of timne so vast as that which devoid of light if we thought that the geology demands for the formation of few whose presence has been occasion- the earths crust. But it is certaimi that ally disclosed in some very imidirect and the quantity of possible light an(l heat casual muanner bore aimything like a to be dispensed by the sun is limnited in considerable proportion to the total amount. The sun cannot shine on for number which actually exist. It is ever. A timne must assuredly come just at this point that the theory of when the muighity orb at l)reselit so bril probabilities comes to supplement our hiant will have no mnore potency for the knowledge, and the results to which it radiation of light than is at present conducts us are of a most startling l)ossessed by the earth or the mnoon. description. By this theory we are In hike maniier it can be shown that the assure(I, with a logic which cannot be materials constituting the sun have not controverted, that the invisible bodies always been luminous. We cannot in- must be vastly more numerous than the deed say with certainty by what intln visible stars, so that even the milliomis ence their brightness was originally of bright stars which we see afford only kindled. It probably arose from a col- an utterly inadequate conception of the lisiomi, or an approach to a collision, full extent of the material universe. between two dark masses which hap- Reniember, I am not now referring to pened to comne to an encounter with objects beyond our ken muerehy because eiiormous velocities iii their progress they lie so far off. What I mean is through space. It is, however, plain that even within the sphere which con- that the ages (luring which the sun has tains the visible stars that we know, been brilliant form only an incident, so there is such a stupendous quantity of to speak, in the infinite history of that matter of a dark character, that the quantity of matter of which the solar visible part bears an almost impercep- system is constituted. Notwithstand Is the Universe Infinite? 96 ing the millions, or thousands of mu- ery ; there are iron vessels on every lions, of years for which that matter ocean, and objects of every size made has existed, it has perhaps only once of iron, from the smallest nails up to become so heated, owing to circum- hundred-ton guns. There is also at stances which we max- describe as acci this moment, and every moment, a good dental or casual, as to have acquired deal of hot iron on the earth. While the ample light-dispensing power of I write, hon is doubtless flowing from a sun. It is, however. possible that blast furnaces in England, Wales, and such perio(ls of lightradiating capacity Scotland ; while I write, ingots of should have occurre(l more than once ; white-hot Bessemer steel are being they may possibly have occurred sev- dealt with under the steam-hammer or eral times throughout the ages of time in the rollingmills ; while I write, past. Nor is it likely that the last plie- horse-shoes are being fcrged, and, at noinena of this kind have vet arrived, each moment, in one way or another, The sun, after the lapse of uncounted pieces of iron of every temperature years, will lose all its heat and pass could be found, from those which are into a black, dark mass. In that form as cold as the iron apparatus used by it may elidlure for an epoch so pro- Professor Dewar in his experiments in tracted that the spell during which it the liquefaction of air, up to the glitter has acted as the luminary to our system ing melted steel which is poured from will appear but a moment in compari the tilted converter. But, it must be son with the (lark ages which succeed admitted that the highly heated pieces the solar splendor But we can con- of iron bear a very small proportion in- ceive that the darkness, which is the (leed to the total mass of iron in the doom of our system, need not necessa- world at any moment. No doubt there iily be eternal so far as its materials are many tons of iron now white-hot, are conccrned ; it may be that again in but there are many millions of tons of the course of its wan(lerings through iron which was once whitehot, and is space, the tide of chance may at length flOW no warmer than the air around it. bring the (lark an(l tremen(lous globe so At certain phascs in its history every ncar some other orb that another col piece of iron has to undergo the opem lision should take place ~vith appalling ation of being raise(l to incandescence, vehemence. The solid materials shall or even of being ransformcd into a again become transformed into a stu liquid. Bnt the laws of coolino are pendous glowing nebula, and then, in such that, as soon as the opportunity is the course of the tedious contraction of afforded, the iron l)aPts with its redun this nebula, another protracte(l perio(l (lalit heat and returns to a stable con of brilliance will (liversify the career of dition, in which it is at the temperature this great l)ody, and may last long of the air. Now, 5iiPl)05C that some enough for the evolntion of planets an(l pemcipmei~t bemno who was viewing this of whole races of highly organize(l earth from above, could only see iron creatures. The essential point for our when it was redhot or white-hot, but l)resdnt consi(leration must not be mis that lie had every facility for perceiv understoo(l. A little reflection will ing such iron as happened to be in this show that any perio(ls of brilliance must condition. With such faculties he be regarded as excel)tional periods in would, ~() (loubt, be able to discern the history of each body. Think, for here and there a stream of molten iron instance, of all the iron on the surface issuing from a. blast furnace, or per of the earth. There is the iron in the haps to witness the operation of the ore ; there are the great stores of pig- forging of an anchor under the steam- iron lying ready for use ; there are the hammer, to vatch the rolling of the vast bridges which span our rivers an(l plates for an armor-clad, or to see the straits ; there are the thousands of more humble ol)erations of the black- miles of railway lines ; there are the smith or the nail-maker. But he would countless wheels and pieces of macbin- surely form an entirely erroneous im Is the Universe Infinite? 97 pression as to the quantity of iron on luminosity is a characteristic. In such this earth, or as to the extent in which cases only will the orbs be visible. it was employed in the varied purposes The instructed astronomer will, there- of the arts, if he concluded that there fore, believe that the non-visible orbs were no iron on our globe at all except must be hundreds, thousands, or per- that which happened at the moment to haps millions of times more numerous be in that particular incandescent state than those which he can see. When in which alone it was visible to him. we remember that, by our telescopes If he were gifted with reasoning powers and on our photographs, we can discern he would say, It is quite true that I something like one hundred million can only see the iron while it is red-hot, luminons stars in the sky ; when we i)ut I know that for iron to be red-hot remember that every one of these is on the earths surface is an exceptional the indication of a wholly exceptional and abnormal condition of a very tem- inci(lent in the career of the body from porary or intermittent character. No which the light emanates ; and when (lonbt, every piece of iron may have to we further believe, as believe xve must, be red-hot once, or more than once, but that for each one star which we can the total duration of such l)llases of thins see there must be a stupendous incandescence are quite insignificant number of invisible masses, then, in- under ordinary circumstances when deed we begin to ~et some notion of compared with the l)eiio~ls in which the the extraordinary multitude in which iron is cold and invisible. I, therefore, material orbs are strewn through space. cannot refuse to believe that there must The theory of probabilities declares to be an amount of iron on the earth us with a certainty, hardly, in my opin- which I do not see, but whichi bears a ion, inferior to that of optical demon- proportion to that which I do see in stration, that eveii within the distance the ratio of thousands or millions to which can be penetrated by our tele- one. Precisely similar is the way in scopes the visible stars cannot form which the astronomer who is properly the hundredth, probably not the thou- familiar with the theory of probabilities sa.ndth, perhaps not the millionth part will approach the study of the stars. of the total quantity of matter. lie will reflect that each mass of matter On the question as to whether space through the period of its existence must is finite, our observations with the tele be cold and invisible for by far the scope have but little information to greater part of the time ; he will reflect give. The question here involved is that on rare occasions, separated by rather of a metaphysical complexion. intervals of appalling length, certain The extent of space (hepends more exceptional conditions arise by which upon the facts of consciousness than this (lark piece of matter may be so kin- upon those of astronomical observation. dled that, for an epoch, long it may be It may, perhaps, simplify the discus- in years but brief indeed wheii com- sion of the subject if we first of all l)ared with the span of told existence, consider the question as to whether the the body would glow as a star. Pro- quantity of matter in the universe may vided with this conception let us look be presumed to be infinite or not. We ~n the universe with its millions of can put the question into a perfectly orbs. These orbs will be found in concise form by reflecting that every every phase possible to such bodies ; particle of matter, whether solid, liquid, but the enormous majority of them or gaseous, is composed of molecules. must, in accordance with the principles No doubt these molecules are so numer- just laid down, be in the dark and in- ous that even in the air we breathe the visible state. Out of some millions it capacity of a ladys thimble would con- may perhaps be concluded that, at any tam a multitude of molecules so great particular moment, a dozen or so mi~ht, that it has to be enumerated by billions. by accidental circumstances, be in those But we are not at present merely con- phases of their several careers in which cerned with the actual number of mole- LIVING AGE. VOL. L~(X~JII. 4267 98 cules that may exist in the atmosphere, even in its whole extent, or in the whole earth, or in the whole sun. Let us try to conceive the number of mole- cules that are l)1esent in all the stars, bright and (lark, which exist not only within those regions of space accessible to our telescopes, but elsewhere as well. In short, let us try to conjure UI) in our imagination the kind of figures which are to express the total number of mol- ecule~ in the universe. Is that number finite, or is it not ? This is, perhaps, one of the most fundamental ques- tions in nature which could possibly be Proposed. Let us consi(ler the con- sequences which would follo~v from adopting a negative answer to this ques- tion. If we suppose that the number of molecules was indeed infinite, then we are necessarily forced to admit at once that space must be infinite too for had space any boundary, then, since the molecules do not admit of being crowded together beyond a certain ex- tent, it would be impossible that they could exist in infinite abundance. Adopting the sound princil)le that we need not assume more than is necessary to exl)lain the phenomena exactly pre- sented by our consciousness, it seems to me to be clear that the number of molecules of matter in the universe must be finite. The row of figures which would express that number, whatever it may be, is the most re- markable descriptive constant which the universe possesses. It matters not for our present argument what may be the number of figures by which this number can be expressed. It may not be too large to be written even on the thumb-nail by the compendious method of notation now in general use. Let us next see whether we can learmi anything as to the extent of space itself. It is apparent that we seem to be in the presence of about equal difficulties whether we attempt to think of space as finite or infinite ; for, imagine that you go up in a straight line into the sky, and on, and on, and on, in thought for millions of miles, it would seem that the journey ought to be endless; for, supposing that you try to conceive a Is the Universe Infinite? boundary, the imagination will equally suggest that there is something on the other side of that boundary from which you can commence again. It appears almost equally impossible to suppose that the journey could be carried on forever as to suppose that it could ever be brought to an end. It was, how- ever, long ago shown by Kant that space was rather to be regarded as a form in which the human mind was compelled to regar(l objects than as a self-existing fact of external nature. We have no power in our own con- sciousness to surmount the difficulties of conception to which I have referred. They arise from the conditions of our mental constitution, and reasoning about space will do no more to remove its mysteries than it will suffice to give to the man born blind a notion of the color scarlet. lInt mathematicians, while fully aware of the imperfection of their powers of concel)tion as re(~ards the facts of space, are still enabled to frame a perfectly consistent theory ac- cordimig to which the observed phenom- ena of nature can be presented within a space which is finite in (limensions. They are even able, as it were, to lay their finger upon the exact point in which the subjective difficult~ has arisen. I must here be permitted to refer to a point in connection with the elements of Euclid. The beginner who studies this work commences, of course, by learning the axioms, and reads without any feeling of discontent or querulous- ness such venerable truths as that the whole is greater than its part. lInt, after a number of propositions of this eminently unquestionable but somewhat puerile kind, he is suddenly brought up by the famous twelfth axiom in which Euclid lays down the theory of parallel lines. Here is a statement of a radi- cally different kind from such assertions as that if equals be added to equals the wholes are equal. In fact, Eu- clids notion of parallel lines is so far from being an axiom of the same char- acter as these other propositions that it is quite possible to (loubt its truth with- out doing any violence to our conscious- 1)cS5. The principle assumed in the twelfth axiom cannot be proved, and it has been well remarked, that it indi- cates the supreme genius of Euclid to have expressed this particular axiom in ~uch language as challenges at once the attention and the caution of the stu- (lent. It may, however be said that Pearly all our difficulties in connection with the conceptions of space take their origin in the ambiguities which arise from the assumption which the twelfth axiom implies. Some modern mathe inaticians have gone so fa i as to deny the existence of this axiom altogether as a truth of nature, and it is most im portant to notice that when free from the embarrassment which the assump tion of Euclid involves, a geometry emerges whieh removes our difficulties. It seems to show that space is finite rather than infinite, so far as we can assign definite meaning to the words, but it would lead me into matters some- what inconvenient for these pages if I were to pursue the matter with any further detail. I may, however, say that it can be demonstrated that all known facts about space are reconcil- able with the supposition that if we fol lo~v a straight line through space, using for the word straight the definition ~vhich science has shown properly to l)elon(r to it, that then, after a journey which is not infinite in its length we shall find ourselves back at the point from which we started. If any one should think this a difficulty, I would recommend him to try to affix a legiti mate definition to the word straight. lie will find that the strictly definable attributes of straightness are quite coin- l)atible with the fact that a particle moving along a straight line will ulti- mately be restored to the point from which it departed. It is quite true that this seems to be a paradox, but it will not be so consid- ered by the geometer. The truth it implies is indeed quite a familiar doc- trine in modern geometry. But what is not so familiar to mathematicians is that the restoration of the travelling particle to the point from which it orig 99 inally started need not involve a jour- ney of infinite length. If we assume Euclids twelfth axiom to be true, then no (loubt the traveller can only get back to the point from which he started as the result of a journey of infinite length which will have occupied an infinite time. But now suppose that Euclids twelfth axiom be not true, or suppose that, what comes to the same thing, the three angles of a triangle are not indeed equal to two right angles, then the jour- ney may require neither an infinite lapse of time nor an infinitely great speed before the traveller regains his original position, even though he is moving in a straight line all the time. Space is thins dearly finite ; for a par- ticle travelling in a straight line with uniform speed in the same (lirection is never able to get beyond a certain lim- ited (listance from the original positfon, to which it will every now and then return. Those who remember their Euclid may be horrorstruck at the her- esy which suggests any doubt as to the sanctions by which they believe in the equality of the three angles of a tri- angle to two right angles. Let theni know now that this h)lo1)osition has never been proved, and never can be prove(l, excel)t by the some~vhat illogi- cal process of first assuming what is equivalent to the same thing, as Euclid does in assuming the twelfth axiom. Let it be granted that this proposition is to some very minute extent an untrue one ; there is nothing we know of which shows that such a supposition is unwarrantable ; no measurements that we can make with our instruments ; no observation that we can make with our telescopes ; no reasonings that we can make with our intellect, can ever de- monstrate that the three angles of a triangle may not as a matter of fact actually differ from the right angles by some such amount as, let us say, the millionth part of a second. This does no violence to our consciousness, while it provides the needed loophole for escape from the illogicahities and the contradictions into which our attempted conceptions of space otherwise land us. ROBERT BALL. Is the Universe Infinite? 100 The Scillies and the Scillonians. From The Corohull Magazine. useful herb which is to roast duck what THE SCILLIES AND THE SCILLONJAKS. the soul of a man is to his body. The IT is perhaps unfortunate for the na- words Daffodil, Narcissus, Mackerel, tives of these isles that by the exigen- New Potatoes, or Wreck may also be cies of English pronunciation they are ten(lercd as substitutes more or less in some peril of being bracketed by the l)leasant and appropriate ; and all pref- ignorant with the inmates of our lunatic erable to Scilly. asylums. But in fact the islanders In truth, however, no error could be might if they pleased revolt upon good more radical than to imagine the Scil- grounds against the accepted appella- lonians (leficient in wit. We know but tion of their home-land. It is affirmed little about them in the olden time by experts that in the old time the except that the Romans used their isles name was pronounced ~$killy. This, as a repository for Cornish tin, and per- though to the novel reader reminiscent haps burrowed locally also for the same of thin gruel, is at least more dignified mineral. But in the last few genera- than Silly. The word is derived tions the islanders have shown their from the Cornish skoly or skuhly, abilities as smugglers, rogues, ship- to scatter. This is fairly significative builders, pilots, and market gardeners of the hundred or two 6f black rocks in a way that ranges them far beyond an(l green islets which form the group, the borders of imbecility. One half spread as they are over a broad surface expects to find them an indolent little of water. But other derivations are community, enjoying their mild climate also in the field. There is svlla, a after the manner of the people of conger eel, or scylly, to separate ; Hawaii. But I had not been a day in either of which may be at the bottom St. Marys ere I had changed my opin- of the nomenclature of the interesting ion in this matter, and at the end of a little archipelago, week methought a little of their energy Here, then, is scope for the employ- might profitably be transferred to some ment of the county councillors, whose of our mainland towns. recent institution in the capital of the It is, of course, easy to reach the islands has caused so much suspicion. isles. During the early weeks of sum- By getting a stout lever under estab- mner there is a steamer almost daily lished custom, the conneillors may do from Penzance to St. Marys. This is wonders, an(l in a year or two effec- more for the convenience of the fish tually remove the reproach which has trade, and the Billingsgate gentlemen hitherto for long lain upon the archi- who have it in charge, than for the vis- pelago. They will also thereby per- itors or the mails. Still, visitors may chance justify themselves and their benefit by it - though at some personal existence in the regard of their fellow cost. The Atlantic off the Lands End islanders. These view them as a pre- is seldom a~ smooth as it might be. text for a new rate merely. The cona- The perfume of stale fish-baskets is cii chamber is over the butchers stalls decidedly disagreeable. Thins it is ad- imu Hugh Town market-place. It is a visable for the person who travels to suggestive location. Blood has been the isles during the mackerel seasomi to crc now spilt for mnore trivial grievances take a robust stomach with him ; and than this which has taken possession of to be heartily unconscious of bad smells. the minds of the people. But let the On these conditiomms, there is much to conneillors accommodate their views enjoy imi the little trip of three or four amid actions to their situation, and all hours. The Cornish coast is viewed may yet l)e well. Let them rechristeui panoramnically, and for the brief interval the islands without delay. If the name during which one is out of sight of hand mnust relate to their natural products, it is as if one were in muid-passage be- w0ul(l the transition from S~illy to tween Liverpool and New York. Sage be too abrupt? For in the Very soon, however, the low rocks of local gardens I have seen much of that the isles lift their heads above the The Scillies and the Scillonians. 101 waves, and in the evening one is set tins, Asliford or Nance is a like pass- ashore, and a path between sundry fine word. But the Scillonians now see Himalaya palms and healthy aloes their error in this respect. Their little brings one to a hotel in which there is churchyards prove how many a youth as much comfort as a traveller has the and maiden (lies ere maturity, which, right to expect. in a land so notoriously salubrious, can In spite of LelanXs testimony that be due only to consanguineous alli- ~there coul(l be conatid 140 Jslatts of ances. Scilley, I believe there is no exact St. Marys, or 1-Tugh Town, as the record of the number of isies which capital is indifferently called, is a clean, compose the Scilly group. Scores of unassuming little place of tvo or thrce them are mere rock points. Their daii streets of white houses. These broaden gerons crests are visible enough at low iito a couple of squares where the water, when the gulls l)elch upon them, shops, thc banks, and sundry knots of and give an exaggerated i(lea of gen- seafaring gentlemen in blue jerseys eral population to the district, lint at create an aspect of commercial, or at half tide there is little to indicate them least human activity. In May an(l save the white eddies in the blue ; and .June there is really a good (heal of bustle at high tide they have (lisa.l)peared. in the l)lace early aiid late. The steamer Viewe(l from the elevated land of leaves in the morniur an(i arrives in Tresco or St. Martins, there is some- the evening. In rea(liness for its de thing fascinating about these inky parture, you may see the fishing luggers seams 111)011 the Atlantic ; and espe sail into the harbor by the (lozeil be cially on a calm day, when the ocean is tween six and nine oclock. Their smooth atid silvery. But they are do catch in the night is sold by the auc quent ot mournful memories. Hardly tioneer on board with surprising expe one of the rocks is without its associa (hition. As the boats are (lrawn up tion of a wreck or two. alongside the steamer, the spoil is dis The chief islands are St. Marys, played, and the mackerel are put up by Tresco, St. MartiWs, Agnes, and tile hundred (of six score), the bidding Br her. None others are nowa(lays being confined to the Billingsgate and inhabited. St. Marys, the largest, con other agents here collected. Hake and talus seat sold separately, or the capital, and the of local other lar~Te fish are go vernuleilt, though Tresco is the resi by the dozeii. You hear such words as (lence of tile gentleman who, as lessee these, tittered very briskly a shillinr ull(ler tile Prince of Wales 1(5 Duke of bid for these two fish a bob, a bob ,a Corn~vall, is known locally uS tile gov bob, an(l (lo~v1l goes tlle hammer. ernor. All told, the population of the The anglers may not tilink the price isles is under two thousand with a good, but at ally rate they get their dimillishing tendency. -The governot money On the spot. This scene con does not favor an idle tenantry. Tile tinue until the anchor is up luggers youths who will neither fish nor till the arriving to the very last minute. IJur land nor keep 51101) are urge(l to seek ing the passage to Pcnzance tile divert their fortunes elsewhere. Tile Scilly lug processes of packing are gone damsels, unless sllatclle(l up as bt:ides, throuTh And wilen tile Billiugsgate arc prone to aspire to become (1re55- gentlemen ilave com~)letely prepare(I makers in Peuzance. Notiling could be tlleir merchlan(hise for tile UI) train to better than this for tIle improvement of town ill tile afternoon, they sit tipoii the local stock. Iii past days it xvas the their baskets, ligllt 1)11(1 cigars, expecto fashion to iliteruluirry to a deplorable rate, and jest broadly with each other degree. Indeed, the custom still llolds, until tile voyage is over. so that On Agnes you may safely ad- Flowers and new potatoes contest dress any man, woman, or child of the witlI the mackerel tlle privilege of the seven score inhabitants by tile name of (leek room of these steamers. It is far Hicks or Jenkins ; even as, on St. Mar- from purgatorial to be wedged on board The Scillies and the Scillonians. between a couple of cases of the Scilly white, an in(ligenous narcissus. They are much sweeter than the fish. You may see the cultivators row into the harbor with their cargoes from the other isles. One farmer of St. Martins with whom I stayed sent as many as twelve thousand flowers in a day. At three- pence a dozen (the wholesale price), this clearly mcans money. Of arum lilies also he was a consideral)le ex- porter. But their price is much more variable, veering between sixpence apiece during Holy Week and a shilling a dozeii afterwards. For my part, I was much interested in what I saw of the flower culture in the isles. It is an ideal profession for the decayed gen- tlewomen who a(lvertise in the news- papers for something to do clean, and sweet, and profitable. The Scillonians believe with good reason that the trade has not yet reached its fartlicst point of development. Each year sees another acre or two set out with narcissus bulbs. During the spring of 1891, a hundred and eighty tons of flowers left Scilly for England excluding the post parcels. This does not look as if the south of France was, as some thought, about to l)ush Scilly out of Covent Garden. The few hours clear gain that the Scilly flowers have over the baskets from the Riviera are very precious in the esteem of florists. It must not be supl)ose(l that vegeta- tion is here anything like as l)rofuse as in Madeira. In my ignorance I fancied it might he. I looked to see thickets of bougainvillea and heliotrope, and flow erin(r ~eraniu ms as hioh as a house. But the isles are too small and exposed for this sort of thing. None of them are two miles across. The Atlantic storms are as bad in the Scillies as any- where. If it were not for the well- established hedges of the Scilly elm and the macrantha, the salt spray and the gales would soon (lestroy the best gar- dens of St. Marys. Those of Tresco are more sheltered ; the island of St. Marys here acting as a screen in that terrible quarter, the south-west. Save on Tresco, it may almost be said that there are no trees in the archipelago, though the apple orchards in the mid- dle of St. Marys may seem to belie me. The islands. consist mainly of low downs, covered with gorse and heather. You may scent the gorse miles away from the land, and the gold of it on the green hills is one of the prettiest fea- tures of Scilly. These (lowus end at the coast in granite rocks, though of no great size, with edges and cliffs per- fectly appalling to vessels. Even under the guard of three light- houses and a lightship, the Scillies re- main, audi are likely to remain, a terror to mariners. Thousands of lives have been lost upon them. I almost gave up the affection I had generated for them when I saw the l)Lodigious litter of ships skeletons and heavy iron wreckage wedged among the great boulders of granite on their shores. It is the same with them all ; though Ag- nes is the worst. Its south-westerly position makes it serve as a sort of snare for derelicts and corpses. On this island is the oldest of the Scilly lighthouses, a veteran of two centuries standhi ng. Among the many disasters of which it has been a witness, the wreck of Sir Cloudesley Shovells fleet in 1707, and of the Schiller in 1875, were probably the worst. But there is no end to the tale of the lesser calam- ities of these waters. No wonder the head keeper of this lighthouse is a some what melancholy man, seeing that lie is of a reflective turn of mind. His landscape of rocks is about as enliven- ing to him as a square mile or two of tombstones. The visitor who stays in the islands for more than ten days or a fortnight will hardly fail to see some rough weather. In my case, I brought it with me from Peuzance. We had a lively passage, and a night of storm and fog in combination ensued. When I xvoke iii the morning, it was to behold a pro- cession of Cornish and Scilly huggers driving fast by my window into the haven of St. Marys: They had seen the storm warning hoisted on the hill just behind the hotel, though,if they had not seen it, the wind, the sky, and the waves ~vould have sufficiently ad- 102 The Scillies and the Scillonians. monished them. For the next two (lays they stayed in port, lounging heav- ily between the more sheltered corners of the streets, the public houses, and the meteorological station, where the barometer was descending with a steady curve. And all this time the gusts were continuous, an(l the sea thundered on the southern side of the island with a fury that was nothing less than frantic. The granite coast from Peninis Head to Pellistry Bay was like a fringe of foun- tains, so high did the spray rise in re- coil from the rocks. Confessedly, after two or three days of such weather one begins to tire of the sublime in nature. The wailing of the wind everywherein the streets, on the downs, and through the window- sash of ones bedroom begins to depress the mind. Tales ~et into cir- culation about what has happened on the outlying islands. A body has been washed up somewhere, and cer- tain fresh-looking l)ieces of wreckage. There is no fish at (linlier time. The groups of dissatisfied seamen in blue jerseys and jackboots fall out of humor with the weather, and gather round the ~vin(low behind which the scoring needle of the barometer marks per- sistently downhill. Some of them, in (lefault of other employment, ye ature to get drunk in public a sad scandal in so well-behaved a little place. It is an- aoying to be drenched every tune one goes out for an hour or so ; and the strenuous l)uffetings of the wind, agree- ably exciting at first, affect one later as a series of impertinenees of a somewhat exhaustin~ kind. In short a general spirit of (liscontent seem~ to settle UI)Ofl the land when the bad weather has lasted forty or fifty hours. There are no new-comers at the hotels small wonder at that, for the passage under such conditions, if possible at all, is apt to be sensational ; and the boatmen, who depend laigely fo~ a livelihood upon their hired trips to Tresco, may as well twirl their brawny thumbs in the front parlor as think of business en- gagements at such a time. Only the gulls seem to enjoy it. Their unre- strained screaming, as they drive be- 103 fore the wind, among the masts of the luggers tossing at anchor, is, however, an additional irritant to the disturbed minds of the bipeds beneath them. It is under such influences as these that one sinks into full sympathy with the more atrabilious effusions in the visitors book. There is a solid pro- portion of them, which seems to prove that the Scilly air does not suit all sorts and conditions of people. Here is a stanza of an irregular kind which is a type of the rest 0 fog-enwreathed Scilly! Without regret I quit Thy bare and rugged isles, Recalling saddest scenes of woe and sudden death, Telling of broken hearts and blighted hap- piness I Perhaps the author did not get meals or a bed to his mind, or his liver was lethargic. A good dinner, a sound nights sleep, or a long walk on the downs might have changed his humor altogether.. But, on the other hand, it is easy to see that a week of storms, a surfeit on the local literature or cate- gory of wrecks, and a bodily indisposi- tion would suffice to affect the judgment of the most reasonableminded man. I shall not soon forget the May day I spei~t in St. Marys. At the hotel I was oivcn to un(lerstand that great sights w crc in preparation. A May queen was chosen. Of flowers for the adornment of her Majesty and her Majestys attendants there was, of course, no lack. There was a May l)ole in the larger square ; the hotel flag was run up to the top of the flag- staff ; and I was informed that from time immemorial it was the custom to eat junket and cream on this merry an- niversary. But, as ill-luck would have it, this was the second day of tempestuous weather. No sooner had the little mai(lens assembled for their first chant in the lesser square of the town than the clouds broke upon theni. They were a charming sight in their mock bridal finery, girded and bowered with lilies and daffodils and the finest narcissi. But the weather was unconscionably The Scillies and the Scillonians. rude. The wind tore the wreathing from the May pole, and whistled on all sides so loudly that it drowned the infant voices. Ere half the procession- ing was over the mothers began to in- terfere with the ceremonial. It was not unnatural. An anniversary of the most inspiring kind is trivial compared to the diseases one may contract by undue exposure. And so the festival faded away, and the storm was left in charge of the town. The fisher lads, in their blouses and jackl.oots, were also crowned with narcissi. Their weather-l)eate a bronzed faces looked well in such vicinity. But even they were not thorou~hly tempest-proof, and ere long the streets were void of way- farers, and a litter of flowers with broken stalks and bruised heads was eloquent of the May day ruin which had followed the May day hopes. I was told that the modern May queens of Scilly are nothing like as pretty as the May queeiis of ten and twenty years ago. This, like other de- fects of the age, is supposed to l)e (me to the march of civilization. The more comely damsels think they may do bet- ter for themselves by emigrating to the mainland, and, when they marry, their children are not of course available for local May day festivals. But I am dis- inclined to accept this slur upon the existing matrons of the archipelago. It was proffered me by an unwedded lady in the midsummer-time of her life. She was, I judge, prejudiced against the younger generation. With the barometer falling steadily by tenths of an inch, it did not look as if I could gain my wish of a passage to Tresco the next morning. In effect the storm was at its worst during the whole of the ensuing day. The fourth morn- ing, however, dawned fair, in utter calm. I at once prepared to depart; but when I found that my boatman had been requisitioned to carry a coffin for the interment of a waif of the sea, three weeks in the water, ~vhich had landed on Agnes at daybreak, I was delayed yet again. I might, of course, have sat on or in the coffin at my ease; but landsmen have their superstitions as well as sailors, and so I excused myself. This brings me to one of the stock grievances of the islanders. In the old times they, like the warden of the Cinque Ports, had a very considerable interest in the wrecks and derelicts which came upon their coasts. We read how, in A. n. 1300, the then Earl of Cromwell made a grant of the whole of St. Agnes (an island three hundred and twelve acres in extent) with all its rents, customs, and wrecks cast ashore. A wreck was, in fact, a godsen d,like the manna in the desert. It has been said, in reproach of the islanders of Agnes, that they were wont to pray for wrecks, e utreatiug for the purpose their patron saint Warna by name who was repute(1 to have reached them from Ireland one day, and conferred a sort of sanctity upon them. Was there so much positive wickedness in this peti- tioning? Surely not. If a ship was so unfortunate as to b,e reft of its crew, and lie at the mercy of the winds, was it not better that it should drive upon some land where its contents would be welcome to the inhabitants than that it should sink to the bottom of the At- lantic and profit nobody? On those grounds the ancient Hickses and Jen- kinses of Agnes seem to be justified in the prayers which some of us regard as so inexcusably ghoulish. Nowa(lays things are different. When a vessel goes to pieces off any of the isles, the revenue officers are quickly alive to what may happen. Merchandise is annexed. If the owners of the vessel are unknown, such prop- erty goes to the crown. But, on the other hand, let a score or two of corpses float ashore, and what happens ? The law compels the islanders to bury the bodies at their own exl)ense. There is not even a fund for the purpose. Cof- fins and inquests and boatmens labor from St. Marys together make up a stout little bill, which has to be met.. This is a sore subject in the islands, and well it may be. The Scillonians are ready enough to risk their lives in the cause of shipwrecked humanity. I They do it gladly, for the fishier-folk 104 The Scillies and the Scillonians. among them know that they too may some day be in the like need of aid. But it is too bad that the crown, which absorbs such unclaimed increment as the Atlantic proffers to the isles, should not defray the cost of the burial of the bodies (often in the worst of condi- tion) which also come from the At- lantic. A typical case of this hardship hap- pened a few years ago, consequent upon the loss of a cattle vessel. A herd of dead bullocks drifted on to the islands. They had to be provided with graves, and the cost of their removal and obse- quies was 1301. Of this the governor paid 501. The rest was raised by a local rate. In the interests of humanity, if not in common fairness, a better system ought to be established. During my visits to the untenanted islets I ic- marked that my boatman religiously traniped round each rocky coast. His exercise resulted in sundry lengths of bamboo, slabs of cork, and the like. I asked him what he would have (lone if he had espied a corpse. lie puck- ered his lip. Of course he xxonld lma~e done his duty. lIe would have drawn it above highwater mark, if it was not already there ; an(l on his return to the capital lie would have informed the authorities. But there was no (lonbt- in~ he would have done it more gladly, an(l perhaps been more eager to rescue the poor battered relic, if some reward was attached to the service. The cro~vn might well (10 something in this matter. I am afraid my paper is a good deal more sombre in tone than I designed to make it. But really, if there be any fault in the affair, it must lie at the foot of the islands themselves. Wherever I went, these witnesses of ruin were there also. The island churchyards abound in tombstones upon which the words ~ Lost at sea are chiselled. On the coasts of the various islands, I was constantly stumbling over iron rods or massive timbers tora from shattered ships, or clogging my feet in the briny clothes of some hapless mortal who in all probability lay peacefully in the bed of the Atlantic. The church bells were once ships bells. The fencing over which I climbed to pass from one field or meadow to another was of ships planks or 1)eanis set roughly side by side, with perhaps an iron balustrad ing that was once the bulwark of a merchantman. The outhouses of the farmsteads are built of wreckage, and the (loor of the cowshed was formerly the door of some captains cabin. How, under such conditions, is it possible to forget that one is in a lanA over which it may be sai(l that the sweep of deaths broad-bladed scythe is forever extend- ing? Worst of all, however, to me were the sights in the gardens to which I went with enthusiasm to inhale the perfume of time Scilly white amid admire the healthy verdure of the young l)otato pla~t~. Here, at any rate, it seemued to me that I should be in a sweet, imivig orating atmosl)herc. But I was mis taken. The figure-heads of dead ships met me at the end of the leafy avenues between the various flower-beds. You cami easily imagine them a Jacktam, large as life, with one cheek knocked away ; time Mary Jane, Friar Tuck, The Admiral, The Spanish Girl, The Dolphin, and so on. At the famous Tresco Gardens theme is an entire shed of them among the tree ferns and palms. To me it was dreadful ; better than being in a charnel-house, yet not much better. Each wooden shape was an epitome of the woe that had be- fallen the vessel of which it had been a part, and of the men and womemi whom it had carrie(1 to their (loom. Were I Lord of the Isles, I would bury these many figure-heads out of sight. TI icy may not be pestilential, like derelict bullocks, but in every other respect they have as much right to be nnderhround. And miow of the fairer si(le of life in tIme Scillies. It exists, though one might almost profess doubt of it. Some say it lies iii the veiny temperate climate of the isles the mean in winter seldom going below 450, and in summer seldom rising above 550 Snow is a rarity. I This year, however (1891), there was 1o~ The Scillies and the Scillonians. enough of it to make the oldest inhab- itant think the world was coming to an en(I. The children, less experienced, thought the sky was raining sugar- plums. They live long in the Scillies if they survive the first thirty years of life. Hale octogenarians are numerous for a community less than two thousand in number. A certain Tresco man of eighty-seven or eight (he couldnt re- member which) was my boatman one day to St. Martins, an island two miles away. He rowed me thither, an(l while I was there he took himself off for a few hours into the open Atlantic and caught half a score of fine pollock, after which he returned to convey me back to Tresco. I let him do all this because I wished to see if he was as capable as he was reputed to be. They told me lie was full of knowledge about the islands ; but he was so cautious and reticent that I am constrained to be- lieve he has not always acted on the square. Indeed, he let out that he had borne many a barrel upon his back in the 01(1 days, by which he meant smuggled rum and brandy. He also told with pride how, some forty years ago, when a merchantman drove upon an island north of Tresco, he was the second man aboard her in the morning. I saw much of this old fellow, but he was never more interesting than when I met him for the first time prowliu.g among the granite blocks of the north coast of Tresco, with bent back, his white beard shaking to and fro, and a coil of rope round his meagre waist. I asked him what lie was doing. He glanced at me shrewdly with his beady eve, and replied, in a shrill, pipy voice, I be just looking to see if I can pick up some bits of things ; but it be a bad nothing here time ; there be . Ah, Agnes! he exclaimed, when I men- tioned my visit to that fatal island, theres plenty there. There be many a ship goes to pieces off Crebewethan and them, and washes up there. He was glad on this occasion to get rid of me, and I left him peering like a gull this way and that as he groped along. Yet, though undoubtedly salubrious, there is a good deal of fog over the islands at times. This would not suit all invalids, quite apart from the effect the warning-guns in the night from the Bishop Lighthouse might have upon people of a nervous temperament. In the little churchyard of the island of Bryher (area two hundred and sixty- eight acres; population about one hun- dred) there is a tombstone to one Jacob Hicks, who died in 1852, aged ninety- six. He was probably the patriarch of the isles, a position which, from part of his epitaph, he seems to have valued This is to let you see Ive had the fifth generation on my knee. The absence of the usual kinds of social amusement may also be regarded as a deterrent for people in ill health, to whom diversion is one of the best of tonics. A Methodist cantata., now and then, appears to be the most advanced form of dissipation in the capital. To be sure there is a local book-club ; but as the subscribers are still busy with Scotts novels, it will be long ere the writers of our time come into their hands. I was asked what I thought of Waverley much as in town one is asked ones opinion of the latest of Ibsens trifles. However, I need say no more on this count. There is no resident invalid population here as in Penzance or Tor- quay. A single doctor looks after the entire archipelago, upon a tariff of five shillings per visit in the daytime, and ten shillings by night. As in other island groups, the islanders on such occasions take their turns in manning the boat which is to convey the doctor to his patient. The poor gentleman sometimes earns his fee at considerable self-sacrifice. To my mind the charm of the islands is the simple, primitive life of the islanders. To appreciate this, it is of course needful to abandon the hotels of St. Marys, with their charges of eigh- teen pence daily for attendance. The other islands do not breed hotels, though there is a house in Tresco where visit- ors can lunch, and a licensed house also in Bryher. On Agnes or St. Martins 106 The Scillies and the Scillonians. you are at the mercy of the hospitality of the people ; and it is the same in the eastern part of St. Marys. I spent three days in the little white house of a retired mariner on the east coast of Tresco, and quite fell in love with the serenity of the life. It was a house built shipwise. To enter it one had to stoop as if one were going down a hatchway ; to ascend to the bedroom it was further necessary to take heed of ones head. here I lived on plain food and kept early hours. The walls were populous with grocers and (Irapers Christmas almanacs. A funeral card or two kept me in mind of my mortality. The crockery and cutlery were of an unassuming kind. I drank out of a Jubilee mug, with the words A pres- ent for a good little girl upon it. The cooking was far below club standard. But what of all this ? There was nothing really of the nature of a hard- ship about it, and as a change it was delightful. The exmariner s boat was moored just outsi(lC, under the cottage wall, which at high tide the Atlantic half hid. It was easy enough to get into it and row to Norwethel, Tean, St. Helens, or the serrated shape of Mena- wore, in search of adventures. The adventures were of course likely to be of the moderate order; but I was con- tent enough when I found myself chased by the thirteen young bullocks of Teaii (unused to the sight of mortals) with singular unanimity and in a lusty manner that reminded me of a Spanish bull ring. On St. Helens there is what some take for the ruins of a church, and also the dismantled building which years back was used as a pesthouse. The bedsteads upon which the sick sailors lay still stand disjointedly in the roofless rooms. On calm days at low ti(le the space between Tresco and St. Martins pre- sented an 0(1(1 appearance. Its two miles of waterway shrank to three or four poor little channels between the black island rocks, and here, too, care was essential to avoid sticking upon one of the protrusive weed-clad granite edges which peeped above the blue water. The white sand underneath colored the shallow currents pale green. The perfume and gold of the gorse upon all the islands in sight added to the charm of the scene. There was further an old seventeenth- century block - house on a headland within gunshot of the cottage window, and soft turf with scentless violets in it on the slope from the block-house to the sea. The Tresco church was about as near in another (lirection a bijon place of worship, with Himalaya palms and palmetto dispersed among the graves. From the low, wind-blown patch of firs a little more remote, the cuckoo sounded its soothing note from still grey morn to (lewy eve. And by climbing the hill in the middle of the island, I could in a little while reach the Smith monument, set in the heart of a gorse thicket, with rabbits speeding hither and thither, and the finest pano- rama of the islands north, south, east, an(l ~vest. This ~vas the place for the sunset. Even though the wind might l)e ever so fierce, the granite base of the pile (in memory of the late gov e ruor) afforded stout protection from it ; an(l with ones back to the thin~ one might watch the changing hues of the sky until the gloaming had arrived, au(1 the lonely rock of the Bishop Lighthouse, four miles from inhabited land, had disappeared into the distance. It was a cottage, too, for lazy moods, as well as for .a certain amount of romance. For there was a well-made bench in the san(ly gar(len, with some gillytlowers and young onions growing in front of it ; and the exmariner had a famous telescope through which one could see the men of the Round Island Lighthouse (the third in the archipel- ago) moving about their limited rocky domain. Like other ex-Inariners, this goo(l fellow could tell yarns beginning, When we were off Cape Hatteras, one day in the year so and so. But lie was never so utterly tiresome or mendacious as some of his brethren are apt to be on the like themes. In this little cottage I was treated with as much (listinction as possible for four-and-sixpence a day. It was nearly the same on. the island 107 The Scillies and the Scillonians. of St. Martins. Here I was the guest of a farmer in the Middle Town ; and it was settled (not. withont apology from the farmers wife about the extrava- gance of the charge) that I should pay fonr shillings (laily for my board and lodging. The chief article in the bill of fare was ch)tted cream. At lo~v tide my host collected cockles from the sandy shore looking towards St. Marys, three miles distant. These, With excel- lent plum cake and a tin of Australian meat. may be described as the table dainties of St. Martins. My bedroom window opene(l into the greenhouse, in which heliotrope and liun(lreds of cut narcissi rea(Iy for the market made a perfume that was. almost too sweet for sufferance. There was no end to the amiability of the household. One day the farmer had the butcher over from St. Marys, an(l a two-year-old ox was slain in the presence of the l)eople. That evening, when I went to bed, the gory head of the slaughtered beast hung at the foot of my staircase, to remind me of a nursery l)icture of the (lecapita- tion of Goliath. And on the following (lay l)alt of the offal enriched the principal meal. l3ut it was more especially outside the farmhouse and its narcissus beds that I took my pleasure on St. Martins. The island is only about five hundred acres in extent, but it is an enchanting combination of rocky coast, white sandy bays, and grassy downs with gorse and heather and crimson stonecrop on them. The hills pervade it ; and from the balmy ridge Cornwall seems quite near. Fortunately the weather was exquisite while I was here. At low tide I walked to White Island, amid insl)ecte(l the deep fissure which some think a relic of ancient tin-prospecting Romans. There is no present trace of tin in the cuttino but if mans handiwork is miot in the quarry, nature is a subtler imitatrix of it thiami one would expect to find her. This island, like most of the others, is destined in no long time to be (hivided into two l)arts. The Atlantic pinches the waists of the isles until, after a series of spring tides, channels form in their midst. Thus the archipelago has no doubt been ma(le, and thus the num- ber of its parts is ever on the increase. I think the view of the islands from the St. Martins downs is even more interesting thami that froni Tresco. Here we are not in the mi(ldle of the group. It is all spread out beneath us upon one side ; while upon the other side is the At4antic and the grey outline of the Cornish coast beyond. Seeii by moonlight, the interlacing of the reefs in the silvery water is a remarkable sight. At stmch a time, too, there will be the witness of lmalf-a-dozen light houses to suggest that not al~vays are the Scilhies so sweet and idyllic a l)ic- ture. For not only are the local lights visible from these downs of St. Mar- tins, but thiose of Cornwall also. St. Martins ought to be a moral little land. Its inhabitants neither smoke tobacco nor (irink strong (Irink. There is no licensed house in its three mniles of length. In case of need, a certain householder will piovide a little brandy but one may conjecture that the need will have to be extreme before it is a(lmiliistere(l. The perfume of my cP~ar secme(l to certain memubers of my household a very strange kind of smell. ~ am sorry to say it by no means mnet with approval fromu the l)rctt v young daughter of the farmer. She it was who picked the namcissi for the British market, and deftly tied thmem iii bunches of twelve. Her muother and father rate(l her for her daintiness, btit she was not to be led against her o~vmm in- stincts. In other ways I was not to her liking. When first II entered thme house as a guest, she mi)a(le me happy by her read immess to wait tmpomi me an(i by the winsomue blushes upon hei~ cheeks. Somehow it was assumed I was a voollen draper, or at least a ~ro- cci. But when, in response to leading questions put to me at meal-timue, I avowe(l that I lived by mny pcn, an(l even wrote stories, alt the attractive lustre faded fromn her eyes, and a leaden look of reproach took its place. Sto- ties ! she exelaimned, how can a man write such thin~s all lies There was miot a doubt. that I had de- graded myself in her esteem. Amid I 108 The East India Companys Military College. resolved there and then that when I return to St. Martins, it shall be with a portmanteau half full of pattern-books. But I fear, long ere that time comes, one of the young men of St. Martins will have taken her to a certain little white house, with its appanage of nar- cissus beds and new-potato patches. From Blackwoods Magazine. ADDISCOMBE.:. THE EA5T INDIA COMPANYS MILITARY COLLEGE. IN these days, when companies for the development of vast tracts of Africa are being established, both interest and advantage may result from an investi- gation of the methods followed by their great predecessor, the Honorable East India Company. If much may be found that is now out of date, still more is to be learnt of unquestionable value from the extended experience and wise blending of liberality with econ- omy which characterized the manage- ment of the great company. In its general aspect the subject is manifestly too extensive for more than mere men- tion here ; but a short consideration of one branch of itthe supply of officers for the companys military service may l)lo~Te useful, and is certainly in terestin(~ as it involves a description of the military school in which many offi- ccis were trained whose services were of the highest order, and of whom some have acquired enduring renown. In the early days of the company the territory under their swiiy was com- paratively limited, and consequently their army was small. Its officers were irregularly supplied ; some from local sources were appointed to the infantry, whilst others from Woolwich or Marlow filled the few vacancies in the artillery and en~zineers. But as these corps had to be aui~mented to keel) pace with the increase of territory, the Court of Direc- tors (lecide(I to establish a seminary, as they delighted to call it, for the educa- tion of cadets destined for their service in India. In accordance with the tra 109 kept prominently in view, whilst effi- ciency was not neglected. So there was much searching for suitable quarters an(l much negotiation before the acqui- sition in 1809 of Addiscombe Place, near Croydon, formerly the residence of the first Earl of Liverpool, which comprised a mansion and about fifty- seven acres of land. Its late owner. Charles Jenkinson, was the chief political adviser of George III., and enjoyed that monarchs com- plete confidence. He commenced Par- liamentary life in 1761 under Lord I3ute, had rapid l)Lomotion, was created Lord Liverpool in 1796, and died in 1808. The house was a fine old red brick mansion, and the grounds were ~vel1 timbered and very beautiful. It was no (loul)t unavoi(lable that most of the trees should be cut down to make room for the hideous barracks and class rooms, for whose design we believe the com~)anys architect and a senior officer of royal engineers were responsible; but who would credit that the mansion itself was whitewashed Possibly on the authority of the Rolliad, purih cation after the (leparture of its late owner and his friends Pitt an(l Dundas was considered necessary before the house was fit for the reception of the seminary staff ; but if so, the efforts might have been contined to the inte- rior, an(l the gratuitous advertise mnent of the vandalism of the new proprietors might have been spared. Suitable quarters having thins been secured, the (lirectors a~)pointcd Dr. James Andrew head master, and intruste(l him ~vith the selection of l)rofessors and ~vith the management of the institution. In 1809 there were sixty cadets, for whose board and education Dr. Andrew re- ceived an allowance of 80 each per annum, and there is evidence that the arranoemnent was to his entire satisfac- tion. Whether it l)le~lsed the cadets equally is another story, concerning which otlicial re ports are sue ut. Dr. Andrew was professor of mathe- matics an(l head classical master, the other 1)rofessors h)eing Mr. Glennie for fortification, with Mr. Bordwine as as- ditions of the company, economy was sistant; Mr. Shakespear for Hindu- Addiscombe. stani, with Hasan All as assistant a militaryplan (lrawin~inaster and Colonel Mudge was public examiner. Each cadet paid 30 half-yearly to cover the cost of books, mathematical instruments, stationery, pocket-money, washing, etc., cloaths and medical at- tendance ; ~ the further cost of educa- tion was paid by the company to secure useful and efficient men for their work in India. The age for admission was from thirteen and a half to sixteen years, a l)ad arrangement which led to mischief, for mere boys require a disci- pline totally different from that suitable for young men. In time this error was so far amended that tile minimUm a~e was raised to fifteen and the maximum to eighteen years, but still tile consi(l- erable (lifference in tile ages of cadets thus possible was an element of need- less danger to tIle management. Never- theless, at first tile students seem to Ilave given little trouble ; there is noth- ing recorded against them save imiatten- tion to the study of Hindustani. Tile first I)miblic examination was held in October, 1810, wIlell, in or(ler to give tile occasion a proper degree of solem- nity and collsequence, 1 tIle (lirectors were asked to attend in full strength. Besides them the only otiler guests seem to have been Dr. hutton, tile late l)rofessor of mathematics at Woolwich, aild Mr. Leyburn, wIlo Ileld a similar l)ositioil at Marlow, both of whom cer- tified tilat tile cadets passed a very strict and scientific examination in matilematics, and that great merit was (me to both preceptors and pupils. On this occasion eight w5e selected for engineers and twenty-one for artillery. It is curious and instinctive to note the gradual development of tile institu- tion from tilis IlunIble beginning. At first no prizes were given save the ap- pointments to India; but soon we find the seminary committee recommending that a box of colors and other draw- ing materials, with a suitable super- scription, 1 should be given to the best military draftsman. Otiler prizes fol- lowed, in order to promote emulation and diligence; and it was arranged tilat engineers were to l)e detained in Ell- gland without preju(lice to their rank in order tilat they might be attached to tile or(lnance survey then in progress, and learn tile elemeilts of surveying. Another regulation is curious as a sign of the timllQS. Cadets wilose parents resided in Scotlaild or Ireland had the privilege of remaining at tile seminarx during the vacation, travelling being then so slow an(l expensive. But this indulgence, if it may be termed one, was not an ullqualified success, for we find two young men thins situated had first boarded ~vithi Ilasan All tile assist- ant Ihindustani master, and afterwards lived in l)rivate lO(lgings ill Croydon, wilere tiley cOn(lucte(l themselves in a very exceh)tionabhe mllanner, 1 and contracte(l (luring tile ilolidays opin- ions and habits of independence which indispose(l the Ill om~ resumlling their studies to submit to the ilecessary (us- cipline of the semnimlilmy. 1 This was provided for by a code of regulations. Cadets were not allowed to go into Croydoil or beyond the grounds witilout the permissiomi of tile Ilead master tiley ilad always to wear uniform even ~vhen on Silort leave ; they were not liable to wilat the official records term corporeal l)unisllmllemlt, but could be filled, get extra drill, or be put in the Black Hole, tllere to be fed On bread and water, pmovided that such confinemnent shall not extend beyond nille oclock at nighlt, but it ma.y be re sumud tile following morning. 1 The fines formed a fund whence prizes were given to the (leservin~ The respectable momlotony of order seemns to have beeii broken in l8l~ under the following circumnstamlces. On a Sunday afternoon somne of tile young men applied for leave to go beyond the grounds; and Dr. Andrew (to quote his version of the affair), thinking tilat to give no leave would be ungracious and to give unlimited leave dangerous, told the students to muster at five oclock and he would walk with themul But the worthy gentleman s company 1 MS. records. 110 The East India Companys Military Goller,e. was not desired, and he suspected that several had gone without leave. So he ordered a parade, which was reluctantly attended, and at which one cadet pub- licly remonstrated with him, whilst another refused to appear properly dressed. These two were punished, an(1 the parade was dismissed with an intimation from the doctor that he did not wish to force a favor on them which they were unwilling to receive, lie was hissed as he left the ground. In 1816, Angelo, the well - known fencing-master, was engaged to teach the new broadsword exercise ; and the year after additions were made to the barracks and class-rooms. Three years later the first mention of distinguished strangers being present at the public examination is found. Besides the directors, the staff, and some royal engineer officers, the Right Honorable George Canning, Lord Binning, the Right honorable W. S. Browne, and Mr. T. M. Courtenay were l)Iesent. Oii this occasion several cadets who afterwards became distinguished office is received appointments. Edward San- ders, the first engineer, during the first Afghan war visited Herat and reported on its fortifications ; his cool reconnais- sance at Istalif attracted attention at the time, and the information lie ac- quired materially contributed to the suc- cessful assault next day. He became deputy-secretary to the government of India in the military department, an(I was killed at the battle of Maharaj ~ The name of the fifth engineer, Arthur Cotton, is illustrioPs in the an- nals of Madras irrigation ; and lie is now probably the sole survivor of his term. Of those appointed to the artil- lery, the names of Archdale Wilson, Augustus Abbott, and Proby Cautley, connected as they are respectively with Delhi, Jalalabad, and the Ganges Canal, are honorably known and remembered. Soon after this time certain questions of home rule arose. The standing or- ders of the seminary were voted by the cadets to be unworkable, and moditica- tions were proposed and discussed. One of them called MGillivray, wished to introduce fagging, but was opposed, 111 and failed. The question was openly discussed. General Janies Abbott, of hiliiva renown, writes thus I well reiiiember their sl)eeches on the sub- ject. MGillivray . . . endeavored to introduce duelling with pistols, and was actually engaged with Ritherdon in such a (inch. But the secoiids turned it into a farce by loading lie pistols with blank charges and smearing Ritherdons breast with redcurrant jelly ; when poor MGihhivray fancied lie had killed his man. This took place just before I joine(h. Though no more was heard of duelling, yet the senilnary rules were by niutual consent modified so as to make life better ~vorth living, and par- ticularly to admit of in(lulgence in what the authorities styled the filthy and per- nicious habit of smoking. As with all legislation, the laws were framed in a sl)irit favorable to the l)arty in power. Thus the older cadets had privileges, whilst the lastjoined terni, originally called probos, a contraction from l)robatioI~eis, and afterwards greens, were placed under certain restrictions. With occasional interruptions, this double system of rules h)revailed as long as the institution lasted. The next change was a reform for which the directors deserve credit. The contract for boarding cadets was, at his o~vn request, taken from Dr. An(lrew, because he found it had given rise to many iIivi(hious observations which had been secretly circulated to his prejudice, although lie felt that in doing so he was sacrificing many advan- tages of income that lie had enjoyed since the return of peace and conse- quent reduction in the price of pro- visions. lie alleged that during the war lie made scarcely anything beyond his salary, an(l trusted that the court would not let him lose much by the change of system. This is a tolerably unblushing admission that lie was mak- ing money out of his contract for feed- ing the cadets; and such was no doubt the case, for the system was vicious, and men were human. The court treated him with the greatest liberality. raised his pay by 200 a year, paid him 600 down, and took over his kitchen Addiscombe. furniture apl)arently at his own valua- tion. Nevertheless the doctor retired within a year, an(1 the (lirectors wisely (leci(led that his successor should be a military man. Jn his capacity of head mathe- matical master he was succeeded by Jonathan Cape, then first assistant at the Naval College, who remained senior l)rofessor at A(ldiscombe till that estal)- lishment was closed. When Dr. An- drew was relieved of the contract for boarding cadets, Mr. Leeds was ap- Pointed purveyor and steward, and had to provide meals for masters and pupils. They were not panll)ered, for here is the detail Breakfast. Tea and bread and butter, or bread and milk if preferred. Luncheon. Bread and cheese with good table beer. Dinner. Beef, mutton, and veal alter- nately, of the best kind, with an occasional change of pork when in season. Tea with bread and butter, or bread and cheese with beer if preferred. In connection with Addiscombe a good deal of noney was made out of the company. Year by year professors petitioned for and often got more pay whilst most of them wrote text-books of the subject they taught, and by sell- ing them to their classes commanded that steady demand which is so gratify- ing to an author. At Chatham, too, where the engineer cadets completed their training, the chief officer of the royal engineer estal)lishment was pe- riodically complimented, a5 it was pleas antlv termed, with very handsome sums of money ; other officers under hini got smaller sums. Towards the end of 1822, or darly in 1823, Major H. Carmichael Sinyth was appointe(l resident superintendent in successioii to Dr. An(lrew, and pro- vision was made for improving the discipline of the seminary by the ap 1)ointment of an officer as captain and adjutant. Soon after~vards a junior officer, whose (luties were to prevent stu(lents from straying into Croydon or beyond the premises without leave, was a(lde(l in the person of Lieutenant Tal bot Ritherdon. In 1824 Major Car- michael Sinyth resigned, and was suceee(led by Licut-Colonel Houstoun C.B., whose title of office was altered to licut . -governor, but whose powers remained unchanged. Various educa- tional im l)rovements and inducements to work were intro(luced in 1S25. Thus guns an(l mortars were provided in order that cadets might learn gundrill an(l so great was the demand in In(lia for artillery and engineer officers, that 50 was offered to those who qualified for the former within a year, and for the latter within eighteen months. Captain Hector Straith of the 61st Reg- iment was appointed assistant to Mr. Bordwine, the professor of fortifica- tion ; Mr. T. II. Fielding, brother of the celebrated Copley Fielding, was made additional drawing-master and altogether the period was one of activ- ity. It is interesting to note that in December, 1826, Robert Napier was one of the engineer cadets ; that Robert Montgomery, who in after days was the (listil) onished successor of Sir John Lawrence in the Punjab, left Addis- combe for a direct appointment to the civil service ; and that within two years Eldred Pottinger, the hero of Ilerat, Ilenry Maiion Durand, and Rich inond Shiakespear received appointme nts from Addiscombe. In 1829 Mr. Charles Bowles wa.s made assistant l)rofessor of Hifidustani, in the study of which lan- guage, called in cadet slang Chaw, l)eihaPs after the master, lie afforded instruction and amusement to more than one generation of students. He ~va.s a shy, old-fashioned man, who nevertheless could keep his class in order ; an(l there was an old story about him illustrative of his simplicity, to the effect that when (lining Out on one occa- sion his host having asked him, The l)leasure of a glass of wine with you, Mr. Bowles ? the reply was, No, I thank you, I am not thirsty ; but I wilf take a potato. Up to 1831 there seems to have beeti little insubordination or misconduct on the l)art of cadets. During that year, however, the seminary committee re- ported to the court that a growing 112 The East India Companys Military Colle~je. disposition to intemperance had maui- fested itself, and that they were fully convinced that this evil ha(1 been occa- sioned in a great measure by the per- nicious habit of smoking cigars, as well as by a too liberal sup~)ly of 1)ocket- money from indulgent friends. The lieut. -governor was therefore assured of the hearty support of the India House to any steps he might take to suppress smokino lint, before lon~, he resigned, and in 1834 Colonel Ephraim G. Stannus, C.B., was ap- l)ointed in his stead. On Colonel Houstouns retirement the seminary committee expressed their sincere re- gret at losing so estimable an officer, and one who had done so much to raise the character of their establishment at Addiscombe. They recorded the fact that he had exercised a peculiar talent for keeping the cadets in order by per- suasion and kindness rather than by coercion. There are but few alive who can testify to the truth of this (lescrip- tion ; if true, it is high praise. Colonel Stannus had served with much distinc- tion in Inilia in the time of the Marquis of Hastings, and was afterwards l)rivate secretary to Mountstuart Elphinstone, governor of Bombay, whose xvarm ap- probation he secured. He was knighted in 1837. During the greater part of Sir Epliraims rule, which lasted till his death in 1850, the cadets seem to have been quiet, well-behaved, and busy many men, since highly distinguished, were then connected with the institu- tion. Among the orderly officers was George Broadfoot of Jalalabad; and of the cadets, Richard Strachey, Baird Smith, Henry Yule, Alexander Taylor, and, less known but not less able, Joseph Dyas, may be named as men of special mark, without offence to the reputation of others scarcely less emi- nent. Cadet-life of that time has been hu- morously described in a story called Peregrine Pultuney, 1 written, we believe, by Sir John Kaye, by whom, at any rate, it was criticised with much 1 Published by John Mortimer, 1844. LIVIN 0 AGE. VOL. LXXXIII. 4268 113 solemnity in the Calcutta Review.2 From it we learn that the objectionable rules whereby boys of fourteen or fif- teen were subject to the same discipline as young mcii of eighteen or nineteen still prevailed. The entrance examina- tioii, atteil(le(l by a crowd of nervous youngsters, in many instances escorted by aiixious parents or guardians, is ~vell described, as are the other l)relimiilary arrangements. Amongst those was the provision of uniform. It will scarcely be credited in these (lays that the junior ca(lets were supplied with the eastoff suits of the term which had just passed out of the seminary. The scene is thus tiescribed in Peregrine, when he was desired by one of the sergeants to g~ and try on some clothes Where what clothes? cried Pere- grine, with astonishment depicted on his features. In the next room I will show you your military uniform, to be sure. Peregrine did not much like the idea of wearing ready-made clothes but he fol- lowed the sergeant into the adjoining room, where a number of boys of all sizes, some in their shirt-sleeves, and some in their shirt-tails, were trying oii coats and trousers with every symptom of gratification. The sergeant pointed to some pigeon-hole places, where Peregrine saw divers suits of blue uniform turned up with red ; and without partaking at all of the general satisfaction that animated his associates, lie extracted one of the suits froni its lurking-place, and instantly let it fall to the ground, as though a scorpion had stung him. Why, these are 01(1 clothes, exclaimed Peregrine, turning round to the grim ser- geant with an aspect of horror as lie spoke; I could swear theyve been worn before. No occasion for that, young gentleman; we never suspected them of being new, sir ; youll get a new suit for Sundays. You dont mean, cried Peregrine, boil- ing over with indignation, that I am to wear second-hand clothes ! Ive got nothing to do with it; . . . its the rule of the institution, Mr. Pultuney. Dn the institution ! cried Pere- grine Pultuney. I wonder what Colonel Houseintoun would say if he heard you talk so of the in- stitution ; and the grim sergeant walked 2 Calcutta Review, vol. ii., No. iii., Art. iv. Addiscombe. off, leaving Peregrine to his own medita- tions and the choice of the cast-off clothes. This repulsive practice was not discon- tinued till 1852. The arrangements for study ~nd messing were of the simplest and rough- est description. There was too little leisure for healthy exercise during the day ; and the two hours, from five to seven oclock in the evening, which ~vere at the cadets disposal, were more likely to be spent in a comfortable pub- lic house where a pipe and glass of beer could be enjoyed, than in the sem- inary library or in quarters kennels as they were appropriately called in reading the Whole Duty of Man, . . or in making pin-cushions to take home to their sisters. 2 An institu- tion, the origin of which we have not been able to trace, was the Sunday morning breakfast in the private room of the corporals. In later days it was known as the swabs breakfast, swab being the epaulette which coipo- rals or sub-officers wore as a sign of their rank. The table was covered with delicacies, and corporals could in- vite a guest and enjoy the intellectual treat of making hini eat to excess. At first the room was very bare and unin- viting, its only attraction being the die- nity conferred by the right of entr~e. In 1846 it was furnished at the cost of the company with a carpet and a few other conveniences, but not until it had beeii found, in the language of the re- port, productive of the best effects, as furnishing an innocent gratification to the subordinate officers at the semi- nary, tending to render their position more desirable, and its attainment con- sequently an object of higher ambi- tion. ~ During the latter years of Sir Ephraim Stannuss rule insubordination increased. Perhaps declining health interfered with supervision, or possibly disorder resulted from the vicious sys- tem whereby mere boys and young men were under rules which suited neither; 1 Peregrine Pultuney, pp. 71, 72. 2 Ibid., p. 90. MS. records. but as a fact, the tone of the establish- ment was lowered. Cadets thought it excusable to forge letters of invitation in order to get leave of absence from Saturday afternoon to Sunday night or Monda.y morning; and tile system of espionage l)y sergeants led to deplorable results. One was, that the sergeants were l)ribed ; another and worse result ~ that the authorities began to doubt the word of a cadet, and to accept in l)reference tile testimony of a non-coin- missioied officer, or of any other per. son who chose to prefer a charge. Dishonorable suspicion on tile part of the rulers le(l to (lepreciated morality amonost the ruled. The falseness of the position was shown when a cadet wrote to file papers colllplaining of the systenl and of the venality of the ser- geants. The writer was identified, and was given the option of substantiating the charge or of rustication. He chose the former, and having in OllC instailce proved his case, the sergeant was dis- nnsse(l ; but the young man was made sensible of the strong disapprobation with which his reprelleilsible conduct in writing to the newspaper was viewed. It may be here recorded that in 154& the Pollock illedal was prepared by Mr. I3enjanlin Wyon. Eleven tllOusand rupees had been subscribed in Calcutta for the purpose of giving this medal to the lilost distinguished stu(leIit of his ternl, in honor aild recognition of the services in Afghanistan of Sir George Pohlock, himself an old Addiscomnbe cadet. The medal is a handsome one worth sixteen guineas. Its~ first recipi- ent was eiigineeL~-cadet E. C. S. Wil- liams, now lieutenant-general, holding a high position in the India Office. Six months later another engineer- cadet, GeQrge Chesney, wIlo has since held many important situations, passed out of Addisconibe. Having been ac- countant-general in the Public Works Department, principal of the Coopers Hill Engineering College, military sec- retary to the government of India, and military member of the governor-gen- erals council, lie yet found time to cul- tivate letters, as in deed The Battle of Dorking, which first appeared in this 114 The East India Companys Military Colle~ye. magazine, may testify. He is now in 1~arliamcnt, where we hope his career may be continued to his own greater honor and to the advantage of the country. In succession to Sir Ephraim Stan- uns, and therefore the inheritor of a (listurbed estal)lisliment, Colonel Ab- bott was al)l)ointe(l lieut.governor, and held that post till the college was closed on the amalgamation of the queens and companys services. Sir Frederick, for he was knighted in 1854, was an engi- neer officer who had been educated at Addiscombe in the early days, had seen munch service in India, Burmnab, and Afghanistan, and had retire(l at an early age with a good reputation. He was in many respects a contrast to his predecessor, and was at first, we are bound to say, decidedly unpopular. With bland, courteous manners, an(l with the lau(lable wish to enlist the sympathies and sense of honor of the ca(lets on the side of discipline, and to abolish espionage, lie at first failed in conciliating his subjects to an extent which it is (lifilcult to comprehend in(leed in instances lie accentuated the failure by inflicting puiiishmei~t where it might perhaps have becix judiciously sl)ared. The cadets mistrusted his courtesy absolutely, and took no pains to disguise their regret for the change of governors. There were, no doubt, faults on both sides ; but with his sub- jects irreconcilable, sympathizing with crime, and (letermnined to withhold from their governor all information which might have helped him tojn(lge aiight, some failure of justice was inevitable, and the position was full of difficulty. In time matters improved, and a better mutual feeling prevailed. In spite, however, of all these drawbacks ,good men were twice a year sent to India, or, if engineers, to Chatham. At the end of 1851 Frederick Sleigh Roberts passed for artillery ; lie is now, after perhaps the most brilliant military ca- reer of his time in our service, home again with us as Lord Roberts. An- other distiu~uished artillery officer, Sir James Hills-Johues, left Addiscombe eighteen months after Roberts. 115 The manners amid customs of these days are well recorded in the first four chapters of a book called In the Com- panys Service. 1 Mother Roses, the cottage at the north-east corner of the groun(ls proscribed by college rules, is described as it useti to be, full of cadets a1i(l tobacco-smoke. The course of education, consisting of Capes mathe- matics, tempered with obsolete fortifi with taught catiom), Ilintlustani bya l)eison who had never heard it spoken, an(l with such trifles as drawing, French. and Latin, is fairly termed a race (lecided by mwmthema.tics. Then come (leseril)tions of crime and its pun- ishment, followed I ~y attempted recon ciliatiomi in the shape of an invitation to the mansion, where the tact of the host ess was skilfully employed to seeon(l the licutgovernor s emi(leavor to gain the contidence of the ea(lets. Last of all, we have a truthful picture of the great occasion the halfyearly public examinatiomi - whose lmumnblc origin in 1810 an(l ogiess in 1817 we have al- rea(ly ninentione(l, and which was now fully (leveloI)ed. As usual, time chair man and court of directors, the public examiner, and other Chatham and Woolwich officers, were l)ieseIit ; but besides thenx the Archbishop of Can- terbury, the commanderinchief, and a number of distinonished persons, at- tended as guests of the lieut.-governor. The perfoimnance having been thor- oughly rehearsed, went off without a hitch, and themi time lient .govcrnor s report was rea(l, to which that officer, sitting on time right of the chairman, next to the archbishop, listens with aix expression of countenance peculiar to those who are hearing their own com- position read imi time face of a multitude. The report is on time whole favorable. It winds up with an invocation so simnilar imx style to a sermnon, that it wakes up the amchbislmop with a start, under the monientary belief that he is at a confirmation. 2 Then followed the prizegiving, at which, as there had been no rehearsal, the performance was 1 A Reminiscence. Published by W. H. Almen & Co., 1883. 2 In the Companys Service, p. 51. 116 more genuine but less smooth. Giving the Pollock medal is thus described Gentleman-cadet Lane, said the chair- man, holding out the case containing the medal, and addressing the head cadet, who stood blushing before him, the inhab- itants of Calcutta, in remembrance of the noble But no sooner did Gentleman- cadet Lane get his hold upon the prize than he gave evidence, by a violent tugging, that his desire to retire with his reward was in no way affected by any curiosity to learn the motives of the inhabitants of Calcutta in bestowing it. Had not the chairman, forewarned by past experience, kept a tight grip on the medal-case, it would have slipped from his grasp, and the customary address would have lost its point. As it was, the contention was so sharp between them as to stop the current of the chair- man s words, and he had to get a new purchase before lie was able to proceed with the descriptions of the heroism and success of General Polloek. After the ~)rizes had been given the chairman made his speech, and one such oration was very much like an- other. He usually expressed a hope that the cadets on arrival in India would maintain the character they had acquired at the institution, for by so doing they would reflect the highest honor upon the establishment and the company amongst their brother officers in India. lie desired his young friends to pursue the course in which they had embarked with undeviating rectitude, and invited them to cultivate a fine faith of reward in the justice of their supe- riors, in the honorable and high char- acter which they would acquire, but above all in their own approving and grateful minds. Then he coinpli mented the lient. -governor, the staff, and the professors ; and finally, with well-assumed modesty, lie addressed the public examiner, usually a senior officer of the royal engineers, praised his well-known character and profes- sional reputation, and assured him that his conduct was marked by the cordial and unanimous approbation of the court at large, and that they relied with pci- fect confidence on the justice and ability of his judgment in respect to the qual- 1 In the cornpaiiys Service, p. 52. ifications of the young men. Then followed the archbishop, the coin mander-in-chief, and any other person of distinction who was disposed to make a speech. After which came din- ner for the cadets and lunch for the guests, then drill, a march past, and dismissal of the parade, when all went horn e. Such was Addiscombe early in the tif ties, and it remained much the same to the end. There were the usual escapades, none very serious ; and oc- casionally the hares and rabbits at Ad- dington, the archbishops seat, were snared or othier~vise caught. The occa- sion offered itself once a week, when there was an afternoon service, which some of the excellent among the cadets used to attend. Those whose sporting instincts prevailed, availed themselves of the opportunity, and it sometimes happened tha.t their evil efforts wem~e crowne(l with success. The last raid on the archie piscopal rabbits happened thus Two sporting cadets had been so far favored by fortune that each had caught a rabbit, with which they were anxious to escape. But how to conceal the spoil was a difficult problem, for uniform was tight and the swallowtail pocket scanty. however, after much squeezing, each pocketed a rabbit, and they set out for home tired and dirty. When rounding a corner they suddenly found themselves face to face with the Imighest dignitary of the Church, and as was right and proper, they saluted him respectfully. The archibishop, pleased with their pohiteliess, kindly insisted that they should have tea with him, an invitation which, by reason of the in- sufficiency of their improvised game- bags, they accepted with fear and trembling. The crucial test was sitting down, a performance which the tight- ness of their garments rendered per- ilous ; and even when seated, the greatest repose was necessary to pre- vent disclosures which would show the hospitality of the Church to have been misplaced. The culprits suffered much but their host, possibly attributing their constraint to the awe inspired by his presence, did his best to set them at Addiscombe. The East India Companys Military College. ease. At last, ho~vever, the tea-party ended, and the culprits hastened to Addiscombe, but arrived just late for parade. Being known to the orderly officer as having a natural aptitude for crime, he asked them roughly before the assembled cadets where they had been and why they were late. The audacity and improbability of the reply that they had been to tea with the Archbishop of Canterbury electrified the parade and nearly suffocated the irate officer, who, appreciating the deli- cacy of the situation, and seeing that laughter could no loi~ger be suppressed, quickly ordered the delinquents to ap- pear next morning at orderly-room, and dismissed the parade. Meantime he sent to the archbishop to ascertain the truth of the excuse tendered, and as the reply confirmed the cadets story, next morning they were pardoned for being late and let off wifh the growling remark, I did not know you kept such respectable company. Another story of that time evinced the high qualities of presence of mind, fertility o~ resource, an(l absence of fear of responsibility on the part of an unknown cadet. Some of our readers can recollect that when the emperor and the empress of the French were staying with our queen the Crystal Pal- ace was visited in state. The occasion was naturally a great attraction to the young men who wished to see the show ; but admission to the grounds was restricted to the holders of season- tickets, which cost a guinea each, and no money was forthcoming for such expenditure. So a number of them walked over, and mingling with the outside crowd, enjoyed themselves as ~vell as they could. Soon, however, a movement and gathering together of the cadets became apparent, and the ortler to fall in was given. They fell in promptly under the com mand of a corporal, who formed fours and marched boldly in at the principal entrance, pausing for an in- stant to inquire from the policeman in charge if he could direct them to the 1 John Nicholson, the tower of strength, does positmoll assigned to the cadet guard of not appear to have heen at Addiscombe. honor. The policeman went to inquire, 2 In the Companys Service, p. 62. and no sooner was his back turned than they were halted and dismissed inside the grounds, and when lie returned the guard of honor had vanished. The young men enjoyed themselves amaz- ingly ; but the secret of their admission greatly puzzled the hient -governor and his staff, who were present. The only explanation ever given that they were marched in by some corporal was, in default of anything more pre- cise, admitted to be sufficient. Early in 1855 corporals of divisions were allowed to wear swords at parades and on other public occasions, and soon after the title of the institution was changed from Military Seminary, which cadets disliked exceedingly, to Military College, which they pre- ferred, a.iid gentlemen-corporals were hereafter known as sub-officers. These changes were moves in the right direc- ti()n, tending towar(ls the treatment of cadets as young miien rather than school- boys. And now the existence of the com- pauy was drawing to a close, and time mutiny in India st)undetl its deathknell. With it Addiscombe ceased to exist~, the last batch of officers from it receiving their commissions in 1860 or 1861. The quaint and curious ways of the old place must seem strange to the present generation of young people at our military colleges, where they are fed with comparative luxury, have smokingrooms proxitleti, and are under reasonable rules. The course of educa- tion, too, may provoke a smile. Never- theless Atidiseombe, as is well said in one of the books already quoted, with all its shortcomings and with some oi)vious faults, was yet an unri- valled nursery of military captains the school of Eldred Pottinger anti Henry Lawrence, of Nicholson, Outramn, and Durand. 2 And to these we will add the names of the late Field-Marshal Lord Napier of Magdala, of the engi- neers, and General Lord Roberts, late commander-in-chief in India, of the artillery. W. BnOADFOOT. 117 Dr. Nansen at Home. From Temple Bar. DR. NANSEN AT HOME. BY MRS. ALEC TWEEDIE. AUTHOR OF A GIRLS RIDE IN ICELAND, THE OBERAHMERGAU PASSION PLAY, ETC. A HOUSE is ofttimes the true reflex of its owners mind. A man naturally sLlrroun(ls himself with the things that most appeal to his tastes. Tile l)Ooks lIe most loves are on their shelves, if he has travelled, relics from foreim countries surround the room. Should he be musical, his best-loved iiistrumeit finds an honored place. If artistic, the walls ~vill be covered with such art as most appeals to his intelligence. The home necessarily becomes tile expression of its owners taste, the re- flex of his nliud. It is an old saying, ~ you never know a man till you are married to him, and the words apply equally that you never 1(110w a man at all well until you have seeu 111111 in Ills own home. One Illust know him in the midst of his household gods, every one of wilicil e~m unfold a page ill the history of its owners life. Lysaker Station is some half-dozeii miles from Christiania. Our little en gi ne, ainlost envelol)ed in its snow- plough, had dragged us very slowly alon aild even to accomplish that short distailce lla(l takell nearly twice its allotted time. There, Oil tile platforul awaiting our arrival, stoo(l Dr. Fridtjof Nansen. it was a bitterly cold day tile tllernlollle ter registered nine degrees below zero Fahrenlleit, or forty-one degrees of frost, and tilere Ile stood without even an overcoat, illerely wearillg tile grey ski Ulliforill so ~vell suited to his lithe- some figure. His hands were envel- oped in a pair of tile usual ~orwegiaIl knitted baby gloves, witilout any fingers, only a tllunlb. These curious gloves are also worn in Icelan(l ; but tilere they have two tllullli)s, so that by an lllside-Ont process they cai~ get an- other pair of gloves wilell tile l)alnl becomes worn out. All Northern na- tions know tile advisability of keeping tile extremities covered, and conse- quently always wear gloves, even when fishin~ 0 Welcome, a tilousand velcomes to Lysaker Nansen sai(l, waralIly silak- ing us l)y tile llaIl(l ; but you have brougilt cold weatiler witil you ; I hope von will not SLlffCr from it. Tile air was 50 (Iry an(l still and we were so warmly cia(l we ilar(lly noticed it, and yet our host added, It is colder to-day than I ever ilad it (luring tile daytime in my journey across Green lall(i, but at nigilt it was thirty or forty (legrees col(ler. And yet you wear no top coat. 011 110, I have ~given up silcIl ltlxu- lies, like smoking and drirlking, so thllt I may IlOt miss tilenl at tile North Pole. If you (lOllt mind tile SHOW, an(l I see you are l)roperly cIa(l a11(l siloci for our coniltry, we clln go across the fjord to tile Ilouse ; it is muell the shortest way. So over tile fjord we ~vent. 1)i. Nansen had walked backwards an(l forwards over the ice so oftell, ile laid made quite a little road of ilis own, but branching off to the left were some (leel) imprints ill tile snow. Wilere (10 these lead to ? we asked. Nowhere. WIlen I clinIc iloille last nigllt it was so absolutely (lark tilat, as I bad Ilot got my lanteril, I ulissed my way Oil tile fjord aild ~valke(l a ilundred yar(15 ill tile wrong (lirection before I (liscovereci n~y mistake. It can be very (lark at Iligilt Sollletimlles, aIl(l tile 11 witil out a lanteril it is almost impossible to iin(l tile way. Up a steep little bit of hill and we were Oil tlle load, a few minutes walk along whicil brought us to an open glite. As we elltered between tile posts, half-a-dozen (logs began to bark, and we turned to tile rigilt to look at tile kennels. I ai~i very fond of my dogs. That one is all Eskimo sledge (log, aIld some- times ile l)ulls my wife over tile ice in a sle(lge coupled witil a Gordon setter. Tllat (log witil tile little silarI) ears is a Fill, an(l tIle one next is an English setter. My dogs and I are very good friends, and I generally take them all with me ~vhen I go out. Tile house itself was built by Dr. 118 Dr. Nansen at Home. ~ansen about two years ago, and had been finished since our last visit to Norway; hence our desire to penetrate its mysteries. It is a copy of the old Norwegian style. It is entirely made of pine-trees, not of laths and planks, but of whole trees laid one on top of the other, so that outside and inside it is brown pine wood. The roof is orna- mented with the allegorical carvings of serpents and dragons heads, so spe- cially Norwegian. A small balcony projects from the front door, an(l an- other one runs along in front of the (1rawin~-room. As we entered the little hall, we paused to look at the assort- inent of sno~vshoes (ski) leaning against the wall. Those long ones are mine, said our host, the shorter ones are my wifes. We have each two or three pairs. Most of them are Norwegian, but the straight ones are Fin. Accord- ing to the con(litioll of the snow we choose which ski to wear, the saine~ as you choose your boots for fine or wet weather. A wolf-skin coat banging on a peg arrested our attention. It was one of the coats made for the expedition. The hair was outside as ~vell as inside. To put it on, it was necessary to pass the head through a hole, on the prin- ciple of a knitted jersey, only it was made very much larger, and when once properly on, it was tie(l tightly round the neck so that rio cold air could enter from its buttoning across the chest, an(l it had a large hood which projected well over the face. Each man will have a wolf-skin coat (by far the most durable) as ~vell as a reindeer one, and two or three extra ones will also be pto~idled. Furs are only to be worn out of doors on this perilous journey for the cabins, woollen clothing is pref- erable, and much healthier. While we were talking, a door opened an(l the smiling face of Fm Nansen welcomed us to her home. I am so glad to see you, and now you are really here we nmst show you everything that you care to see. What a strange contrast the Nansens are lIe is a great, big, tall, fair Nor- wegian, with all the strength of the Viking race in his manly bearing and earnest face. His very name Fridt- jof means a Viking, or, more prop- erly speaking, a thief of peace. He is very prou(l of his name, and it is a very uncommon one even in Norway. She is a jolly, bright little woman, with dark hair, and all the merriment and warm coloring of a more southern peo- pie, although she too is pure Norwe- gian. She is al)le to accompany Nansen on all his sports. She is very fond of sailing, of which they do a great deal in the summer, for the fjord of Christiania almost surrounds the house, which is built on a promontory. In winter they ski together, for Nausea thinks no sport or anything else perfect unless accom- panie(l by his wife. lie is very fond of joking and chaffing her too, and when speaking about a visit we contemplated up Nora Fjeld on ski, a mountain about five thousand feet above the sea, and ly big between Christiania and Bergen, lie said, My wife knows Nora Fjeld well, because there it was that I saw her dead-beat for the first and only time. Nothilmig tires her as a rule ; when I want to make her very angry I tell this story. It was Nev Years (lay, a couple of years ago, that we decided to cross Nora Fjehd from ILallingdal, and enjoy a little holiday oii ski. At three oclock in the afternoon the sun set, and we were not even on the top. However, my wife would iiot turn back ; so on we went. It became very dark and very steel), and at last the snow was frozen so hard the ski would not l)ite at all. Then I had to take mine off and cut steps in the snow up the mountain si(le with the cud of the ski. For nearly two hours I did this before we reached the top. It became absolutely (lark, aui(l a bitter wind blew, and it was ten oclock before we reached the first in- habited hut down the mountainside. Here an 01(1 woman gave us milk and bade us welcome ; but my wife would not stay the night, declaring she was not tired, and quite able to go on an- other hour to the sacter where we orig inally intended to remain. So on we 119 Dr. Nansert at Home. skied again. It was so hopelessly dark life. I have many times been nearly that every now and then the point of killed, but never so nearly as by that our ski would strike a tree and upset grand 01(1 bear ; but I came off victori- us, and we had continually to call out to make sure of the others where- abouts. At last, almost on the strike of mid- night, we reached the little saeter, and, entering the (1001, my wife dropped down on a chair. I went to find some one an(l make some arrangements for sleeping, but when I returned I found my wife had forestalled me ; she was already sound asleel) bolt upright in a chair. Asleep ? Yes and she slept for hours we couldnt wake her so we just left her alone. That was the only time I ever saw her completely done up. Entering the drawingroom, we were struck with its originality an(l quaint- ness. Facing us were three huge win- dows, Gothic fashion, but with such large panes of plate-glass we forgot they were windows at all, and looked right away over the seventy mile stretcil of Christiania Fjord now solidly frozento the open sea beyond. The room had a smaller room adjoining anti an alcove. Large ol)enings almost as large as the walls themselves divided them from the main saloon. The arches were gracefully curved at tile top, and artistically draped with rich deepcolored curtains of plain material, bordered by embroidery about a foot wide, worked by Fm Nansen after some of the old Norwegian embroideries in the Christiania Museum. Quaintly standing crossway between tile illaill room and tue smaller offshoot was an Englisil fireplace. Yes, it is English, and so are tile arnlchairs. I got both ideas from En- gland, but as your fireplace is not warm enougil for us with woo(l fires, I have arranged a stove behind. And sure enougil hidden away was the unsightly stove, kept lighted (lay an(l night in the fashion of Norwegian stoves. It did the warming, while the English hearth imi)arted a cosv look to the room. A magnificent Polar bear-skin lay on the floor. ~1 shot that but not be- fore the bear had nearly cost me my ons, and keep him tilere III remem- brance of a fine battle. There are several more skins in the house, about a dozen, but tilis is certainly tile fin- est. In one corner of the room was a spicilditi bust of our host by the Ger- man Lessing. In aiiother coriler was Ernest Sars, Fin Nansens brotiler, the great Norwegian historian ; and oii a shelf 111 one of tile alcoves was another bust of Weihaven one of Norways greatest poets, and an uncle of Fru Nansens. Several fine old cabinets, some Norwegian anti some German, stood about the room, anti tile walls were Ilung witil l)ictures by the most famous Norwegian artists. That is by Werenskjoid, Nansen said ; lie is our finest artist, to my mind, and tilat is by Svending, and this. by Eilif Peterseil. I love my pictures, and ~1ll very proud of Illodern Norwe- gian art. Yes, tllat is Watts Hope. I bought it the last time I was in En- gland, I liked it so much ; anti I thiiik Watts and Wilistier your most wonder- ful artists in modern times. Several more interesting l)ictures hung upon the walls, some of whiicil have been given by tile painters tllemselves, for tile Nansens are very friendly witil all the artists, witil wilom they have so much ill comalon. lil tIle smaller room low seats with Iligh, carved backs of wood ran round the walls. This severe, wooden style is oid Norwegian, anti the qtmaint Runic ~ are very ii carvings Iteresting. Nansen can expiaiil how this is Irisil and that is. Norwegian, and this piece is a combina tion of both, while that iilscription is l)ureiy Runic. rlhrOwn over tilese oth- erwise hard seats were rugs of bear or seal whlicil ilati fallell to Nansens gun, anti some warnl-coloreti Turkey rugs strewed the floor. It was not like any ordinary drawingroom ; it was more like an artists stuhio, with its rich colorings, artistic draperies, and quaint, otids and ends. In effect it is charming aild very original. 120 Dr. Nansen at Home. Sliding doors disclosed the dining- room, from the windows of which an- other glorious view of pine forest and glistening snow was visible. Some fine palms and plants stood about the room, and on the table was a curious rug of eider (luck. It was made of the down, the light and dark shades of the back and breast being sewn to~ether (ha- mond fashion, and the whole was quaintly bordered by a black-and-white design taken from the head and neck of the little bird. This mat was a present to Dr. Nansen from an Eskimo squaw. He has several curious gifts from his Eskimo friends. Some of them are per- fect little models of their own homes, their kayaks, themselves in costume, etc. mous. It is like a huge kitchen-table with carved legs an(1 quaintly orna mente(l sides. Seeing our amazement at the size of the table, he said, Yes, I kuow it is very big ; that was my special or(ler. Here, you see, I wiite my letters ; there are all the ma terials, and that is the chair. Here, ir~ front of this chair I do my type-writing. I always use the tyj)e-writer for the printer ; and when I sit in that chair I have all my papei~ and my notes in front of inc without having to turn evervthi ug upside down to find what I want. All these books at this end are what .1 continually want for reference. This pile of i~apers is about my cargo the provisions, bills, orders, an(l every thing appertaining thereto are in this division an(l so on ; so that every inch of my table is used, and I know exactly where to find everything. An enormous number of letters were tie(l up with a blue ribbon. Guess xvhat these are, he said. Of course we could not guess every shape and size and thickness of letter appeared to be there. Well, these are the applications from all parts of the world, an(1 written in almost every language, to accompany the North Pole Expedition. There are over a thousand of them. Of course, I dont answer them I couldnt, but I do read them, and their good wishes are very encouraging but they have cost. me a lot of money, for they are often un(lerstampe(l and I have to pay for them, because one never knows what may be insi(le. Are any of them amusing ? Some certainly are. Here is one. It is a letter from a French lady saying she is tired of the shallowness of the world, and is contemplating entering a convent and tlevoting herself to good works ; but before doing so she wishes to offer her services to the expedition.. A piano and harmonium stood in the room, and several oil paintings of sur- prising power, by both the Nansens themselves, filled the walls, intermixed with a large number of the original drawings used for engravings in his book Across Greenland, They looked well in their darkbrown frames, wbich made an excellent contrast to the lighter brown coloring of the pine wood walls. This is a dining-room and nothing more, he said ; there is nothing of interest to see here, except our friends themselves when they come and have supper with us. I hope you will enjoy their company to-morrow night. Now I will show you my room. IRe-crossing the drawin -room and going through one of the alcoves, we passed under some heavy curtains which almost entirely hid the door, into I)r. Nansens own particular room. It is very untidy, said Fru Nan- sen ; it always is un tidy, because Fridtjof never will let it be touched but just now it is much worse than usual because all these things there, and there, and there are for the expedition, anti he likes everything l~t where he puts it himself. She can cook, and sew, and would de On entering the room one is first vote her life cheerfully to the cause of struck by its size and great height. science, etc., etc.~ He laughed, and The gabled roof is made of pine, the added, She evidently thinks the mno- same as the walls. The writing-table notony of a convent and of the North strikes one next, as it is simply enor- Pole equivalent I There are besides 121 122 Dr. Nansen at Home. many more droll communications in could not help feeling how very prefer- that bundle. able the excellent brown bread given to Turning suddenly to my brother (Dr. English prisoners would be for a daily Vaughan Harley) he offered him a farinaceous food to these extremely cigar. hard condensed biscuits, with no par- I thought you had given up sinok- ticular taste about them. ing, Nausea. Lying on a Bechstein grand piano So I have, but I keep cigars for my for it is in this room that Fru Nansen friends, and I enjoy their odor all the sings to her husband in the evenings more now that it is seldom I have were rolls of silk. the satisfaction of revelling in their That silk is absolutely pure ; it is fumes. what you call pongee, and we will make I am so sorry this peis (quaint tents of it, and screens to keep off the three-cornered fireplace) is not burn- snow, because it is more durable than ing like the English fire it is more for anything else. show than for warmth, so here behind It sounded incongruous silk and it is another stove always kept lighted ; snow ; but it has been decided upon but you must see how well my peis after many experiments. Dr. Nansen burns, and in a moment lie was out of slept for a fortnight in a silk tent in the the door and on to the balcony, return- snow in February last. ing with a huge armful of faggots, Nansen has the permission of our which in a minute were spluttering and government to take one of their hal- flaring up the chimney and giving forth hoons with him, and it is to be made of a delicious odor of pines. We always skin instead of silk, as was at one time burn wood in Norway, or coke some- intended. The hydrogen is to go in times in the stoves, because all our coal compressed form in steel cylinders, and has to come from England, and is con- lie can only take enough for four or five sequently too expensive a luxury. fillings ; but lie only wants the balloon X~That is this great pile of goods ? for navigating the ship and to look we asked. It is like a warehouse. ahead for open water, and these fillings ~ These are samples of some of the he hopes will be sufficient for his p~~- things I am taking with me. These pose, as the cylinders are too big and very thick stockings have been kiiitted too heavy to allow him to take more of by 01(1 men an(1 women in the north of them. Norway, so have these thick jerseys. This is one of my greatest treasures. All these packets of powder contain It is a thermometer made specially for various kinds of soups ; they have the expedition. Thie lowest thermom- all been analyzed by Stadtskemiskr eter reading yet recorded is 68~ Cel. Schimelch, and I have selected those now this thermometer has been made containing the most nutriment, to recor(l as low as SO~ Ccl., or about That is our bread, and lie showed l3O~ below freezimig, Fahrenheit. I us a tin of biscuits the size of dogs have ordered special barometers, pen- biscuits, and as hard as captains bis- (lulums, astronomical apparatus, etc., units. They are white, and proved but they have not come yet, and they very good eating once we managed to are so precious I do not want them till bite them. They have been specially the last minute, for fear anything prepared after many attempts, and at should happen to them. They are not last are satisfactory. These biscuits for my own use. Herr Scott-Hansen will be the mainstay of the whole will take most of our observations for party, four being allotted out to each us, I hope. man a day. They are taking over thirty What a collection of knives and thousand pounds weight. They will be scissors, but I dont see any razors. packed in tins, and before eating will Will you grow a beard? be heated or soaked according to the No, I shall cut it whenever it gets taste of the individual himself. We long, because personally I think a trozen Dr. Nansen at Home. beard most uncomfortable. Some peo- ple are of opinion that the hair I)rotects the face, and that the ice even is a pro- tection, because it does not freeze right up to the skin. But individually I pre- fer to be without. Sverdrup doesnt luin(l. He grew those splendid whis- kers of his when we were crossing Greenland, and he thought they were ~ protection to the face and throat. Here is one of the petroleum stoves of English manufacture ; it will proba- bly be sufficient to warm (he cabin. It burns one hundred and twenty gram mes an hour, or about three litres a (lay, and our petroleum tanks are so big we shall be able to carry sufficient l)etroleum to last eight or nine years, for it would not do to run short of heat- ~)ro(lucing material for cooking and warming purposes, and we may want it for lighting, if we are too busy to make the electric light. So we shall take all that extra amount. Food and clothing for six years, and heating supply for eight, and with any luck we shall be back again in three, I hope. how will you know where every- thing is in the ship? I dont think there will be much difficulty in that. here are my plans. Into every one of these compartments supplies for three months will be placed, as far as we can judge of our require- ments. Here all the extra supplies only wanted at long and irregular inter- vals. Here is our library, containing one thousand l)ooks, half of which are scientific, for my three friends and for my own use, and the other half are books of fiction or travel for the amuse- meat of us all, during our long (lays and nights. Nansen is a great reader, more par- ticularly, of course, in Arctic explora- tion. He has read every book and pamphlet published on the subject, and, as he says, has picked up hints from them all. He has a very good library of his own, and English books from Herbert Spencer to Tennyson, John Stuart Mill to George Eliot, Dar- win to Meredith, find room upon the shelves. It is necessary to have these maps and plans very carefully drawn out, he continued, for one big expedition, which shall be nameless, went north without any one knomving where any- thing was, and the guns, for instance, were never found until the party got home again. Sorting out our things, planning their division, arranging their destination, an(l trying to remember everything required, and thinking of anything that might add to our comfort, is no light mnatter. I long for the day ~vlien everything is in its l)lace, and ye weigh anchor and steam away down the Christiania fjord, and yet, lie added, I (iread that (lay as munch as I long for it ; and with a quick move ment lie turned aside to caress one of the lovely long-haired grey cats that are always in his study. The walls of this interesting room are, literally groaning under the xvei~ht of his Greenland relics. There are the ski used during that perilous undertak- lug the very ones lie accomplished two hundred and forty miles on in nine- teen days, dragging a laden sleigh be- hind him. Here are Eskimo spears of every form and shape, pictures of which appear in Dr. Nansens book on the Eskimo which will shortly be translated into English. That reminds me, he added sor- rowfully, the man who translated my Greenland so splendidly is just dead. lie was in Norway, on his way to see me about this Eskimo book, and was crossing a lake on ski. The ice was not very strong at the time, and lie fell in. With the ski on his feet lie was unable to extricate himself, and was drowned or frozemi to death ; lie was found (lead by some peasants long hours after- ~var(ls. He was such a good fellow, and such an excellent skil6ber ; and it seems such a sad ending, his dying thus, iii a strange land. You know English so thoroughly, why not translate your own book ? Because I never felt how imper- fectly I really knew Eiighisli till I read hubert Gepps translation of my own ivoik, and tliemi I saw by the turn of a sentence or the twist of a word what a wretched performance my English 123 Dr. Nansen at Home. would have been in its stead. One never has that flow of words in a for- eign language, however well one may know it. I. feel this most when I am writing English, not in speaking it. Outside the house is a kind of out- house, or, one might almost call it, a museum. Hanging from the ceiling are three Greenland kayaks. Now these canoes are very remarkable; they are about twenty feet long and very narrow, only just wi(le enough in the middle to admit a mans body, that is to say, about eighteen or twenty inches broad, and they are sharply pointed at both ends. They are made of scaiskin the bottom is almost flat, but has a little ridge or miniature keel of whalebone. They are very light indeed, so light that it seems impossible they can live in any sea, and these northern seas are often very rough, and they have to en- counter much ice. In the middle of this little cockleshell is a hole to admit a man, but sewn securely to the edges of the opening are skins, so that when the man gets inside lie is sittiu~ in a kind of bag, and after pulling the skins high up under his arms, he ties the strings quite tight to prevent any water enter- ing the little canoe. In front of him on the canoe, securely fixed by gut straps, are his spearsspears for whale, or harpoons for seal, as the case may be. Sonic of these spears are very curious and marvellously ingenious at the same time, but then the Eskimo are depend- ent on their seal fisheries for almost everything they wear or eat. The doubl e-bladed l)ad(lles are very long and narrow, an(l the speed at which they propel the kayak is remark- able. Of course such fragile little canoes are always turning over that is nothing. The Eskimo have a way of twisting the paddle in such a manner when they arc under the water that they can right themselves in a minute, and the very clever ones caii accomplish the twist with their arms alone. The kayaks are always upsetting-a wave, a piece of ice, a line too tightly caught by anything will upset it in a moment. Dr. Nansen acquired thi