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$%n Jllxistrated Jffonthly 



Vol. V. 


Xonfcon : 



The Prince of Wales at Sandringham. 

['The Prince of Wales is, of course, pi eluded by his position from granting interviews like private persons, 
hut His Royal Highness has been so good as to give us special permission to insert the following extremely 
interesting article, which we are happy to be able to present to our readers in place of the Illustrated Interview 
for the present month. The next of the series of Illustrated Interviews, by Mr. Harry How, will appear i:e\l 
month. Sir Robert Rawliuson, the celebrated engineer, whose work saved so many lives in the Crimea, has 
given Mr. How a most interesting interview, with special illustrations.} 


AR from the busy haunt of 
man : ' might be fitly applied 
to Sandringham ; so quiet, 
and so secluded, is this 
favourite residence of the heir 
to England's throne and his 
beautiful and universally esteemed wife. 

Not an ancient castle with tower and moat, 
not a show place such as would charm a 
merchant prince, but beautiful in its sim- 
plicity and attractive in its homeliness ; yet 
withal, clothed in the dignity inseparable 
from its owners and its associations ; in short, 
a happy English home, inhabited by a typical 
English family. 

How often have we seen them in the 
country lanes all squeezed into one 
wagonette, look- 
ing like a jolly 
village squire and 
his family; or 
watched the young 
Princes and Prin- 
cesses careering 
round the park on 
their favourite 
steeds, and listened 
to their merry laugh- 
ing voices as they 
emulated each other 
to come in winner ! 
When at Sand 
ringham, State and 
its duties, society 
and its require- 
ments, are relegated 
to the dim past and 
shadowy future ; 
and our Prince is a 
country gentleman, 
deep in agriculture 
and the welfare of 
his tenantry ; and 
his wife and child- 
ren pass their time- 
in visiting the 
schools, the poor, 
and the sick, work 
ing in their dairy, 


from a l'httto. bti W. .£• D. Dowmk 

or at their sketching, art and useful needle- 
work, etc. 

Fortunately, the estate is above seven 
miles from King's Lynn, its nearest town, so 
that the family are not subjected to the 
prying gaze of the curious. They have not, 
however, the inconvenience of this long drive 
from the railway station, as there is one at 
W'olferton, a little village of about forty 
houses, on the estate, and between two and 
three miles from the " House." 

In 1883 the Prince added a suite of 
waiting-rooms to the building already there : 
the addition consisting of a large entrance- 
hall, approached by a covered carriage way, 
with rooms on either side for the Prince and 
Princess. These rooms are handsomely and 
tastefully furnished, 
and are used not 
only as waiting- 
rooms, but oc- 
casionally for lun- 
cheon, when the 
Prince and his 
guests are shooting 
in the vicinity of 
W'olferton. The 
station lies in a 
charming valley, 
and emerging from 
its grounds, you 
have before you a 
picturesque drive 
along a well gra- 
velled road, bor- 
dered with velvety 
turf, and backed 
with fir, laurel, pine 
and gorse. 

Rabbits in hun- 
dreds are popping 
hither and thither, 
pheasants are flying 
over your head, 
squirrels are scam- 
pering up and down 
trees, there are 
sounds of many 
feathery songsters 
Vol. v —43. 




in thi' branches: while- if you pause awhile, 
you may catch the distant murmur of the 
sea — certainly you can feel its breezes; 
and you seem to get the beauty of the 
Highlands, the grandeur of the sea, and the 
very pick of English scenery, all in one 
extensive panorama. The view from the 
heights is beyond description : an uninter- 
rupted outlook over the North Sea, and a 
general survey of such wide range, that on 
clear days the steeple or tower of Boston 
church (familiarly known as " Boston Stump ") 
can be plainly seen. 

Proceeding on your way, you pass the 
park boundary wall, the residence of the 
comptroller, the rectory, the little church of 
St. Mary Magdalene, with its flag waving in 
the breeze denoting the family are in resi- 
dence — take a sudden curve in the road, and 
find yourself in front of the Norwich gates, 
admitting to the principal entrance. A 
solitary policeman is here on guard, but he 
knows his business, and knows every member 
of the household by sight ; and though his 
duty consists in merely opening and shutting 
the gates, you may be quite sure he will not 
open to the wrong one. 

These gates arc worthy of more than a 
passing glance, for they are a veritable mas- 
terpiece of design and mechanism. They 
were, in fact, one of the features of the 1862 
Exhibition, and were afterwards presented to 
the Prince by the County of Norwich. On 

From a Photo, h 

the top is the golden crown, supported by 
the Prince's feathers. Underneath, held by 
bronzed griffins, are heraldic shields repre- 
senting the various titles of the Prince, while 
the remainder is composed of flowers, sprays, 
and creeping vines. They are connected with 
the palisading by rose, shamrock and thistle. 
The maker was Barnard, of Norwich. 

Although this is the chief entrance, it is 
necessary to proceed up the avenue and 
diverge to the left, before the front of the 
building comes into view; then it will be 
seen to be of modernized Elizabethan archi- 
tecture ; exterior, red brick, with Ketton-stone 
dressing. Over the door is a carved inscrip- 
tion as follows: ''This house was built by 
Albert Edward Prince of Wales and 
Alexandra his wife, in the year of Our Lord, 
1870." As a matter of fact, the estate had 
been purchased nine years previous to that 
date, for a sum of ^220,000, but the Old 
Manor House was in such a condition that, 
after vainly trying to patch up and add on 
to, it was found desirable to pull it all down, 
and build an entirely new residence. Not only 
did the mansion need re-building, but also 
the cottages of the tenants and labourers ; 
and much to the honour of the Prince and 
Princess, these cottages were their first care, 
and were all re-built and several new ones 
erected before they took possession of their 
own home. 

An invitation to Sandringham is an honour 
which few would 
lightly regard : 
and if it is your 
firstvisit you are 
in a flutter of an- 
ticipation and 
ex pectati on, 
making it some 
what difficult to 
preserve the 
calm exterior 
that society de- 
mands of you. 
.Now there are 
two distinct sets 
invited there ; 
one from Fri- 
day to Monday, 
and on.- from 
i\l o n d a y o 1 
Tuesday to Fri- 
day : the former 
ing a bishop, 
dean, or canon 
for the Sunday 


service, two or three eminent statesmen, and a 
sprinkling of musical, literary, and artistic 
celebrities. To this list I will suppose you 
to belong. 

You have found carriages and baggage 
vans awaiting what is known as the " Royal 
train " — a special run just when the Prince 
is in residence — and you and your fellow- 
visitors have driven up to the principal 
entrance. There you alight, and are ushered 
by the footmen into a spacious hall or saloon, 
where you are received with the distinguished 
grace and courtesy for which your Royal 
host and hostess are so justly celebrated. 

the tiniest of continental masterpieces, is 
kept half an hour fast. The ringing-out of 
the hour thirty minutes before you expect it 
is startling in the extreme ; and your maid 
or man has a bad time of it until you 
discover the discrepancy. 

At last, however, you arc ready, and in 
due time find yourself amidst the company 
in the grand dining saloon, where dinner is 
served in state, although not with the frigid 
formality one is inclined to expect. A certain 
degree of nervousness must be felt by all on 
the first occasion they dine with Royalty ; but 
vour host and hostess are so extremely 

fVom ./ PAoto I../I 

You have only time for a rapid glance at 
the massive oak carving and valuable paint 
ings (chief of which is one portraying the 
family at afternoon tea. by /.iehv) before 
you find yourself being conducted to the 
handsome suite of apartments you will occupy 
(luring your visit. A cup of tea and some 
light refreshment, and the dinner-hour being 
7.30 it is time to prepare. If you have not 
been here before, let me give you a word of 
warning, or you will commit the dreadful sin 
of unpunctuality. Every clock on the place, 
from the loud-voiced one over the stables to 

fRptlfnrtl Lnnerr 

affable, and have such a happy gift of putting 
people at their ease, that you insensibly 
forget their august position, and find yourself 
(hatting with comfort and enjoyment You 
will notice the splendid proportions of this 
saloon, and the priceless Spanish tapestry 
with which it is hung — this was the gift of the 
King of Spain to the Prince. There is also a 
magnificent display of plate, much of it 
presentation. The tables are oblong, the 
Prince and Princess facing each other at the 
centre ; the floor as arts most of them — is of 
polished oak, this one being freely scattered 



I'm,,, a Ph-tu. h,i[ 


I Hertford Lemerc 

with costly Turkish rugs. I may here men- 
tion that adjoining this saloon is a spacious 
ante-room, containing a line collection of 
tigers' skins, elephants' tusks, etc. : a good 
record of the travels of His Royal 
Highness, of much interest to travellers 
and sportsmen. 

When you presently adjourn to die draw- 
ing-rooms- -of which there are a suite of 
small ones in addition to the large one you 
will find there is no lack of entertainment 
and amusement ; such, indeed, as must suit 
the most varied tastes. First, however, 
we will take some note of the rooms them- 
selves. These (the drawing-rooms) are all 
connected with the entrance-hall by a broad 
corridor, which is ornamented with pieces of 
armour, ancient china, stuffed birds, etc. : 
they face the lakes, and are on the western 
nv front of the building, opening on to the 

'The large drawing-room is of beautiful 
construction, fitted with windows reaching 
from ceiling to floor. The walls are panelled 
with pink and blue, with mouldings of gold 
and cream. The furniture is upholstered in 
Dale blue, with threads of deep crimson 

and gold ; the hangings are of rich 
chenille : the floor of polished oak, with 
rich Indian rugs distributed here and 
there. A plentiful scattering of music and 
books gives it a home-like appearance, while 
hand embroidery, sketches, painting on 
china, and feather screens show the variety 
bf talent and skill of the ladies of the family. 
In the very centre of the room is a large 
piece of rockwork, with a tasteful arrange- 
ment (carried out under the care of the 
Princess herself) of choice- ferns and beauti 
lul roses iii bloom, while rising out of the 
midst is a marble figure of Venus. The 
principal conservatory opens from this room. 
It is rich in palms a.nd ferns, and contains a 
monument of art to Madame Jerichau, the 
sculptress, in the shape of a group of bathing 

Meanwhile, whatever amusement is to be 
the order has by this time commenced : 
perhaps it is music the ladies of the lamilv 
are all good musicians perhaps it is tableaux 
vivants, or possibly a carpet dance. If your 
tastes do not lie in these directions, or after 
you have enjoyed them for a sufficient time, 
you have the choice of using the billiard- 


room, the American bowling alley, or the smok- 
ing-rooms. The billiard-room will interest 
you vastly : it is literally lined with arms 
of all descriptions. The tables, of course, 
are of the best. 

Another room you may perhaps find your 
way to to-night is the " Serapis " room : it is 
half library and half smoking-room ; in it 
you will see the entire fittings of the cabin 
the Prince occupied on his journey to India. 

From a Phntn. h>/ 

{lifilfurd 1siw-ri>. 


From a Photn. by] 


in the vessel of the above name. One thing 
you may rest assured of — that neither on this 
evening nor at any other time while at 
Sandringham will you know a dull moment. 

In the morning you will find breakfast 
served at nine o'clock in the dining saloon. 
As, however, the Prince and Princess gene- 
rally take theirs in their private apartments, 
there is no formality, and you do not feel 
bound to the punctuality imperative when 
you meet their Royal Highnesses. 

Perhaps you have letters to write ; and I 
may as well here remark that the postal 
arrangements are first-rate. There is a post 
office inside the house, which is also a money 
order office. Three deliveries per day 

come in that way, while mounted men meet 
the trains at Wolfertpn Station. There is 
also telegraphic communication with Central 
London, King's Lynn, anil Marlborough 
House ; and telephone to VVolferton Station, 
the stud farm, agents, bailiff, etc. 

before proceedingto out-doorsights- which 
will not be possible very early, as your host 
has a multiplicity of business to get through 
— you had better take the opportunity of 
seeing some of the rare and beautiful treasures 
indoors. Of course, all are aware of the 

extensive travels of the Prince in than) 
countries, and will, therefore, expect to find 
many mementos of the same in his home; 
but I think few are prepared to find them so 
numerous and so valuable. Not only does 
one see them here and there in various 
directions, but one room of considerable 
dimensions is set apart altogether for them, 
and a day could Ik- profitably spent in their 
inspection. It is not only their costliness 
and their beauty, but the associations which 
make them of so much interest. This one 
was presented by the King of this place ; this 
one by Prince So-and-so , this by such a 
town, and this by such an order or society, 
until the vision is quite dazzled with beauty. 

Perhaps as a strong contrast you may get 
a peep at the Prince's morning-room, a 
room plainly and usefully fitted and fur- 
nished in light oak. There you will see such 
a batch of correspondence that you will be 
inclined to wonder when it will be got 
through, but the Prince is a capital business 
man, and nothing is lost sight of. 

The libraries must not be overlooked ; 
there are quite a suite of them, well stocked 
with English and French literature more 
particularly. A large number will be noticed 



From (i Photo. btj\ 

as presentation volumes, in handsome and 
unique bindings. One of these rooms also 
contains many me- 
mentos of travel 
and sport in vari- 
ous climes. 

Two additional 
stories have within 
the last few weeks 
been completed 
over the bowling 
alley and billiard- 
room, making a 
total of about 
eighteen apart- 
ments, henceforth 
to be known as 
" The Bachelors' 

tor some years 
the large hall at the 
entrance was made 
to do duty for a 
ball-room, and no 
mean one either ; 
but the Prince 
so commodious as 

he would wish, he, some nine years ago, had 
a new and larger one built. This, and one 


[Uedford l^ntcre. 




i'r..m a I'huUt. liy] 


or two other rooms, really constitute a new 
wing. The turret of this wing has just been 
raised, in order to place therein a clock 
purchased by the local tradesmen as a 
memorial to the late Duke of Clarence and 
Avondale. The ball-room is of immense 
size and lofty construction, with fine bay 

windows at either 
end, and large 
alcoves on either 
side, one contain- 
ing a magnificent 
fire-place, and the 
other windows. 
The walls are 
artistic triumphs, 
being finely 
painted in deli- 
cate colours, and 
on them arranged 
a fine collection of 
Indian trophies. 
The floor is of 
oak, and kept in 
such a condition 
of polish as to be 
a pitfall and snare 
to any dancer not 
in constant 
practice. More 
than one or two 
couples have been 
known to sud- 
denly subside, even in the most select of 
the select circles there assembled. 

If during your visit one of the annual 
balls should take place, you are most fortu- 
nate. There are three of such — the 
"County," the "Tenants'," and the "Ser- 
vants'," the first, of course, bringing thee/i/e; 

\Hedford Lemere. 

From a Photo. by\ 


{Bedford Lemere. 



■ nil II 1'hitUi. VI 

but the two latter sometimes presenting 
a curious mixture. The tenants, I may say, 
are allowed to introduce a limited number 
of friends, a privilege highly valued, and 
much sought after by the most remote 
acquaintance of each and every tenant on 
the estate. A most wonderful display of 
colours distinguishes these Norfolkites, bright 
of hue, too, and more often than not dames 
of fifty got up in the style of damsels of 

And what appetites these yeomen and 
cattle-dealers have got, to be sure ! And if you 
had a few tramps across the " Broads " you 
would not wonder at it, for hunger is soon 
the predominant feeling. The dancing, too, 
is a study ; country dances, reels, and jigs 
following each other in such quick succession, 
that the band in the gallery at the far end do 
not have any too easy a time of it. Through 
everything; the same kindly interest is dis- 
played by the Royal hrjst and .hostess ; their 
interest never wanes, and their courtesy never 
flags, but everyone is noticed, and made to 
feel as much at their ease as it is possible for 
them to be. 

Perhaps the servants' ball is as prfctty a 
sight as one could see in the room — the 
toilettes of the Royal Family and their 
visitors, the rich state liveries of the footmen, 
the scattering of Highland costumes, the 
green and buff of the gamekeepers, and the 
caps of the maidservants, all blending into 

llled/trrd Lamer?. 

an ever - moving 
kaleidoscope, pic- 
turesque in the 

Few that are 
familiar with Sand- 
ringham can enter 
this room without 
thinking of the 
occasion when the 
proud and loving 
mother entered, 
leaning on the arm 
of her eldest boy, 
on the day he at- 
tained his majority. 
The fairest and 
bravest of all Eng- 
land were there 
assembled to do 
him honour ; and 
from all parts of 
the world " happy 
returns " and long 
life were wished 
for he whom all 
future King. Some 
of this home must 

regarded as their 
of the associations 
of necessity be saddening, but on the other 
hand, much must remind of many little acts 
of kindness and loving attentions paid ; and 
were this a biography of the late Prince, 
many little anecdotes of his great thought- 
fulness for those around him might be told ; 
but his monument will be in the memories 
of all who knew him. 

To return, however, to description. After the 
Prince has dispatched his necessary business, 
he generally takes his visitors round to view the 
park, gardens, model farm, stables, kennels, 
or whatever His Royal Highness thinks may 
interest them most. If you are an enthusiast 
in farming, you will be immensely interested 
in the 600 acres of land farmed on scientific 
principles. Every known improvement in 
machinery, etc., is introduced, with results of 
as near perfection as possible in crops. , The 
Prince looks a genuine farmer, as he tranps 
through the fields in true Norfolk garb of 
tweed and gaiters ; and it does not require 
much attention to find from his conversation 
that he quite understands what he is talking 
about : so it behoves one to rub up his 
weak points in this direction. 

In the stables all are disposed to linger ; 
every one of (I think) sixty stalls being 
inhabited by first-rate steeds, many of them 
good racers. The prettiest sight of all is the 
Princess's stable — a smaller one adjoining; 



this is tiled white and green, with stalls 
ornamented in silver. Here are some charm- 
ing ponies driven by Her Royal Highness, 
and her favourite mare Vera. On this mare, 
accompanied by her children on their 
mounts, the Princess may often be met in the 
lanes around Sandringham, occasionally also 
driving in a little pony carriage, and in both 
cases almost unattended. 

The kennels come next in order : they 
contain dogs of every breed from all parts of 
the land. The younger members of the family 
especially have many pets — cats, dogs, and 

a more distant inspection. To-day it is fine, 
and so we commence with emerging on to the 
west terrace, and into the western gardens. 

The terraces are very handsome, and many 
of the rooms open on to them from French 
windows or conservatories. First you will 
notice a Chinese joss-house or temple, made 
of costly metal, guarded on either side by 
two huge granite lions from Japan, all of 
them the gifts to the Prince of Admiral 

The gardens are tastefully and artistically 
laid out, with such a wildness, yet with such 

I ,t VI, ..'... h,j\ 


\Bedford Ismere. 

birds; indeed, one of the first things you 
notice on your arrival is a parrot in the 
entrance saloon, that invariably greets you 
with calling for " three cheers for the Queen I " 
It is now nearly luncheon time (1.30), and 
here you all meet again ; some of the ladies 
perhaps having been honoured the first part 
of the day by spending some time with the 
Princess. Generally speaking, but not 
always, their Royal Highnesses join the 
party for lunch ; but in any case, after that 
meal, forces are united, and the company 
entire start off, sometimes on foot, commenc- 
ing with gardens, sometimes in carriages for 

a wealth of shrubs and pines, aided by arti- 
ficial rockwork, a cave, and a rushing cascade, 
that one might well imagine one was in 
another country. 

The Alpine gardens contain flowers and 
ferns of the choicest ; and you presently 
emerge on the shores of a lake of consider- 
able size. Here boating in the summer and 
skating in the winter may be indulged in, 
the latter, especially by torchlight, being a 
most attractive sight. The illuminations in 
the trees around, the flaring torches, the 
lights fixed to the chairs as they glide about 
like will o' the wisps, and the villagers (who 



are always invited) standing around, make 
up a picture not easily forgotten. This lake 
has recently been supplemented by the 
excavation of another in the centre of the 
park, a running stream connecting the two. 

Chief, or almost chief, of the Sardringham 
outdoor sights is a famous avenue of trees. 
At some future time this avenue will be of 
even more interest than it is now, and will 
become, in fact, historical ; for every tree there 
has been planted by some personage of note. 
On each one you will notice a neat label, 
stating name of 
planter and date of 
planting, chief of 
the names being 
Queen Victoria and 
the Empress 

The model dairy 
is a picture ; but 
here again the pre- 
ference must be 
given to that owned 
by the Princess. It 
is a Swiss cottage, 
containing five 
rooms, one of the 
five being a very 
pretty tea-room, and 
here Her Royal 
Highness some- 
times favours her 
friends with the 
"cup that cheers," 
often, too, cutting 
bread and butter 
and cake with her 
own fair hands. 
Moreover, the same 
hands have often 
made the butter 
that is used — as 
each of the ladies of 
the family is skilled 

in dairy management, and capable of turning 
out a good honest pat of creamy Norfolk. 
Merry times they have had in this cottage, 
arrayed in apron and sleeves, doing the real 
'fork, not merely giving directions. 

You would not be in any of the villages 
long before you saw some of the children 
attending some one of the various schools, 
clad in their scarlet and Royal blue ; they 
look very comfortable and picturesque. There 
is a first-rate technical school, in addition to 
the ordinary ones of each village. The first 
was founded by the Princess herself, and in 
each of them Her Royal Highness and her 

children take a deep interest ; often visiting 
them, taking classes, and asking questions. 
These schools, then, are shown you this 
afternoon ; and, as a matter of course, you 
proceed from there to the Working Men's 
Club — one of which is established in each 
village. These are open to men above 
the age of fourteen.* Billiards, bagatelle, 
draughts, etc., are provided, and there is 
a good stock of newspapers and books. 
Refreshments may be obtained of good 
quality, and for a small outlay; and every- 
thing is done that 
can be done to 
make the men com- 
fortable. Does it 
keep them from the 
public-house ? you 
ask. Well — there is 
not suck a thing 
known as a public- 
house on the Prince's 
estate. A man can 
get his glass of ale 
at the club — good 
in quality and low 
in figure — but he 
cannot get enough 
to send him home 
the worse for com- 
ing ; so drunken- 
ness is unknown in 
the villages. 

On Sunday morn- 
ing everybody goes 
to the little church 
of St. Mary Mag- 
dalene, in the park. 
The Prince and 
Princess set the 
example by their 
attendance — the 
Princess and ladies 
generally driving, 
the Prince and gentlemen, walking by pri- 
vate footway. A quiet, peaceful spot it is, 
entered by a lych-gate and surrounded by 
a small "Cod's acre." If you are wise, you 
have come early enough to look round. 
Simplicity is stamped on everything, there 
not being a single imposing monument 
there. Several stones have been erected by 
the Prince in memory of faithful servants of 
the household, and there are also several 
placed there by the former proprietors of the 
estate. To what you are most attracted is 

■ Small men ; but is an actual extract from the printed 
rules hanging in the clubs. 


II'. A Ii. Snowy. 



the resting-piace of the third Royal son. 
No costly sepulchre, but a simple grassy 
mound, surrounded by gilt iron railings with 
a plain headstone, recording the name and 
date of birth and death of the infant Prince, 
and the words " Suffer little children to 
come unto Me " added. 

The church itself is of ancient date, and 
has been twice restored and enlarged by the 
Prince. It has a font of early times, and 
some half-dozen stained glass windows. The 
Prince has caused several monuments, busts, 

ing inscription : " To the glory of God. A 
thank-offering for His mercy, 14th December, 
187 1. 'When I was in trouble, I called upon 
the Lord, and He heard me.' " 

The space for worshippers is limited, and 
is generally quite filled by the household. 
The Royal Family occupy carved oak seats in 
the nave. The organ is a very fine one, par- 
ticularly sweet in tone, and is situated in the 
rear of the building ; it is presided over by a 
very able musician, who is also responsible 
for the choir -this consisting of school 

From a nm„. Uy\ 


[Hntford lsrmere. 

etc., to be placed there, conspicuous being 
busts to the late Princess Alice and the 
Emperor Frederick, a medallion to the late 
Duke of Albany, a stained glass window to 
the infant Prince, and monuments to the 
Revs. W. L. Onslow and G. Browne. The 
most noticeable of anything there, how- 
ever, is a very handsome brass lectern, 
placed by the Princess as a thank-offering 
for the recovery of the Prince from his 
dangerous illness of typhoid fever. The 
event is within the memory of most of 
us, and needs only a brief notice to recall 
the national anxiety that was displayed on 
the occasion. The lectern bears the follow- 

children, grooms, gardeners, etc. The sing- 
ing is really good. 

I have heard down there of a former 
organist, who was not a great musician, and, 
in fact, was more at home in the village 
shop, of whjch he was proprietor. Sunday 
after Sunday he made the most awful 
mistakes, and, in consequence, was continu- 
ally warned of his probable dismissal. The 
Princess, with her invariable kindness, had 
been the cause of his staying so long as he 
had ; but one Sunday the climax was reached 
and the Royal patience fairly exhausted. 
Mr. Gladstone (then in office) was on a visit, 
and his solemn, grim countenance as he 




From a Photo. It;/ W. rf' R ltoitmev. 

stood in the church quite frightened the 
poor man, inasmuch as he lost his head 
completely. The organ left off in the chants, 
persisted in playing in the prayers, and 
altogether acted in such an erratic manner, 
that it was no wonder that anger was depicted 
on one countenance, sorrow on another, and 
amusement on a few of the more youthful 
ones ! The old institution had to give way 
to a new, however, and a repetition of such 
performances was thus avoided. 

The Sunday afternoon is quietly spent in 
the house or grounds ; then in the evening 
some may, perhaps, drive to ^"est Newton or 
Wolferton Churcrt — the l'rince, Princess and 
family often do — while others may prefer to 
stay in for music or reading. 

On your way to either place you cannot 
but notice the prosperous look of the villages 
and villagers, pointing unmistakably to the 
certainty of a good landlord. Had you 
longer time here, you would hear many an 
anecdote of the kindness and generosity of 
the Prince and the goodness of the Princess 
and her daughters. Hardly a cottager but 
has some anecdote to tell you of the 

family : how the Princess visits the sick 
and afflicted, talking to them, reading 
to them, and helping them in their needs. 
Every child seems to know and to love 
the " beautiful lady," and every man and 
woman seems almost to worship her ; 
and if you heard the anecdotes I have 
heard there, you would not wonder at it. 
"Think o' they R'yal Highnesses" — 
they would say — "making o' things wi : 
their own 'ands fer sich as us! Did 
yew ever heerd tell o' sich, says I ; none 
o' yer frames and frimmicks (airs and 
graces) wi' they." And then they would 
go on with their " says I " and " says 
she," and tell you all about summer 
flower shows for villagers, treats on 
Royal birthdays, invitations to see sights 
in the park, how the family have given a 
wedding present to this one, what they 
have brought or sent the other one when 
ill ; and so on, and so on, until you come 
to think what a pity it is a few land- 
owners, with their wives and families, 


From a Photo, by W. <£ I). Downey. 

cannot come here for the lessons so many 
need, and see how well this family interpret 
the words : " Am I my brother's keeper ? " 

Sandringham has saddening associations for 
its owners, but "Joy cometh in the morning," 
and as we take our farewell of this favourite 
residence of the Prince and Princess, we will 
wish them a bright future and continuance 
of good health to enjoy their Norfolk home. 

Shafts from an Eastern Quiver. 

By Charles J. Mansford, B.A. 


RE you awake, sahibs?" 
questioned Hassan, our 
guide, as he eagerly roused 
us from sleep one night. 
" The Hunted Tribe of 
Three Hundred Peaks is 
about its deadly work ! Listen ! " 

We sat up and leant forward as he spoke, 
straining our ears to catch the slightest sound. 
Across the plain which stretched before us 
came at intervals a faint cry, which sounded 
like the hoot of a night bird. 

" That is their strange signal," continued 
the Arab. 

We rose, and, going to the door of the 
tent, scanned the wide plain, but could see 
no human being crossing it. 

"You are mistaken this time, Hassan," 
said Denviers. "What you heard was an 
owl hooting." 

" The sahib it is who misjudges," answered 

the Arab, calmly. " I have heard the warn- 
ing note of the tribe before." 

" It seems to come from the direction of 
Ayuthia," I interposed, pointing to where the 
faint outlines of the spires of its pagodas rose 
like shadows under the starlit sky. 

" It comes from beyond Ayuthia," re- 
sponded Hassan, whose keen sense of hear- 
ing was so remarkable; "and is as far 
away as the strange city built on the 
banks round a sunken ship, which we 
saw as we floated down the Meinam. 
Hist ! I hear the signal again ! " 

Once more we listened, 
but that time the cry came 
to us from a different 

" It is only an owl 
hooting," repeated Den- 
viers, "which has now 
flown to some other part 
of the plain and is hidden 
from us by one of the 
ruined palaces, which seem 
to rise up like ghosts in 
the moonlight. If Hassan 
means to wake us up every 
time he hears a bird 
screech we shall get little 
enough rest. I'm going 
to lie down again." He 
entered the tent, followed 
by us, and stretching 
himself wearily was asleep 
a few minutes after this, 
while Hassan and I sat conversing together, 
for the strange, bird-like cry prevented me 
from following Denviers' example. 

"Coot/ Coot!" came the signal again, and 
in spite of my companion's opinion I felt 
forced to agree with the Arab that there was 
something more than a bird hooting, for at 
times I plainly heard an answering cry. 

After our adventure in the northern part of 
Burmah we had travelled south into the 
heart of Siam, where we parted with our 
elephant, and passed down the Meinam in 
one of the barges scooped out of a tree 
trunk, such as are commonly used to navigate 



this river. Disembarking at Ayuthia we had 
visited the ruins of the ancient city, and 
afterwards continued on our way towards the 
mouth of the river. While examining the 
colossal images which lie amid the other 
relics of the city's past greatness, Hassan 
had told us a weird story, to which, however, 
at that time we paid but scant attention. 

On the night when our Arab guide had 
roused us so suddenly, our tent was pitched 
at some distance from the bank of the river, 
where a fantastic natural bridge of jagged white 
limestone spanned the seething waters of the 
tumbling rapids below, and united the two 
parts of the great plain. Sitting close to the 
entrance of the tent with Hassan, I could 
see far away to the west the tops of the 
great range of the Three Hundred Peaks 
beyond the plain. Recollecting that Hassan 
had mentioned them in his story, I was 
just on the point of asking him to repeat it 
when I heard the strange cry once more. A 
moment after the Arab seized me by the arm 
and pointed towards the plain before us. 

I looked in 
the dire ct i o n 
which Hassan 
indicated, and 
my .eyes rested 
'on the dismantled 
wall of a ruined 
palace. I ob- 
served nothing 
further for a few 
minutes, then a 
dusky form 
seemed to be 
hiding in the 
shadow of the 
wall. "Cooil" 
came the signal 
again, striking 
upon the air softly 
as if the one who 
uttered it feared 
to be discovered. 
The cry had ap- 
parently been 
uttered by rome- 
one beyond the 
river bank, for the 
man lurking in 

the shadow of the ruin stepped boldly out 
from it into the moonlit plain. He stood 
there silent for a moment, then dropped 
into the high grass, above which we saw him 
raise his head and cautiously return the 

" What do you think he is doing there, 

Hassan ? " I asked the Arab, in a whisper, as 
I saw his hand wander to the hilt of his 

" The hill-men have seen our tent while out 
on one of their expeditions," he responded, 
softly. " I think they are going to attempt 
to take us by surprise, but by the aid of the 
Prophet we will outwit them." 

I felt no particular inclination to place 
much trust in Mahomet's help, as the danger 
which confronted us dawned fully upon my 
mind, so instead I moved quickly over to 
Denviers, and awoke him. 

" Is it the owl again ? " he asked, as I 
motioned to him to look through the opening 
of the tent. Immediately he did so, and 
saw the swarthy face of a turbaned hill-man 
raised above the rank grass, as its owner 
made slowly but steadily towards our tent, 
worming along like a snake, and leaving a 
thin line of beaten-dcwn herbage to show 
where his body had passed. Denviers drew 
from his belt one of the pistols thrust there, 
for we had taken the precaution at Rangoon 

to get a couple 
each, since our 
own were lost in 
our adventure off 
Ceylon. I 
quietly imitated 
his example, and, 
drawing well away 
from the entrance 
of the tent, so 
that our watch- 
fulness might not 
be observed, we 
waited for the 
hill-man to ap- 
proach. Half- 
way between the 
ruined palace wall 
and our tent he 
stopped, and then 
I felt Hassan's 
hand upon my 
arm again as, 
with the other, 
he pointed to- 
wards the river 

We saw the 
grass moving there, and through it came a 
second hill-man, who gradually drew near to 
the first. On reaching him the second comer 
also became motionless, while .we next saw 
four other trails of beaten-down grass, marking 
the advance of further foes." How many more 
were coming on behind we could only sm> 






mise, as we watched the six hill-men who 
headed them get into a line one before the 
other, and then advance, keeping about five 
yards apart as they came on. From the 
position in which our tent was pitched it 
was impossible for an attack to be made 
upon us in the rear, and this circumstance 
fortunately allowed of undivided attention to 
the movements of the hill-men whom we saw 
creeping silently forward. 

" Wait till the first one of them gets to the 
opening of our tent," whispered Denviers to 
me ; " and while I deal with him shoot down 
the second. Keep cool and take a steady 


aim as he rises from the grass, and whatever 
you do, don't miss him." 

I held my pistol ready as we waited for 
them to come on, and each second measured 
with our eyes the distance which still 
separated us. Twenty yards from the tent 
the foremost of the hill-men took the kris or 
bent poniard with which he was armed from 
between his teeth, and held it aloft in his 
right hand as he came warily crawling on a 
foot at a time followed by the others, each 
with his weapon raised as though already 
about to plunge it into our throats. It was 
not a very cheering spectacle, but we held 
our weapons ready and watched their 
advance through the grass, determined to 
thrust them back. 

I felt my breath come fast as the first hill- 
man stopped when within half-a-dozen yards 
of the tent and listened carefully. I could 

have easily shot him down as he half rose to 
his feet, and his fierce eyes glittered in his 
swarthy face. Almost mechanically I noticed 
the loose shirt and trousers which he wore, 
and saw the white turban lighting up his 
bronzed features as he crept right up to our 
tent and thrust his head in, confident that 
those within it were asleep. The next instant 
he was down, with Denviers' hand on his 
throat and a pistol thrust into his astonished 
face, as my companion exclaimed : — 
" Drop your weapon or I'll shoot you ! " 
The hill-man glared like a tiger for a 
moment, then he saw the advantage of follow- 
ing Denviers' suggestion. He sullenly flung 
his poniard down, gasping for breath, just as 
I covered the second of our enemies with my 
pistol and fired. The hill-man raised his arms 
convulsively in the air, gave a wild cry, 
and fell forward upon his face, dead ! 

The third of those attacking us dashed 
forward, undaunted at the fate of the one 
he saw shot down, only to be flung 
headlong on the grass the next 
instant before the tent, with Hassan 
kneeling on his chest and the point 
of the Arab's sword at his throat. 
The rest of the enemy did not 
wait to continue 
the combat, but 
rose from the 
grass and dis- 
persed precipi- 
tately over the 
plain, making for 
the limestone 
bridge across the 
I rushed 
to Has- 
down as 

san s 


Assistance, and bound the 
while the Aral) held him 
I knotted tightly the sash I had taken 
from my waist. Then I made for the 
tent, to find that Denviers had already 
secured the first prisoner by lashing about 
him a stout piece of tent rope. My com- 
panion forced his captive from the tent into 
the open plain, where we held a whispered 
conversation as to whether the two prisoners 
should live or die. The safer plan was un- 
doubtedly to shoot them, for we both agreed 
that at any moment our own position might 
become a critical one if the rest of the horde 
made another attempt upon us, as we fully 
expected would be done. 

However, we finally decided to spare their 
lives, for a time at all events, and while 
Hassan and Denviers led the captives across 
the plain, I brought from the tent part of a 



long coil of rope which we had and followed 
them. As soon as we neared the river bank 
we selected two suitable trees from a clump 
growing there and lashed the prisoners 
securely to them, threatening instant death 
if they attempted to signal their whereabouts 
to any of the hill-men who might be lurking 

" Get our rifles and ammunition, Hassan,'' 
said Denviers to the Arab. Then turning to 
me, he continued : " We shall have some 
tough fighting I expect when those niggers 
return, but we are able to hold our own 
better out of the tent than in it." Hassan 
brought our weapons, saying as he handed 
them to us : — 

"The sahibs are wise to prepare for 
another attack, since the enemy must return 
this way. They have not gone off towards 
the far mountain peaks, but crossed yonder 
limestone bridge instead.'' 

" What do you understand from that 
movement?" Denviers asked Hassan. 

" The sound which we heard at first came 
from the strange city of which I spoke," he 
replied. " Some of the fierce hill-men have 
made a night attack upon it, and will soon 
return this way. Those we have beaten off 
have gone to meet 
them and to speak of 
the failure to surprise 
us. What they are 
doing in the cityround 
the sunken ship will 
shortly be apparent. 
The whole band is a 
terrible scourge to the 
cities of the Meinam, 
for, by Allah, as I told 
the sahibs at Ayuthia. 
the Hunted Tribe has 
a weird history in- 

Trailing our rifles, 
we walked through the 
rank grass, then rest- 
ing upon a fallen 
column, where the 
shadow of the ruined 
palace wall concealed 
us from the view of 
the enemy if they 
crossed the bridge, 
we listened to Has- 
san's story. At the same time we kept a 
careful watch upon the jagged limestone 
spanning the river, ready at a moment's 
notice to renew the struggle, and it was well 
for us that we did so, 


" It is a strange, wild story which the 
sahibs shall again hear of the Hunted Tribe 
and of its leader," began Hassan, as he 
rested at our feet with his sword gripped in 
his hand ready to wield it in our service at 
any moment ; " and thus ye will know why 
the band is out to-night on its fell errand. 
Years ago, before the Burmese had overrun 
Siam, and while Ayuthia was its capital, so 
famous for its pagodas and palaces, Yu Chan 
became head of the bonzes or priests of the 
royal monastery. 

" Who the great bonze was by birth 
none knew, although it was whispered 
through the kingdom that he sprang 
from a certain illustrious family which 
urged his claim to the position to which 
the ruler reluctantly appointed him. The 
subject bonzes looked darkly upon him, 
for he was but young, while many of them 
were bowed with age and aspired to hold the 
high office to which Yu Chan had been 
appointed. Oft they drew together in the 
gloomy cloisters, and when he swept past in 
silence, raised their hands threateningly at his 
disappearing form, though before his lofty, 
stern-set face they bowed in seeming humility 

as they kissed the 
hem of his mag- 
nificent robe. 

"Among these bonzes was one who especi- 
ally resented Yu Chan's rule over him, for he 



was more learned in the subtile crafts of the 
East than the rest, and the potency of his 
spells was known and feared throughout 
Siam. An unbending ascetic, indeed, was 
the grey-bearded Klan Hua, and the ruler 
of the country had already promised to him 
that he should become the head of the bonzes 
whenever the office was vacated. So much 
was this ruler influenced by Klan Hua that he 
built a covered way from his palace by which 
he might pass at night into the bonze's rude 
cell to hear the interpretation of his dreams, 
or learn the coming events of his destiny. 
Yet, in spite of all this, when the chief bonze 
died, the ruler of Siam, after much hesita- 
tion, gave the coveted office to Yu Chan. 
Judge, then, of the fierce hatred which this 
roused in Klan Hua's breast, and ye will 
understand the reason of the plot which he 
formed against the one who held the position 
he so much desired." 

" Never mind about the quarrels of these 
estimable bonzes, Hassan," interrupted Den- 
viers. "Go on and tell us of these hill-men, or 
you won't get that yarn finished before they 
return, in which case we may never have the 
chance to hear the end of it." 

"The sahib is always impatient," answered 
the Arab gravely ; then he continued, quite 
heedless of Denviers' suggestion : " On the 
nights when the ruler went not to Klan Hua's 
cell, the latter gathered there several of the 
other bonzes, and they sat darkly plotting till 
morning came. Then they crept stealthily 
back to their own cells, to shift their eyes 
nervously each time that the stern glance of 
Yu Chan fell upon them, as he seemed to 
read there their guilty secret. 

" They planned to poison him, but he left 
the tampered food untasted. Then they 
drew lots to assassinate him as he slept, but 
the one whose tablet was marked with a 
poniard was found lifeless the next day, with 
his weapon still clutched in his stiffened 
fingers, and none knew how he died. That 
day the eyes of Yu Chan grew sterner set 
than ever, as he gazed searchingly into the 
face of each bonze as they passed in a long 
procession before him, while the conspirators 
grew livid with fear and baffled rage at the 
cold smile with which he seemed to mock at 
the failure of their schemes. Then they 
made one last effort a few days after, and ye 
shall hear how it ended. 

"The stately Meinam, which glitters before 
us under the midnight sky, yearly overflows 
and renders the earth about it productive. 
Far as the history of Siam is recorded in the 
traditions of the race, it has been the custom 

to perform a strange ceremony, intended to 
impress the common people with awe for 
the ruler. Even now the King of Siam, he 
who sends the silver tree to China in token 
of subjection, still adheres to it, and on the day 
when the waters of the Meinam have reached 
their highest point he sends a royal barge 
down the swollen waters manned by a 
hundred bonzes, who command the turbid 
stream to rise no higher. So then it 
happened that the rise of the river took 
place, and Klan Hua, . who was learned in 
such things, counted to the hour when the 
barge should be launched, even as he had 
done for many years. When the ruler visited 
him one eventful night he declared that the 
turbid waters would be at their full on the 
morrow, and so the command to them to 
cease .rising could then safely be given. 

"Accordingly the royal barge was launched, 
amid the cries of the people, whereupon the 
ruler soon entered it and, fanned by a female 
slave, leant back upon the sumptuous 
cushions under a canopy of crimson silk, 
while by his side was the chief bonze — Yu 
Chan. Near the ruler was the grey-bearded 
Klan Hua, with an evil smile upon his face 
as he saw his rival resting on the cushions in 
the place which he had hoped so long to fill. 

" Out into the middle of the swollen river 
the royal barge went ; then half way between 
bank and bank the rhythmic music of the 
oars as they dipped together into the water 
ceased, and the rowers rested. From his 
seat Yu Chan arose, and uttered in the 
priestly tongue the words which laid a spell 
upon the stream and bade it cease to rise. 
Scarcely had he done so and sunk back 
again upon the cushions when Klan Hua 
threw himself at the monarch's feet and 
petitioned to utter a few words to him. The 
ruler raised the bonze, and bade him speak. 
Holding one hand aloft, the plotting Klan 
Hua pointed with the other towards the 
astonished Yu Chan, as he fiercely cried : — 

" ' Thou false-tongued traitor, thou hast 
insulted thy monarch to his face ! ' 

" The ruler bent forward from his cushions 
and looked in surprise from the accuser to 
the accused. 

" ' Speak ! ' he cried to Klan Hua ; ' make 
good thy unseemly charge, or, old as thou 
art, thy head shall roll from thy shoulders ! ' 

" ' Great Ruler of Siam and Lord of the 
White Elephant,' exclaimed the accuser, 
giving the monarch his strange but august 
title, ' I declare to thee that the chief bonze 
has doomed the country to destruction. 
Taking advantage of the language in which 



the exorcism is pronounced, he has done 
what never the greatest prince under thee 
would dare to do. This man, the head of 
our order, has spoken words which will make 
the people scorn thee and this ceremony, if 
his command comes to pass. Yu Chan, the 
traitor, has bidden the waters to rise/' 

" The monarch crimsoned with anger, as he 
turned to Yu Chan, who had already re- 
gained his composure, and sat with crossed 
arms, smiling scornfully at his accuser, and 
then asked : — 

" ' Hast thou so misused thy power ? 
Speak ! ' 

" ' How can'st thou doubt me, knowing my 
great descent ? ' cried Yu Chan, bitterly. 
' Even at thy bidding I will not answer a 
question which casts so much shame upon 


Thou can'st not deny this charge ! ' ex 
claimed the infuriated monarch. 

" ' Not so,' replied the chief 
bonze, 'I will not ! If thou carest 
to believe the slanderous words 
which Klan Hua has uttered, and 
such that not one in this barge 
will dare to repeat, so be it ! ' 

" Yu Chan withdrew from his 
seat at the monarch's side, and 
taking his rival's place pointed to 
the one he had himself vacated. 

" ' There rest thyself, and be at 
last content,' he said, scornfully : 
' thou false bonze, whisper thence 
more of thy malicious words into 
the ears of the great ruler of 
Siam ! ' 

" The monarch was disconcerted 
for a moment, then motioning one 
of the other bonzes forward, he 
exclaimed : — 

" ' Yu Chan declares that no 
one in this barge will support his accuser's 
words. Thou who wert near, tell me, what 
am I to believe ? ' 

" ' Alas ! ' answered the bonze, with 
simulated grief, ' Klan Hua spoke truly, great 
monarch ; thy trust in Yu Chan has been 
sorely abused.' 

" One after another the bonzes near came 
before the monarch and gave the same 
testimony, for the crafty Klan Hua had so 
placed the plotters for the furtherance of 
their subtle scheme. The ruler gazed angrily 
at Yu Chan, then summoning his rival to his 
side, bade him rest there. 

" ' Henceforth thou art chief bonze,' he 
said : then added threateningly to the fallen 
one : ' Thou shalt be exiled from this hour, 

and if the waters rise to-morrow, as thou hast 
bidden them, I will have thee hunted down, 
hide where thou mayest, and thy head shall 

" The barge reached the shore, and the 
people drew back amazed to see the monarch 
pass on, attended closely by Klan Hua, 
while he who was as they thought chief 
bonze flung off his great robe of purple- 
embroidered silk, and idly watched the 
bonzes disembark, then moved slowly away 
across the great plain. 

" Two days afterwards Klan Hua was found 
dead in his cell covered with the robes of 
his newly-acquired office, and the ruler of 
Siam had dispatched a body of soldiers to 
hunt down Yu Chan and to take him alive or 
dead to Ayuthia. The Meinam had risen 
still higher the day after the ceremony, not, 
as the startled monarch thought, because of 
the deposed one's power, but owing to Klan 


Hua's deception in regard to the real time 
when he knew the water would reach its 

" Then began the strange events which 
made the name of Yu Chan so memorable. 
For some years a band of marauders had 
taken possession of the far range known as 
the Three Hundred Peaks, but hitherto their 
raids in Burmah and Siam had attracted 
scant attention, whirj in Ayuthia few knew 
of their existence. To them the bonze went, 
and when the half-savage troops sent in 
search of him were encamped on the edge of 
the plain the mountaineers unexpectedly 
swooped down upon them. The remnant 
which escaped hastened back to the monarch 
with strange stories of the prowess of the 



enemy, and especially of Yu Chan, the exile, 
whom they averred led on the foe to victory. 
The ruler of Siam, deeply chagrined at their 
non-success, ordered the vanquished ones to 
be decapitated for their failure to bring back 
the bonze or his lifeless body. 

" A second expedition was sent against 
them, but the mountaineers held their fast- 
nesses so well that, in despair of conquering 
them, the few who survived their second on- 
slaught slew themselves rather than return 
to Ayuthia to suffer a like fate to that which 
the monarch had awarded the others. Mad- 
dened at these repeated defeats, the ruler 
himself headed a large army and invested the 
passes, cutting off the supplies of the moun- 
taineers, in the hope of starving them into 
subjection. So deeply was he roused against 
Yu Chan that he offered to pardon the rebels 
on condition that they betrayed their leader. 

" They scornfully rejected such terms, and 
withdrew to the heart of the mountains to 
endure all the horrors of famine with a 
courage which was heroic. At times the 
brave band made desperate efforts to break 
through the wall of men which girded them 
about, and each onset, in which they were 
beaten back, inspired them to try yet again. 
- "The Malay who told me their story 
declared they were reduced to such straits 
at last that for one dreadful month they lived 
upon tfieir dead. Never once did they waver 
from their allegiance to Yu Chan, whose 
stern-set face inspired them to resist to the 
last, for well he knew that the monarch's 
promise could not be trusted, and that sur- 
render for them meant death. Often would 
they be repulsed at sunset in an attempt to 
break through the cordon which held them, 
and yet before nightfall, at the entrance of 
some precipitous pass, far remote from that 
spot, swift and sudden the gaunt and haggard 
band appeared, led on by Yu Chan, sword in 
hand, as he hewed down those who dared to 
face him. 

" Just when they were most oppressed 
relief came to the band of a quite unex- 
pected kind, for the Burmese on the border 
overran Siam, and the soldiers were with- 
drawn to meet the new enemy. So, for a 
time, the band was left unmolested ; but still 
none, save their leader, ventured to leave 
their wild haunts. Before he had been ap- 
pointed chief of the bonzes who brought 
about his exile, Yu Chan had been the lover 
of a maiden of Ayuthia, but the high office 
which had been bestowed on him kept them 
apart. No sooner had the robes which he 
wore as a bonze been exchanged for those of 

a mountaineer than Yu Chan determined to 
see this maiden again. On the departure of 
their enemies he prepared to visit Ayuthia, 
although strongly counselled not to do so 
by his devoted band. He was, however, 
obdurate, and set forth on his perilous enter- 
prise alone. 

" Yu Chan crossed the great plain of Siam, 
and then, resting in a thatched hut upon the 
bank of the Meinam, dispatched a Malay, 
who chanced to dwell there, with a message 
to his beloved to visit him, for he thought it 
useless to attempt to enter Ayuthia if he 
wished to live. At nightfall the Malay returned 
from the island in the middle of the bend of 
the Meinam, whereon ye know the city is built. 
He thrust a tablet into Yu Chan's hand, 
whereon was a desire that the latter would 
wait the maiden's coming at a part of the 
bank where often the boat of the lovers had 
touched at before. Soon the exile beheld 
the slight craft making for the shore, manned 
by six rowers muffled in their cloaks, for 
the night was cold. Happy indeed would 
it have been for the lovers if the maiden 
had scanned closely the features of those who 
ferried her across the river, for the treacherous 
Malay had recognised Yu Chan, and six of 
the monarch's soldiers were the supposed 
boatmen, hurriedly gathered to take the exile 
or to slay him. 

" The maiden stepped from the boat, and, 
with a glad cry, flung her arms about Yu 
Chan, who had passed down the narrow path 
to meet her. Together they climbed up the 
steep way that led to the plain above the 
high bank, followed by the muffled soldiers, 
who lurked cautiously in the shadows of the 
limestone, through which wound the toilsome 
path. Once, as they passed along, a slight 
sound behind them arrested the footsteps of 
the lovers, and Yu Chan turned and glanced 
back searchingly, then on they went again. 
For an hour or more they wandered together 
over the plain, then, with many a sigh, turned 
to descend the path once more. Again they 
heard a sound, and that time on looking 
round quickly Yu Chan saw the boatmen, 
whom he had thought awaited the maiden's 
return by the river brink, stealing closely 
after him, their faces shrouded in their black 

" At once his suspicions were aroused, and 
hastily unsheathing his sword he confronted 
them just as they flung off their cloaks and 
the fierce faces of six of the half-savage 
soldiery of the monarch were revealed to Yu 
Chan. Slowly the latter retreated till he was 
a little way down the path with his back to 



the protecting limestone, then stood at bay 
to defend the maiden and himself from 
the advancing foes. Warily they came on, 
for well they knew the deadly thrusts which 
he could deal with his keen sword. Yu Chan 
in fighting at such desperate odds more than 
once failed to beat down the weapons lunged 
at him, but though severely wounded he did 
not flinch from the combat. Three of his 
assailants lay dead at his feet, when the leader 
of the monarch's soldiery twisted the sword 
from Yu Chan's hand, and then the three 
surviving foes rushed upon the defenceless 
man. With a cry that pierced the air the 
maiden flung herself before her lover — to 
fall dead as her body was thrust through 
and through by the weapons intended for the 
heart of Yu Chan ! 

"Like a boarhound the mountain chief 
leapt upon his nearest assailant, 
wrenched the sword dripping with 


the maiden's blood from his hand, and almost 
cleaved him in half with one resistless stroke. 
He turned next upon the remaining two, but 
they fled headlong down the path, Yu Chan 
following with a fierce cry at their heels. 
Into the boat they leapt, nor dared to look 

behind till they were out in mid-stream ; 
then they saw the wounded chief slowly 
dragging himself back to where the maiden 
lay lifeless. 

" Yu Chan bent despairingly over her as 
he saw the fatal stains which dyed her gar- 
ments and reddened some of the fragrant 
white flowers fallen from her hair, which 
lay in masses framing her white, still face. 
Taking up his own sword, he sheathed it ; 
then he raised the maiden gently in his arms, 
and, covered himself with gaping wounds, he 
set out to cross the great plain to the Three 
Hundred Peaks, where his followers awaited 
his return. On he struggled fbr two weary 
days with his lifeless burden ; then at last 
he reached the end of his journey, and as 
the mountaineers gathered hastily about him 
and. shuddered to see the ghastly face of their 
chief, Yu Chan tottered 
and fell dead in their 
midst ! 

" Round the two life- 
less forms the hunted 
tribe gathered, and, look- 
ing upon them, knew 
that they had been slain 
by their remorseless foes. 
One by -one the moun- 
taineers pressed for-ward, 
and amid the deathly 
silence of the others, 
each in turn touched 
the sword of their slain 
chief and sternly swore 
the blood - revenge. 
Fierce, indeed, as are 
such outbreaks in many 
eastern lands, that day 
marked the beginning 
of dark deeds of re- 
quitement that have 
made all others as 
nothing in comparison 
to them. The Burmese 
came down upon Siam 
and swept over fair 
Ayuthia, leaving nothing 
but the ruins of the 
city ; yet, even in that 
national calamity, the 
fierce instinct of murder 
so fatally roused in the 
breasts of the mountaineers never paused 
nor seemed dulled^. While the magnificent 
city lay despoiled, the once hunted tribe fell 
upon the others about the Meinam, and 
long after peace reigned throughout the 
country, still their deeds of pillage and 




massacre went on, as they do even to this 
day, so remote from the one when their 
leader was slain. 

" For months the tribe will be unheard 
of, and lulled by a false sense of security 
the inhabitants of one of these cities will 
make preparations for one of their recurring 
festivals. Even in the midst of such the 
strange cry of the hunted tribe will be heard, 
and the coming day will reveal to the awe- 
struck people the evidence of a night attack, 
in which men and women have been slain or 
carried off suddenly to the Three Hundred 

" The present descendants of the avengers 
of Yu Chan's death are a cowardly lot, at all 
events," commented Denviers, as the Arab 
finished his recital : " they attacked us with- 
out reason, and have consequently got their 
deserts. If they come upon us again " 

" Hist, sahib," Hassan whispered cau- 
tiously, as he pointed with his sword towards 
the fantastic bridge of limestone ; " the 
hunted tribe is returning from its raid, see ! " 
We looked in the direction in which he 
motioned us, and saw that the mountaineers 

bore a captive in their midst ! Imme- 
diately one of the prisoners lashed to the 
trees gave a warning cry, regardless of the 
threats which Denviers had uttered. Has- 
san sprang to his feet, and stood by my 
side as we raised our rifles, still hidden 
as we were in the shadow of the ruined 
palace wall. 


" Hassan," whispered my companion to 

the Arab ; " go over to the prisoners 

there, and if they cry out again shoot 

them. I don't think that first cry has 

been heard by the others." As he spoke 

Denviers thrust a pistol into Hassan's 

hand and motioned to him to move 

through the grass towards them. We 

watched our guide as he neared them 

and raised the pistol threateningly — 

a silent admonition which 

they understood, and became 

quiet accordingly. 

From our position in the 
shadow of the ruined palace 
wall we saw a number of the 
hunted tribe slowly wind over 
the bridge with their captive, 
and noticed that in addition 
they had plenty of plunder 
with them. Noiselessly they 
moved towards our tent, 
and completely surrounded 
it, only to find it empty. 
They were evidently at a loss what to 
do, when one of their number stumbled 
over the dead mountaineer whom I had shot 
down as he joined in the attack upon us. 
A fierce exclamation quickly caused the 
rest to gather about him, and for some 
minutes they held a brief consultation. We 
judged from their subsequent actions that 
they considered we had made good our 
escape from the plain, for they made no 
further search for us, but apparently deter- 
mined to avenge their comrade's death by 
slaying their captive. While the rest of the 
band moved away over the plain, two of 
their number returned towards the limestone 
bridge spanning the river. Guessing their fell 
purpose, Denviers and I crept through the 
tall grass, and under cover of the trees by 
the bank moved cautiously towards them. 

From tree to tree we advanced with our 
rifles in our hands, then just when within 
twenty yards of them w& stopped aghast at 
the movements of the two mountaineers, 
who were forcing their struggling captive 
slowly towards the edge of the jagged lime- 
stone bridge ! 



We looked down at the angry waters of the 
rapid, swirling twenty feet below in the deep 
bed of the river, which was slowly rising each 
day, for the time of its inundation was near 
at hand. For a moment I saw a woman's 
horror-stricken face in the moonlight and 
heard her agonizing cry, then the sharp crack 
of Denviers' rifle rang out, and one of her 
assailants relaxed his grasp. Before Denviers 
could take a shot at the second mountaineer, 
he seized the captive woman and deliberately 
thrust her over the rocky bridge ! 

" Quick ! To 
the river ! " ex- 
claimed Denviers, 
as we heard the 
sound of her body 
striking the waters 
below. Down the 
steep bank we 
steadying our- 
selves by grasping 
the lithe and 
dwarfed trees 
which grew in its 
rocky crevices. 
For one brief 
moment we 
scanned the 
seething torrent, 
and then, right in 
its midst, we saw 
the face and float 
ing hair of the 
woman as she 
was tossed to and 
fro in the rapid, 
while she vainly 
tried to cling to 
the huge boulders 
rising high in the 
stream through 
which her fragile form was hurried. 

"Jump into the boat and wait for me to 
be carried down to you!" cried Denviers, and 
before I fully realized what he was about to 
do, he flung his rifle down and plunged head- 
long into the foaming waters. I saw him 
battling against the fierce current with all 
his might, for the rocks in mid-stream pre- 
vented the woman from being floated down 
to us and threatened to beat out her life, as 
she was borne violently against them. I ran 
madly towards where our boat had been 
drawn up, and pushing it into the river 
strained my eyes eagerly in the wild hope of 
seeing Denviers alive when his body should 
lie floated down towards roe. 


I pulled hard against the stream and 
managed to keep the rude craft from being 
carried away with the current. A few minutes 
afterwards I saw that my companion had 
succeeded in dragging the woman from the 
grinding channels between the rocks, and 
was being swept on to where I anxiously 
awaited him with his burden. The water 
dashed violently against the boat as I put it 
across the middle of the rushing stream, then 
dropped the oars as he was flung towards me. 
I stretched out my arms over the side in 

order to relieve 
him of his bur- 
den, and, al- 
though he was 
exhausted, Den- 
viers made one 
last effort and 
thrust the woman 
towards me. I 
dragged her into 
the boat just as 
her rescuer sank 
back. With a 
quick but steady 
grip I caught my 
companion and 
hauled him in 
too, and before 
long had the hap- 
piness to see both 
become conscious 
once more. 

Leaving the 
boat to float down 
the stream, I 
merely steered it 
clear of the rocky 
sides of the river 
channel, then, 
seeing some dis- 
tance ahead a 
favourable place to land, drew in to the 
shore with a few swift strokes from 
the oars. Denviers remained with the 
woman he had rescued, while I climbed the 
steep bank again and found that the moun- 
taineers had, fortunately, not returned, al- 
though we had fully expected the report of 
Denviers' rifle to cause them to do so. I 
thereupon signalled to my companion below 
that all was safe, and he toiled up to the 
plain supporting the woman, who was a Laos, 
judging from her garments and slight, graceful 

Spreading for her a couch of skins, we left 
her reclining wearily in the tent, to *hich 
Denviers conducted her, then hastened 

Vol, v -4§. 



towards Hassan, whom we found still keep- 
ing guard over our two captives. The Arab, 
when he heard of the hazardous venture 
which Denviers had made, stoutly urged us 
to put our prisoners to death, as a warning 
to the hunted tribe that their misdeeds could 
not always be carried on with impunity. For 
reply Denviers quietly took the pistol from 
the Arab's hand, and then we returned to- 
wards the tent, outside which we rested till 
day dawned. 

The woman within the tent then arose and 
came towards us, thanking Denviers pro- 
fusely for saving her from such a death as 
had confronted her. She told us that her 
betrothal to a neighbouring prince had taken 
place only a few days before, but although 
every precaution had been taken to keep the 
affair secret, the news was conveyed to the 
hunted tribe by some one of the many sup- 
porters of the mountaineers. As she was a 
woman of high rank, this seemed to them a 
suitable opportunity to strike further terror' 
into the hearts of the people inhabiting the 
cities about the Meinam. Their plans had 
been thoroughly successful, for they had 
despoiled several of the richest citizens, slay- 

ing those who opposed them, then snatching 
the woman up, began to carry her off to live 
among their tribeswomen, and to become 
one of them, when we fortunately saved her 
from that fate. We promised to conduct her 
to the city whence she had been stolen, 
which we eventually did, but before setting 
out for that purpose we visited our prisoners 

" Hassan," said Denviers, "release the men 
from the trees." The Arab most reluctantly 
did so, stoutly maintaining that after Mahomet 
had helped us so strangely and successfully, 
we would be wiser either to shoot them or 
leave them bound till someone discovered 
and dealt with our prisoners as they deserved. 

The ropes were accordingly unbound which 
fastened them to the trees; then Denviers 
pointed to the distant range of the Three 
Hundred Peaks and bade them begone. 
The two prisoners set forward at a run, 
' aing not a little surprised at our clemency. 
vVhen they had at last disappeared in the 
distance, we moved towards the city beyond 
Ayuthia to restore the princess to her people, 
who had, by our means, been snatched from 
the power of the hunted tribe. 


s t 

1(P' pictur- 
e s q u e 
qual ity 
m o 

vari ety 
of vanes 
-from the modest 
arrow to the richly-gilt 
and imposing heraldic 
monster— which meet 
the eye as one wanders through quiet village, 
busy market town, or sleepy cathedral 
city, and the traditions which are asso- 
ciated with these distinctly useful, time- 
honoured, and much consulted adjuncts 
to church or home, make me hope that 
the following brief notes and sketches of 
a few of the many types one sees may not be 
without interest to some of the numerous 
readers of The Strand Magazine. 

That eminent authority on things archi- 
tectural — the late John Henry Parker, F.S. A. — 
tells us that vanes were in use in the time of 
the Saxons, and in after ages were very 
extensively employed, there being notable 
development during the prevalence of the 
Perpendicular and Elizabethan styles. 

To anyone vane-hunting — or 
hunting, for the matter of that — I 
recommend them to tramp, sketch or note 
book in hand, over that stretch of country 
which occupies the most southerly corner of 

Kent, known as Romney Marsh ; and be- 
ginning, say, at Hythe — one of the old Cinque 
Ports, and still a place of considerable 
importance —they will there find several 
vanes worthy of note, specially perhaps the 
one which surmounts the Town Hall, in the 
High Street. It is in excellent condition, and 
is contemporary with the building itself, 
which was erected in 1794. 

The country between Hythe and Dym- 
church has quite a plethora of rustic vanes — 

health - 





many crippled and others 
almost defunct — sketches 
of a few of which I give my 
readers. Note the one, 
carved out of a piece of 
wood and rudely shaped 
like a bottle, which is stuck 
on an untrimmed bough 
of a tree and spliced to 
a clothes-prop : could any- 
thing be more naive ? (in 
justice I would add that 
this is not at the inn) ; or 
the one that is noted just 
below it — an axe poised on 
the roof of the local wheel- 
wright's workshop, which 
aforesaid roof still bears 
unmistakable evidence of 
election turmoil. Never- 
theless, this original type 
of vane seemed well fitted 
to do good service, for 
one noted that it answered 
to the slightest breath of 
wind. The old patched 
one, too, on the quaint 
little Norman church at 
Dymchurch seemed to me 
to be of in- 
terest in many 
ways, specially 
when I realized 
that it looked 
down on a row 
of graves, kept 
in beautiful 
order, of the 
nameless dead 
which the angry 
sea had given 
into the keep- 
ing of these 
sturdy village 

Working westward past lvychurch, with its 
fine Perpendicular tower and beacon-turret, 
Old and New Romney, Lydd (which was 
attached to the Cinque Port of Romney). 
with its dignified Perpendicular church, of 
which Cardinal Wolsey was once vicar, we 
come to Rye, which is just over the border- 
land into Sussex, another of the towns 
annexed to the Cinque Ports, though, sad to 
say, like Sandwich and Winchelsea, its pros- 
perity departed when the sea deserted it. 

At Rye one cannot help but linger, there 
is so much to interest ; its unique position, 
its ancient standing, the almost incredible 

changes in its sur- 
roundings owing to the 
receding of the sea, 
its chequered history, 
its delightful, old- 
world look, and its 
venerable church of 
St. Nicholas, all com- 
bine to arrest one's 
attention. Let us look 
for a few moments 
at the church itself, 
which crowns the hill, 
and upon the tower 
of which stands the 
vane depicted in my 
sketch. It was built 
towards the close of 
the twelfth century, 
and Jeake, the his- 
torian, says of it that 
it was "the goodliest 
edifice of the kind in 
Kent or Sussex, the 
cathedrals excepted." 
Its first seven vicars 
were priests of the 
Church of Rome, and 
in the church records 
there are some 
curious entries, 
which look as 
though Passion 
plays were 
once per- 
formed in Rye. 
Here is one 
dated 1522 : — 
" Paid for a 
coate made 
when the Re- 
surrection was 
played at 
Easter, for him 
that in play- 
ing represented the part of Almighty God, is. ; 
ditto for making the stage, 3s. 4d." During 
the reign of Edward VI. an entry is made, 
which reads : " Expended for cleaning the 
church from Popery, jQ\ 13s. 4d." 

If tradition be true, Queen Elizabeth (who 
once visited Rye) gave the clock, which is 
said to be the oldest clock actually going in 
England. Now for the weather - vane, 
which I venture to think is worthy of its 
surroundings : it is simple in form, stately in 
proportion, and in excellent preservation. 
Through the metal plate of the vane itself 
are cut boldly, stencil fashion, the letters. 




of one of them on the south side, it looks more 
picturesque than ecclesiastical ; but the 
beauty of the vane itself at once arrests 
attention. I think it is one of the most 
elaborate specimens of wrought ironwork, 
applied to such a purpose, that I have 
met with ; against a sunny sky it is like 
so much beautiful filigree — the metal wind- 
plate is apparently a much later restoration, 
and is .perforated with the letters "W. M." 
and the date 1868. From the vane you 
could almost jump into the old tree beneath 
which J ohn Wesley preached his last sermon. 
Eastward, but very little beyond the shadow 
of the vane, is Tower Cottage, Miss Ellen 
Terry's country retreat. Mr. Harry How, in 
a recent number of The Strand Maga- 
zine, has told us in one of his interesting 
" Interviews " of the quiet home life of the 
great actress when staying here. What a 
glorious outlook the old vane has — on the 
one hand quaint, sleepy Rye 
and the flat stretches of Romney 
Marsh ; to the north the great 
vOn . Weald of K^nt ; to the west- 

yVinchcl-reft. war( j beautiful Sussex, and 


" A. R." (I was unable to find out to whom 
they referred — presumably a churchwarden), 
and immediately below them, the date 1703. 
The pointer is very thick and richly foliated, 
and the wrought ironwork which supports 
the arms, which indicate the four cardinal 
points of the compass, is excellent in 

Two miles further west we come to dear 
old Winchelsea. The church (built between 
1 288-1 292), of which only the choir and 
chancel, with some portions of the transepts, 
now remain, was originally dedicated to 
St. Thomas a Becket, but in the present day 
is called after St. Thomas the Apostle. It 
possesses an exceptionally fine vane, perched 
on a curiously squat, barn-like structure, which 
does duty for a tower. With its creeper- 
covered dormer windows and a somewhat 
convivial-looking chimney-pot sticking up out 




straight in front the open sea of the English 

Folkestone makes a capital centre from 
which to go a-hunting vanes, but before we 
start it is well worth while to glance for a few 
moments at the modern one on the Parish 
Church of St. Eanswythe. It was ? signed, 

about fifteen years ago, by Mr. S. S. Stall- 
wood, the architect, of Reading, who, by- 
the-bye, is, too, responsible for the fine 
west window. The vane is of dark metal 
throughout, save for the gilt arrow, and 
stands on a turret to the south-west of the Per- 
pendicular embattled tower. It is in excel- 
lent condition, notwithstanding its very ex- 
posed position to the Channel storms. Down 
on the harbour jetty, surmounting the light- 
house and hard by where the Boulogne mail- 
boats come in day by day, is a vane with 


scrolly arms, well worth noting ; and, again, 
on a house out toward Shorncliffe, are a couple 
of "fox" vanes, one of which blustering 
Boreas has shorn of its tail ; poor Reynard, 
in consequence, is ever swirling round and 
round — a ludicrous object — apparently ever 
seeking and never finding the aforesaid tail. 

About a mile inland, near the Old Hall 
Farm, on an outhouse or piggery, is the 
subject of the accompanying sketch. It has 
certainly seen much better days, and is 
rather a quaint specimen of the genus weather- 
vane. It will be noted that rude winds hav< 

35 6 



It stands close to a finely carved pulpit 

four hundred years old. The north porch is a 

memorial to the first Lord Justice of 

England — Sir James Lewis Knight-Bruce, 

who with his wife lies buried almost within 

its shadow. On an old house close by is a 

" cow " vane — when I made the sketch given, 

pigeons by the score from a neighbouring 

cote kept perching on it in a very friendly 

and picturesque fashion. Two miles further 

in the same direction brings us to the village 

of Newington, which possesses one of the 

quaintest little churches in Kent. Among 

other things it boasts some seventeen brasses 

— some dating back to the 15th and 16th 

centuries — an ancient 

dial, on oaken shaft 

fast mouldering away — 

and a picturesque wooden 

belfry surmounted by a 

vigorously modelled gilt 

weathercock in capital 


On Sevington spire, 
near Ashford, is a daintily 
designed vane, dated 
1866. Some storm has 
given it — as the sailors 
say — a list to port, but 
that seems somehow not 
to take away from but 
to add to its charm. It 

carried away, almost bodily, three out of the 
four letters which denote the compass-points, 
but have in mercy spared poor piggy's curly 

A mile or so further on is a daintily- 
designed but very simple vane, which stands 
on the north-east corner of the tower of the 
ancient church of St. Martin at Cheriton. 
Canon Scott Robertson, the well-known 
antiquarian, pronounces this tower to be of 
unusual interest. He tells us that it is 
probably pre-Norman, but certainly was 
erected before the end of the nth century. 
Traces of characteristic, rough, wide-jointed 
masonry and a small, round-headed doorway 
should be specially noted. Let us linger in 
the church itself for a few moments. In the 
north Chantry (13th century) we shall find an 
interesting mural tablet thus inscribed : — 

" Here lieth Interred the Body of Mrs. 
Elizabeth Raleigh, Grand Daughter of the 
FAMED Sr Walter Raleigh, who died at 
the Enbrook, 26 day of October, 17 16, aged 
30 years," 



is interesting to note that not far from here 
is the house where once resided Dr. Harvey, 
the famous discoverer of the circulation of 
the blood. 

A mile on brings us to Hinxhill — a dear, 
old-world place — its picturesque little church, 
with ivy-covered walls, moss-grown roof, 
quaint open-timbered chancel, and fine 
stained-glass, all go to make a never-to-be- 
forgotten pic- 
ture. On the 
little Early 
English spire 
is set a vane 
simple and 
good in treat- 
ment, and 
thoroughly in 
accord with its 

At Sandgate 
is a well de- 
signed " horse 
and. jockey " 
vane on a 
flagstaff, in a 
garden about 
fifty yards 
from where 
the ill - fated 
sailing ship, 
the Benvenue, 
went ashore 
and sank, and 


blown up by order of the Admiralty only 
last autumn. 

Dover, too, has its share of interesting 
vanes ; perhaps the one belonging to St. 
Mary the Virgin is the best. It is attached 

to an old lead- 
covered spire 
surmounting a 
decorated Nor- 
man tower with 
rich exterior 
arcading, practi- 
cally untouched by the unloving hand 
of the so-called "restorer"; but there 
are several others in the older streets of 
the town well worth noting. 

The seeker for vanes, quaint and 
ancient, must on no account miss going 
down the High Street of Tonbridge. 
There are three within a stone's throw 
of each other which must be noted, 
specially the one locally known as " The 
Sportsman " — he stands over a dormer win- 
dow in the red-tiled roof of an old house ol 
the Sheraton period, immediately opposite the 
famous "Chequers Inn.'' The house itself is 
very interesting ; it has evidently been, in 
its early days, of considerable pretension. 
but has been an ironmonger's shop since 
1804. On going within to make inquiries 
about the vane, I gathered that it is at least 
120 years old, probably much more, the 
oldest part of the house being contemporary 
with the " Chequers." The vane is cut out cf 
thick sheet copper and strengthened with 
stout wire in several places to keep 
it rigid, and the whole is painted in 

colours (a very unusual feature), in imita- 

Voi. v —47 



tion of the costume of the period : and 
I was shown a curious old print of Ton- 
bridge in the time when the well - to - do 

farmers wore top-hats and swallow- 
tailed coats, in which the vane is 
represented just as it appears at 
present. Vane number two is a 
much weathered and discoloured 
one, almost within touch, on a 
wooden turret surmounting the 
Town Hall — a typical 
Georgian building, lately 
threatened with demoli- 
tion, and for the further 
life of which I noted a 
vigorous pleading in the 
pages of The Graphic of 
November 4th, 1892. 
Number three is a fox, 
rudely cut out of flat metal, 
" ryghte bushie tayle,'' fixed on 
gable overlooking the street. 

The Orlestone sketch represents a type of 
vane practically never to be met with, save 
on the oast-houses in the hop-growing dis- 
tricts of Kent. The particular one noted stands 
at the bottom of a garden belonging to an 

Elizabethan timbered house hard by the 
church. It will be remarked that the animal, 
which is about 2ft. long, is 
very crude in shape ; it repre- 
sents a fox, and the obvious 
way Mr. Reynard's tail 
joined on is very enjoyable. 

Rochester admittedly pos- 
sesses one of the finest vanes 
to be found all England over ; 
it is in the 
main street on 

j *"^-w rr the Town Hall 

Town fla!^ 

with a 

a house 

'/" '/V 

jon bridge 






(temp. James I.), and surmounts a wooden 
bell-tower perched on the roof. On the 
south-west side of the building facing into 
the street is a tablet, which tells us that 
" This building was erected in the year 
1687. John Bryan, Esquire, then Mayor"; 
and in quaint numerals the same date is 
repeated just below the tablet base. The 
vane is in the form of a ship, in gilt metal : a 

complete ship in miniature — cordage, 
blocks, twenty-six cannon, small spars, 
even a daintily-modelled figurehead : all 
are there. With the aid of a couple 
of stalwart constables I clambered up 
on to the leaden roof, 
so that I might examine 
more closely and care- 
fully this splendid ex- 
ample of vane-craft. The 
ship itself, from the 
bottom of keel to the 
top of mainmast, measures 
over 6ft., and from jib to 
spanker boom the total 
length is 9ft. It is i8in. 
in width, weighs 7^cwt., 
and revolves quite easily 
pivoted on a large bull's- 
eye of glass. It may be 
interesting to note that 

On Medw».y 



my sketch was made from one of the upper- 
most windows of the " Bull Inn " (the 

place where Charles 

Dickens once lived, 

and which he has 

immortalized in the 

pages of "Pickwick"), 

which is immediately 

opposite. A little 

higher up the street 

is a large vane, richly 

decorated in red and 

gold, on the Corn 

Exchange. An inscription on 

its south-west face tells us that 

"This present building was 

erected at the sole charge and 

expense of Sir Cloudsley 

Shovel, Knight, a.d. 1706. 

He represented this city in 

three Parliaments in the 

reign of King William the Third, and in one 

Parliament in the reign of Queen Anne." 

Maidstone, too, is rich in vanes. There is 
one specially you can see from all parts of 
the town. It is on the Medway Brewery, 
and represents an old brown jug and glass ; 
its dimensions, to say the least of it, are 
somewhat startling. The jug alone (which 
is made of beaten copper plate) is 3ft. 6in. in 
height, and in its fullest part 3ft. in diameter, 
with a holding capacity of 108 gallons, or 
three barrels. The glass — also made of 
copper — is capable of holding some eight 
gallons. The vane revolves on ball bearings, 

its height above the roof is 12 ft., its arms 
extend nearly 7ft., the whole, I am told, 
standing 80ft. from the ground. 

On the observatory connected with the 
Maidstone Museum (which latter was once 
Chillington Manor House) is a modern vane, 
much discoloured by damp, but very apt in 
design ; note the perforated sun, moon and 
stars, and the three wavy-looking pointers, 
which I take to represent rays of light. Mr. 
Frederick James, the courteous curator, called 
my attention to a singularly fine wrought-iron 
vane, now preserved in the Museum, about 
which but little is known, but which may 
possibly have surmounted the place in the 

olden days — 
when Chilling- 
ton Manor was 
the seat of the 
great Cobham 

Space forbids 
my more than 
just calling at- 
tention to the 
nondescript gilt 
monster, with 
its riveted wings 
and forked 
tongue and tail, 




Wf"^. 1*91 

which glares down on us from its perch above 
the Town Hall, in the High Street ; or to a 
" cigar" vane (over 2ft. long and as thick 
as a bludgeon), large enough to give Verdant 
Green's famous " smoke " many points, 
hoisted over an enterprising tobacconist's 
a little lower down ; or to the skewered and 
unhappy-looking weathercock on the Parish 
Church ; or the blackened griffin in Earl Street, 
all head and tail, which does duty on an old 
dismantled Gothic building, once called 
"The Brotherhood Hall" (it belonged to 

the fraternity of Corpus Christi, about 1422, 
and was suppressed m 1547), then afterwards 
used as a grammar school, and now — tell it 
not in Gath !— a hop store; or, lastly, the 
ponderous-looking elephant, painted a sickly 
blue, if I remember rightly, on a great 
building on the banks of the Medway. 

These rambling notes but touch the fringe 
— as it were — of a wide and ever-widening 
subject. A lengthy paper might be written on 
the different types (and some of great interest) 
of vanes in and around London alone ; but 
I trust I may be allowed to express the hope 
that what has been said may haply enlist 
further interest in these silent, faithful, but 
somewhat neglected friends of ours, who, 
" courted by all the winds that hold them 
play," look down from their " coigne of 
vantage " upon the hurrying world below. 








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By Marianne Kent. 

F I had described myself when 
I first started in life, it would 
simply have been as" John 
Blount, commercial traveller. 
I was employed by a firm of 
merchants of very high stand- 
ing, who only did business with large 
houses. My negotiations took me to all 
parts of the United Kingdom, and I enjoyed 
the life, which was full of change and 
activity. At least I enjoyed it in my early 
bachelor days, but while I was still quite 
young — not more than five-and-twenty — I 
fell in love and married ; and then I found 
that my roving existence was certainly a 
drawback to domestic happiness. My wife, 
Mary, was a bright little creature, always 
ready to make the best of things, but even she 
would declare pathetically that she might as 
well have married a sailor as a landsman 
who was so seldom at home ! Still, as I 
said, she was one to put a bright face on 
things, and she and my sister made their 
home together. 

It was in the second year after my 
marriage, when I had been away on my 
travels for some weeks, that I heard from my 
sister that a fever had broken out in the 
neighbourhood of our home, and that Mary 
was down with it. Kitty wrote hopefully, 
saying it was a mild attack, and she trusted 
by the time I was home her patient would be 
quite convales 'ent. I had unbounded faith 
in Kitty, so tnat I accepted her cheerful 
view of things. But, a few evenings later, 
after a long, tiring day, I returned to the hotel 
where I was then staying, and found a tele- 
gram awaiting me. My heart stood still as I 
saw the ominous yellow envelope, for I knew 
my sister would not have sent for me without 

urgent need. The message was to say that, 
although Kitty still hoped for the best, a 
serious change had taken place, and I should 
return at once. 

" Don't delay an hour ; come off imme- 
diately," she said. 

I was not likely to delay. I paid up my 
reckoning at the hotel, directed that my 
baggage should be sent on next day, and in 
less than half an hour from the time I had 
opened the telegram I rushed, heated and 
breathless, into the primitive little railway 
station — the only one which that part of the 
country boasted for miles round. I gained 
the platform in time to see the red light on 
the end of the departing train as it disappeared 
into the mouth of the tunnel a few hundred 
yards down the line. For a moment I was 
unable to realize my ill fortune. I stood 
gazing stupidly before me in a bewildered 
way. Then the station-master, who knew me 
by sight, came up, saying sympathetically : — 

" Just missed her, sir, by two seconds ! " 

"Yes," I answered briefly, beginning to 
understand it all now, and chafing irritably 
at the enforced delay. " When' is the next 
train ? " 

" Six five in the morning, sir. Nothing 
more to-night." 

" Nothing more to-night ! " I almost 
shouted. " There must be ! At any rate, there 
is the evening express from the junction ; 1 
have been by it scores of times ! " 

" Very likely, sir ; but that's a througli 
train, it don't touch here — never stops till it 
reaches the junction." 

The man's quiet tone carried conviction 
with it. I was silent for a moment, and then 
asked when the express left the junction. 

" Nine fifteen," was the answer. 




" How far is the junction from this In- 
road ; could I do it in time ? " 

" Out of the question, sir. It would take 
one who knew the road the best part of 
three hours to drive." 

I looked away to my left, where the green 
hill-side rose up steep and clear against the 
evening sky. It was one of the most moun- 
tainous quarters of England, and the tunnel 
that pierced the hill was a triumph of 
engineering skill, even in these days when 
science sticks at nothing. Pointing to the 
brick archway I said, musingly : — 

"And yet, once through the tunnel, how 
close at hand the junction station seems." 

"That's true enough, sir; the other side 
the tunnel it is not half a mile down the 

" What length is it ? " 

" The tunnel, sir ? Close upon three miles, 
and straight as a dart." 

There was another pause, then I said, 
slowly : — 

"Nothing more goes down the line until 
the express has passed ? " 

"Nothing more, sir." 

" Anything on the up line ? " was my next 

" No, sir, not for some hours, except, may- 
be, some trucks of goods, but I have had no 
notice of them yet." 

As the station - master made this last 

answer he looked at me curiously, no doubt 
wondering what the object of all these 
questions could be ; but he certainly had no 
notion of what was passing in my mind, 01 
he would not have turned into his office as he 
did, and left me there alone upon the plat- 

I was young and impetuous, and a sudden 
wild determination had taken possession of 
me. In my intense anxiety to get back to 
my sick wife, the delay of so many hours 
seemed unendurable, and my whole desire 
was to catch the express at the junction ; but 
how was that to be accomplished ? One way 
alone presented itself to me, and that was 
through the tunnel. At another time I should 
have put the notion from me as a mad 
impossibility, but now I clung to it as a last 
resource, reasoning myself out of all my fears. 
Where was the danger, since nothing was to 
come up or down the line for hours ? A 
good level road, too, of little more than three 
miles, and a full hour and a half to do it in. 
And what would the darkness matter ? 
There was no fear of missing the way ; 
nothing to be done but to walk briskly 
forward. Yes, it could be, and I was 
resolved that it should be done. 

I gave myself no more time for reflection. 
I walked to the end of the platform and 
stepped down upon the line, not very far 
from the mouth of the tunnel. As I entered 
the gloomy archway I wished devoutly that I 
had a lantern to bear me company, but it 
was out of the question for me to get any- 
thing of the kind at the station ; as it was, I 
was fearful each moment that my intentions 
would be discovered, when I knew for a 
certainty that my project would be knocked 
on the head, and, for this reason, I was glad 
to leave daylight behind me and to know that 
I was unseen. 

I walked on, at a smart pace, for fully ten 
minutes, trying not to think, but feeling pain- 
fully conscious that my courage was ebbing 
fast. Then I paused for breath. Ugh ! how 
foul the air smelt ! I told myself that it was 
worse even than the impenetrable darkness — 
and that was bad enough. I recalled to 
mind how I had gone through tunnels — this 
very one among others — in a comfortable 
lighted carriage, and had drawn up the win- 
dow, sharply and suddenly, to keep out the 
stale, poisonous air ; and this was the atmos- 
phere I was to breathe for the next hour ! 
I shuddered at the prospect. But it was not 
long before I was forced to acknowledge that 
it was the darkness quite as much as the 
stifling air which was affecting me. I had 

3 6 4 


never been fond of the dark in my earliest 
days, and now it seemed as if the strange, 
wild fancies of my childhood • were forcing 
themselves upon me, and I felt that, if only 
for an instant, I must have light of some 
sort ; so, standing still, I took from my 
pocket a box of vestas, and struck one. 
Holding the little match carefully, cherishing 
it with my hand, I gazed about me. How 
horrible it all looked ! 
Worse, if possible, in 
reality than in imagi- 
nation. The outline 
of the damp, mildewy 
wall was just visible 
in the feeble, flicker- 
ing light. On the 
brickwork close to 
me I could see a 
coarse kind of fungus 
growing, and there 
was the silver, slimy 
trace of slugs in all 
directions ; I could 
fancy, too, the hun- 
dred other creeping 
things that were 
about. As the match 
died out, a noise 
among the stones 
near the wall caused 
me hastily to strike 
another, just in time 
to see a large rat 
whisk into its hole. 

A miner, a plate- 
layer — in fact, any- 
one whose avoca- 
tions took them 
underground— would 
have laughed to 
scorn these childish -'• c 

fears ; but the situa- 
tion was so new to me, and also I must 
confess that I am naturally of a nervous, 
imaginative turn of mind. Still, I was 
vexed with myself for my cowardly feel- 
ings, and started on my walk again, trying 
not to think of these gloomy surroundings, 
but drew a picture of my home, wondering 
how Mary was, if she was well enough to be 
told of my coming, and was looking out for 
me. Then I dwelt upon the satisfaction 
with which I should enter the express, at the 
junction, feeling that the troubles of the 
evening had not been in vain. After a while, 
when these thoughts were somewhat 
exhausted, and I felt my mind returning to the 
horrors of the present moment, I tried to 

look at it all from a different point of view, 
telling myself that it was an adventure which 
I should live to pride myself upon. Then I 
recalled to mind things I had read of sub- 
terranean passages, and naturally stories of 
the Catacombs presented themselves to me, 
and I thought how the early Christians had 
guided themselves through those dim cor- 
ridors by means of a line or string; the 
fantastic notion 
i m . ,__ *» came to me that I 

was in a like pre- 
dicament, and the 
line I was to follow 
was the steel rail at 
my feet. For awhile 
this thought gave me 
courage, making me 
realize how straight 
the way was, and that 
I had only to go on 
and on until the goal 
was reached. 

I walked for, per- 
haps, twenty minutes 
or half an hour, some- 
times passing a small 
grating for ventila- 
tion ; but they were 
so choked by weeds 
and rubbish that they 
gave little light and 
less air. Walking 
quickly through a 
dark place, one has 
the feeling that un- 
seen objects are 
close at hand, and 
that at any moment 
you may come in 
sharp contact with 
them. It was this 
feeling, at least, 
which made me as I went along continually 
put out my hand as if to ward off a blow, 
and suddenly, while my right foot still 
rested on the smooth steel rail, my left hand 
struck against the wall of the tunnel. As 
my fingers grated on the rough brick a new 
terror took possession of me — or at least, if 
not a new terror, one of the fears which had 
haunted me at the outset rushed upon me 
with redoubled force. 

I had faced the possibility of the station- 
master's having been mistaken, and of a 
train passing through the tunnel while I was 
still there, but I told myself I had only to 
stand close in to the wall, until the train had 
gone on its way ; now, however, I felt, with 




a sinking licrror at my lieart, that there was 
little room to spare. Again and again 1 
tested it, standing with my foot well planted 
on the rail and my arm outstretched until 
my fingers touched the. bricks. There was a 
fascination in it— much as in .the case of a 
timid swimmer who cannot bear to think he 
is out of depth and must keep putting down 
his foot to try for the bottom, knowing all 
the while he is only rendering himself more 
nervous. During the next ten minutes I 
know I worked myself into a perfect agony of 
mind, imagining the very worst that, could 
happen. Suppose that the up and the down 
trains should cross in the tunnel, what chance 
should I then have ? The mere thought was 
appalling I Retreat was impossible, for I 
must have come more than half way by this 
time, and turning back would only be going 
to meet the express. But surely in the thick- 
ness of the wall there must be here and there 
recesses ? I was sure I had seen one, some 
little time back, when I had struck a light. 
This was a gleam of hope. Out came the 
matches once more, but mv hands were so 
shaky that I had scarcely opened the box 
when it slipped from my lingers and its 
precious contents were scattered on the 
ground. This was a new trouble. 1 was 
down upon mv knees at once, groping about 
Id rind them. It was a hopeless task in 
the dark, and, after wasting much time, 
1 was forced to light the first one 1 
found to look for the others, and, when 
that died out, 1 had only four in my 
hand, and had to leave the rest and go on 
my way,_ for the time was getting short and 
my great desire was to find a recess which 
should afford me shelter in ease of need. 
Hut, although I grudgingly lit one match 
after another and walked for some distance 
with my hand rubbing against the wall, 1 
could find nothing of the kind. 

At length, I don't know what time it was, 
or how far I had walked, I saw before me, a 
long, long way off, a dim speck of light. At 
first I thought, with a sudden rush of glad- 
ness, that it was daylight, and that the end 
of the tunnel was in sight ; then I remembered 
that it was now evening and the sun had long 
set, so that it must be a lamp ; and it was a 
lamp. I began to see it plainly, for it was 
coming nearer and nearer, and I knew that it 
was an approaching train. I stood still and 
looked at it, and it was at that instant that the 
whole ground beneath me seemed to . be 
shaken. The rail upon which one of my 
feet was resting thrilled as if with an electric 
shock, sending a strange vibration through 

me, while a sudden rush of wind swept down 
the tunnel, and 1 knew that the express was 
upon me ! 

I shall never forget the feeling that took 
possession of me : it seemed as if, into that 
one moment, the experiences of years were 
crowded — recollections of my childhood- 
tender thoughts of my wife — dreams of the 
future, in which I had meant to do so much, 
all thronged in, thick and fast upon me. 
( 'ould this be death ? I gave a wild, despair- 
ing cry for help. I prayed aloud that God 
would not let me die. I had lost all presence 
of mind ; no thought of standing back 
against the wall came to me. I rushed 
madly forward in a frenzy of despair. The 
sound of my voice, as it echoed through that 
dismal place, was drowned in an instant by 
the sharp, discordant scream of the express. 
On I dashed, right in front of the goods 
train ; the vellow light of the engine shone 
full upon me ; death was at hand. It 
seemed that nothing short of a miracle 
could save me, and, to my thinking, it was a 
miracle that happened. 

Only a few yards from the engine and, as 1 
struggled blindly on, a strong hand seized 
me with a grasp of iron, and I was dragged 
on one side. Even in my bewilderment I 
knew that I was not against the wall, but in 
one of those very recesses I had searched for 
in vain. I sank upon the ground, only half 
conscious, yet I saw the indistinct blur of 
light as the trains swept by. 

I am not given to swooning, so that, after 
the first moment, I was quite alive to my 
exact situation. I knew that I was crouch- 
ing on the ground, and that that iron-like 
grasp was still on my collar. Presently the 
hand relaxed its hold and a gruff, but not 
unkindly, voice said : 

" Well, mate, how are you ? " 

This inquiry unlocked my tongue, and I 
poured forth my gratitude. 1 hardly know 
what I said ; I only know I was very much 
in earnest. I told him who I was and how I 
came to be there, and in return asked him 
his name. 

" That does not signify," was the answer : 
" you can think of me as a friend." 

"That 1 shall," I returned, gratefully: 
"for God knows you have been a friend in 
need to me ! " 

" Ah ! " he said, musingly, " your life 
must be very sweet, for you seemed loath 
enough to part with it ! " 

I admitted the truth of this— indeed, I 
had felt it more than once during the last 
hour. I had been one of those who, in lits 

Vol, v-4S, 

3 66 


of depression, are wont to say that life is 
not worth living — that we shall be well out 
of it, and the rest ; yet, when it seemed 
really slipping from my grasp, I had clung 
to it with a tenacity which surprised myself. 
And now, with the future once more before 
me, in which so much seemed possible, I 
was filled with gratitude to God and to my 
unknown friend, by whose means I had been 
saved. There was a short silence ; then I 
asked, rather doubtfully, if there were not 
some way in which I could prove my 

" You speak as if you were sincere," my 
strange companion said, in his gruff, down- 
right way; "so I will tell you frankly that 
you can do me a good turn if you have a 
mind to. I don't want your money, under- 
stand ; but I want you to do me a favour." 

" What is it ? " I asked, eagerly ; " believe 
me, if it is in my power it shall be done ! " 

" I would rather you : passed your word 
before I explain more," he said coolly. " Say 
my request shall be granted. I take it you 
are not a man to break your promise." 

Here was a predicament ! Asked to pledge 



my word for I knew not what ! To be in the 
dark in more senses than one ; for I could 
not even see my mysterious deliverer's face 
to judge what manner of man he was. And 
yet, how could I refuse his request? At last 
I said, slowly : — 

" If what you ask is honest and above- 
board, you have my word that it shall be 
done, no matter what it may cost me." 

He gave a short laugh. " You are cautious,'' 
he said, " but you are right. No, there is 
nothing dishonest about my request ; it will 
wrong no one, though it may cause you some 
personal inconvenience." 

" That is enough," I said, hastily, ashamed 
of the half-hearted way in which I had given 
my promise. " The instant we are out of this 
place I will take steps to grant your request, 
whatever it may be." 

" But that won't do," he put in, quickly ; 
" what I want must be done here and now ! " 

I was bewildered, as well I might be, and 
remained silent while he went on :— 

" There is no need to say much about 
myself, but this you must know. I am in 
great trouble. I am accused of that which 
makes me amenable to the law. I am 
innocent, but I cannot prove my innocence, 
and my only chance of safety is in flight. 
That is the reason of my being here : I am 
hiding from my pursuers." 

The poor creature paused, with a deep- 
drawn sigh, as if he at least had not found 
his life worth the struggle. I was greatly 
shocked by his story, and warmly expressed 
my sympathy ; then, on his telling me he 
had been for two days and nights in the 
tunnel with scarcely a bit of food, I remem- 
bered a packet of sandwiches that had been 
provided for my journey, and offered them 
to him. It made me shudder to hear the 
ravenous manner in which they were con- 
sumed. When this was done there was 
another silence, broken by his saying, with 
evident hesitation, that the one hope he had 
was in disguising himself in some way, and 
thus eluding those who were watching for 
him. He concluded with : — 

" The favour I have to ask is that you will 
help me in this by allowing me to have your 
clothes in exchange for mine ! " 

There was such an odd mixture of tragedy 
and comedy in the whole thing that for a 
moment I hardly knew how to answer him. 
The poor fellow must have taken my silence 
for anything but consent, for he said, 
bitterly : — 

" You object ! I felt you would, and it is 
my only chance ! " 

"On the contrary," I returned, "I am 
perfectly willing to do as you wish — indeed, 
how could I be otherwise when I have given 
you my word ? I was only fearing that 
you built too much upon this exchange. 
Remember, it is no disguise ! — the dress of 
one man is much like that of another." 

" That is true enough, as a general rule, 1 ' 
was the answer, " but not in this case. I 
was last seen in a costume not common in 
these parts. A coarse, tweed shooting-dress, 
short coat, knee-breeches, and rough worsted 
stockings — so that an everyday suit is all 1 

After that there was nothing more to be 
said, and the change was effected without 
more ado. 

It seemed to me that my invisible com- 
panion had the advantage over me as far as 
seeing went, for whereas I was sensible of 
nothing but touch and sound, his hands 
invariably met and aided mine whenever 
they were at fault. He confessed to this, 
saying that he had been so long in the dark 
that his eyes were growing accustomed to it. 

I never felt anything like the coarseness of 
those stockings as I drew them on. The 
shoes, too, were of the clumsiest make ; they 
were large for me, which perhaps accounted 
for their extreme heaviness. I was a bit of 
a dandy ; alwa\ s priding myself upon my 
spick and span get-up. No doubt this made 
me critical, but certainly the tweed of which 
the clothes were made was the roughest 
thing of its kind I had ever handled. I 
got into them, however, without any com- 
ment, only remarking, when my toilet was 
finished, that I could find no pocket. 

My companion gave another of those short 

" No," he said, " that suit was made for 
use, not comfort ! " 

From his tone and manner of expressing 
himself, I had taken him to be a man fairly 
educated, and when he had declared that he 
did not require my money, I naturally fancied 
he was not in want of funds; but the style 
of his clothes made me think differ- 
ently, and I decided that he should have 
my watch — the most valuable thing I had 
about me. It had no particular associations, 
and a few pounds would get me .another. 
He seemed pleased, almost touched, by the 
proposal, and also by my suggesting that the 
money in my pockets should be divided 
between us. It was not a large sum, but 
half of it would take me to my journey's end, 
I knew. He seemed full of resource, for 
when I was wondering what to do with my 

3 68 


loose change, in my pocketless costume, he 
spread out my handkerchief, and putting my 
money and the small things from my pockets 
into it, knotted it securely up and thrust it 
into my breast. Then, as we stood facing 
each other, he took my hand in farewell. I 
proposed our going on together, but this he 
would not hear of. 

" No," he said, with his grim laugh, " the 
sooner I and that suit of clothes part com- 
pany, the better ! " 

So we wished each other ( lod-speed, and 


turned on our different ways he going back 
through the tunnel, and I keeping on. 

The experiences of the last few hours had 
made a great impression on me, and, although 
I felt awed and somewhat shaken, my heart 
was light with the gladness of one who re- 
joices in a reprieve. The express that I 
had been so anxious to c< tch had long 
since gone on its way ; still, in my present 
hopeful frame of mind, that did not trouble 
me. I felt a conviction that Mary was 
mending, that I should find her better, and, 
comforted by this belief, I walked briskly on ; 
at least, as briskly' as my clumsy shoes would 
allow me, but even in spite of this hindrance, 
it was not long before I reached the end of 
the tunnel. The moonlight streaming down 
upon the rails was a pleasant sight, and 
showed me, some time before I reached it, 
that my goal was at hand. When I left the 
last shadow behind me and stood out under 
the clear sky I drew a sigh of intense 
thankfulness, drinking in the sweet fresh air. 

I walked down the country road, thinking 

that I would rest for a few hours at the 
station hotel and be ready for the first train 
in the morning. But my adventures were 
not yet over. As I glanced at my clothes, 
thinking how unlike myself I looked and felt, 
something on the sleeve of my coat attracted 
my attention ; it must be tar, which I or the 
former wearer of the clothes must have 
rubbed off in the tunnel. But, no. I looked 
again— my eyes seemed riveted to it —it was 
unmistakable. There, on the coarse grey 
material of the coat, was a large broad-arrow. 

In an instant 
the whole truth 
bail flashed upon 
me. No need to 
examine those 
worsted stockings 
and heavy shoes 
no ikw\ to take 
off the coat and 
find upon the 
collar the name 
of one of Her 
Majesty's prisons, 
and the poor con- 
vict's number. As 
my eyes rested on 
the broad-arrow I 
understood it all. 
At first I was very indignant at the 
position I was in. I felt that a trick had 
been practised upon me, and 1 naturally 
resented it. 1 sat down by the roadside 
and tried to think. The cool air blew 
in my face and refreshed me. I had no 
hat ; the convict - f was beginning to 
think of him by that name — had given 
me none, saying he had lost his cap in 
the tunnel. After a while, when my anger 
had somewhat subsided, I thought more 
pitifully of the man whose clothes I wore. 
Poor wretch, without doubt he had had a 
hard time of it ; what wonder that he had 
seized upon the first opportunity of escape ! 
He had said that the favour he required 
would entail personal inconvenience on my- 
self, and that was exactly what it did. 1 
looked at the matter from all sides ; I saw 
the dilemma I was in. It would not do to 
be seen in this branded garb — the police 
would lay hands on me at once ; nothing 
would persuade them that I was not the con- 
vict. Indeed, who was likely to believe the 
improbable story I had to tell ? I felt that I 
could expect few to credit it on my mere 
word, and I had nothing to prove my iden- 
tity, for I remembered now that my pocket- 
book and letters were in my coat ; I had 



never given them a thought when making the 
exchange of clothes. So, as things were, it 
might take some days for me to establish my 
real personality, and even when that were 
done I should still be held responsible for 
conniving at the prisoner's escape. 

All things considered, therefore, I resolved 
not to get into the hands of the police. But 
this was no easy matter. There was nothing 
for it but to walk. I could not face the 
publicity of railway travelling or of any other 
conveyance ; indeed, it was impossible for 
nie to buy food for myself. 

I had many narrow escapes from detection, 
but by dint of hiding through the day and 
walking at night, and now and then bribing a 
small child to buy me something to eat, 1 


contrived to get slowly on my way. It was on 
the evening of the third day that I reached 
home. I often thought, somewhat bitterly, 
of my short cut through the tunnel and all 
the delay it had caused ! 

When I actually stood outside the little 
cottage which I called home, and looked up 
at the windows, the hope that had buoyed 
me up for so long deserted me, and I dreaded 
to enter. At last, however, I opened the 

gate and walked up the garden. There was 
a light in the small sitting-room; the curtains 
were not drawn, and 1 could see my sister 
Kitty seated by the table. She had evidently 
been weeping bitterly, and as she raised her 
face there was an expression of such hope- 
less sorrow in her eyes that my heart seemed 
to stop beating as 1 looked .it her. Mary 
must be very ill. Perhaps -but no, I could 
not finish the sentence even in thought. 
I turned hastily, lifted the latch and went in. 
"Kitty!" 1 said, with my hand on the 
room door ; " it's 1, Jack ! don't be 

She gave a little scream, and, it seemed to 

me, shrank back from me, as if I had been a 

ghost ; but the next instant she sprang into 

my arms with a glad cry of, 

"Jack, Jack! is it really 

you ? " 

"Yes, Kitty, who else 
should it be?" I said, 
reassuringly. "Hut tell 
me — how is she? How 
is Mary? Let me hear the 

Kitty looked up brightly : 
" Mary ! oh, she is better, 
much better, and now that 
you are here. Jack, she will 
soon be well ! " 

1 drew a breath of intense 
relief. Then, touching my 
little sister's pale, tear- 
stained face, I asked what 
had so troubled her. 

"Oh ! Jack," she whis- 
pered, " it was you ! 1 
thought you were dead ! " 
She handed me an evening 
paper, and pointed out a 
paragraph which stated that 
a fatal accident had occurred 
in the Blank Tunnel. A 
man named John Blount, 
a commercial traveller, had 
been killed ; it was believed 
while attempting to walk 
through the tunnel to the 
junction station. The body had been found, 
early the previous morning, by some plate- 
layers at work on the line. The deceased was 
only identified by a letter found upon him. 

And so, poor fellow, he had met his fate 
in the very death from which he had saved 
me ! In the midst of my own happiness my 
heart grew very sorrowful as I thought of 
him, my unknown friend, whose face I had 
never seen ! 

The Rovctl Humane Society. 


iA lEW Institutions appeal more 
■ strongly to popular sympathy 
than the Royal Humane 
Society. The rewards which 
it bestows upon its members, 
who are distinguished for a 
self-forgetting bravery which thrills the blood 
to read of, are merely the outward tokens of 
admiration which is felt by every heart. 
Those members include persons of all ranks 
of life : men, women, and children ; nay, 
even animals are not excepted, and a dog 
wore the medal with conscious pride. We 
have selected the follow- 
ing examples out of 
thousands, not because 
they are more deserving 
of admiration than the 
rest, but because they 
are fair specimens of the 
acts of self - devotion 
which have won the 
medals of the Society in 
recent years. 

Lieutenant J. de 


" On Thursday, the 
ioth September, 1874, 
at 9.30 p.m., in the 
gateway between the 
outer and inner harbour 
at Lowestoft, Suffolk, 
James Dorling fell over- 
board from the yacht 
Dart whilst she was 
making for the inner 
harbour in a strong 
half-flood tideway, the CAPTA iUC"J 

night very dark, blowing and raining hard, and 
going about five and a half knots. Lieutenant 
(now Captain) J. de Hoght mi, lotli foot, 
jumped overboard, swam to Doriing, and sup- 
ported him in the water for about a quarter of 
an hour in the tideway, between narrow high 
pilework, without crossbeams or side chains 
to lay hold of, and the head of the pile- 
work 12ft. or 15ft. above the water — the 
yacht being carried away into the inner 
harbour, and no other vessel or boat in the 
gateway to lend assistance ; the 'darkness 
prevented any immediate help being obtained 
from the shore. The 
length of the gateway 
was about 350 yards, 
width 15 to 20 yards, 
depth 1 oft. to 15ft. 
Lieutenant de Hoghton 
and Dorling were ulti- 
mately drawn up the 
pilework by ropes from 
the shore." 

Sub-Lieut. R. A. V. 


" On a dark night, 6th 
April, 1877, H.M.S. 
Immortalite was under 
sail, going four-and-a-half 
knots before the wind, 
the sea rough for swim- 
ming, and abounding 
with sharks, when T. E. 
Hocken, O.S., fell over- 
board. Sub-Lieut. R. A. F. 
Montgomerie, R.A., 
jumped overboard from 
the bridge, a height ot 


twenty-five feet, to his assistance, swam to him, 
got hold of the man, and hauled him on to 
his hack, then swam with him to where he 


From a /'W«. hit H". «iul n. Domuy. 

supposed the life-buoy would he ; but, seeing 
no relief, he states that after keeping him 
afloat some time, he told the man to keep 
himself afloat whilst he took his clothes off. 
He had got his coat and shirt off, and was in 
the act of taking off his trousers when 
Hocken. in sinking, caught him by the legs 
and dragged him down a considerable depth. 
His trousers luckily came off clear, and he 
swam to the surface, bringing the drowning 
man with him. Hocken was now insensible. 
He was eventually picked up by a second 
boat that was lowered, after having been 
over twenty-one minutes in the water, the 
first boat having missed him. The life-buoy 
was not seen." 

Lieutenant Lewis E. Wintz, R.N. 
(Now Commander De Wintz.) 

"On the 19th December, 1877, H.M.S. 
Raleigh was running before a fresh breeze at 
the rate of seven knots an hour off the Island 
of Tenedos, when James Maker fell from 
aloft into the sea. Lieutenant Lewis E. 
Wintz immediately jumped overboard and 
supported the man for twenty minutes at 
considerable risk (not being able to reach 
the life-buoy). The man must undoubtedly 
have been drowned (being insensible and 
seriously injured) had it not been for the 
braver)- of this officer," 

From 11 rii.itn. )■!/ Ilniru Witiilatul, ItliiMuulh. 

Constable John Jknkins. 
(E Division, Metropolitan Police Force.) 

"Constable John Jenkins was on duty on 
Waterloo Bridge at 2.45 a.m., on the 14th 
July, 1882, when he saw a man mount the 
parapet and throw himself into the river. 
Without hesitation, the constable unfastened 
his belt, and jumped from the bridge after 
him. Notwithstanding a determined resis- 
tance on the part of the would-be suicide. 
Constable Jenkins succeeded in seizing the 

From 11 1'hiito. Ii'ii lh'wnliiin. suxtml 



man and supporting him above water until 
both were picked up some distance down the 
river by a boat, which was promptly sent from 
the Thames Police Station. The danger in- 
curred in this rescue may be fairly estimated 
when it appears that the height jumped was 
forty-three feet, the tide was running out 
under the arches at the rate of six miles an 
hour, and a thick mist covered the river, so 
much so as to render it impossible to see 
any object in the centre of the river from 
cither side. The place where the men 
entered the water was a hundred and seventy 
yards from shore." 

Walter Oleverlev. 

"On the 1,5th September, 1883, the steam- 
ship Reiva was proceeding through the (Julf 
of Aden, when a Lascar fell overboard. 
being unable to swim, he drifted astern 
rapidly. Mr. Walter Cleverley, a passenger, 
promptly jumped overboard, swam to the 
man- then fifty yards from the ship and 
assisted him to a life-buoy, which was pre- 


Pram « P*oto '«/ W. ./. RoMmob, Landport 

viouslv thrown. The vessel was going thir- 
teen knots an hour. Captain Hay, com- 
manding the ship, states : ' The danger 
incurred was incalculable, as the sea there- 
abouts is infested with sharks. The salvor 
was forty minutes in the water, supporting 
the man. Cleverlev jumped off top of the 

poop, a height of thirty feet to the surface of 
the water.' 

Lieut, the Hon. William Grimston, R.N. 
"On the 29th August, 1884, off Beyrout, 
H.M.S. Alexandra was steaming at the rate 
of four knots an hour, when a man fell over- 
board. Lieut, the Hon. William Grimston 


From u Photo. '»// Bnuano. 

dropped from his port into the sea, and suc- 
ceeded in holding the man on the surface of 
the water until two seamen (who had jumped 
overboard) came to his assistance. The 
special danger in this rescue is brought to the 
Society's notice by Captain Rawson, R.N., 
commanding the ship. The port through 
which the officer had to drop is very small. 
and situated just before the double screw, 
which was then revolving ; in fact, the salvor 
passed through the circle made by it." 

Ai.i'ki.n Collins, aged 21. fisherman. 

"The fishing lugger 11 'ater Nymph, of Looe, 
was seven or eight miles east-south-east of 
the 'Eddystone,' on the night of the: 16th 



December, 1884, when a boy named Hos- 
kings fell overboard, and was soon about 
eighty feet astern. The captain of the boat, 
Alfred Collins, immediately jumped in to the 


r'rtmiu Vhoto. by //incite, Plymouth 

rescue, carrying the end of a rope with him ; 
he was clothed in oilskins and sea-boots. 
After a great deal of difficulty Hoskings was 
reached and pulled on board. At the time 
this gallant act was performed there was a 
gale of wind blowing, with heavy rain, and 
the night was dark. The Silver Medal was 
voted to Alfred Collins on the 20th January, 

Captain H. N. McRae, 45th (Rattray's) Sikhs 
(assisted by Captain H. Holmes). 

"At 5 a.m. on the 5th October, 1886, a 
trumpeter of the Royal Artillery was crossing 
the compound of Captain Holmes's bungalow 
at Rawal Pindi, when he fell into a well. On 
hearing the alarm, Captain Holmes, Captain 
McRae, and Lieutenant Taylor proceeded to 
the spot. On arriving they found that Mr. 
Orose had preceded them, and had let down 
a well-rope, which was of sufficient length to 
reach the soldier and capable of sustaining 
him for a time. Both Captain McRae and 
Captain Holmes volunteered to go down, but 
as the former was a light-weight it was 

decided that he should make the trial, Captain 
Holmes demurring, as he wished to undertake 
the risk himself. The rope being very weak, 
it could not possibly have borne Captain 
Holmes's great weight. Captain McRae 
was accordingly let down by means of a 
four-strand tent rope, and on reaching 
the water found the soldier practically 
insensible ; he therefore decided to go 
up with him. Captain Holmes was at the 
head of the rope, and his strength enabled 
him to lift both completely. At every haul, 
the amount gained was held in check by the 
other persons above. After hauling up 
about 10ft. or 15ft, the rope broke, precipi- 
tating Captain McRae and his charge to the 
bottom of the well. A second attempt was 
then made, and both were brought to the 

b'rtiina Plwtu. by Winter, Mum- 

surface. The depth of the well was 88ft., of 
which 12ft. was water. It was quite dark at 
the time. Very great personal risk was in- 
curred by Captain McRae. The Silver 
Medal was unanimously voted to him." 

Mr. Jas. Power. 

" On the 1 6th August, 1890, about 12.30 
p.m., two ladies had a narrow escape from 
drowning whilst bathing at Tramore, Co. 
W'aterford. Mr. Jas. Power, who ran out 
from an adjacent hotel on hearing the alarm, 
saw a young man with a life-buoy struggling 
in the sea about 150 yards from shore; further 
out, and fully 250 yards from the beach, two 
ladies appeared to be in imminent danger, 
being rapidly carried out by the strong ebb 
tide. Mr. Power first swam to the young 

Vol, v -49, 



man, but finding that he was unable to swim 
and could not dispense with the life-buoy, he 
turned on his back and towed the man with 


From a Photo, by Lawrence, Dublin. 

the life-buoy out to where the ladies were, 
and then with the aid of the buoy he brought 
the three safely to land. The Silver Medal 
was voted to Mr. Jas. Power." 

John Conneli., Boatman, Coastguard 

"About 4 a.m. on the 19th October, 1890, 
the sailing vessel Geiiesta, of Grimsby, be- 
came stranded on the Yorkshire coast near 
Withernsea. Three of the crew were safely 
landed in the breeches buoy, after communi- 
cation had been effected by means of the 
rocket apparatus, but one man, who had 
taken refuge in the crosstrees, was unable 
from exhaustion to avail himself of the 
means afforded. The ship's mate attempted 
to get him clear of the rigging, but the man 
seemed powerless to help himself, yet equal 
to holding on tenaciously at his post. In 
this position the man was left until John 
Conneli gallantly went off to the vessel and 
rescued him at considerable personal risk. 
The ship was bumping, and might have gone 
to pieces at any moment. The weather was 
so bad that one man died in the rigging from 
exhaustion. The Silver Medal was awarded 
to John Conneli," 

Front a Photo, by Amen, lAlndimrt. 


"About one o'clock a.m., on the 25th 
November, 1890, Constable Pennett, being 


From a Photo, by Wright, Whitechapel 



on duty at Tower Hill, saw a man throw him- 
self into the Thames, apparently with the 
intention of committing suicide. He at 
once divested himself of lamp and belt, and 
without waiting to take off his uniform, 
jumped into the river, seized hold of the 
struggling man, and gallantly rescued him. 
The night was dark. The magistrate who 
investigated the case strongly commended 
the constable's courage and presence of 
mind. The Silver Medal was awarded to 
Constable Wm. Pennett." 

Suleiman Girby. 
(Chief Boatman to Messrs. '1'hos. Cook and 
Son, at Jaffa.) 
" The Russian steamer Ichihatchoff was 
wrecked on the rocks of Jaffa on the 18th 
February, 1891. More than twenty passen- 
gers had been swept away before anything 
was done to save life. At 6.30 a.m., on the 
19th February, Girby and his brothers 
launched a boat, and proceeded to the 
vessel, from whence they brought off a 
number of the passengers and landed them. 
In making a second attempt their boat 
was smashed against the inner reef, and 
it was found impossible to launch another. 

Girby then swam 
backwards and 
forwards to the 
vessel fifteen 
times, bringing 
someone with 
him to shore each 
time. The Silver 
Medal was voted 
to S u 1 e i m a n 

■' At 8 p.m. on 
the 26th April, 
1 89 1, the French 
frigate Seignelay 
parted anchors, 
and was carried 
on to the rocks at 
Jaffa. It was blow- 
ing a heavy gale 
at the time, and 
rione of the na- 
tives, excepting 
Girby, would offer 
the slightest as- 
sistance. Girby 
volunteered to 

LE.MAN O.RBV j j ^ ] j 

Photo, ho Subunoi, Jajla. 

and deliver a letter to the captain from 
the Governor. The ship was half a mile 
from shore, but he accomplished the work 
after a two hours' swim in a heavy sea. 
After doing this he dived under the ship 
and examined the hull, reporting her 
sound. He then swam ashore, taking a 
message from the captain. Towards morning, 
when the sea got higher, the captain signalled, 
and Suleiman again swam out, and brought 
back the captain's wife fastened on his back. 
The Silver Clasp was voted to Suleiman 

Edith Brii.t.. 

"Edith Brill, age ten, saved Frank Hill, 
two and a half years old, at 6.45 p.m., 6th 
June, 1882, at the Graving Dock, Royal 

KDITH BRll.t.. 

From « Photo, tot Cobb <(' K< ir, VlinMUad Rotiit. 

Dockyard, Woolwich. The child Hill was 
[mlled into the water by a boy who had 
stumbled in some very foul and deep water. 
Eittle Edith Brill pluckily ran down the deep 
steps of the dock and went up to her neck 
in the water, and held the child up until 
John Hill helped her out. The boy Whorley 
who had fallen in was drowned." 
( To be continued. ) 

A Strange Reunion. 

By T. G. Atkinson. 

N a poor little house in a 
wretched little town on a 
miserable day in November, 
two men sat by a small wood 
fire, warming their hands at the 
tiny blaze and silently watching 
the flicker of the flames. They were both 
young men ; the elder was not more than 
twenty-six or seven and the younger was 
perhaps a year behind. 


One of them was plain Charlie Osborne ; 
the other rejoiced in the more aristocratic 
sobriquet of Eustace Margraf. But it 
mattered little by what different names they 
were called, since Fortune had forgotten to 
call on both alike. In short, they were 
"broke" — almost "stony broke." There 
had been a lock-out at the works at which 
they were both employed, and although they 
had neither of them joined the combination, 
they were none the less out of a job, and the 
fact of their former employment at the works 
that had locked them out told heavily 
against their chance of procuring other work 
in the town. 

Neither was there much likelihood of their 
going back to the works, for the owners were 
rich men who could afford a long struggle, 
and the men were obstinate ; and even if the 
strikers ever got back, Osborne and Margraf 
were in the awkward positions of being 
blacklegs. Thus it was that Fortune had for- 
gotten these two young men who sat by their 
little fire, doggedly silent, too low-hearted 
even to curse Fortune. 

" I shall go to London, 
Charlie," said the elder, 
suddenly, without looking 

"What shall we do 
there?" growled the other. 
Osborne and Margraf had 
been more inseparable 
than brothers since the 
death of each of their 
parents ten years ago. 
Therefore it was that, 
when the latter announced 
his intention of going to 
London, the former in- 
stantly assumed his own 
share in the venture, and 
asked : — 

" What shall we do in 
London ? " 

" Don't know till I 
get there," answered 
Margraf, who, be it ob- 
served, did not encourage 
the first person plural. 
First person singular was 
a good deal more in his 
line. Yet he loved his chum, too, in his 
own way ; but it was not the best way. 
" What's the use of going, then ? " 
" What's the use of staying in this d- 

show ? What's the use of tramping round 
day and night after a job that never comes ? 
What's the use of anything? I'm tired of 
mill work ; it isn't what I was made for. 
I'm going to try my luck at something better. 
You needn't come." 

But because Charlie Osborne was accus- 
tomed to be led by his comrade, he too 
gave out his intention to try his fortunes 
in London. This was not quite what Mar- 
graf wanted. He evidently had a scheme 



in contemplation in which he would prefer to 
be alone. 

"I'll tell you what, Charlie, old fellow," 
he said after awhile. " I've got a plan I 
want you to help carry out. I want you and 
me to separate for three years — only three 
years — and try our luck alone. At the end 
of the three years we will meet again and see 
how each has got on, and divide takings." 

" Not see each other at all ? " asked 
Charlie, ruefully. His love for his chum was 
of the better kind ; the second person singular 

" No, not at all," answered the other, 
firmly, as though 
he were laying 
down a painful but 
apparent duty. 
" Not have any 
with each other 
except in case of 
extreme necessity. 
In that case we 
can put an adver- 
tisement in the 
Daily Telegraph. 
We will make a 
point of always 
seeing that paper." 

After a longer 
demur than he was 
accustomed to 
raise toanyscheme 
of Margraf's, how- 
ever wild and chi- 
merical, Charlie at 
last let his usual 
submission, and a 
vague suspicion 
that his com- 
panionship might 
be dragging Mar- 
graf back from 
attaining a posi- 
tion more worthy 
of that gentleman's 

talents, get the better of him. He made a 
hard fight for the privilege of exchanging letters 
during the three years, but Eustace remained 
obdurate. There was to be no communica- 
tion except under the circumstances and in 
the manner named. Each was to take care 
to see the Daily Telegraph every morning in 
case of such communications ; and at the 
exact expiration of the three years, that is, on 
the 15th November, 188 — , they were to meet 
at twelve o'clock noon at Charing Cross station. 
So these two men divided up their little 

Gonn-RVE, ni.D fellow 

stock of belongings and smaller capital of 
money, took a third-class ticket each to 
London, went together to Charing Cross to 
verify the scene of their future reunion, and 
shook hands. 

" We meet here in three years from 
to-day. " 

"We do, all being well. Good-bye, 

" Good-bye, old fellow." 

Thus they parted, each on his separate 
quest for fortune. 

On the evening of the 14th November, 
188 — , Eustace 
Margraf, Esq., 
Director and 
Chairman of the 
Anglican Deben- 
ture Corporation, 
Ltd., eke of the 
General Stock and 
Shareholders' Pro- 
tective Union, 
Ltd., and various 
other like specula- 
tive companies, sat 
in the luxurious 
dining-room of his 
well - appointed 
residence in Lewis- 
ham Park. He 
had finished his 
sumptuous but 
solitary meal, and, 
reclining in a spa- 
cious armchair, 
sipped his rare old 
wine. It was three 
years all but a day 
since he had parted 
from Charlie Os- 
borne on Charing 
Cross Station, and 
set out with 
eighteenpence in 
his pocket to seek 
his fortune. In that brief time he had rapidly 
risen to wealth and distinction. Three years 
ago he was a penniless mechanic, forsaken by 
Fortune and discontented with his life; to-day 
he was a rich man, smiled on and courted by 
Fortune and envied by all her minions, anc} 
still he was discontented with his life. 

It was strange that he should cherish this 
discontent, for Eustace Margraf, mindful of 
the fact that he was made for something 
better than mill work, had matriculated and 
graduated at the World's University in the 



Department of Forgery and Theft. He had 
taken the highest diplomas in fraud ; he had 
passed with honours the test of an accom- 
plished swindler ; and in the intricacies of 
embezzlement he was Senior Wrangler. Yet 
he was not content ; some men are never 

This evening, as he sat sampling his 
'18 Oporto, with the daily paper at his 
elbow, he actually felt some amount of 
regret that he had entered the course for 
such distinctions — which, by the way, his 
modesty forbade him publishing to the world 
at large. Only a select few knew the extent 
of his accomplishments. 

In the paper at his side there was a little 
paragraph which had given his memory a 
rather unpleasant jog. It was in the personal 
column, and ran as follows : " E. M. — Don't 
forget to-morrow, noon, C. C. Station. — 
Charlie.'' He wanted to see Charlie, for he 
still loved him after his old fashion ; but the 
memories which the advertisement called up, 
and a doubt as to whether Charlie would 
appreciate his accomplishments, made him 
fidgety ; and the recollection of all that must 
pass between now and noon to-morrow filled 
him with uneasiness. For to-night he was to 
stake everything in one tremendous venture. 
If he succeeded he would need to do nothing 
more all his life ; if he failed 

just before starting, which would take effect 
about an hour after administration and last 
till the sleepers should be aroused by brandy. 
During their slumber the stoker would pull 
up at convenient places on the line to allow 
the robbers to enter the guard's carriage and 
leave it with their booty, when they would 
make off to where Margraf had arranged to 
meet them ; he would manage the rest. The 
front guard and the driver, meanwhile, would 
for their own sakes be glad enough to say 
nothing about their long slumber. 

All these arrangements had been made 
with great nicety, and told over twice ; and 
yet Margraf was uneasy and nervous as he 
thought of all the risk he ran. Twice he 
stretched out his hand for the bell-rope for 
telegram forms to stay the whole business ; 
once he went so far as to ring the bell, but 
he altered his mind by the time the servant 
answered it, and ordered hot brandy instead. 
It was now six o'clock ; in another hour he 
must hand over the duplicate key to his 
accomplices and board the train for Dover. 

Every moment he grew more nervous, his 
hand became so shaky that brandy failed to 
steady it ; his face grew pale and haggard ; 
his nerves were strung to a painful tension ; 
and all sorts of possibilities of failure in his 
scheme haunted him till he could have cried 
out from sheer nervousness. 

To-night, at eight o'clock, the Continental 
mail train would start from Charing Cross 
Station with seventy-five thousand pounds 
worth of bullion for the Bank of France. If 
Fustace Margraf succeeded in his enterprise, 
it would reach Paris with the same weight of 
valueless shot in the strong iron boxes. 

Everything had been nicely and minutely 
arranged. The shot had been carefully 
weighed to a quarter of a grain, and portioned 
into three equal lots to match the cases of 
bullion, which would be weighed on leaving 
London, again at Dover, once more at 
Calais, and finally on arrival at Paris. A 
key to fit the cases had been secretly made A< 
from a wax impression of the original, how ^ MB 
obtained none but Margraf knew. This 
key he would hand to his confederates 
this evening at Charing Cross Station, after 
which he would go down by the seven 
o'clock train preceding the mail. 

The stoker of the mail, an old railway 
hand, had been bribed, together with the 
guard in whose compartment the bullion 
would travel. It had been thought desirable 
to deal differently with the front guard and 
the driver ; a specially prepared and powerful 
drug was to be given them in a pint of beer 




"God!" he cclaimed, as he drained a 
glass of brandy and water and rose to go. 
" A life like this would kill me. Well, this 
shall be the last risk. If it turns out all 
right — as it must — I shall give this kind of 
business up. I shall have plenty then, and 
old Charlie will go off and live quietly and 

The rear guard of the seven o'clock 
Continental finished his last cup of tea, put 
on his thick winter coat, kissed his wife and 
baby girl, and took up his lantern preparatory 
to joining his train. He reached the station 
as the great engine was being coupled and 
gave the driver a cheery salute, which that 
official acknowledged with a surly growl. 

" Something put Jimmy out to-night," he 
laughed to the fireman, a young, inexperienced 
fellow, making his trial trip, and passed on 
to make his inspection of things in general 
before starting. 

At the last moment a richly -dressed gentle- 
man, wearing a long fur coat, and carrying a 
large travelling rug, entered a first-class 
smoking compartment. 
This gentleman, whom 
numerous people on the 
platform recognised as 
he passed and saluted 
respectfully, was Eustace 
Margraf, Esq. The car- 
riage he got into was an 
empty one, and, lying 
full length on the seat, 
covered with his rug, he 
lit a cigar and composed 
himself to make the best 
of a long and tiresome 
railway journey. The 
guard blew his whistle, 
the great engine repro- 
duced it in a loud, deep 
tone, and the train 
steamed slowly out of 
the station, twenty 
minutes late in starting. 

Left to his own re- 
flections, which were 
none of the liveliest, and 
lulled by the motion of 
the train, our traveller 
soon fell into a fitful 
sleep, wherein he was 
haunted by dreams that wrought upon his 
brain until he was almost as nervous as he 
had been in his own room some hours 

He awoke suddenly, with a vague sense that 

the train was travelling at a most unusual and 
unaccountable speed ; and, as he leapt to his 
feet in a half-dazed fright, they shot through 
Tunbridge— a place at which they were timed 
to make a ten minutes' stop — and he was 
conscious of seeing, as in a flash, a crowd of 
frightened and awe-struck faces looking at 
the train from the platform. He sank back 
on the cushioned seat, seized with a nameless 
terror. Time and space seemed to his over- 
wrought nerves to be filled with tokens of 
some approaching calamity which he was 
powerless to prevent ; the terrific speed and 
violent swaying of the train, the shrill howl 
of the ceaseless whistle, the terrible darkness 
and silence of everything outside his 
immediate surroundings, and the recollection 
of that crowd of terrified faces, all seemed to 
thrill him with a sense of impending horror, 
and the wretched man sat terror-stricken on 
his seat, a mere mass of highly-strung and 
delicate nerves. 

Suddenly, as he looked into the black 
night, a face passed the window, as of some- 
one walking along the footboard to the 


engine ; a stern-set face, as of one going to 
certain danger and needing all the pluck he 
possessed to carry him through : and at the 
apparition the traveller fairly shrieked aloud : 
but the face passed on and was gone. 

3 8o 


In another moment there was a sudden 
shout — a terrific crash — a wild chaos of 
sight and sound — and our traveller knew no 

When next he found his senses, he was 
lying among cushions and rugs in the 
waiting-room at Tunbridge Wells Station. 
He awoke with a faint shiver, and tried to 
iraise Mmself, but found to his astonishment 
thai he could not so much as lift a finger. As 
a matter of fact, he was among those whom 
the busy surgeons had given up as a desperate 
case ; and, after doing all in their power to 
ease him, abandoned in favour of more 
hopeful subjects ; but this he did not know. 

Several of the passengers whose injuries 
were only very slight were discussing the 
accident in an animated manner, and, as 
usual in such cases, many wild and fanciful 
conjectures were passed about as truth. At 
last one said : — 

" Does anyone know the rights of the 
matter ? " 

" Yes, I do," volunteered a young man 
with an arm in a sling ; and Margraf lay- 
silently listening, unable to move or speak. 

" Well, what is it ? " 

"Just after we passed Grove Park, the 
fireman was on the front of the engine oiling, 
when he felt the locomotive increasing in 
speed till it became so appalling that he grew 
terrified and could not get back. He is a 
young fellow, and this is his trial trip. At 
length he managed to crawl back to the cab, 
where he found the driver lying, as he sup- 
posed, dead. This so increased his terror that 
he was only able to open the whistle and 
pull the cord com- 
municating with 
the rear guard, and 
then fell in a swoon 
across the tender. 

"The rear 
guard, a plucky- 
young fellow of 
about six-and- 
twenty, twigging 
the situation, 
came, as we all 
know, along the 
footboard to the 
engine " — Margraf 
listened with all 
his remaining 
strength — " in 
order to stop the 
train before it ran 

into the Ramsgate express, but apparently 
was too late." 

" But what was up with the driver, and where 
was the front guard in the meanwhile ? " 

" Well, it appears from what the front 
guard says — marvellous how he escaped with 
hardly a scratch — both these men had been 
drugged, and as they were both of them to 
have run the mail train to the Continent 
to-night, things look very fishy." 

Margraf nearly fainted in his efforts to 
listen more intensely. 

" They were changed on to this train at 
the last moment, and hence this accident. 
The rear guard, poor fellow, was shockingly 
mangled. Stone dead, of course ; and 
leaves, I understand, a wife and child. 
There will no doubt be a collection made for 
him. He was a plucky fellow." 

" Does anyone know his name ?" asked one. 

" Yes ; his name was Charlie Osborne." 

There was a heartrending groan from the 
cushions and rugs. 

" Here," cried a young medical student 
among the party to a passing surgeon, " you'd 
better come and have a look at this poor chap. 
He isn't as dead as you thought he was." 

The surgeon came and looked at Margraf. 

" Isn't he ? " he said, in his cool, pro- 
fessional way. " He is a good deal farther 
gone than I thought. He couldn't be gone 
much farther." 


From Behind the Speaker's Chair. 

(viewed by HENRY W. LUCY.) 



to observe 
upon has 

I SUPPOSE if anyone has a right 
to indulge in the convenience of 
indented headings when writing a 
discursive article, I may claim a 
share in the privilege. When I retired from 
theeditorshipof a morn- 
ing newspaper, a not 
obtrusively friendly 
commentator wrote 
that my chief claim to 
be remembered in that 
connection was that I 
had invented sign-posts 
for leading articles. But 
he was careful to add, 
lest I should be puffed 
up, this was not suffi- 
cient to establish 
editorial reputation. 

It is true ; but it is interesting 
how the way thus adventured 
grown crowded. The abstentions indicate a 
curious and interesting habitude ingrained in 
the English Press. Whilst most of the 
weekly papers, not only in the provinces but 
in London, have adopted the new fashion, 
no daily paper in London, and in the country 
only one here and there, has followed it. 
That is a nice distinction, illustrating a 
peculiarity of our honoured profession. As 
it was a daily paper that made the innova- 
tion, weekly papers may, without loss of 
dignity, adopt the custom as their own. 
But it is well known that, in London at 
least, there is only one daily paper, and that 
is the "We" speaking from a particular 
address, located somewhere between 
Temple Bar and St. Paul's. 

Argal, it is impossible that this peculiarly 
situated entity should borrow from other 
papers. Yet I once heard the manager 
of what we are pleased to call the leading 
journal confess he envied the Daily JVews' 
side-headings to its leaders, and regretted 
the impossibility of adapting them for his 
own journal. That was an opinion delivered 
in mufti. In full uniform, no manager — 
certainly no editor — of another morning 

paper is aware of the existence of the 
Daily News ; the Daily JVews, on its part, 
being courageously steeped in equally dense 
ignorance of the existence of other journals. 
Few things are so funny as the start of 
surprise with which a 
London journal upon 
rare occasion finds it- 
self face to face with 
a something that also 
appears every morning 
at a price varying from 
a penny to threepence. 
Nothing will induce it 
to give the phenomenon 
a name, and it distantly 
alludes to it as " a con- 
temporary." This is 
quite peculiar to Great 
Britain, and is in its way akin to the eti- 
quette of the House of Commons, which 
makes it a breach of order to refer to 
a member by his proper name. It does 
not exist in France or the United States, and 
there are not lacking signs that the absurd 
lengths to which it has hitherto been 
carried out in the English Press are being 


Vol. V —60, 





But that is an aside, meant 
only to introduce an old friend 
in a new place. I was going to 
explain how it came about that, 
in the mid-February issue of The Strand 
Magazine, the name of Sir Walter Barttelot 
should appear in the list of members of the 
present House of Commons who had seats in 
the House in 1873, and that another number 
of the Magazine has been issued without the 
correction, widely made elsewhere, being 
noted. It is due simply to the fact of the 
phenomenal circulation of a magazine which, 
in order to be out to date, requires its 
contributors to send in their copy some two 
months in advance. 

It is not too late to say a word about 
the late member for Sussex, a. type 
rapidly disappearing from the Parliamentary 
stage. He entered the House thirty-three 
years ago, when Lord Palmerston was Pre- 
mier, Mr. Gladstone was Chancellor of the 
Exchequer, Sir George Cornewall Lewis was 
at the Home Office, and Lord John Russell 
looked after Foreign Affairs. 

The House of Commons was a different 
place in those days, the heritage of the 
classes, a closed door against any son 
of the masses. Sir Walter was born a 
country gentleman, his natural prejudices 
not being smoothed down by a term 
of service in the Dragoon Guards. He 
was not a brilliant man, nor, beyond the 
level attainments of a county magistrate, an 
able one. But he was thoroughly honest ; 
suspected himself of ingrained prejudice, 
and always fought against it. He suffered 
and learnt much during his long Parliamentary 

One of the earliest shocks dealt him was 
the appearance in the House of Mr. Cham- 
berlain, newly elected for 
Birmingham. It is difficult 
at this time of day to realize 
the attitude in which the 
gentlemen of England sixteen 
years ago stood towards the 
statesman who is now proudly 
numbered in their ranks. 
When he presented himself to 
be sworn in, it was one of 
the jokes of the day that Sir 
Walter Barttelot expected he 
would approach the Table 
making " a cart-wheel " down 
the floor, as ragged little boys 
disport themselves along the 
pavement when a drag or om- 
nibus passes. Sir Walter was "anticipation. 

genuinely surprised 
to find in the 
fearsome Bir- 
mingham Radical a 
quietly- dressed, 
well-mannered, al- 
most boyish-looking 
man, who spoke in 
a clear, admirably 
pitched voice, and 
opposed the Prisons 
Bill, then under dis- 
cussion, on the very 
lines from which Sir 
Walter had himself 
attacked it when it 
was brought in dur- 
ing the previous 

It was charac- 
teristic of this fine 
old English gentle- 
man that, having 
done a man an in- >• KEAI ITY » 

justice by uncon- 
sciously forming a wrong opinion about him, 
he hastened forthwith to make amends. 

" If," he said, when Mr. Chamberlain had 
resumed his seat, " the lion, member for Bir- 
mingham will always address the House with 
the same quietness, and with the same intel- 
ligence displayed on this occasion, I can 
assure him the House of Commons will 
always be ready to listen to him." 

This is delicious, looking back over the 
years, watching Mr. Chamberlain's soaring 
flight, and thinking of the good county 
member thus loftily patronizing him. But 
it was a bold thing to be said at that time of 
Mr. Chamberlain by Sir Walter Barttelot, and 
some friends who sat near him thought his 
charity had led him a little 
too far. 

The Sussex squire was of 
a fine nature simple, ever 
ready to be moved by generous 
impulses. There were two 
men coming across the moon- 
light orbit of his Parlia- 
mentary life whose conduct 
he detested, and whose in- 
fluence he feared. One was 
Mr. Parnell, the other 
Bradlaugh. Yet when 
Commission acquitted 
Parnell of the charges brought 
against him by the forged 
letters, Sir Walter Barttelot 
sought him out in the Lobbv 





publicly, shook hands with him, and con- 
gratulated him upon the result of the 
inquiry. When Mr. Bradlaugh lay on 
his death-bed, on the very night the House 
of Commons was debating the resolution 
to expunge from the 
Order Book the dictum 
that stood there through 
eleven years, declaring 
him ineligible either to 
take the oath or to make 
affirmation, Sir Walter 
Barttelot appealed to the 
House unanimously to 
pass the motion, conclud- 
ing his remarks with 
emphatic expression of 
the hope that "God 
would spare Mr. Brad- 
laugh's life." 

Sir Walter never re- 
covered from the blow 
dealt by the death of 
his son in Africa, aggra- 
vated as the sorrow was by the controversy 
which followed. Of late years he spoke 
very little ; but in the Parliaments of 1874-80 
and 1880-85 ne was a frequent participator 
in debate. He was no orator, nor did he 
contribute original ideas to current dis- 
cussion. Moreover, what he had to say was 
so tortured by the style of delivery that it 
lost something of whatever force naturally 
belonged to it. 

I have a verbatim note taken fifteen years 
ago of a speech delivered in the House of 
Commons by Sir Walter, which faintly echoes 
an oratorical style whose master is no longer 
with us. It lacks the inconsequential 
emphasis, the terrific vigour of the gesture, 
and the impression conveyed by the speaker's 
intense earnestness, that really, by-and-by, 
he would say something, which compelled 
the attention of new members and strangers 
in the gallery. But if the reader imagines 
portentous pauses represented by the hyphens, 
and the deepening to tragic tones of the 
words marked in italics, he may in some 
measure realize the effect. 

The speech from which this passage was 
taken was delivered in debate upon a resolu- 
tion moved by Mr. Forster on the Cattle Plague 
Orders. Whenever in the passage Mr. 
Forster is personally alluded to it is necessary, 
in order to full realization of the scene, to pic- 
ture Sir Walter shaking a minatory forefinger, 
sideways, at the right hon. gentleman, not 
looking at him, but pointing him out to 
the scorn of mankind and the reprobation 


of country gentlemen : " Yet he knows 
[here the finger wags] — and — knows full 
well — in the — position he occupies — making 
a proposal of this kind — must be one — 
which — must be — fatal — to — the Bill. No 
one knows better than the 
right hon. gentleman — 
that when — he — raises a 
great question of this 
kind — upon a Bill of this 
sort — namely upon the 
second reading — of — this 
Bill — that that proposal 
— that he makes — is ab- 
solutely against the prin- 
ciple — of — the Bill. Now, 
I — de — ny that the prin- 
ciple — of — this Bill — is 
confined — and is to be 
found — in the 5th Sche- 
dule—of—the Bill." 

A few minutes later an 

illustration occurred to 

^ the inspired orator, and 

wasHihus brought under the notice of the 

entranced House : — 

"Now, Denmark — it is a remark — able 
country, is Den — mark — for — we have little — 
or no — dis — ease from Den — mark. The 
importation — from Den — mark — is some- 
thing like fifty -six — thousand — cattle — and 
the curious part of it is this, that nineteen — 
thousand — of these — were — cows — and these 
cou>s came — to — this country — and — had 
been allowed to go — all over — this country 
— and — I have never yet heard — that these 
cows — that — have so — gone over this country 
— have spread any disease — in this country — ." 
This was a mannerism which amused the 
House at the time, but did nothing to 
obscure the genuine qualities of Sir Walter, 
or lessen the esteem in which he was held. 
It cannot be said that the House of Com- 
mons was habitually moved by his argument 
in debate. But he was held in its warmest 
esteem, and his memory will long be 
cherished as linked with the highest type 
of English country gentleman. 

At this time of writing there is 
talk in the House about payment 
of members. A private member 
has placed on the paper a resolu 
tion affirming the desirability ol 
adopting the principle, and it is even said 
— (which I take leave to doubt) — that 
the Chancellor of the Exchequer has a 
card up his sleeve intended to win this 
game. It would be rash to predict stub- 
born resistance on the part of a body that 






has so often proved itself open to conviction 
as has the House of Commons. But I should 
say that to secure this end it would need a 
tussle quite as prolonged and r.s violent as 
has raged round Home Rule. Lowering 
and widening the suffrage has done much to 
alter the personal standard of the House of 
Commons. Nothing achieved through these 
sixty years would in its modifying effect equal 
the potency of the change wrought by paying 

One illustration is found in the assertion, 
made with confidence, that under such a 


system the House would know no more men 
of the type of Sir Walter Barttelot. He was • 
not the highest form of capacity, knowledge, 
or intelligence. But he was of the kind that 
gives to the House of Commons the lofty tone 
it speedily regains even after a paroxysm of 
post-prandial passion. The House of Com- 
mons is unique in many ways. I believe the 
main foundation of the position it holds 
among the Parliaments of the world is this 
condition of volunteered unremunerated 

In spite of sneers from disappointed or 
flippant persons, a seat in the House of 
Commons still remains One of the highest 
prizes of citizen life. When membership 
becomes a business, bringing in say £6 

a week, the charm will be gone. As things 
stand, there is no reason why any con- 
stituency desiring to do so may not return a 
member on the terms of paying him a salary. 
It is done in several cases, in two at least with 
the happiest results. It would be a differ- 
ent thing to throw the whole place open with 
standing advertisement for eligible members 
at a salary of ,£300 a year, paid quarterly. 
The horde of impecunious babblers and 
• busybodies attracted by such a bait would 
trample down the class of men who compose 
the present House of Commons, and who are, 
in various ways, at touch with all the multi- 
form interests of the nation. 

The great hat question which 

hats and agitated the House of Commons 

seats. at the commencement of the 

new Session, even placing Home 
Rule in a secondary position, has subsided, 
and will probably not again be heard of 
during the existence of the present Parlia- 
ment. Whilst yet to the fore it was discussed 
with vigour and freshness ; but it is no new 
thing. With the opening Session of every 
Parliament the activity and curiosity of new 
members lead to inconvenient crowding of a 
chamber that was not constructed to seat 
670 members. In the early days of the 
1880 Parliament the hat threatened to 
bring about a crisis. One evening Mr. 
Mitchell Henry startled the House by 
addressing the Speaker from a side gallery. 
This of itself was regarded as a breach 
of order, and many members expected 
the Speaker would peremptorily interfere. 
But Mr. Mitchell Henry, an old Parlia- 
mentary hand, knew he was within his right 
in speaking from this unwonted position. 
The side galleries as far down as the Bar are 
as much within the House as is the Treasury 
Bench, and though orators frequenting them 
would naturally find a difficulty in catching 
the Speaker's eye, there is no other reason 




why they should not per- 
manently occupy seats 

Mr. Mitchell Henry ex- 
plained that he spoke from 
this place because he could 
not find any other. He 
had come down in ordin- 
arily good time to take 
his seat, and found all 
the benches on the floor 
appropriated by having 
hats planted out along 
them. In each hat was 
fixed a card, indicating the 
name of the owner. What 
had first puzzled Mr. 
Henry, and upon reflec- 
tion led him to the detec- 
tion of systematic fraud, 
was meeting in remote parts of the House, 
even in the street, members who went about 
wearing a hat, although what purported to 
be their headgear was being used to stake 
out a claim in the Legislative Chamber. 
Mr. Henry made the suggestion that only 
what he called " the working hat " should 
be recognised as an agent in securing a seat. 
The strict morality of this arrangement 
was acquiesced in, and its adoption generally 
approved. But nothing practical came of it. 
By-and-by, in the ordinary evolution of things, 
the pressure of competition for seats died 
off, and the supernumerary hat disappeared 
from the scene. This Session the ancient 
trouble returned with increased force, owing 
to the peculiar circumstances in 
which political parties are subdivided. 
The Irish members insisting upon 
retaining their old seats below the 
gangway to the left of the Speaker, 
there was no room for the Dissentient 
Liberals to range themselves in their 
proper quarters on the Opposition 
side. They, accordingly, moved over 
with the Liberals, and appropriated 
two benches below the gangway, 
thus driving a wedge of hostile force 
into the very centre of the Ministerial 
ranks. It was the Radical quarter 
that was thus invaded, and its oc- 
cupants were not disposed tamely to 
submit to the incursion. The posi- 
tion was to be held only by strategy. 
Hence the historic appearance on the 
scene on the first day of the Session 
of Mr. Austen Chamberlain with 
relays of hats, which he set out along 
the coveted benches, and so secured 


them for the sitting. On 
the other side of the 
House a similar contest 
was going forward between 
the Irish Nationalist 
members, represented by 
Dr. Tanner, and their 
Ulster brethren, who ac- 
knowledge a leader in 
Colonel Saunderson. 

These tactics are made 
possible by the peculiar, 
indeed unique, arrange- 
ment by which seats are 
secured in the House of 
Commons. In all other 
Legislative Assemblies in 
the world each member 
has assigned to him a seat 
and desk, reserved for him 
as long as he is a member. That would 
be an impossible arrangement in the House 
of Commons, for the sufficient reason that 
while there are 670 duly returned members, 
there is not sitting room for much more 
than half the number. When a member of 
the House of Commons desires to secure a 
particular seat for a given night he must 
be in his place at prayer time, which on 
four days a week is at three o'clock in 
the afternoon. On the fifth day, Wednesday, 
prayers are due at noon. At prayer time, and 
only then, there are obtainable tickets upon 
which a member may write his name, and, 
sticking the pasteboard in the brass frame at 
the back of the seat, is happy for the night. 


3 86 



Where, what Mr. Mitchell Henry called, 
the non-working hat comes in is in the 
practice of members gathering before prayer 
time and placing their hats on the seat they 
desire to retain. That is a preliminary that 
receives no official recognition. " No prayer, 
no seat," is the axiom, and unless a member 
be actually present in the body when the 
Chaplain reads prayers, he is not held to have 
established a claim. Thus his spiritual 
comfort is subtly and indispensably linked 
with his material comfort. 

There is nothing new under the 
glass roof of the House of 
Commons, not even the ballot- 
ing syndicates, of which so much 
has been heard since the Session 
opened. Fifteen or sixteen years ago the 
Irish members aston- 
ished everybody by the 
extraordinary luck that 
attended them at the 
ballot. The ballot in 
this sense has nothing 
to do with the electoral 
poll, being the process 
by which precedence 
for private members is 
secured. When a pri- 
vate member has in 
charge a Bill or re- 
solution, much depends 
on the opportunity he 
secures for bringing it 
forward. Theoretically, 
Tuesday, Wednesday, 
and (in vanishing de- 
gree) a portion of Fri- 
day are appropriated BA 
to his use. On 

Tuesday he may bring on motions ; on 
Wednesday advance Bills ; and on Friday 
raise miscellaneous questions on certain 
stages of Supply. On days when notices of 
motion may be given there is set forth on 
the Table a book with numbered lines, 
on which members write their names. Say 
there are fifty names written down — or four 
hundred, as was the melancholy case on the 
opening night of the Session — the Clerk at the 
Table places in a box a corresponding 
number of slips of paper. When all is 
ready for the ballot, the Speaker having 
before him the list of names as written down, 
the Clerk at the Table plunges his hand into 
the lucky-box and taking out, at random, one 
of the pieces of paper, calls aloud the 
number marked upon it. 

Say it is 365. The Speaker, referring to the 


list he holds in his hand, Unas that Mr. 
Smith has written his name on line 365. 
He- thereupon calls upon Mr. Smith, who 
has the first chance, and selects what in his 
opinion is the most favourable day, ceteris 
paribus, the earliest at liberty. So the 
process goes through till the last paper in 
the ballot-box has been taken out and the 
list is closed. 

It is at best a wearisome business, a 
criminal waste of time, useless for practical 
purposes. It was well enough when Parlia- 
ment was not overburdened with work, and 
when the members balloting for places 
rarely exceeded a score. But when, as 
happened on the opening day of the Session, 
two of the freshest hours of the sitting are 
occupied by the performance, it is felt 
that a change is desir- 
able. This could easily 
be effected, there being 
no reason in the world 
why the process of 
balloting for places on 
the Order Book should 
not be carried out as 
was the balloting for 
places in the Strangers' 
Galleries on the night 
Mr. Gladstone intro- 
duced his Home Rule 
Bill. On that occasion 
the Speaker's Secretary, 
with the assistance of 
a clerk, and in the pre- 
sence of as many 
members as cared to 
look on, arranged the 
ballot without a hitch 
or a murmur of com- 
plaint from anyone concerned. The sooner 
the public balloting is relegated to the 
same agency the better it will be for the 
dispatch of public business. With it should 
disappear the consequent wanton waste of 
time involved in members bodily bringing 
in their Bills, a performance that appro- 
priated nearly half the sitting on the 
second day of the Session. 

The spread of the syndicate contrivance 
would happily hasten the inevitable end. It 
was by means of the syndicate, though it was 
not known by that name, or indeed at first 
known at all, that the Home Rule party 
managed in the Parliament of 1880-85 to 
monopolize the time pertaining to private 
members. Their quick eyes detected what 
is simple enough when explained — that the 
ballot system contained potentialities for 



increasing the chances of a Bill by twenty 
or thirty fold. Suppose they had ten 
Bills or motions they desired to bring 
forward. They usually had more, but 
ten is sufficient to contemplate. These were 
arranged in accordance with their claim to 
priority. Every member of the party wrote 
his name down in the ballot-book, thus 
securing an individual chance at the ballot. 
Whilst the ballot was in progress, each had 
in his hand a list of the Bills in their order 
of priority. The member whose name was 
first called by the Speaker gave notice of the 
most urgent Bill, the second and third taking 
the next favourable positions, and so on to 
the end. 

It will be seen that, supposing fifty or sixty 
members thus combined, their pet Bill would 
have fifty or sixty chances to one against the 
hapless private member with his solitary voice. 
The secret was long kept, and the Irish 
members carried everything before them at 
the ballot. Now the murder is out, and 
there are almost as many syndicates as there 
are private Bills. All can grow the flower 
now, for all have got the seed. But it 
naturally follows that competition is practi- 
cally again made even. The advantage to be 
derived from the syndicate system has 
appreciably decreased, whilst its practice 
immeasurably lengthens the process of 

Mr. Louis Jennings, though he 
louis sat on the same side of the 
Jennings. House as Sir Walter Barttelot, 
and within a week or two of his 
neighbour's departure likewise answered to 
the old Lobby cry, " Who goes home ? " was 
of a different type of Conservative, was a man 
of literary training, generous culture, and wide 
knowledge of the world, and made his fame 
and fortune long before he entered the House 
of Commons. It was the late Mr. Delane 
whose quick eye discovered his journalistic 
ability, and gave him his first commission on 
the Times. He visited America in the service 
of that journal, and being there remained to 
take up the editorship of the New York 
Times, making himself and his journal famous 
by his successful tilting against what, up to 
his appearance in the list, had been the 
invincible Tweed conspiracy. He edited the 
'• Croker Papers," and wrote a " study " of Mr. 
Gladstone — a bitterly clever book, to which 
the Premier magnanimously referred in the 
generous tribute he took occasion to pay to 
the memory of the late member for Stockport. 
Upon these two books Mr. Jennings's 
literary fame in this country chiefly rests- It 

would stand much higher if there were wider 
knowledge of another couple of volumes he 
wrote just before lie threw himself into the 
turmoil of Parliamentary life. One is called 
" Field Paths and Green Lanes " ; the ether 
" Rambles Among the Hills." Both were 
published by Mr. Murray, and are now, I 
believe, out of print. They are well worth 
reproducing, supplying some of the most 
charming writing I know, full of shrewd 
observation, humorous fancy, and a deep, 
abiding sympathy with all that is beau- 
tiful in Nature. I thought I knew Louis 
Jennings pretty intimately in Parliamentary 
and social life, but I found a new man hidden 
in these pages — a beautiful, sunny nature, 
obscured in the ordinary relations of life by 
a somewhat brusque manner, and in these 
last eighteen months soured and cramped by 


a cruel disease. Jennings knew and loved 
the country as Gilbert White knew and loved 
Selborne. Now 

His part in all the pomp that fills 
The circuit of the summer hills 
Is, that his grave is green. 

His Parliamentary career was checked, 
and, as it turned out,, finally destroyed, by 
an untoward incident. After Lord Randolph 
Churchill threw up the Chancellorship of 
the Exchequer and assumed a position of in- 
dependence on a back bench, he found an 
able lieutenant in his old friend Louis Jen- 
nings. At that time Lord Randolph was 
feared on the Treasury Bench as much as he 
was hated. For a Conservative member to 
associate himself with him was to be ostracised 
by the official Conservatives. A man of Mr. 
Jennings's position and Parliamentary ability 
was worth buying off, and it was brought to his 

3 88 


knowledge that he might have a good price if 
he would desert Lord Randolph. He was 
not a man of that kind, and the fact that the 
young statesman stood almost alone was 
sufficient to attract Mr. Jennings to his side. 


Up to an early date of the Session of 1890 
the companionship, political and private, of 
Lord Randolph Churchill and Mr. Jennings 
was as intimate as had been any one of his 
lordship's personal connections with members 
of the Fourth Party. This alliance was rup- 
tured under circumstances that took place 
publicly, but the undercurrent of which 
has never been fathomed. One Monday 
night, shortly after the opening of this 
Session of 1890, there ap- 
peared on the paper a resolu- 
tion standing in the name of 
Mr. Jennings, framed in terms 
not calculated to smooth the 
path of the Conservative 
Government, just then par- 
ticularly troubled. That Mr. 
Jennings had prepared it in 
consultation with Lord Ran- 
dolph Churchill was an open 
secret. Indeed, Lord Ran- 
dolph had undertaken to second it. Be- 
fore the motion could be reached a 

i'ki:s::xt DAY 

debate sprang up, in which Lord Ran- 
dolph interposed, and delivered a speech 
which, in Mr. Jennings's view, entirely cut the 
ground from under his feet. He regarded this 
as more than an affront — as a breach of faith, 
a blow dealt by his own familiar friend. 
At that moment, in the House, he broke 
with Lord Randolph, tore up his amendment 
and the notes of his speech, and declined 
thereafter to hold any communion with his 
old friend. 

No one, as I had opportunity of learning 
at the time, was more surprised than Lord 
Randolph Churchill at the view taken of the 
event by Mr. Jennings. He had not thought 
of his action being so construed, and had 
certainly been guiltless of the motive attri- 
buted to him. There was somewhere and 
somehow a misunderstanding. With Mr. 
Jennings it was strong and bitter enough to 
last through what remained of his life. 

Whilst he did not act upon the first 
impulse communicated to one of his friends, 
and forthwith retire from public life, he with 
this incident lost all zest for it. Occasionally 
he spoke, choosing the level, unattractive 
field of the Civil Service Estimates. It 
was a high tribute to his power and capacity 
that on the few occasions when he spoke 
the House filled up, not only with the 
contingent attracted by the prospect of any- 
thing spicy, but by grave, financial authori- 
ties, Ministers and ex-Ministers, who listened 
attentively to his acute criticism. His 
public speaking benefited by 
a rare combination of literary 
style and oratorical aptitude. 
There was no smell of the 
lamp about his polished, 
pungent sentences. But they 
had the unmistakable mark 
of literary style. Had his 
physical strength not failed, 
and his life not been em- 
bittered by the episode 
alluded to, Louis Jennings 
would have risen to high position in the 
Parliamentary field. 

Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives. 

wjF **Fi^'- 


AGE 4. 

From a Photo, by Levitsky, Paris, 


was born in Louisiana, her 
father being Scotch and her 
mother partly Mexican. She 
was educated by her mother, 

and taught to 

te from baby- 

played all over the States as an amateur, and 
when the occasion came, and she was thrown 
on her own resources, she adopted the stage as 
a profession. She has played in every country 

From a Photo, by] age 24. 

and city where the English language is spoken. 
Mrs. Potter has, perhaps, the largest repertoire of 
any living actress. 

AGE 18. 

From tt Photo, by Elmer d~ Chkkering, Boston. 

hood, her mother making her play on all 
occasions such as birthdays and Christmas. 
Her first appearance before friends was at the 
age of five years. She was married at seven- 
teen. She never spoke English until fourteen, 
speaking entirely French and Spanish. She 

From G Photo, by] 



p., Glasgow. 
v— §1, 



Born 1841. 

terest to the portraits 
of their Royal High- 
nesses at different ages. 
The accompanying 
portraits of the Prince 
represent him in his 
nursery; as an Oxford 

undergraduate ; in High- 
and costume; in the 
uniform of a Colonel of 
the Royal Horse Guards 
(Blues) ; and finally, in 
an excellent likeness, at 
the present day. 

\F. WinttrhaUtr. 

v — ;; ; "---o\ v ' 

Hl^^&" "'■■■; iS^f"** Illili 


' *> : *»& 

J HbR52P 






From a Photo, by] 

age 40. 

From a Photo, by] PRESENT pay. [ \V. & D. Downey. 



AGE 17. 
From a Photo, by Hansen, Copenhagen. 

age ig. 
From a Photo, by Pintiham, Paris, 

AGE 22. 

(With the Duke of York 

as a Baby.) 
From a Photo, by W. & I). Domiey. 


: UR first por- 
trait of the 
Princess of 
Wales was 
taken in her 
native city nearly two 
years before her arrival 
in England ; the second 
was taken at the time of 


Fi-am a Photo, by W. & D. Bounty. 

her marriage; the third 
when her second son, the 

resent Duke of York, 
was about a year old ; and 
the fourth in her robes as 

)octor of Music of the 
Royal University of Ire- 
land in 1885. The differ- 
ence in the fashion of the 
dresses in these portraits 
is striking, but not more 
so than the beauty of the 







AGE 5. 

/Voh( (i Jfimaturv. 

Born 1834. 
who has of late years 
won world - wide 
popularity as the 
writer of " Mehalah," " John 
Herring,"andmanyother novels, 
was born at Exeter, and is the 
eldest son of Mr. Edward 
Baring - Gould, of Lew - Tren- 

AGE 46. 

From a Photo, bi 
Barnes, Colcheste] 

From a\ 

AGE 16. 


chard, Devon, where the family has resided 
for nearly 300 years, and of which place he is 
now the Rector. He is also Justice of the 

AGE 35. 

From a Photo. I>u Hull, 

Peace for the County 
of Devon. He had 
written on various 
subjects of historical 
research before he 
took to novel-writing. 


From a Photo, by W. & D. Downey. 



From a] 

AGE 14 


Born 1846. 
P^ BERESFORD, son of 
*1$?M ^ e Marquis °f Water- 
asS^gj ford, entered the Royal 

Navy at thirteen, served 
several warships, and accom- 


panied the Prince of Wales to 
India, in 1875, as Naval Aide-de- 
Camp. At the bombardment of 

From a Photo, by] AGE 40. [Dlrkimon t£ Potter. 

Alexandria he was in command of the gunboat Condor, 
and his gallant conduct in bearing down on the Mara- 
bout batteries and silencing guns immensely superior 
to his own was so conspicuous that the Admiral's 
ship signalled: "Well done, Condor.'" In 1884 he 
assisted Lord Wolseley in the Nile Expedition. 


Merlin, Athens. 



From a] 


Born 1847. 

10 HN ROBERTS, the finest 
billiard player the world has ever 
seen, was born at Ardwick, Man- 
chester. He commenced his 
career as a billiard player very 
early in life, for when only a child of eleven 
he assisted his father at the George Hotel, in 
Liverpool, his father at the time being univer- 

From a] 

[ Photograph. 

sally considered the best in England, and, 
consequently, we find that he had in early 
life the very best model from which to study 

the game. Some thirty years ago, when 
Roberts's father was champion, a break of 
over 200 was a rare event, whereas now it is 

AGE 26. 
From a Photograph by W'hitlock, Birmingham. 

an everyday occurrence with third-rate players. 
Roberts's highest all-round break is 3,000. 
His superiority to those who rank next to 
him is unprecedented, as evinced by his 
recent victory over Peall, to whom he gave 
9,000 in 24,000. Roberts's style is simply 

From a Photo, by I 

lAhrlt!, liombay. 

perfect, and it is wonderful to watch the 
various strokes during a long break, consist- 
ing as they do of some requiring great execu- 
tion and power of cue, and others showing 
the utmost delicacy of touch, 

The A dventures of Sherlock Holmes. 

By A. Conan Doyle. 

dTST v S c 

HAVE some papers here," 
said my friend, Sherlock 
Holmes, as we sat one 
winter's night on either side 
of the fire, " which I really 
think, Watson, it would be 
worth your while to glance over. These 
are the documents in the extraordinary case 
of the Gloria Scott, and this is the message 
which struck Justice of the Peace Trevor 
dead with horror when he read it." 

He had picked from a drawer a little 
tarnished cylinder, and, undoing the tape, he 
handed me a short note scrawled upon a half 
sheet of slate-grey paper. 

" The supply of game for London is going 
steadily up," it ran. " Head-keeper Hudson, 
we believe, has been now told to receive all 
orders for fly-paper, and for preservation of 
your hen pheasant's life." 

As I glanced up from reading this enig- 
matical message I saw Holmes chuckling at 
the expression upon my face. 

" You look a little bewildered," said he. 

" I cannot see how such a message as this 
could inspire horror. It seems to me to be 
rather grotesque than otherwise." 

" Very likely. Yet the fact remains that 
the reader, who was a fine, robust old man, 
was knocked clean down by it, as if it had 
been the butt-end of a pistol." 

" You arouse my curiosity," said I. " But 
why did you say just now that there were 
very particular reasons why I should study 
this case ? " 

" Because it was the first in which I was 
ever engaged." 

I had often endeavoured to elicit from my 
companion what had first turned his mind in 
the direction of criminal research, but I had 
never caught him before in a communicative 
humour. Now he sat forward in his arm- 
chair, and spread out the documents upon 
his knees. Then he lit his pipe and sat for 
some time smoking and turning them over. 

" You never heard me talk of Victor 
Trevor ? " he asked. " He was the only 
friend I made during the two years that I was 
at college. I was never a very sociable fellow, 
Watson, always rather fond of moping in my 
rooms and working out my own little methods 

of thought, so that I" never mixed much 
with the men of my year. Bar fencing 
and boxing I had few athletic tastes, and 
then my line of study was quite distinct 
from that of the other fellows, so that we 
had no points of contact at all. Trevor 
was the only man I knew, and that only 
through the accident of his bull-terrier 
freezing on to my ankle one morning as I 
went down to chapel. 

" It was a prosaic way of forming a friend- 
ship, but it was effective. I was laid by the 
heels for ten days, and Trevor used to come 
in to inquire after me. At first it was only a 
minute's chat, but soon his visits lengthened, 
and before the end of the term we were close 
friends. He was a hearty, full-blooded 
fellow, full of spirits and energy, the very 
opposite to me in most respects ; but we 
found we had some subjects in common, and 
it was a bond of union when I found that he 
was as friendless as I. Finally, he invited 
me down to bis father's place at Donni- 
thorpe, in Norfolk, and I accepted his 
hospitality for a month of the long vacation. 

" Old Trevor was evidently a man of some 
wealth and consideration, a J. P. and a 
landed proprietor. Donnithorpe is a little 
hamlet just to the north of Langmere, in the 
country of the Broads. The house was an 
old-fashioned, wide-spread, oak-beamed, brick 
building, with a fine lime-lined avenue lead- 
ing up to it. There was excellent wild duck 
shooting in the fens, remarkably good fishing, 
a small but select library, taken over, as I 
understood, from a former occupant, and a 
tolerable cook, so that it would be a fas- 
tidious man who could not put in a plea- 
sant month there. 

" Trevor senior was a widower, and my 
friend was his only son. There had been a 
daughter, I heard, but she had died of 
diphtheria while on a visit to Birmingham. 
The father interested me extremely. He 
was a man of little culture, but with a 
considerable amount of rude strength both 
physically and mentally. He knew hardly 
any books, but he had travelled far, had seen 
much of the world, and had remembered all 
that he had learned. In person he was a 
thick-set, burly man, with a shock of grizzled 




hair, a brown, weather-beaten face, and blue 
eyes which were keen to the verge of fierce- 
ness. Yet he had a reputation for kindness 
and charity on the country side, and was 
noted for the leniency of his sentences from 
the bench. 

" One evening, shortly after my arrival, we 
were sitting over a glass of port after dinner, 
when young Trevor began to talk about those 
habits of observation and inference which I 
had already formed into a system, although 
I had not yet appreciated the part which 
they were to play in my life. The old man 
evidently thought that his son was exaggerat- 
ing in his description of one or two trivial 
feats which I had performed. 

" ' Come now, Mr. Holmes,' said he, 
laughing good-humouredly, ' I'm an excel- 
lent subject, if you can deduce anything from 
me.' « 

" ' I fear there is not very much,' I 
answered. ' I might suggest that you have 
gone about in fear of some personal attack 
within the last twelve months.' 

" The laugh faded from his lips and he 
stared at me in great surprise. 

" ' Well, that's true enough,' said he. 
'You know, Victor,' turning to his son, 
' when we broke up that poaching gang, they 
swore to knife us ; and Sir Edward Hoby 
has actually been attacked. I've always been 
on my guard since then, though I have no 
idea how you know it' 

" ' You have a very handsome stick,' I 
answered. ' By the inscription, I observed 

did you know it ? 
little out of the 

that you had not had it more than a year. But 
you have taken some pains to bore the head of 
it and pour melted lead into the hole, so as to 
make it a formidable weapon. I argued that 
you would not take such precautions unless 
you had some danger to fear.' 

" ' Anything else ? ' he asked, smiling. 

" ' You have boxed a good deal in your 

" ' Right again. How 
Is my nose knocked a 
straight ? ' 

" ' No,' said I. ' It is your ears. They 
have the peculiar flattening and thickening 
which marks the boxing man.' 

" ' Anything else ? ' 

" ' You have done a great deal of digging, 
by your callosities.' 

" ' Made all my money at the gold-fields.' 

" ' You have been in New Zealand.' 

" ' Right again.' 

" ' You have visited Japan.' 

" ' Quite true.' 

" ' And you have been most intimately 
associated with someone whose initials were 
J. A., and whom you afterwards were eager 
to entirely forget.' 

" Mr. Trevor stood slowly up, fixed his 
large blue eyes upon me with a strange, wild 
stare, and then pitched forward with his face 
among the nutshells which strewed the cloth, 
in a dead faint. 

" You can imagine, Watson, how shocked 
both his son and I were. His attack did not 
last long, however, for when we undid his 



collar and sprinkled the water from one of 
the finger-glasses over his face, he gave a 
gasp or two and sat up. 

" ' Ah, boys ! ' said he, forcing a smile. ' I 
hope I haven't frightened you. Strong as I 
look, there is a weak place in my heart, and 
it does not take much to knock me over. 
I don't know how you manage this, Mr. 
Holmes, but it seems to me that all the 
detectives of fact and of fancy would be 
children in your hands. That's your line of 
life, sir, and you may take the word of a man 
who has seen something of the world.' 

" And that recommendation, with the ex- 
aggerated estimate of my ability with which 
he prefaced it, was, if you will believe me, 
Watson, the very first thing which ever made 
me feel that a profession might be made out 
of what had up to that time been the merest 
hobby. At the moment, however, I was too 
much concerned at the sudden illness of my 
host to think of anything else. 

" ' I hope that I have said nothing to pain 
you,' said I. 

" ' Well, you certainly touched upon rather 
a tender point. Might I ask how you know 
and how much you know ? ' He spoke now 
in a half jesting fashion, but a look of terror 
still lurked at the back of his eyes. 

"'It is simplicity itself,' said I. 'When 
you bared your arm to draw that fish into 
the boat I saw that " J. A." had been tattooed 
in the bend of the elbow. The letters were 
still legible, but it was perfectly clear from 
their blurred appearance, and from the 
staining of the skin round them, that efforts 
had been made to obliterate them. It was 
obvious, then, that those initials had once 
been very familiar to you, and that you had 
afterwards wished to forget them.' 

" ' What an eye you have ! ' he cried, with 
a sigh of relief. ' It is just as you say. 
But we won't talk of it. Of all ghosts, the 
ghosts of our old loves are the worst. Come 
into the billiard-room and have a quiet cigar.' 

" From that day, amid all his cordiality, 
there was always a touch of suspicion in Mr. 
Trevor's manner towards me. Even his son 
remarked it. ' You've given the governor 
such a turn,' said he, 'that he'll never be 
sure again of what you know and what you 
don't know.' He did not mean to show it, 
I am sure, but it was so strongly in his mind 
that it peeped out at every action. At last 
I became so convinced that I was causing 
him uneasiness, that I drew my visit to a 
close. On the very day, however, before I 
left an incident occurred which proved in the 
sequel to be of importance. 

" We were sitting out upon the lawn 0:1 
garden chairs, the three of us, basking in the 
sun and admiring the view across the Broads, 
when the maid came out to say that there 
was a man at the door who wanted to see 
Mr. Trevor. 

." ' What is his name ? ' asked my host. 

" ' He would not give any.' - 

" .' What does he want, then ? ' 

" ' He says that you know him, and that 
he only wants a moment's conversation.' 

"'Show him round here.' An instant 
afterwards there appeared a little wizened 
fellow, with a cringing manner and a sham- 
bling style of walking. He wore an open 
jacket, with a splotch of tar on the sleeve, 
a red and black check shirt, dungaree 
trousers, and heavy boot! badly worn. His 
face was thin and brown and crafty, with a 
perpetual smile upon it, which showed an 
irregular line of yellow teeth, and his crinkled 
hands were half-closed in a way that is dis- 
tinctive of sailors. As he came slouching 
across the lawn I heard Mr. Trevor make a 
sort of hiccoughing noise in his throat, and, 
jumping out of his chair, he ran into the 
house. He was back in a moment, and I 
smelt a strong reek of brandy as he passed 

" ' Well, my man,' said he, ' what can I 
do for you ? ' 

"The sailor stood looking at him with 
puckered eyes, and with the .same loose- 
lipped smile upon his face. 

" ' You don't know me ? ' he asked. 

" ' Why, dear me, it is surely Hudson ! ' 
said Mr. Trevor, in a tone of surprise. 

" ' Hudson it is, sir,' said the seaman. 
' Why, it's thirty year and more since I saw 
you last. Here you are in your house, and 
me still picking my salt meat out of the 
harness cask.' 

" ' Tut, you will find that I have not 
forgotten old times,' cried Mr. Trevor, and, 
walking towards the sailor, he said something 
in a low voice. ' Go into the kitchen,' he 
continued out loud, ' and you will get food 
and drink. I have no doubt that I shall 
find you a situation.' 

" ' Thank you, sir,' said the seaman, 
touching his forelock. ' I'm just off a two- 
yearer in an eight-knot tramp, short-handed 
at that, and I wants a rest. I thought I'd 
get it either with Mr. Beddoes or with you.' 

" ' Ah ! ' cried Mr. Trevor, ' you know- 
where Mr. Beddoes is ? ' 

" ' Bless you, sir, I know where all my old 

friends are,' said the fellow, with a sinister 

smile, and slouched off after the maid to the 

Vol, v —52, 



).\ IT IS, SIU, 


kitchen. Mr. Trevor mumbled something to 
us about having been shipmates with the 
man when he was going back to. the diggings, 
and then, leaving us on the lawn, he went 
indoors. An hour later, when we entered the 
house we found him stretched dead drunk 
upon the dining - room sofa. The whole 
incident left a most ugly impression upon my 
mind, and I was not sorry next day to leave 
Donnithorpe behind me, for I felt that my 
presence must be a source of embarrassment 
to my friend. 

" All this occurred during the first month of 
the long vacation. I went up to my London 
rooms, where I spent seven weeks working 
out a few experiments in organic chemistry. 
One day, however, when the autumn was 
far advanced and the vacation drawing to a 
close, I received a telegram from my friend 
imploring me to return to Donnithorpe, and 
saying that he was in great need of my advice 
and assistance. Of course I dropped every- 
thing, and set out for the north once more. 

"He met me with the dog-cart at the 
station, and I saw at a glance that the last 
two months had been very trying ones for 
him. He had grown thin and careworn, and 
had lost the loud, cheery manner for which 
he had been remarkable. 

"'The governor is dying,' were the first 
words he said. 

"'Impossible!' I cried. 'What is the 
matter ? ' 

" ' Apoplexy. Nervous shock. He's been 
on the verge all day. I doubt if we shall 
find him alive.' 

" I was, as you may think, Watson, horri- 
fied at this unexpected news. 

" ' What has caused it ? ' I asked. 

" ' Ah, that is the point. Jump in, and 
we can talk it over while we drive. You 
remember that fellow who came upon the 
evening before you left us ? ' 

" ' Perfectly.' 

" 'Do you know who it was that we let into 
the house that day ? ' 
■ " ' I have no idea.' 

" ' It was the Devil, Holmes ! ' he cried. 

" I stared at him in astonishment. 

" ' Yes ; it was the Devil himself. We 
have not had a peaceful hour since — not one. 
The governor has never held up his head 
from that evening, and now the life has been 
crushed out of him, and his heart broken all 
through this accursed Hudson.' 

" ' What power had he, then ? ' 

" ' Ah ! that is what I would give so much 
to know. The kindly, charitable, good old 



governor ! How could he have fallen into 
the clutches of such a ruffian ? But I am so 
glad that you have come, Holmes. 1 trust 
very much to your judgment and discretion, 
and 1 know that you will advise me for the 

" We were dashing along the smooth, white 
country road, with the long stretch of the 
Broads in front of us glimmering in the red 
light of the setting sun. From a grove upon 
our left I could already see the high chimneys 
and the flag-staff which marked the squire's 

" ' My father made the fellow gardener,' 
said my companion, ' and then, as that did 
not satisfy him, he was promoted to be 
butler. The house seemed to be at his 
mercy, and he wandered about and did what 
he chose in it. The maids complained of 
his drunken habits and his vile language. 
The dad raised their wages all round to 
recompense them for the annoyance. The 
fellow would take the boat and my father's 
best gun and treat himself to little shooting- 
parties. And all this with such a sneering, 
leering, insolent face, that I would have 
knocked him down twenty times over if lie 
had been a man of my own age. I tell you, 
Holmes, 1 have had to keep a tight hold 
upon myself all this time, and now I 
am asking myself whether, if I had let 
myself go a little more, I might not have 
been a wiser man. 

" ' Well, matters went 
from bad to worse with 
us, and this animal, 
Hudson, became more 
and more intrusive, until 
at last, on his making 
some insolent reply to 
my father in my presence 
one day, I took him by ■ 
the shoulder and turned 
him out of the room. 
He slunk away with a 
livid face, and two 
venomous eyes which 
uttered more threats than 
his tongue could do. I 
don't know what passed 
between the poor dad 
and him after that, but 
the dad came to me next 
day and asked me whether 
I would mind apolo- 
gizing to Hudson. I refused, as you can 
imagine, and asked my father how he could 
allow such a wretch to take such liberties 
with himself and his household. 

"'Ah, my boy,' said he, 'it is all very 
■well to talk, but you don't know how I am 
placed. But you shall know, Victor. I'll 
see that you shall know, come what may ! 
Vou wouldn't believe harm of your poor old 
father, would you, lad ?' He was very much 
moved, and shut himself up in the study all 
day, where I could see through the window 
that he was writing busily. 

"'That evening there came what seemed 
to me to be a grand release, for Hudson told 
us that he was going to leave us. He walked 
into the dining-room as we sat after dinner, 
and announced his intention in the thick 
voice of a half-drunken man. 

" ' I've had enough of Norfolk,' said he. 
' I'll run down to Mr. Beddoes, in Hamp- 
shire.. He'll be as glad to see me as you 
were, I daresay.' 

" ' You're not going away in an unkind 
spirit, Hudson, I hope,' said my father, with 
a tameness which made my blood boil. 

" ' I've not had 
my 'pology," said 
he, sulkily, glanc- 
ing in my direc- 

" ' Victor, you 
will acknowledge 


that you have used this worthy fellow 
rather roughly?' said the dad, turning to 

" ' On the contrary. I think that we have 



both shown extraordinary patience towards 
him,' I answered. 

" ' Oh, you do, do you ? ' he snarled. 
' Very good, mate. We'll see about that ! ' 
He slouched out of the room, and half an 
hour afterwards left the house, leaving my 
father in a state of pitiable nervousness. 
Night after night I heard him pacing his 
room, and it was just as he was recovering 
his confidence that the blow did at last 

" 'And how?' I asked, eagerly. 

" ' In a most extraordinary fashion. A 
letter arrived for my father yesterday evening, 
bearing the Fordingbridge postmark. My 
father read it, clapped both his hands to 
his head and began running round the room 
in little circles like a man who has been 
driven out of his senses. When I at last 
drew him down on to the sofa, his mouth 
and eyelids were all puckered on one side, 
and I saw that he had a stroke. Dr. 
l'ordham came over at once, and we put him 
to bed ; but the paralysis has spread, he has 
shown no sign of returning consciousness, 
and I think that we shall hardly find him 

" ' You horrify me, Trevor ! ' I cried. 
' What, then, could have been in this letter 
to cause so dreadful a result ? ' 

" ' Nothing. There lies the inexplicable 
part of it. The message was absurd and 
trivial. Ah, my God, it is as I feared I ' 

" As he spoke we came round the curve of 
the avenue, and saw in the fading light that 
every blind in the house had been drawn 
down, As we dashed up to the door, 
my friend's face convulsed with n vief, a 
gentleman in black emerged from it. 

"'When did it happen, doctor?' asked 

" 'Almost immediately after you left.' 

" ' Did he recover consciousness ? ' 

" ' For an instant before the end.' 

" ' Any message for me ? ' 

" ' Only that the papers were in the back 
drawer of the Japanese cabinet.' 

" My friend ascended with the doctor to 
the chamber of death, while I remained in 
the study, turning the whole matter over and 
over in my head, and feeling as sombre as 
ever I had done in my life. What was the 
past of this Trevor : pugilist, traveller, and 
gold-digger ; and how had he placed himself 
in the power of this acid-faced seaman ? 
Why, too, should he faint at an allusion to 
the half-effaced initials upon his arm, and die 
of fright when he had a letter from Fording- 
bridge ? Then I remembered that Fordina;- 

bridge was in Hampshire, and that this Mr. 
Beddoes, whom the seaman had gone to 
visit, and presumably to blackmail, had also 
been mentioned as living in Hampshire. 
The letter, then, might either come from 
Hudson, the seaman, saying that he had 
betrayed the guilty secret which appeared to 
exist, or it might come from Beddoes, warn- 
ing an old confederate that such a betrayal 
was imminent. So far it seemed clear 
enough. But, then, how could the letter be 
trivial and grotesque, as described by the 
son ? He must have misread it. If so, it 
must have been one of those ingenious 
' secret codes which mean one thing while 
they seem to mean another. I must see this 
letter. If there were a hidden meaning in it, 
I was confident that I could pluck it forth. 
For an hour I sat pondering over it in the 
gloom, until at last a weeping maid brought 
in a lamp, and close at her heels came 
my friend Trevor, pale but composed, with 
these very papers which lie upon my knee 
held in his grasp. He sat down opposite to 
me, drew the lam]) to the edge of the table, 
and handed me a short note scribbled, as 
you see,, upon a single sheet of grey paper. 
' The supply of game for London is going 
steadily up,' it ran. ' Head-keeper Hudson, 
we believe, has been now told to receive all 
orders for fly-paper and for preservation of 
your hen pheasant's life.' 

" I daresay my face looked as bewildered as 
yours did just now when first I read this 
message. Then I re-read it very carefully. 
It was evidently as I had thought, and some 
second meaning must lie buried in this strange 
combination of words. Or could it be that 
there was a prearranged significance to such 
phrases as ' fly-paper ' and 'hen pheasant'? 
Such a meaning would be arbitrary, and 
could not be deduced in any way. And yet 
I was loth to believe that this was the case, 
and the presence of the word ' Hudson ' 
seemed to show that the subject of the 
message was as I had guessed, and that it 
was from Beddoes rather than the sailor. I 
tried it backwards, but the combination, 
' Life pheasant's hen,' was not encouraging. 
Then I tried alternate words, but neither 
' The of for ' nor ' supply game London ' 
promised -to throw any light upon it. 
And then in an instant the key of 
the riddle was in my hands, and I saw that 
every third word beginning with the first 
would give a message which might well drive 
old Trevor to despair. 

" It was short and terse, the warning, as I 
now read it to my companion ; — 





" ' The game is up. Hudson has told all. 
Fly for your life.' 

" Victor Trevor sank his face into his 
shaking hands. ' It must he that, I 
suppose,' said he. ' This is worse than 
death, for it means disgrace as well. But 
what is the meaning of these " head-keepers " 
and " hen pheasants " ? 

" ' It means nothing to the message, but it 
might mean a good deal to us if we had no 
other means of discovering the sender. 
You see that he has begun by writii.g, 

" The game is," and so on. 

Afterwards he had, to fulfil the prearranged 
cipher, to fill in any two words in each space. 
He would naturally use the first words which 
came to his mind, and if there were so many 
which referred to sport among them, you may 
be tolerably sure that he is either an ardent 
shot or interested in breeding. Do you 
know anything of this Beddoes ? ' 

"'Why, now th'at you mention it,' said he, 
' I remember that my poor father used to 
have an invitation from him to shoot over 
his preserves every autumn.' 

" ' Then it is undoubtedly from him that 
the note comes,' said I. ' It only remains 
for us to find out what this secret was which 
the sailor Hudson seems to have held over 
the heads of these two wealthy and respected 

" ' Alas, Holmes, I fear that it is one of 
sin and shame ! ' cried my friend. ' But 
from you I shall have no secrets. Here is 

the statement which was drawn up by my 
father when he knew that the danger from 
Hudson had become imminent. I found it 
in the Japanese cabinet, as he told the doctor. 
Take it and read it to me, for I have neither 
the strength nor the courage to do it myself.' 

" These are the very papers, Watson, 
which he handed to me, and I will read 
them to you as I read them in the old study 
that night to him. They are indorsed out- 
side, as you see : ' Some particulars of the 
voyage of the barque Gloria Scott, from her 
leaving Falmouth on the 8th October, 1855, 
to her destruction in N. lat. 15" 20', W. long. 
25" 14', on November 6th.' It is in the 
form of a letter, and runs in this way :— 

" My dear, dear son, — Now that ap- 
proaching disgrace begins to darken the 
closing years of my life, I can write with all 
truth and honesty that it is not the terror of 
the law, it is not the loss of my position in 
the county, nor is it my fall in the eyes of all 
who have known me, which cuts me to the 
heart ; but it is the thought that you should 
come to blush for me — you who love me, 
and who have seldom, I hope, had reason to 
do other than respect me. But if the blow 
falls which is for ever hanging over me, then 
I should wish you to read this that you may 
know straight from me how far I have been 
to blame. On the other hand, if all should 
go well (which may kind (Sod Almighty- 
grant !), then if by any chance this paper 
should be still undestroyed, and should fall 



into your hands, I conjure you by all you 
hold sacred, by the memory of your clear 
mother, and by the love which has been 
between us, to hurl it into the fire, and to 
never give one thought to it again. 

"If, then, your eye goes on to read this 
line, I know that I shall already have been 
exposed and dragged from my home, or, as is 
more likely — tor you know that my heart is 
weak — be lying with my tongue sealed for ever 
in death. In either case the time for sup- 
pression is past, and every word which I tell 
you is the naked truth ; and this I swear as I 
hooe for mercy. 

" My name, dear lad, is not Trevor. I was 
James Armitage in my younger days, and 
you can understand now the shock that it 
was to me a few weeks ago when your college 
friend addressed me in words which seemed 
to imply that he had surmised my secret. 
As Armitage it was that I entered a London 
banking house, and as Armitage I was con- 
victed of breaking my country's laws, and was 
sentenced to transportation. Do not think 
very harshly of me, laddie. It was a debt of 
honour, so-called, which I had to pay, and I 
used money which was not my own to do it, 
in the certainty that I could replace it before 
there could be any possibility of its being- 
missed. But the most dreadful ill-luck pur- 
sued me. The money which I had reckoned 
upon never came to hand, and a premature 
examination of accounts exposed my deficit. 
The case might have been dealt leniently 
with, but the laws were more harshly adminis- 
tered thirty years ago than now, and on my 
twenty-third birthday I found myself chained 
as a felon with thirty-seven other convicts in 
the 'tween decks of the barque Gloria San'/, 
bound for Australia. 

"It was the year '55, when the Crimean 
War was at its height, and the old convict 
ships had been largely used as transports in 
the Black Sea. The Government was com- 
pelled therefore to use smaller and less 
suitable vessels for sending out their pri- 
soners. The Gloria Scott had been in the 
Chinese tea trade, but she was an old- 
fashioned, heavy-bowed, broad-beamed craft, 
and the new clippers had cut her out. She 
was a 500-ton boat, and besides her thirty- 
eight gaol-birds, she carried twenty-six of a 
crew, eighteen soldiers, a captain, three mates, 
a doctor, a chaplain, and four warders. 
Nearly a hundred souls were in her, all 
told, when we set sail from Falmouth. 

" The partitions between the cells of the 
convicts, instead of being of thick oak, as is 
usual in convict ships, were quite thin and 

frail. The man next to me upon the aft 
side was one whom I had particularly noticed 
when we were led down the quay. He was 
a young man with a clear, hairless face, a long 
thin nose, and rather nutcracker jaws. He 
carried his head very jauntily in the air, had 
a swaggering style of walking, and was above 
all else remarkable for his extraordinary 
height. 1 don't think any of our heads 
would come up to his shoulder, and I am 
sure that he could not have measured less 
than six and a half feet. It was strange 
among so many sad and weary faces to see 
one whicli was full of energy and resolution. 
The sight of it was to me like a fire in. a 
snowstorm. I was glad then to find that 
he was my neighbour, and gladder still when, 
in the dead of the night, I heard a whisper 
close to my ear, and found that he had 
managed to cut an opening in the board 
which separated us. 

" ' Halloa, chummy ! ' said he, ' what's 
your name, and what are you here for ? ' 

" I answered him, and asked in turn who 
I was talking with. 

"'I'm Jack Prendergast,' said lie, 'and, 
by Cod, you'll learn to bless my name before 
you've done with me ! ' 

"I remembered hearing of his case, for it 
was one which had made an immense 
sensation throughout the country, some time 
before my own arrest. He was a man of 
good family and of, great ability, but of in- 
curably vicious habits, who had, by an 
ingenious system of fraud, obtained huge 
sums of money from the leading London 

" ' Ah, ha ! You remember my case ? ' said 
he, proudly. 

" ' Very well indeed.' 

"'Then maybe you remember something 
queer about it? ' 

" ' What was that, then ? ' 

"'I'd had nearly a quarter of a million, 
hadn't I ? ' 

" ' So it was said.' 

" ' But none was recovered, eh ? ' 

" ' No.' 

" ' Well, where d'ye suppose the balance 
is ? ' he asked. 

" ' I have no idea,' said I. 

" ' Right between my finger and thumb,' 
he cried. ' By God, I've got more pounds 
to my name than you have hairs on your 
head. And if you've money, my son, and 
know how to handle it and spread it, you can 
do anything.' Now, you don't think it likely 
that a man who could do anything is going 
to wear his breeches out sitting in the stink- 



ing hold of a rat-gutted, beetle-ridden, mouldy 
old coffin of a China coaster ? No, sir, such 
a man will look after himself, and will look 
after his chums. You may lay to that ! You 
hold on to him, and you may kiss the Book 
that he'll haul you through.' 

" That was his style of talk, and at first I 
thought it meant nothing, but after a while, 
when he had tested me and sworn me in with 
all possible solem- 
nity, he let me under- 
stand that there really 
was a plot to gain 
command of the 
vessel. A dozen of 
the prisoners had 
hatched it before they 
came aboard ; Pren- 
dergastwas the leader, 
and his money was 
the motive power. 

" ' I'd a partner,' 
said he, ' a rare good 
man, as true as a 
stock to a barrel. 
He's got the dibbs, he 
has, and where do you 
think he is at this 
moment ? Why, he's 
the chaplain of this 
ship — the chaplain, 
no less ! He came 
aboard with a black 
coat and his papers 
right, and money 
enough in his box 
to buy the thing right 
up from keel to main 
truck. The crew are 
his, body and soul. 
He could buy 'em at 
so much a gross with 
a cash discount, and 
he did it before ever 
they signed on. He's 
got two of the 
warders and Mercer 

the second mate, and he'd get the captain 
himself if he thought him worth it' 

" ' What are we to do, then ? ' I asked. 

" ' What do you think ? ' said he. ' We'll 
make the coats of some of these soldiers 
redder than ever the tailor did.' 

" ' But they are armed,' said I. 

" ' And so shall we be, my boy. There's a 
brace of pistols for every mother's son of us, 
and if we can't carry this ship, with the crew 
at our back, it's time -we were all sent to a 
young Miss's boarding school. You speak to 


your mate on the left to-night, and see if he 
is to be trusted.' 

" I did so, and found my other neighbour 
to be a young fellow in much the same 
position as myself, whose crime had been 
forgery. His name was Evans, but he after- 
wards changed it, like myself, and he is now 
a rich and prosperous man in the South of 
England. He was ready enough to join the 
conspiracy, as the only 
means of saving our- 
selves, and before we 
had crossed the Bay 
there were only two of 
the prisoners who 
were not in the secret. 
One of these was of 
weak mind, and we 
did not dare to trust 
him, and the other 
was suffering from 
jaundice, and could 
not be of any use to 

" From the begin 
ning there was really 
nothing to prevent 
us taking possession 
of the ship. The 
crew were a set of 
ruffians, specially 
picked for the job. 
The sham chaplain 
came into our cells 
to exhort us, carrying 
a black bag, sup 
posed to be full of 
tracts ; and so often 
did he come that by 
the third day we had 
each stowed away at 
the foot of our bed 
a file, a brace of 
pistols, a pound of 
powder, and twenty 
slugs. Two of the 
warders were agents 
of Prendergast, and the second mate was 
his right-hand man. The captain, the two 
mates, two warders, Lieutenant Martin, his 
eighteen soldiers, and the doctor were all 
that we had against us. Yet, safe as it was, 
we determined to neglect no precaution, and 
to make our attack suddenly at night. It 
came, however, more quicklythan we expected, 
and in this way : — 

" One evening, about the third week after 
our start, the doctor had come down to see 
one of the prisoners, who was ill, and, putting 



his hand down on the bottom of his bunk, he 
felt the outline of the pistols. If he had 
been silent he might have blown the whole 
thing ; but he was a nervous little chap, so 
he gave a cry of surprise and turned so pale, 
that the man knew what was up in an in- 
stant and seized him. He was gagged before 
he could give the alarm, and tied down upon 
the bed. He had unlocked the door that 
led to the deck, and we were through it in a 
rush. The two sentries were shot down, and 
so was a corporal who came running to see 
what was the matter. There were two more 
soldiers at the door of the state-room, and 
their muskets seemed not to be loaded, for 
they never fired upon us, and they were shot 
while trying to fix their bayonets. Then we 
rushed on into the captain's cabin, but as we 
pushed open the door there was an explosion 
from within, and there he lay with his 
head on the chart of the Atlantic, which 
was pinned upon the table, while the chap- 
lain stood, with a smoking pistol in his hand, 


at his elbow. The two mates had both been 
seized by the crew, and the whole business 
seemed to be settled. 

" The state-room was next the cabin, and 
we flocked in there and flopped down on the 
settees all speaking together, for we were just 
mad with the feeling that we were free once 

more. There were lockers all round, and 
Wilson, the sham chaplain, knocked one of 
them in, and pulled out a dozen of brown 
sherry. We cracked off the necks of the 
bottles, poured the stuff out into tumblers, 
and were just tossing them off, when in an 
instant, without warning, there came the roar 
of muskets in our ears, and the saloon was 
so full of smoke that we could not see across 
the table. When it cleared again the place 
was a shambles. Wilson and eight others 
were wriggling on the top of each other on 
the floor, and the blood and the brown sherry 
on that table turn me sick now when I think 
of it. We were so cowed by the sight that I 
think we should have given the job up if it 
had not been for l'rendergast. He bellowed 
like a bull, and rushed for the door with all 
that were left alive at his heels. Out we ran, 
and there on the poop were the lieutenant 
and ten of his men. The swing skylights 
above the saloon table had been a bit open, 
and they had fired on us through the slit. 

We got on them 
before they could 
load, and they 
stood to it like 
men, but we had 
the upper hand 
of them, and in 
five minutes it 
was all over. 
My God ! was 
there ever a 
slaughter - house 
like that ship ? 
l'rendergast was 
like a raging 
devil, and he 
jiicked t li e 
soldiers up as if 
they had been 
children and 
threw them over- 
board, alive or 
dead. There 
was one sergeant 
that was horribly 
wounded, and 
yet kept on swim- 
Mi. in his hand.' ming for a sur- 
prising time, until 
someone in mercy blew out his brains. 
When the fighting was over there was no 
one left of our enemies except just the 
warders, the mates, and the doctor. 

" It was over them that the great quarrel 
arose. There were many of us who were 
glad enough to win back our freedom, and 



yet who had no wish to have murder on our 
souls. It was one thing to knock the soldiers 
over with their muskets in their hands, ■•and it 
was another to stand by while men were 
being killed in cold blood. Eight of us, five 
convicts and three sailors, said that we would 
not see it done. But there was no moving 
Prendergast and those who were with him. 
Our only chance of safety lay in making a 
clean job of it, said he, and he would not 
leave a tongue with power to wag in a 
witness-box. It nearly came to our sharing 
the fate of the prisoners, but at last he said 
that if we wished we might take a boat and 
go. We jumped at the offer, for we were 
already sick of these bloodthirsty doings, and 
we saw that there would be worse before it was 
done. We were given a suit of sailors' togs each, 
a barrel of water, two casks, one of junk and 
one of biscuits, and a compass. Prendergast 
threw us over a chart, told us that we were 
shipwrecked mariners whose ship had 
foundered in lat. 15" N. and long. 25° W., and 
then cut the painter and let us go. 

" And now I come to the most surprising 
part of my story, my dear son. The seamen 
had hauled the foreyard aback during the 
rising, but now as w r e left them they brought 
it square again, and, as there was a light wind 
from the north and east, the barque began 
to draw slowly away from us. Our boat 
lay, rising and falling, upon the long, smooth 
rollers, and Evans and I, who were the most 
educated of the 
party, were sit- 
ting in the 
sheets working 
out our position 
and planning 
what coast we 
should make 
for. It was a 
nice question, 
for the Cape de 
Verds were 
about 500 miles 
to the north of 
us, and the 
African coast 
about 700 miles 
to the east. On 
the whole, as 
the wind was 
coming round 
to north, we 
thought that 
Sierra Leone 
might be best, 
and turned our 

head in that direction, the barque being 
at that time nearly hull down on our 
starboard quarter. Suddenly as we looked 
at her we saw a dense black cloud of 
smoke shoot up from her, which hung like 
a monstrous tree upon the sky-line. A few 
seconds later a roar like thunder burst upon 
our ears, and as the smoke thinned away 
there was no sign left of the Gloria Scott. 
In an instant we swept the boat's head round 
again, and pulled with all our strength for 
the place where the haze, still trailing over 
the water, marked the scene of this 

" It was a long hour before we reached it, 
and at first we feared that we had come too 
late to save anyone. A splintered boat and 
a number of crates and fragments of spars 
rising and falling on the waves showed us 
where, the vessel had foundered, but there 
was no sign of life, .and we had turned 
away in despair when we heard a cry for 
help, and saw at some distance a piece of 
wreckage with a man lying stretched across 
it. When we pulled him aboard the boat he 
proved to be a young seaman of the name of 
Hudson, who was so burned and exhausted 
that he could give us no account of what bad 
happened until the following morning. 

" It seemed that after we had left, Prender- 
gast and his gang had proceeded to put to 
death the five remaining prisoners : the two 
warders had been shot and thrown overboard, 


Vol. v -53. 



and so also had the third mate. Prendergast 
.hen descended into the 'tween decks, and 
with his own hands cut the throat of the un- 
fortunate surgeon. There only remained the 
first mate, who was a bold and active man. 
When he saw the convict approaching him 
.vith the bloody knife in his hand, he kicked 
off his bonds, which he had somehow con- 
trived to loosen, and rushing down the deck 
he plunged into the after-hold. 

" A dozen convicts who descended with 
their pistols in search of him found him with 
a match-box in his hand seated beside an 
open powder barrel, which was one of a 
hundred carried on board, and swearing that 
he would blow all hands up if he were in any 
way molested. An instant later the explosion 
occurred, though Hudson thought it was 
caused by the misdirected bullet of one of 
the convicts rather than the mate's match. 
Be the cause what it may, it was the end of 
the Gloria Scott, and of the rabble who held 
command of her. 

" Such, in a few words, my dear boy, is the 
history of this terrible business in which I 
was involved. Next day we were picked up 
by the brig Hotspur, bound for Australia, 
whose captain found no difficulty in believing 
that we were the survivors of a passenger 
ship which had foundered. The transport 
ship, Gloria Scott, was set down by the 
Admiralty as being lost at sea, and no word 
has ever leaked out as to her true fate. 
After an excellent voyage the Hotspur landed 
us at Sydney, where Evans and I changed 
our names and made our way to the diggings, 
where, among the crowds who were gathered 
from all nations, we had no difficulty in losing 
our former identities. 

" The rest I need not relate. We pros- 
pered, we travelled, we came back as rich 
Colonials to England, and we bought country 
estates. For more than twenty years we 

have led peaceful and useful lives, and 
we hoped that our past was for ever buried. 
Imagine, then, my feelings when in the sea- 
man who came to us I recognised instantly 
the man who had been picked off the wreck ! 
He had tracked us down somehow, and had 
set himself to live upon our fears. You will 
understand now how it was that I strove to 
keep peace with him, and you will in some 
measure sympathize with me in the fears which 
fill me, now that he has gone from me to his 
other victim with threats upon his tongue. 

" Underneath is written, in a hand so 
shaky as to be hardly legible, ' Beddoes 
writes in cipher to say that H. has told all. 
Sweet Lord, have mercy on our souls ! ' 

" That was the narrative which I read that 
night to young Trevor, and I think, Watson, 
that under the circumstances it was a 
dramatic one. The good fellow was heart- 
broken at it, and went out to the Terai tea 
planting, where I hear that he is doing 
well. As to the sailor and Beddoes, neither 
of them was ever heard of again after that 
day on which the letter of warning was 
written. They both disappeared utterly and 
completely. No complaint had been lodged 
with the police, so that Beddoes had mis- 
taken a threat for a deed. Hudson had been 
seen lurking about, and it was believed by 
the police that he had done away with 
Beddoes, and had fled. For myself, I believe 
that the truth was exactly the opposite. I 
think that it is most probable that Beddoes, 
pushed to desperation, and believing himself 
to have been already betrayed, had revenged 
himself upon Hudson, and had fled from the 
country with as much money as he could lay 
his hands on. Those are the facts of the 
case, Doctor, and if they are of any use to 
your collection, I am sure that they are very 
heartily at your service." 


rcs^ iw ag^ 




the stimulus of competition may soon cause it. The case 
most nearly approaching one of friendship between man and 
snake known to me is the case of Tyrrell, the Zoo snake 
keeper, and his " laidly worms." But, then, the friendship 
is mostly on Tyrrell's side, and, moreover, Tyrrell is rather 
more than human, as anyone will admit who sees him hang 
boa constrictors round his neck. Of course one often hears 
of boys making pets of common English snakes, but a boy is 
not a human creature at all ; he is a kind of harpy. 
The prairie marmot and the burrowing owl come into neigh- 

li»»*J; — >; 

hourly contact with the 
rattlesnake, but the ac- 
quaintance does 
not quite amount 
to friendship. 
The prairie marmot takes a lot of trouble and 
builds a nice burrow, and then the owl, who 
is only a slovenly sort of architect himself, 
comes along and takes apartments. It has 
never been quite settled whether or not the 
lodger and the landlord agree pleasantly 
together, but in the absence of any posi- 
tive evidence they may be given credit 
for perfect amiability ; because nobody 
has found traces of owl in a dead mar- 
mot's interior, nor of marmot in an owl's. 
But the rattlesnake is another thing. He lodger. 

waits till the residence has been made perfectly 
comfortable, and then comes in himself ; not in the 
friendly capacity of a lodger, but as a sort of unholy 
writter — a scaly man-in-possession. He eats the 
marmot's family and perhaps the marmot himself: 
.curling himself up comfortably in the best part of 
the drawing-room. The owl and his belongings he 
leaves severely alone ; but whether 

from a doubt as 
distraining upon 

to the legality 
the goods of 



lodger, or from a certainty as to the lodger's goods 
including claws and a beak, naturalists do not say. 
Personally, I incline very much to the claw-and-beak 
theory, having seen an owl kill a snake in a very neat 
and workmanlike manner ; and, indeed, the rattlesnake 
sometimes catches a Tartar even in the marmot. 

It isn't terror of the snake that makes him 
popular ; the most harmless 
snake never acquires the 
confidence of other crea- 
tures ; and one hesitates to 
carry it in his hat. This 
general repugnance is some- 
thing like backing a bill or 
paying a tailor — entirely a 
matter of form. Nothing 






else has sympathy with the serpent's shape. When any other animal barters away 
his legs he buys either fins or wings with them; this is a generally-understood law, 
invariably respected. But the snake goes in for extrava- 
gance in ribs and vertebrae; an eccentric, rakish, and im- 
proper proceeding ; part of an irregular and raffish life. 
Nothing can carry within it affection, or even respect, for 
an animal whose tail begins nowhere in particular, un- 
less it is at the neck ; even if any creature may 
esteem it an animal at all that is but a tail with a 
mouth and eyes at one end. Dignify the mouth 
and eyes into a head, and still you have nothing 
wherewith to refute those who shall call the snake 
tribe naught but heads and tails ; a vulgar and 
raffish condition of life, of pot-house and Tommy- 
Dod suggestion. 

And this is why nothing loves a snake. It is 
not because the snake is feared, but because it 
is incomprehensible. The talk of its upas-like 
influence, its deadly fascination, is chiefly pic- 
turesque humbug. Ducks will approach a 
snake curiously, inwardly debating- the possi- 
bility of digesting so big a worm at one meal; 
the moving tail-tip they will peck at cheerfully. 
This was the sort of thing that one might have 
observed for himself years ago, here at the Zoo; 
at the time when the snakes lived in the old 
house in blankets, because of the unsteadiness of the thermo- 
meter, and were fed in public. Now the snakes are fed in strict 
privacy lest the sight overset the morals of visitors ; the killing of a bird, a rabbit, or a 
rat by a snake being almost a quarter as unpleasant to look upon as the killing of the same 
animal by a man in a farmyard or elsewhere. The abject terror inspired by the presence 
of a snake is such that an innocent rat will set to gnawing the snake's tail in default of more 

how's the glass 


^rsaa S*«ek- 



usual provender ; while a rabbit placed 
with a snake near skin-shedding time 
will placidly nibble the loose rags of 
epidermis about the snake's sides. 

The pig treats the snake with dis- 
respect, not to say insolence ; nothing, 
ophidian or otherwise, can fascinate a 
pig. If your back garden is infested 
with rattlesnakes you should keep 
pigs. The pig dances contemptuously 
on the rattlesnake, and eats him with 
much relish, rattles and all. The last emotion 
of the rattlesnake is intense astonishment ; and 
astonishment is natural, in the circum- 
stances. A respectable and experienced 
rattlesnake, many years established in 
business, has been accustomed to spread 
panic everywhere within ear and eye 
shot ; everything capable of motion has started 
off at the faintest rustle of his rattles, and his 
view of animal life from those expres- 
sionless eyes has invariably been a back 
view, and a rapidly diminishing one. 
After a life-long experience of this sort, 
to be unceremoniously rushed upon by 
a common pig, to be jumped upon, to 
be flouted and snouted, to be treated as 
so much swill, and finally to be made a snack 
of — this causes a feeling of very natural and pain- 
ful surprise in the rattlesnake. But a rattlesnake 
is only surprised in this way once, and he is said 
to improve the pork. 

As a lour de force in the gentle art of lying, 
the snake-story is justly esteemed. All the 
records in this particular branch of sport are 
held in th.e United States of America, where 
proficiency at snakes is the first qualification of 
a descriptive reporter. The old story of the 
two snakes swallowing each other from the tail 
till both disappeared ; the story of the snake 
that took its own tail in its mouth and trundled 
after its victim like a hoop ; the story of 
the man who chopped a snake in half 




just as it was 
bolting a rat, 
so that the 
rat merely 
through the fore- 
most half and 
escaped — all 
these have been beaten out 
of sight in America. At pre- 
sent Brazil claims the record 
for absolute length of the 
snakes themselves ; but the 
Yankee snake-story man will 
soon claim that record too. 
He will explain that each 
State pays a 
reward for every 
killed with- 
in its own 
limits ; but 
that there 

are alway disputes be- 
tween the different States as to payment : because 
most of the snakes killed are rather large, crawling across several States at once. 

Here, among a number of viperine snakes of about the same size, is a snake that lives on 
eggs. He is about as thick as a lead pencil, but that doesn't prevent his swallowing a large 

pigeon's egg whole, nor even a hen's egg at a pinch. 
It dislocates his jaw, but that is a part of his pro- 
fessional system, and when the business is over he 
calmly joints up his jaw again 
and goes to sleep. He is 
eccentric, even for a 

snake, and wears his 

teeth on his backbone, 

where they may break 
the egg-shell so that he may 
pit it away. When he first 
stretched his head round 
an egg, the viperine snakes 
in the same case hastily 
assumed him to be a very 
large tadpole ; and since tadpoles 
gastronomicnl affection by viperine snakes, they began an 


are regarded with 

instant chase, 
b e <• a u s e a 
snake never 
hesitates to swallow anything merely on account 
of its size. When finally the egg-swallower broke 
the egg, and presented to thqir gaze the 
crumpled shell, the perplexed viperines 
subsided, and retired to remote corners of 
the case to think the matter over and 
forget it — like the crowd dispersed by 
the circulating hat of the street- 

Familiarity with the snake breeds 

each prepared to swallow the entire 



very p.easant company. 

toleration. He is a lawless sort of creature, 
certainly, with too many vertebras and no 
eyelids ; but he is not always so horrible as he 
is imagined. A snake is rather a pleasant 
thing to handle than otherwise. Warm, firm, 
dry, hard and smooch on the scales, rather like 
ivory to the touch. He is also a deal 
heavier than you expect. When for' 
T*****-*^ good behaviour I have been admitted 
to Tyrrell's inner sanctum here, and 
to the corridors behind the lairs, where hang 
cast skins like stockings on a line, I have 
handled many of his pets. I have never got 
quite as far as rattlesnakes, because rattlesnakes 
have a blackguardly, welshing look that I don't 
approve. But there is a Robben Island snake, 
about five feet long, with no poison, who is 
It is a pity that these snakes have 
no pet names. I would suggest The Pirate as a suitable ^0^%± 
name for any snake from Robben Island. 

For anybody who has been . bitten by a 
cobra, or a rattlesnake, or a puff-adder, there 
are many remedies, but few people who can 
recommend them from personal experience. 
It is to be feared that most of them unfor- 
tunately die before writing their testimonials. 
Perhaps they were too long deciding which 
thing to take. The most famous of these 
remedies, and probably the best, on the 
whole, is to get excessively drunk. It is 

expensive to get drunk after a poisonous snake-bite, because something in the veins fortifies 
the head against the first bottle or two of whisky. Getting drunk before the bite won't do, 
although there would appear to be a very widely prevalent impression 
that it will, and a very common resolve to lay up a good store of cure 
against possible accidents in the future. This may be 
misdirected prudence, and nothing else, but there is often 
a difficulty in persuading a magistrate to think so. 

The snake will be eccentric, 
even in the matter of its eggs. 
Most snakes secure originality 
and independence in this matter 
by laying eggs like an elongated 
tennis-ball — eggs covered with a 
All the rest go further, and refuse 



sort of white parchment or leather instead of shell, 
to lay eggs at all. 

The snake insists on having his food fresh ; 
you must let him do his own killing. Many 
carry this sort of fastidiousness so far as to 



i/ ttXf r ' 

prefer taking it in alive, and leaving it to settle 
matters with the digestive machinery as best 
it may. A snake of this sort has lost his 
dinner before now by gaping too soon : a 
frog takes a deal of swallowing before he 
forgets how to jump. 

It is well to remember what to do in case of 
attack by a formidable snake. If a boa con- 
strictor or a python begin to 
curl himself about you, you 
should pinch him vigorously, 
and he will loosen his folds 
and get away from you. 
Some may prefer to blow 
his head off with 
pistol, but it is 
largely a matter of 
taste, and one 
doesn't want to 

damage a good specimen. The anaconda, 
however, who is the biggest of 
the constrictors, won't let go for 
pinching ; in this case the best 
thing is not to let him get hold of 
you at all. Tobacco-juice will kill 
a puff-adder. If you come across a 
puff-adder, you should open his 
mouth gently, remembering that the 
scratch of a fang means death in half 
an hour or so, and give him the 
tobacco-juice in a suitable dose ; or 
you can run away as fast as possible, which is kinder to 
the snake and much healthier for yourself. 

By far the biggest snake here is the python, in the 
case opposite the door ; he is more than twenty feet 
long, and is seriously .thinking of growing longer still. 
Tyrrell picks him up unceremoniously by the neck and 
shoves him head first into a tank of water, when he 
seems to need a little stir and amusement. I think, 
perhaps, after all, the most remarkable being exhibited in the reptil 
house is Tyrrell. I don't think much of the Indian snake-charmer 
now. See a cobra raise its head and flatten out its neck till it look 
like a demoniac flounder set on end : keep in mind 
that a bite means death in a few 
minutes ; presently you will feel yourself 
possessed with a certain respect for a 
snake-charmer who tootles on a flute while 
the thing crawls about him. But Tyrrell 
comes along, without a flute — • without r.s 
much as a jew's-harp — and carelessly grabs that 
cobra by the neck and strolls off" with it wherever 
he thinks it ought to go, and you believe in 
the European after all. He is a most enthusiastic 

f^ 'yf- 


Vol. V — 54. 


naturalist, is Tyrrell. He thinks nothing of festooning a boa constrictor about his neck and 
arms, and in his sanctum he keeps young crocodiles in sundry watering-pots, and other crawl- 
ing things in unexpected places. You never quite know where the next surprise is coming from. 
I always feel doubtful about his pockets. 
I shouldn't recommend a pickpocket to 
try them, unless he really doesn't mil 
running against a casual rattlesnake 
Tyrrell is the sort of man who is quite 
likely to produce something from his 
cap and say : "* " By-the-bye, this 
is a promising youngster — death 
adder, you know. And here," 
taking something else from his 
coat or vest pocket, " is a very 
fine specimen of the spotted 
coffin-filler, rather curious. It 
isn't very poisonous — kills in 
an hour or so, Now, this," 


a n other 

fro m 


under his coat, " is rather poisonous. 

Deadly grave-worm — kills in three 

seconds. Lively little chap, isn't he ? 

Feel his head." Whereat you would probably move on. 

Types of English Beauty. 

From Photographs by Ai.ex. Bassano, 25, Old Bond Street, W. 







Inv BfaATE . Fyy i? iy iTrra 

(From the French of Gustave Cue: 

" The young are eager for martyrdom 

A Story for Children. 

make fun of my 
for the colour of 

Y friends 

I confess that I adore it, 
notwithstanding that I have 
good reason to detest it. Truly, 
human nature is a bundle of contradictions ! 
I love yellow because of a certain episode 
in my life which occurred when I was but 
eight years of age. I love nankeen above all 
on account of a jacket of that material, 
which played in that episode an important 

Ah ! that jacket of nankeen ! 
How came it about that I was smitten with 
the insane desire of possessing such a thing ? 
The cause is not far to seek. It was Love ! 

Love in a child of eight ? Why not ? You 
will see presently that I speak without any 

At that now distant time 

I knew how to read, write, and count. For 
the further progress of my education I was 
sent to a small day-school, kept by two 

resided at 

maiden ladies — humble, gentle souls, who in 
affectionate care for their pupils satisfied in 
some degree their instinct of maternal 

Poor Demoiselles Dulorre ! 

Our school, which had been placed under 
the pious patronage of Saint Elisabeth, was a 
mixed one. That is to say, up to the age of 
ten years, boys and girls worked and played 
together. In spite of occasional quarrels, the 
system, on the whole, worked very well. 

I had not been eight days at Saint 
Elisabeth's before I fell in love. Do not 
laugh ! I loved with all the strength of my 
child-nature, with a love disinterested, simple, 

It was Georgette whom I loved, but, alas ! 
Georgette did not love me. 

How much I suffered in consequence ! I 
used to hide myself in corners, shedding 
many tears, and racking my brains to find 
some means of pleasing the obdurate fair one. 
Labour in vain, a thankless task, at eight 
years of age or at thirty ! 

To distinguish myself in my studies, to win 



by my exemplary conduct the encomiums of 
the sisters Dulorre — all this made no im- 
pression upon cruel Georgette. She made 
no secret of her preference for a dull, idle, 
blustering fellow of nine years old, who won 
all the races, who could fling a ball farther 
than anyone else, carry two huge dictionaries 
under his arm, and administer terrible thumps. 

This hero was rightly nicknamed Met-a- 

I knew what his blows were like, having 
been the involuntary recipient of some of 
them. Some, do I say ? I had received 
more than a dilatory donkey on the road to 
the fair ! 

And Georgette had only laughed ! 

Obviously, it was absurd to .think of 
employing physical force against my redoubt- 
able rival, and intellectual superiority in this 

case availed me nothing. , I determined, 
therefore, to annihilate Met-a-Mort by my 
overpowering magnificence. 

Naturally, our parents did not send us to 
school attired in our best clothes. On the 
contrary, most of us wore there our oldest 
and shabbiest garments. Consequently, I 
opined that it would be no difficult achieve- 
ment to outshine all my schoolfellows. 

I should have to coax my parents into 
loosening their purse-strings, and get them to 
buy me a beautiful new jacket. 

It took me a very long time to decide what 
colour this jacket should be. I mentally re- 
viewed all the colours of the rainbow. Red 
tempted me ; but I doubted whether a jacket 
of that colour would be attainable. Should 
it be blue, green, indigo, violet ? No ! Not 
one of these colours was sufficiently striking. 

I paused at yellow. That might do. It is 
a rich colour ; there is something sumptuous 
and royal about it. Summer was approach- 
ing. I decided finally upon a jacket of 

Without delay, I set to work on my school 
garments. It was a work of destruction, for 
I wanted to make them appear as disreputable 
as possible. I slyly enlarged the holes, 
wrenched off the buttons, and decorated my 
person lavishly with spots and stains of all 
kinds. Day by day I watched, with a secret 
joy, the rapid progress of this work of 

In what I judged to be an opportune 
moment, 1 timidly expressed my desire. 

I had to do more — much more than that 
- -before I could obtain my will. I begged, 
stormed, grumbled, sulked. I became almost 
ill with hope deferred. At length, for the 
sake of peace, my parents granted my 
eccentric wish. 

It was a proud moment for me when, for 
the first time, I arrayed myself in that 
resplendent nankeen jacket, won at the cost 
of so many struggles and persevering efforts. 
Standing before the mirror, I surveyed myself 
admiringly for a full hour. I was grand ! 
superb ! 

" Ah ! my Lord Met-a-Mort ! You will 
find yourself ousted at last ! My shining 
jacket will soon snatch from you the prestige 
acquired by your stupid, brute force. Geor- 
gette, astonished, fascinated, dazzled, and 
delighted, will run towards me, for I shall 
now be the handsomest boy in the school. 
Met-a-Mort will weep for chagrin, as I have 
so often wept for jealousy and mortification." 

Such were my complacent reflections as, 
with the stride of a conqueror, I entered the 
precincts of our school. 

Alas for my rose-coloured anticipations ! 
I was greeted with a broadside of laughter. 
Even our gentle mistress, Ermance Dulorre, 
could not repress a smile, and, above all 
other voices, I heard that of Georgette, who 
cried mirthfully : — 

"Oh! look at him! Look at him! He is 
a canary-bird ! " 



The word was caught up instantly. All 
the scholars shouted in chorus : " He is a 
canary ! A canary ! " 

Words fail me to describe my bitter dis- 
appointment, my burning shame and chagrin. 
I saw my folly now. But it was too late — 
the awful deed was done ! Worse than all, in 
order to obtain this now odious jacket, I had 
spoiled all my other jackets, and had nothing 
else to wear ! "When, on the evening of that 
most miserable day, I told my troubles to 
my father and mother, they were merely 
amused, and said to me :— 

" It is entirely your own fault. You in- 
sisted upon having the jacket, and now you 
must put up with it ! " 

Thus was I condemned to the perpetual 
wearing of my yellow jacket, which entailed 
upon me no end of petty miseries. 

Every day, at school, I was jeered of and 
insulted. Even the babies of three years — 
sweet, blue-eyed, golden-haired cherubs 
pointed at me with their tiny fingers, and 
lisped, " Canary ! Canary ! " 

How was I to extricate myself from this 
extremely unpleasant situation ? One upper 
garment still remained to me — an old, thick, 
heavy, winter mantle. The idea occurred to 
me that I might utilize this to conceal my 
too gorgeous plumage. We were now in the 
month of June, and the weather was tropical. 
No matter ! In class and playground, I 
appeared buttoned up in my big cloak, 
bathed in perspiration, but happy in having 
hidden my shame. 

To Mademoiselle Ermance's expression of 
surprise, I answered that I had a cold. 
1 did not deviate widely from the truth. Two 
days later, thanks to this over-heating, I had 
a very real one. 

The device did not serve me long. My 
parents found me out, and promptly deprived 
me of my protecting shell, thus obliging me to 
attend school again in the costume of a canary. 
The former annoyances re-commenced. 

Vacation time was at hand, and Georgette, 
of whom I was more enamoured than ever, 
remained still cold and indifferent. 




One day we were playing the game of 
brigands and gendarmes. I was one of the 
gendarmes, who were invariably beaten. 

Met-a-Mort had nominated himself captain 
of the brigands, and chose Georgette for his 

Presently, for a few minutes there was a 
suspension of hostilities. Brigands and 
gendarmes fraternized, as they quenched 
their thirst, and expatiated upon the joys of 
the fray. Suddenly Georgette, with her accus- 
tomed vivacity, broke in upon our little group. 
She bore in her hands a glass ink-bottle. 

" See ! " said her sweet voice. " Whoever 
will drink this ink shall, by-and-by, be my 
little husband ! " 

Met-a-Mort and the rest exploded with 

When we resumed our game, 1 discovered 
that I had lost all interest in it. Georgette's 
words haunted me. 

Cries of joy arose from our camp. The 
enemy's vivandiere had been captured. I 
was told off to guard the prisoner ; you may 
guess whether I was happy ! 

tried bribery. 

" Oh ! let me 
go ! let me go ! 
and I will give 
you ten pens." 

Much I cared 
for her pens ! 

"Did you 
mean what you 
said just now, 
mademoiselle ? " 
I timidly in- 

" What ? " 

" That who- 
ever would drink 
the ink should 
be your little 
husband ? " 

"Yes, stupid! 
But let me 
go " 

" Then it is 
true ? " 

" Of course it 
is. Let me go ! " 

She was grow- </+<•*.«». V 

ing impatient. 
For a moment I hesitated ; then I said : — 

" Run away quickly ! nobody can see us." 

She did not need telling twice. As swiftly 
as her feet could carry her, she ran off to the 
enemy's camp. 


I was a double-dyed traitor. After 
conniving at my captive's escape I deserted. 
" Can it indeed be true ? " I pondered. 
" Have I only to drain that phial of ink in 
order to become Georgette's husband some 
day ? She said so, and she must know ! " 

I went to look for the ink-bottle, which 
the child had carried back into the school- 
room. There I stood contemplating the 
black, uninviting-looking liquid. 

Not for a single moment did I dream of 
swallowing the loathsome stuff in the girl's 
presence. It did not occur to me that she 
ought to be a witness of my sacrifice, or 
that she had demanded it as a proof of love. 
My idea was rather that the beverage was a 
sort of love-philtre, such as I had read of in 
my book of fairy tales. She had said : 
" Whoever will drink the ink shall be my 

Faugh I the bottle was full to overflowing. 
How nasty it looked ! Never mind ! So 
much the better ! I should have liked it 
to have been nastier still. 

I closed my eyes, and raised the bottle to 
my lips. 

" What are 
you about, you 
dirty little 
thing ? " ex- 
claimed a voice 
from behind me, 
at the same 
instant that I 
received a smart 
blow upon my 
uplifted arm. 

Covered with 
confusion, I 
turned, and be- 
held Mademoi- 
selle Ermance, 
who had sur- 
prised me in my 
singular occupa- 

"What is the 
meaning of this 
nonsense?" said 
she, with un- 
wonted severity. 
I had no time 
to explain. Just 
at that moment 
my schoolfellows came trooping in. Georgette 
seeing me standing there, ink-stained and 
disgraced, and already — the coquette ! — 
forgetful of her promise, exclaimed, with a 
face of disgust : — 

Vol v. -55. 

42 2 


" Oh, the dirty boy ! The nasty, dirty 
boy ! " 

Everything, however, has its bright side. 
Mademoiselle Ermance's tap and my own 

child? Does she ever think now of those 
old times ? How often have I dreamed of 
her ! I have forgiven her for the tears which 
she caused me to shed. Her charming face 

'what is the meaning of this nonsense?' 

start of surprise, had jerked the ink-bottle 
from my grasp ; my yellow jacket was literally 
flooded ! I was rid of it at last ! 

It was to Georgette that I owed this happy 
deliverance. thank her for it to-day ! 

dwells always in my mind as a pure ray from 
the bygone light of youth. I am not her 
husband, and probably never shall be. I am 
resigned to my fate, which I richly deserve, 
because— — 

What has become, I wonder, of that lovely / did not drink the ink , 

The Queer Side of Things. 

IT was all old Joe Wilkings's 
notion, every ounce of it : you 
see, there never was anybody 
anywhere to compare with old 
Joe for "go." He was goey, 
was old Joe — but I'll tell you. 

Old Joe had been laid up with rheumatism 
and gout — ah ! and asthma, that's more — for 
a matter of eleven weeks ; pretty bad he'd 
been too, and everybody had said he would 
never pull through, being, you see, ninety- 
seven, and a wooden leg in, that he'd lost in 
the Crimean War ; at least, not the wooden 
one, for he'd found that in the loft over the 
stable years ago and taken to it. 

Well, old Joe was sunning himself in his 
wicker chair in the front garden, propped up 
with pillows and things ; and he'd just finished 
his beef-tea, when he begins to chuckle so, 
in an internal kind of manner, that the last 
drop going down got startled and separated 
from the others on ahead, and tried to turn 
back, and got in a panic, so that it nearly 
choked old Joe, who got purple in the face, 
and had to be thumped. 

He'd no sooner got right than he began 
to chuckle again, but luckily that last drop 
had got further down now, and wedged in 
among its comrades, so that it only heard 
the chuckles faintly, and kept quiet this time. 

" Whatever is the matter, grandfather ? " 
said Kate. 

" Matter ? " said old Joe. " Nothing's the 
matter. You don't understand the ways of 
young 'uns, nor their methods neither. 

When youth chuckles, it's a sign of good 
spirits and healthy. If you must know, I 
was thinking we might have a picnic — just 
like we used to have sixty years back " 

" Ah ! that would be nice," said Kate. 

" Not you" said old Joe. " No young 
'uns in it — they're too slow. No ; I and 
Georgie Worble, and his aunt Susan, and her 
mother, and " 

"Why," said Kate, "Mr. Worble hasn't 
walked from one room to another without 
assistance for " 

" I know — seven years," said old Joe, "and 
he's seventy-six ; and his aunt Susan's seventy- 
one ; and his aunt Susan's mother's ninety- 
two, and bedridden — but I tell you what : 
it's all fudge and the undue influence of 
imagination — that's the whole story. Georgie 
W. can get up if he likes ; and his aunt 
Susan's bronchitis and paralytic strokes are 
all fudge ; and as to her mother being bed- 
ridden — pooh ! we'll just see ; and if she 
doesn't dance just as well as me " 

" Dance ! " 

" Ah — we'll have a dance, of course — we 
used to have a dance always ; finished up 
with a dance. I've been thinking — and I 
don't mind telling you — that this imagination 
and fudge is making us all old before our 
time ; and I'm not going to stand any more 
of it, and that's all about it." 

With that old Joe Wilkings waved his 
stick and jumped up — that's what he did ; 
and he ninety-seven years and nine weeks ! 
Talk about greynes c l 



Kate stared, and all the neighbours stared, 
and Mrs. Widdlcombe's pug next door stared 
so that its eyes nearly fell out, as old Joe 
trotted quickly out of the garden and down 
the street, and trotted up Mr. Worble's steps, 
and tapped at the door like a boy that means 


to run away ; and when they opened the 
door, up he ran to old Worble's room, and 
toddled in. 

And now comes in old Joe Wilkings's 
other remarkable quality — his influence over 
others. It was all the outcome of his 
wonderful determination — the influence of 
mind over matter. He could bamboozle 
anyone, could Joe — it was for all the world 
like magic. 

Old Worble was drooping over the fire in 
his big chair, into which he had been put 
hours before. 

What did old Joe do but go right up and 
slap him on the back in that hearty way that 
old Worble went as near screaming as his 
weak state would let him ! 

" Get up, Georgie Worble," shouted old 
Joe, "and come round with me to Sam 
Waggs to arrange about that picnic ! " 

Old Worble crooned and doddered, and 
feebly repeated " Picnic ? " 

" Ah, picnic, young 'un ; and you've just 
bit it, But GET UP, I say ! " 

And, if you'll believe it, the third time old 
Joe Wilkings shouted " Get up " in that voice 
of his, a-staring straight at Worble all the 
time, old Worble did slowly get up and stood, 
doddering, but without support. 

" Don't you stand a-doddering at me like 
that as if you were a decrepit old 
idiot instead of a boy; but just 
reach down your hat and bustle 
along," said old Joe ; and if Worble, 
after looking feebly and hopelessly 
up at the hat on the high peg — 
the hat he had not worn for years 
— didn't hop up on a wooden chair 
and fetch it down, and dash it on 
his head, and then toddle down- 
stairs and into the street arm-in-arm 
with old Joe ! 

If people had stared when old 
Joe came out of his garden, what 
did they do now when he and old 
Worble went dancing down the 
street arm-in-arm, both of 'em 
chuckling like mad and chattering 
like magpies ? 

At the corner they met old Peter 
Scroutts in a bath-chair. Peter had 
a paralyzed leg, and was so feeble 
that he could hardly wink his eye, 
and so deaf that it was all he could 
do to hear with an ear-trumpet as 
big as the cornucopia belonging to 
the wooden young lady over the 
provision stores. 

" Just you step out and walk ! " 
roared old Joe in the ear-trumpet. And the 
queer thing is that old Peter did begin to 
get out ; and not only began, but went on ; 
and stood on the pavement ; and then took 
Joe's arm ; and the three went careering 
down the street together ! 

The whole place came out to stare open- 
mouthed at those three old boys bouncing 
down the street together. 

Half-way down old Joe Wilkings stopped 
with a jerk, and turned on old Peter. 

"What, in the name of goodness, do you 
want with that trumpet machine ? " he roared. 
"A young 'un like you ! Lookee here — let's 
get rid of it." And Joe snatched the ear- 
trumpet out of his hand, and jerked it over 
a shed into the field behind. It was a good 
long jerk ; and most of the young men of 
the place would have been proud to do it. 

" Can hear just as well as I can ; that's 

what you can do ! Can't he, young George ? " 

Old Peter looked dazed ; but old Joe 

stood nodding at him -so decisively that old 

George took it up and nodded decisively 




too ; and they were so convincing about the 
matter that old Peter began to believe he 
could hear ; and from that moment, if you'll 
believe me, he did hear quite comfortably ! 

Then the inhabitants collected in little 
knots, and talked the matter over ; and 
decided that there must be something wrong, 
in the witchcraft line ; and shook their heads 
doubtfully ; but those three old boys trotted 
into the " Bun and 
Bottle " and ordered 
— ah ! and drank off 
— a pint of beer 
apiece ; a thing they 
had not done those 
ten years. Drank it 
off at a draught, if 
you'll believe me. 

Well, then they went 
the round and beat 
up all the old folks of 
that place to bid them 
to the picnic. Those 
old people stared, and 
shook their heads, and 
scoffed ; but old Joe 
Wilkings hadn't talked 
to them for five min- 
utes before they were 
up on their feet and 
trotting about as if 
they were acrobats, 
though perhaps it's 
hard to believe. 

"We'll have a 
row on the river," 
said old Joe; "and 
then we'll picnic 
on the bank, and 
see who can climb 
trees best ; and 
then we'll have a 
room at an hotel, 
and finish up with 
a dance, and just 
show 'em how it 
ought to be done." 
I tell you he 
had to busy him- 
self, had old Joe, 
to keep them up 
to it ; for as soon 
as he had been, 
away from any one 
of them a few 
hours that one 
would begin to 
collapse again, and 
think he or she 
was as weak as ever : . but , Joe wouldn't 
allow this ; all day long he was here 
and there among them applying the spur, 
bullying them into getting up and danc- 
ing, and roaring with indignation at the 
idea of their being old. He made them 
practise their steps, and while those who 
possessed crutches were doing it, he sneaked 
off with the crutches and concealed them. 




He wouldn't even allow them sticks, wouldn't 
old Joe — not he. 

Old Worble's aunt Susan got quite young 
and skittish ; and as for old Worble's aunt 
Susan's mother, who was bedridden, up she 
had to get on old Joe Wilkings's third visit, 
and had to toddle across the room. He 
drilled her — kept on at it ; he was there twice 
a day ; and every time she had to get out of 
bed and toddle across the room. 
Had to live in her dressing-gown, and 
could get no peace for the life of her ; 
but, bless you, in ten days she had 
begun to believe that she had never 
been bedridden at all, and that it was 
all fancy ! And all in consequence 
of that strange influence of old Joe 
Wilkings ; that awful determination of 

Then there were the pro- 
visions to prepare for that 
picnic ; and old Joe would 
insist upon the old folks 
preparing them. He wouldn't 
have any young people in 
it — not he. He was here, 
there, and every- 
where, compelling 
them to superintend 
the cooking of the 
joints and pies — 
for he was not 
going to have any 
beef-tea or arrow- 
root or pap at the 
picnic, but all good 
solid food for robust 

Well, the event- 
ful day came ; and 
there were the old 
folks collected at 
the railway station 
with their hampers 
and bags. The 
whole population of 
younger folks had 
turned out to see 
them off; but not 
was to go, for old 
one under the age 

But the train came in, and in hopped the 
old parties, and away they went. 

Old Joe Wilkings had his work cut out 
now, with a vengeance and all : for as soon 
as they had got away from the younger folks 
who usually took care of them, they began to 
think it was all over with them and to give 
way ; but Joe Wilkings roared and shouted 
at them, and chuckled and threatened until 
he had brought 
them all round 
again. There wasn't 
to be a single bath- 
chair, or crutch, or 
even a stick. 

Then they got 
out at the station 
they had settled on ; 
and old Joe in- 
sisted on their carry- 
ing the hampers 
among them down 
to the river : and, 
what's more, he 
chose a way across 
the fields where 
there were a lot of 
stiles to get over ; 
and he made 'em 
do it, if you'll credit 
it. Old George 
Worble's aunt 
Susan's mothei 
pretended she 
couldn't, and sat 
down and wept : 
but Joe Wilkings 
had her on her feet 
again in a twink- 
ling ; and over she 
had to go some- 



give way 
for his 
and ear 

old Peter 

began to 

md grizzle 



a single one of them 
Joe wouldn't have any- 
of sixty-five, as he said 
children were always a trouble at an outing. 
And, what's more, his word seemed to be 
law, and that was the long and the short of it. 
The young people shook their heads fore- 
bodingly, and said they didn't know what on 
earth would come of it all, that they didn't ; 
and they only hoped uncle and aunt and 
grandfather would come back all right ! 

but when old Joe 
threatened to fight him if he went on about 
that nonsense, why, he just had to behave 

Our doctor had made up his mind that 
something dreadful was bound to come of 
the whole thing, and sneaked after them by 
the next train ; but when Joe caught him 
following them, he was so angry and furious 
about it, that the doctor was afraid he would 
have an apoplectic fit unless he went away as 
Joe commanded him to. So he retired; and 



subsequently dressed himself as a rustic, and 
smeared his face so that he might not be 
recognised, and hung about the party, offer- 

good jorum of brandy-and-water apiece, why, 
in half an hour they were as right as trivets, 
if you'll believe me I 

The cold collation was a great success ; 
and then the old boys had a smoke, and 
were all as jolly as sand-boys. But, suddenly, 
one of 'em looked round and said, " Why, 
where's old Joe Wilkings ? " And after ten 
minutes, when old Joe did not turn up, all 
those old folks began to shake their heads 
doubtfully and dismally, and the old boys 
dropped their pipes, and the old ladies began 
to weep and whinnick. 

For old Joe Wilkings, being wild-like with 
merriment, had gone in pretty heavily for the 
champagne and stuff, and had got a bit mixed, 
as you might say, and he had gone off a little 
way to get some dry wood to make a fire to boil 
the kettle over, and then he hadn't seemed 
to be able to recollect which was his way 
back ; and had wandered and wandered off 
in quite the wrong direction ; and at last he 
had got drowsy and fallen asleep in a dry 
ditch with his wooden leg on the lower rail 
of a fence ; and then a local policeman 


ing to carry things, and 
so on. But if old Joe 
Wilkings did not spot 
him after all ; and got in 
such a rage that the 
doctor thought it best 
to retreat while he had 
a whole skin, and get 
back safely home. 

So you see old Joe 
was a terrible fellow, and 
that determined it's aw- 
ful to think about. 

Well, they went on 
the rive*-, and they rowed 
little races among them- 
selves ; and old Ben 
Jumper and old Tobias 
Budd upset their boat, 
skylarking — both of 'em 
being just turned eighty 
— and went in, and were 
very nearly drowned. 
However, they were 
hauled out and made 
to run about, and taken 
into a cottage, and 
rubbed down, and 
dressed up in borrowed 
clothes ; and with a 




who didn't know him had taken charge of 
him and trotted him off to Winklechurch, 
which was the nearest village. 

And those old people at the picnic got 
more and more depressed and feeble and 
helpless ; and some of 'em broke down 
completely, and wept and doddered ; for you 
see the influence of old Joe Wilkings's determi- 
nation was rapidlygiving out. And at last, after 
the doctor had waited anxiously at the rail- 
way station for them, and hour after hour 
went by without any signs of them, he 
decided to look them up at any cost ; and at 
eleven that night he found them all sitting 
there on the bank of the river that depressed 
and helpless you can't imagine. Not a single 
one of them all had had the courage to move, 
and their fright and despair were perfectly 
fearful. And a nice trouble he had to get 
them home — had to send for flys, and bath- 
chairs, and litters, and goodness alone knows 
what all ! 

Well, then they had to find old Joe 
Wilkings, and mighty anxious they were 
about him ; and a nice tramp they had up 
hill and down dale before they discovered 
him ; and when they did, they found him 
rolled up in a shawl on the policeman's 
hearthrug, for, of course, Mr. Podder, the 
policeman, was not going to lock up the 
likes of an old boy of his age. Joe Wilkings 
had recovered a bit now, and he was that 
pugnacious he 
wanted to fight Mr. 
Podder and all 
those that had 
come to find him ; 
and what should 
he do but put his 
back against Mr. 
Podder's parlour- 
wall (smashing the 
glass of the chromo 
of " Little Red Rid- 
ing-Hood " that was 
hanging up), and 
invite the lot to 
"Come on." 

However, they 
quieted him down 
and got him home 
at last ; and when 
he'd got home he 
was that dismal and 
depressed from the 
reaction that he sat 
in his arm-chair all 
day and did nothing 
but grumble and 

burst into tears, for, you see, he'd overdone 
it, and it was bound to tell upon him. But 
after that all his natural pluck and deter- 
mination got hold of him again, and if he 
wasn't mad to have that dance that they had 
been balked of ! 

Out he went to beat up all the old folks 
again ; but most of 'em were ill in bed — none 
the better for that picnic, I can tell you, 
though, luckily, it had been a lovely day and 
night, as warm as toast, so that they hadn't 
come to much harm beyond the exhaustion. 

The younger people of the houses where 
he called met him with black looks enough, 
you may be sure, but old Joe Wilkings wasn't 
the sort to be daunted by that sort of thing ; 
and bless me if he didn't succeed in getting 
at most of those old parties again, and even 
getting some of them out of bed and putting 
them through their paces as before. 

It was really getting serious, so Mr. Sarme, 
the vicar, and Mr. Weazle, the curate, and 
Doctor Pillikin (who lived in the house with 
the brown shutters then, before he moved 
next door to the stores) went and tried to 
get him out of the houses and make him 
keep quiet ; but old Joe roared at them that 
way that they were glad to get away home 
again in despair. 

Ah, he was a plucky one, was old Joe ! 

Well, he persevered and kept at it until 
he had persuaded all those old parties to get 





up a dance in the schoolroom ; they were to 
have printed programmes, and champagne, 
and everything in style — for Joe had a bit of 
money, and was as free as you like with it, 
and meant to stand a good deal more than 
his share of the expenses. 

Then the vicar and Doctor Pillikin con- 
sulted with the squire — the squire and the 
vicar being justices of the peace — whether 
they hadn't better give old Joe in charge 
and lock him up out of harm's way ; for he 
was getting a regular firebrand, don't you 
see ; and they were afraid he'd be the death 
of those old folks. But, after they'd 
consulted, they couldn't hit on any legal 
excuse for charging him — (not that that little 
obstacle mostly stands in the way of justices 
of the peace) — and they had to give that up. 

When the day arrived for the ball — for they 
called it a " ball " now, bless you — all the 
young people agreed together to lock the old 
parties in their rooms to prevent them going ; 
but bless me if old Peter Scroutts and old 
George Worble, and one or two other desperate 
characters didn't 
manage to get out 
somehow, being so 
under the influ- 
ence of Joe ; and 
when the hour 
came for the dance, 
there they were at 
the schoolroom ! 

And they — about 
nine of them — be- 

gan dancing too, and a regular strange kind of 
a hobble it was, as ever was seen : but at 
last the squire and the vicar and Doctor 
Pillikin went down with the sergeant and a 
constable and pretended that a new Act had 
been passed making it illegal to dance after 
nine o'clock, and cleared the hall, with Joe 
dinging away at 'em the whole time, and 
made the old folks go home. 

Next day Joe Wilkings was going to do all 
manner of things — going up to London to 
consult a solicitor in Lincoln's Inn, and 
appeal to the High Courts, and give the 
squire and the rest of 'em penal servitude at 
Botany Bay, and all manner ; but he'd caught, 
such a cold at that ball that he had to take 
to his bed again, in spite of all his deter- 
mination ; and when he got up again after 
three weeks he had lost the use of his one leg, 
and was so weak he hadn't the heart to do 
anything. He was in a bad way for a long 
time, but they say he's getting better 
again now ; and I've heard tell that the 
squire and that lot are beginning to get 

nervous again 
as there's no know- 
ing when he'll 
break out. 

He's a tough 
one, is old« Joe 
Wilkings, and, if 
you'll believe me, 
he'll make it hot 
for 'em yet ! 
J. F. Sullivan. 


Vol v.— 56. 








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^"" : ft| H *JI|^^H H| ^^^^B^^ 




Found at Preston, and Photographed by Mr. Luke 
Berry, of Chorley. 

The above Photograph of a curious potato was 
taken by the late Mr. Fox, and sent to us by 
Mr. J. S. Clarke, of New Wandsworth.