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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
How often have we seen them in the
country lanes all squeezed into one
ing like a jolly
village squire and
his family; or
watched the young
Princes and Prin-
round the park on
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
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,
H. THE nRNCB OF WALKS.
from a l'httto. bti W. .£• D. Dowmk
or at their sketching, art and useful needle-
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
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
station lies in a
and emerging from
its grounds, you
have before you a
along a well gra-
velled road, bor-
dered with velvety
turf, and backed
with fir, laurel, pine
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
Vol. v —43.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
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-
ex pectati on,
making it some
what difficult to
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
THE PRIXCE OF WALES AT SANDRIXGHAM.
service, two or three eminent statesmen, and a
sprinkling of musical, literary, and artistic
celebrities. To this list I will suppose you
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
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
I'm,,, a Ph-tu. h,i[
THE UININC-KOOM, WITH TAI'.U
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
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-
THE 1-IUXCE OF WALES AT SANDRINGHAAf.
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>/
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
THE PRINCE OF WALES AT SANDRINGHAM.
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-
stories have within
the last few weeks
over the bowling
alley and billiard-
room, making a
total of about
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
THE BILLIARD SALOON.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
i'r..m a I'huUt. liy]
E HOWLING ALLEY.
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
The walls are
painted in deli-
cate colours, and
on them arranged
a fine collection of
The floor is of
oak, and kept in
such a condition
of polish as to be
a pitfall and snare
to any dancer not
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;
From a Photo. by\
THE PRINCE S BUSINESS ROOM.
THE PRINCE OF WALES AT SANDRINGHAM.
■ 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
an ever - moving
turesque in the
Few that are
familiar with Sand-
ringham can enter
this room without
thinking of the
occasion when the
proud and loving
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;
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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\
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
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
THE PRINCE OF WALES AT SANDRINGHAM.
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 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,
rooms, one of the
five being a very
pretty tea-room, and
here Her Royal
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
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
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.
CKSS OK WALKS,
II'. A Ii. Snowy.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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\
'HE PB1NCBSS OF WALKS But
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
THE PRINCE OF WALES AT SANDRINGHAM.
H.R.H. PRINCESS VICTORIA AND H.R.H. PRINCESS .MAUUOF WAIJ
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,
THE PUKE OF YORK.
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.
X.— THE HUNTED TRIBE OF THREE HUNDRED PEAKS.
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
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
" 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
SHAFTS FROM AN EASTERN QUIVER.
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
my .eyes rested
'on the dismantled
wall of a ruined
palace. I ob-
further for a few
minutes, then a
seemed to be
hiding in the
shadow of the
came the signal
upon the air softly
as if the one who
uttered it feared
to be discovered.
The cry had ap-
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
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-
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>
THE SWARTHY FACE OF A TURBANED H1I.L-MAN.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
HE SULLENLY FLUNG HIS PONIARD DOWN
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-
tately over the
plain, making for
bridge across the
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
SHAFTS FROM AN EASTERN QUIVER.
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
" 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-
"Among these bonzes was one who especi-
ally resented Yu Chan's rule over him, for he
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
" ' 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
SHAFTS FROM AN EASTERN QUIVER.
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
" 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
KLAX HUA WAS FOUND DEAD IN HIS CELL.'
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
" 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-
" 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
SHAFTS FROM AN EASTERN QUIVER.
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 MA1DKN FI.L'Mi HERSELF BEFORE HER LOVER.
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
" 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
" 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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
THEY SWORE THE BI.OOD-REVEXGE.
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
" 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
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 !
SHAFTS FROM AN EASTERN QUIVER.
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-
as we heard the
sound of her body
striking the waters
below. Down the
steep bank we
selves by grasping
the lithe and
which grew in its
For one brief
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
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.
OVEK THE ROCKY BRIDGE.
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
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
hauled him in
too, and before
long had the hap-
piness to see both
boat to float down
the stream, I
merely steered it
clear of the rocky
sides of the river
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§.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
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.
e s q u e
-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 —
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
WEATHERCOCKS AND VANES.
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
when I realized
that it looked
down on a row
of graves, kept
order, of the
which the angry
sea had given
into the keep-
ing of these
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
Its first seven vicars
were priests of the
Church of Rome, and
in the church records
there are some
which look as
formed in Rye.
Here is one
dated 1522 : —
" Paid for a
when the Re-
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.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
WEATHERCOCKS AND VANES.
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<
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
WEATHERCOCKS AND VANES.
is interesting to note that not far from here
is the house where once resided Dr. Harvey,
the famous discoverer of the circulation of
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-
ture. On the
is set a vane
good in treat-
accord with its
is a well de-
signed " horse
and. jockey "
vane on a
flagstaff, in a
the ill - fated
and sank, and
blown up by order of the Admiralty only
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-
man tower with
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
WEATHERCOCKS AND VANES.
(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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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 —
ton Manor was
the seat of the
my more than
just calling at-
tention to the
its riveted wings
tongue and tail,
WEATHERCOCKS AND VANES.
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.
^Un Observatory. ■
Ma.idj-tone: ; J
.**?■ - ^nh
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
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
" 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.
A DARK TRANSACTION.
"THE STATION-MASTER CAME UP.
" 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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
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
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
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
HOLDING THE LITTLE MATCH
REFULLV, I GAZED ABOUT ME.
A DARK TRANSACTION.
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
" 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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
A DARK TRANSACTION.
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
" 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
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
WE WISHED EACH (Villi:!;
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
and heavy shoes
no ikw\ to take
off the coat and
find upon the
collar the name
of one of Her
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
A DARK TRANSACTION.
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
'BRIBIXG A CHILD TO BUY ME SOMETHING TO EAT
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.
THE MBDAL OF THE ROVAI. HUMANE BOC1ETV.
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
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
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.
jumped overboard from
the bridge, a height ot
THE ROYAL HUMANE SOCIET
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
SUB.-LIBUT. K. A. V. MONTGOMERIB, R.A.
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,"
I.IKIT. LBWIS R. WINTZ, R.N'.
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
CONSTABLE JOHN JKNKINS.
From 11 1'hiito. Ii'ii lh'wnliiin. suxtml
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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."
"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
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
THE HON. WILLIAM GRIMSTON, R.N,
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
THE ROYAL HUMANE SOCIETY.
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
ALFRED COLLINS. HORKINGS
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
CAPTAIN" II. N. MCKAE.
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,
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
MR. JAMES POWER.
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.
POI.ICE-CONSTABI.E Wm. PeNNETT.
"About one o'clock a.m., on the 25th
November, 1890, Constable Pennett, being
CONSTABLE WILLIAM PENNETT.
From a Photo, by Wright, Whitechapel
THE ROYAL HUMANE SOCIETY.
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."
(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
forwards to the
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
and was carried
on to the rocks at
Jaffa. It was blow-
ing a heavy gale
at the time, and
rione of the na-
Girby, would offer
the slightest as-
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 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
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.
11 TWO MEN' SAT BY A SMALL WOOD FIRE.
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
A STRANGE REUNION.
in contemplation in which he would prefer to
"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
" Not have any
with each other
except in case of
In that case we
can put an adver-
tisement in the
We will make a
point of always
seeing that paper."
After a longer
demur than he was
of Margraf's, how-
ever wild and chi-
merical, Charlie at
last let his usual
submission, and a
that his com-
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
" We meet here in three years from
"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
Chairman of the
Ltd., eke of the
General Stock and
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
solitary meal, and,
reclining in a spa-
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
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
'A I.1FK L1KB THIS WOULD KIM. ME !
A STRANGE REUNION.
"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
At the last moment a richly -dressed gentle-
man, wearing a long fur coat, and carrying a
large travelling rug, entered a first-class
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
Suddenly, as he looked into the black
night, a face passed the window, as of some-
one walking along the footboard to the
SUDDENLY A FACE PASSED THE WINDOW."
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.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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-
the rear guard, and
then fell in a swoon
across the tender.
guard, a plucky-
young fellow of
came, as we all
know, along the
footboard to the
engine " — Margraf
listened with all
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
THE SCRGEON CAME AND LOOKED AT MARGRAF
From Behind the Speaker's Chair.
(viewed by HENRY W. LUCY.)
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
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
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,
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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.
to find in the
mingham Radical a
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
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
Parnell of the charges brought
against him by the forged
letters, Sir Walter Barttelot
sought him out in the Lobbv
FROM BEHIND THE SPEAKER'S CHAIR.
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-
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-
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
A PERSONAL STANDARD
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
FROM BEHIND THE SPEAKER'S CHAIR.
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
THE NON-WORKING HAT — UNIONIST.
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
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.
THE NON-WORKING HAT— IRISH.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
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
FROM BEHIND THE SPEAKERS CHAIR.
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
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
MR. I.OUIS JENNINGS.
a cruel disease. Jennings knew and loved
the country as Gilbert White knew and loved
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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.
AS CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER.
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
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
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
Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives.
From a Photo, by Levitsky, Paris,
ORA URQUHART POTTER
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.
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]
PRESENT DAY. \WarnPvl
THE S TRAND MA GAZINE.
H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES.
terest to the portraits
of their Royal High-
nesses at different ages.
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.
v — ;; ; "---o\ v '
Hl^^&" "'■■■; iS^f"** Illili
' *> : *»&
From a Photo, by]
From a Photo, by] PRESENT pay. [ \V. & D. Downey.
PORTRAITS OF CELEBRITIES.
From a Photo, by Hansen, Copenhagen.
From a Photo, by Pintiham, Paris,
(With the Duke of York
as a Baby.)
From a Photo, by W. & I). Domiey.
: UR first por-
trait of the
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
/Voh( (i Jfimaturv.
THE REV. S. BARING-
HE REV. SABINE
who has of late years
won world - wide
popularity as the
writer of " Mehalah," " John
was born at Exeter, and is the
eldest son of Mr. Edward
Baring - Gould, of Lew - Tren-
From a Photo, bi
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
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.
PORTRAITS OF CELEBRITIES.
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.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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-
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
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
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.
XVII.— THE ADVENTURE OF THE '" GLORIA SCOTT."
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
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
TREVOR USED TO COME IN TO INQUIRE AKTER ME.
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
" 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
" ' 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
ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES.
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
." ' 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
" ' 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,
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
).\ 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
ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES.
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
I VE NOT HAD MY POLOGY, SAID HE, SULKILY.
that you have used this worthy fellow
rather roughly?' said the dad, turning to
" ' On the contrary. I think that we have
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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 ; —
ADVENTURES OE SHERLOCK HOLMES.
I'HK KIU1>LK WAS
IN MY HANDS.
" ' 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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
" ' 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-
ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES.
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
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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,
TIIK CHAPLAIN s
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 ?
like a raging
devil, and he
jiicked t li e
soldiers up as if
they had been
threw them over-
board, alive or
was one sergeant
that was horribly
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
ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES.
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
out our position
what coast we
for. It was a
for the Cape de
about 500 miles
to the north of
us, and the
about 700 miles
to the east. On
the whole, as
the wind was
to north, we
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,
'WE FULLED HIM AliOALI) THE BOAT.
Vol. v -53.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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 STRAND MAGAZINE.
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-
not quite amount
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
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
ZIG-ZAGS AT THE ZOO.
AN EARLY WORM
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-
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
THE FASCINATED RAT.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
THE DISREr,PECTF'JI. TIG.
ZIG-ZAGS AT THE ZOO.
just as it was
bolting a rat,
so that the
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
in its own
limits ; but
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
b e <• a u s e a
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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
DRUNK TOO SOON'.
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
ZIG-ZAGS AT THE ZOO.
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
THE SNAKE THAT GAPED : A MORAL LESSON.
Vol. V — 54.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
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.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
TYPES OF ENGLISH BEAUTY.
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
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
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
THE NANKEEN JACKET.
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
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
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 !
" 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 STRAND MAGAZINE.
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.
" I WAS ft ERF!) AT MID INSULTEP,'
THE NANKEEN JACKET.
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 !
" Oh ! let me
go ! let me go !
and I will give
you ten pens."
Much I cared
for her pens !
mean what you
said just now,
mademoiselle ? "
I timidly in-
" What ? "
" That who-
ever would drink
the ink should
be your little
husband ? "
But let me
" Then it is
true ? "
" Of course it
is. Let me go ! "
She was grow- </+<•*.«». V
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
' SHE WAS GROWING IMPATIENT."
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
" What are
you about, you
thing ? " ex-
claimed a voice
from behind me,
at the same
instant that I
received a smart
blow upon my
turned, and be-
who had sur-
prised me in my
"What is the
meaning of this
she, with un-
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.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
" 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,
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 ? "
" 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
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
OLD JOE TROTTED QUICKLY OUT OF THE GARDEN.
to run away ; and when they opened the
door, up he ran to old Worble's room, and
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
Old Worble was drooping over the fire in
his big chair, into which he had been put
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
" 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
THE QUEER SIDE OF THINGS.
THE THREE WENT CAREERING DOWN THE STREET.
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.
AUNT SUSAN S MOTHER.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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-
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
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-
OVER SHE HAD TO GO SOMEHOW.
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
THE QUEER SIDE OF THINGS.
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
VERY NEARLY DROWNED.
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
'OLD [HE WILKINGS — AETER r.UNCH.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
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
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.
wall (smashing the
glass of the chromo
of " Little Red Rid-
ing-Hood " that was
hanging up), and
invite the lot to
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
THE QUEER SIDE OF THINGS.
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
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
as there's no know-
ing when he'll
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.
'GETTING BETTER AGAIN.
Vol v.— 56.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
THE QUEER SIDE OF THINGS.
THE STRAND MAG A/. INK.
*d£%4! ^i % - lS^^.
^"" : ft| H *JI|^^H H| ^^^^B^^
TWO PROFILE VIEWS OF A REMARKABLE POTATO.
A POTATO MASHER.
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.